S TMT
ENCYCLOPAEDIA BRITANNICA.
<£ntj>clopct)ta ISrttanmca:
OR, A
DICTIONARY
ARTS, SCIENCES, AND MISCELLANEOUS
LITERATURE;
ENLARGED AND IMPROVED.
THE SIXTH EDITION.
5)llustratri5 Imtl) nearlp Sir InmlirfS Cngrabrngs,
VOL. VII.
INDOCTI DISCANT ; AMENT MEMINISSE PERITI.
EDINBURGH:
PRINTED FOR ARCHIBALD CONSTABLE AND COMPANY;
AND HURST, ROBINSON, AND COMPANY, 90, CHEAPSIDE,
LONDON.
1823.
Encyclopaedia Britannica.
Crystals
IS
Ctesiphon.
C T E
CRYSTALS, in Chemistry, salts or other matters
which assume a regular form. See Chemistry
Index; and Crystallization.
CTESIAS, a native of Cnidos, who accompanied
Cyrus the son of Darius in his expedition against his
brother Artaxerxes j by whom he was taken prisoner.
But curing Artaxerxes of a wound he received in the
battle, he became a great favourite at the court of
Persia, where he continued practising physic for 17
years, and was employed in several negotiations. He
wrote the History of Persia in 23 books, and a Hi¬
story of the Indies ; but these works are now lost, and
all we have remaining of them is an abridgement com¬
piled by Photinus. The most judicious among the an¬
cients looked upon Ctesias as a fabulous writer j yet
several of the ancient historians and modern Christian
writers have adopted in part his chronology of the
Assyrian kings.
CTESIBIUS, a mathematician of Alexandria, a-
bout 120 years before Christ. He was the first who
invented the pump. He also invented a clepsydra, or
water-clock. This invention of measuring time by
water was wonderful and ingenious. Water was let
drop upon wheels which it turned : the wheels com¬
municated their regular motion to a small wooden
image, which by a gradual rise pointed with a stick to
the proper hours and minutes, which were engraven on
a column near the machine. This ingenious invention
gave rise to many improvements j and the modern
method of measuring time with an hour-glass is in
imitation of the clepsydra of Ctesihius.
CTESIPHON, a celebrated Greek architect, who
gave the designs of the famous temple of Ephesus,
and invented a machine for bringing thither the co¬
lumns to be used in that noble structure. He flourish¬
ed 544 B. C.
Ctesiphon, in Ancient Geography, a large village,
or rather a fine city, of Chalonitis, the most southern
province of Assyria. It was situated on the left or
east side of the Tigris, opposite to Seleucia on this side ;
and built by the Parthians, to -rival Seleucia. Here
the kings of Parthia passed the winter (Strabo) } as
they did the summer at Ecbatana.
CTESIPHON was also the name of several noted per¬
sons of antiquity. I. An Athenian, who advised his
fellow citizens to crown publicly Demosthenes with a
golden crown for his probity and virtue. This was
opposed by the orator AEschines, the rival of De-
Vol. VII. Part I. t
Cuba.
CUB
mosthenes, who accused Ctesiphon of seditious views. Ctesiphon
Demosthenes undertook the defence of his friend, in
a celebrated oration still extant, and iEschines was ba- (
nished. 2. A Greek architect, who made the plan of
Diana’s temple at Ephesus. 3. An elegiac poet,
whom King Attalus set over his possessions in AEolia.
4. A Greek historian, who wrote a history of Boe-
otia.
CUB, a bear’s whelp. Among hunters, a fox and
marten of the first year are also called cubs. , See
Ursus.
CUBA, a large and very important island in the
West Indies, belonging to Spain. On the south-east
it begins at 20. 10. N. Lat. touches the tropic of Can¬
cer on the north, and extends from 74. to 85. 15. W.
Long. It is 764 miles long, lies 60 miles to the
west of Hispaniola, 25 leagues north of Jamaica,
100 miles to the south of Cape Florida j and com¬
mands the entrance of the gulfs both of Mexico and
Florida, as also the windward passages. By this
situation it may be called the key of the West Indies.
It was discovered by Columbus in 1492, who gave
it the name of Ferdinando, in honour of King Fer¬
dinand of Spain ; but it quickly after recovered its
ancient name of Cuba. The natives did not regard
Columbus with a very favourable eye at his landing $
and the weather proving very tempestuous, he soon
left this island, and sailed to Huyti, now called Hispa¬
niola, where he was better received. The Spaniards,
however, soon became masters of it. By the year
1511 it was totally conquered $ and in that time they
had destroyed, according to their own accounts, seve¬
ral millions of people. But the possession of Cuba was
far from answering the expectations of the Spanish
adventurers, whose avarice could be satiated with
nothing but gold. These monsters, finding that there
was gold upon the island, concluded that it must come
from mines •, and therefore tortured the few inhabi¬
tants they had left, in order to extort from them a dis¬
covery of the places where these mines lay. The mi¬
series endured by these poor creatures were such that
they almost unanimously resolved to put an end to their
own lives ; but were prevented by one of the Spanish
tyrants called Vasco Vorcellos. This wretch threaten¬
ed to hang himself along with them, that he might
have the pleasure, as he said, of tormenting them in
the next world worse than he had done in this ; and
so much were they afraid of the Spaniards, that this
A threat
CUB [2
Cuba. threat diverted these poor savages from their desperate
—V— J resolution. In 1511, the town of Havannah was built,
now the principal place on the island. The houses
were at first built only of wood 5 and the town itself
was for a long time so inconsiderable, that in I5p^
was taken by a French pirate, who obliged the inha¬
bitants to pay 700 ducats to save it from being burnt.
The very day after the pirate’s departure, three Spa¬
nish ships arrived from Mexico, and having unloaded
their cargoes, sailed in pursuit of the pirate ship. Tut
such was the cowardice of the oflicers, that the piiate
took all the three ships, and returning to the Havan¬
nah, obliged the inhabitants to pay 700 ducats more.
To prevent misfortunes ol this kind, the inhauitants
built their houses of stone ; and the place has since
been strongly fortified. See HaVANNAH.
According to the Abbe Raynal, the Spanish settle¬
ment at Cuba is very important, on three accounts ;
1. The produce of the country, which is considerable.
2. As being the staple of a great trade ; and, 3* ■^■s
being the key to the West Indies. The cultivation of
sugar is carried on to a great extent, no fewer than 480
sugar engines having been erected, and the quantity
exported having amounted on an average from 1801
to 1810 to 644,000 cwt. per annum. Coffee began to
be planted in Cuba after the destruction of the co^ee
plantations in St Domingo j and in 1803 it produced
about 12,000 quintals, or 18 millions of pounds. In
1763 some emigrants introduced bees, which multi¬
plied with such rapidity in the hollows of old trees,
that the inhabitants had ample supplies of honey for
their own consumption, besides a surplus for exporta¬
tion. Although the surface of the island is in general
uneven and mountainous, yet it has plains sufficiently
extensive, and well enough watered, to supply the con¬
sumption of the greatest part of Europe with sugar.
The incredible fertility of its new lands, if properly
managed, would enable it to surpass every other nation,
however they may have now got the start of it . yet
such is the indolence of the Spaniards, that to this day
they have comparatively but few plantations, where,
with the finest canes, they make but a small quantity
of coarse sugar at a great expence. This serves partly
for the Mexican market, and partly for the _ mother-
country,, It has been expected with probability, that
the tobacco imported from Cuba would compensate this
loss; for after furnishing Mexico and Peru, there was
sufficient, with the little brought from Caracca and
Buenos Ayres, to supply all Spain. But this trade
too has declined through the mismanagement of the
court of Madrid. The article is monopolized for the
benefit of the crown ; and the planters have been ex¬
posed to such vexations, that its cultivation in 1803
bad declined to 3,750,000 pounds, from 7,873,000 its
amount in 1794. Cuba furnished considerable quan¬
tities of gold when the Spaniards first seized it, and it
still yields some small supplies of this metal. The
Spanish colonies have an universal trade in skins 5 and
Cuba supplies annually about 10 or 12 thousand. The
number might easily be increased in a country abound¬
ing with wild cattle, where some gentlemen possess
large tracts of ground, that for want of population can
scarce he applied to any other purpose than that of
breed in? cattle. The hundredth part of this rsiand is
not yet cleared... The true plantations are ail confined
%
] CUB
to the beautiful plains of the Havannah, and even Cuba
those are not what they might he. The number of in- D
habitants has increased rapidly. In 1774 they amount- Cuboides.
ed to 220,000 ; but in 1804 the number was 432,000,^
including 108,000 slaves. Tdie food of these diflerent
species consists of excellent pork, very bad beef, and
cassava bread. 'I he colony would he still more flourish¬
ing, if its productions had not been made the property
of a company, whose exclusive privilege operates as a
constant and invariable principle of discouragement. If
any thing could supply the want of an open trade, and
atone for the grievances occasioned by this monopoly
at Cuba, it would be the advantage which this island
has for such a long time enjoyed, in being the rendez¬
vous of almost all the Spanish vessels that sail to the
new world. This practice commenced almost with the
colony itself. Ponce de Leon, having made an at¬
tempt upon Florida in 1512, became acquainted with
the new canal of Bahama. It was immediately dis¬
covered that this was the best route the ships bound
from Mexico to Europe could possibly take j and to
this the wealth of the island is principally, if not alto¬
gether, owing.
CUBE, in Geometry, a solid body consisting of six
equal sides. See GEOMETRY.
CuBE-Root of any Number or Quantity, is such a num¬
ber or quantity, which, if multiplied into itself, and
then again the product thence arising by that number
or quantity, being the cube-root, this last product shail
be equal to the number or quantity whereof it is the
cube-root; as 2 is the cube-root of 8 5 because two
times two is 4, and two times 4 ^ j anci
cube-root of «3-l-3 a a ^-f3 a ^ ®ee Algebra.
CUBEBS, in the Materia Medica, a small dried fruit
resembling a grain of pepper, but often somewhat
longer, brought into Europe from the island of Java.
In aromatic warmth and pungency, they are far infe¬
rior to pepper.
CUBIC equation. See Algebra.
CUBIDIA, a genus of spars. The word is derived
from x.vZo<, “ a die and is given them from their be¬
ing of the shape of a common die, or of a cubic figure.
These bodies owe this shape to an admixture of lead,
and there are only tivo known species of the genus.
1. A colourless crystalline one, with thin flakes, found
in the lead mines of Yorkshire, and some other parts
of the kingdom ; and, 2. A milky white one with
thicker crusts. This is found in the lead-mines of
Derbyshire and Yorkshire, hut is usually small, and is
not found plentifully.
CUBIT, in the mensuration of the ancients, a long
measure, equal to the length of a man’s arm, from the
elbow to the tip of the fingers.
Dr Arbuthnot makes the English cubit equal to 18
inches j the Roman cubit equal to I foot 5*4°6 inches 5
and the cubit of the Scripture equal to I foot 9.888
inches.
CUBITiEUS muscles, the name of two muscles
of the hand. See Anatomy, Table of the Muscles.
CUBITUS, in Anatomy, a bone of the arm, reaching
from the elbow to the wrist; otherwise called ulna, or
the greater fissile. Some use the word for all that part
of the arm between the elbow and the wrist j including
the ulna or cubitus, properly so called, and the radius.
CUBOIDES, or Os Cvbifobme, in Anatomy, the
seventh
cue
Cuboides seventh bone of the foot, so called from its being in
(i form of a cube or die.
Cucumis. CUCKING-stool, an engine invented for punish-
" ~' ing scolds and unquiet women, by ducking them in
water j called in ancient times a tumbrel, and some¬
times a trebuchet. In Domesday, it is called cathedra
stercoris ; and it was in use even in the Saxon times,
by whom it was described to be cathedra in qua nx-
osce mulieres sedentes aquis demergebantur. It was an¬
ciently also a punishment inflicted upon brewers and
bakers transgressing the laws ; who were thereupon
in such a stool immerged over head and ears in ster-
core, some stinking water. Some think it a corruption
from ducking-stool; others from choaking-stool, quia hoc
modo demersce aquis fere suffocantur. See Castiga-
TORY.
CUCKOW. See Cuculus, Ornithology, Index.
CucKorv-Spit, the same with froth-spit. See Froth-
Spit, and Cicada.
CUCUBALUS, Berry-bearing Chick-weed, a
genus of plants belonging to the decandria class j and
in the natural method ranking under the 22d order,
Caryophyllei. See Botany Index.
CUCULUS, the Cuckow, a genus of birds belong¬
ing to the order of picae. See Ornithology Index.
CUCUMBER. See Cucumis, Botany Index.
CUCUMIS, the Cucumber : a genus of plants be¬
longing to the monoecia class; and in the natural me¬
thod ranking under the 34th order, Cucurbitacece. See
Botany Index.
Four varieties of the cucumis sativus are chiefly cul¬
tivated in this country. They are raised at three dif¬
ferent seasons of the year: 1. on hot-beds, for early
fruit j 2. under bell or hand-glasses, for the middle
crop j 3. on the common ground, which is for a late
crop, or to pickle. The cucumbers which are ripe
before April are unwholesome j being raised wholly
by the heat of the dung without the assistance of the
sun. Those raised in April are good, and are raised
in the following manner.
Towards the latter end of January, a quantity of
fresh horse-dung must be procured with the litter
among it; and a small proportion of sea-coal ashes
should be added to it. In four or five days the dung
will begin to heat 5 at which time a little of it may
be drawn flat on the outside, and covered with two
inches thickness of good earth : this must be covered
with a bell glass; and after two days, when the earth
is warm, the seeds must be sown on it, covered with
a quarter of an inch of fresh earth, and the glass then
set on again. The glass must be covered with a mat
at night, and in four days the young plants will ap¬
pear. When these are seen, the rest of the dung must
be made up into a bed for one or more lights. This
must be three feet thick, beat close together, and co¬
vered three inches deep with fine fresh earth $ the
frame must then be put on, and covered at night, or
in bad weather, with mats. When the earth is hot
enough, the young plants from under the bell must be
removed into it, and set two inches distant. The
glasses must be now and then a little raised, to give
air to the plants, and turned often, to prevent the
wet from the steam of the dung from dropping down
upon them. The plants must be watered at proper
times j and the water used for this purpose must be
cue
set on the dung till it becomes as warm as the air in Cucumis
the frame : and as the young plants increase in bulk, U
they must be earthed up, which will give them great Cu0l'rl,lta\
additional strength. If the bed is not hot enough,
some fresh litter should be laid round its sides : and it
too hot, some holes should be bored into several parts
of it with a stake, which will let out the heat ; and
when the bed is thus brought to a proper coolness, the
holes are to be stopped up again with fresh dung.
When these plants begin to shoot their third or rough
leaf, another bed must be prepared for them like the
first ; and when it is properly warm through the earth,
the plants of the other bed must be taken up, and
planted in this, in which there must be a hole in the
middle of each light, about a foot deep, and nine
inches over, filled with light and fine fresh earth laid
hollow in form of a bason : in each of these holes there
must be set four plants : these must be, for two or
three days, shaded from the sun, that they may take
firm root: after which they must have all the sun
they can, and now and then a little fresh air, as the
weather will permit. When the plants are four or
five inches high, they must be gently pegged down
towards the earth, in directions as different from one
another as may be ; and the branches afterwards pro¬
duced should be treated in the same manner. In a
month after this the flowers will appear, and soon af¬
ter the rudiments of the fruit. The glasses should
now be carefully covered at night •, and in the day¬
time the whole plants should be gently sprinkled with
water. These will produce fruit till about midsum¬
mer •, at which time the second crop will come in to
supply their place ; these are to be raised in the same
manner as the early crop, only they do not require so
much care and trouble. This second crop should be
sown in the end of March or beginning of April.
The season for sowing the cucumbers of the last crop,
and for pickling, is towards the latter end of May,
when the weather is settled : these are sown in holes
dug to a little depth, and filled up with fine earth, so
as to be left in the form of a bason ; eight or nine seeds
being put into one hole. These will come up in five
or six days ; and till they are a week old, are in great
danger from the sparrows. After this they require
only to be kept clear of weeds, and watered now and
then. There should be only five plants left at first in
each hole ; and when they are grown a little farther
up, the worst of these is to be pulled up, that there may
finally remain only four. The plants of this crop will
begin to produce fruit in July.
CUCURBIT, the name of a chemical vessel em¬
ployed in distillation, when covered with its head. Its
name comes from its elongated form in shape of a
gourd: some cucurbits, however, are shallow and
wide-mouthed. They are made of copper, tin, glass,
and stone ware, according to the nature of the sub¬
stances to be distilled. A cucurbit, provided with its
capital, constitutes the vessel for distillation called an
alembic.
CUCURBITA, the Gourd, and Pompion ; a ge¬
nus of plants belonging to the moncecia class *, and
in the natural method ranking under the 34th order,
Cucurbitaceee. See Botany Index.
All the species of gourds and pompions, with their
respective varieties, are raised from seed sown annually
A 2 in
[ 3 ]
CUD
[ 4
Cucurbit* w April or the beginning of May, either with or with-
|j out the help of artificial heats. But the plants foward-
Cuidalore. et| |n a hot bed till about a month old, produce fruit
» a month or six weeks earlier on that account, aud
ripen proportionably sooner. The first species particu¬
larly will scarce ever produce tolerably sized fruit in
this country, without the treatment above mentioned.
In this country these plants are cultivated only for
curiosity •, but in the places where they are natives,
they answer many important purposes. In both the
Indies, bottle-gourds are very commonly cultivated
and sold in the markets. They make the principal
food of the common people, particularly in the warm
months of June, July, and August. The Arabians
call this kind of gourd charrah. It grows commonly
on the mountains in their deserts. The natives boil
and season it with vinegar-, and sometimes, filling the
shell with rice and meat, make a kind of pudding of
it. The hard shell is used for holding water, and some
of them are capacious enough to contain 22 gallons j
these, however, are very uncommon. The fruit ot
the pompion likewise constitutes a great part of the
food of the common people during the hot months, in
those places where they grow. If gathered when not
much bigger than a hen or goose egg, and properly
seasoned with butter, vinegar, &c. they make a toler¬
able good sauce for butcher’s meat, and are also used
in soups. In England they are seldom used till grown
to maturity. A hole is then made in one side, through
which the pulp is scooped out; after being divested
of the seeds, it is mixed with sliced apples, milk,
sugar, and grated nutmeg, and thus a kind of pud-
dino' is made. The whole is then baked in the oven,
and goes by the name of a pumpkin pye. For this pur¬
pose the plants are cultivated in many places in Eng¬
land by the country people, who raise them upon old
dung-hills. The third species is also used in North
America for culinary purposes. T-he fruit is gathered
when about half grown, boiled and eaten as sauce to
butcher’s meat. The squashes are also treated in the
same manner, and by some people esteemed delicate
CUCURBITACEiE, the name of the 34th order
in Linmeus’s fragments of a natural method, consisting
of plants which resemble the gourd in external figure,
habit, virtues, and sensible qualities. This order con¬
tains the following genera, viz. gronovia, melothria,
passiflora, anguria, bryonia, cucumis, cucurbita, sevil-
lea, momordica, sicyos, trichosanthes.
CUCURUCU, in Zoology, the name of a serpent
found in America, growing 10 or 12 feet long. It is
also very thick in proportion to its length, and is of a
yellowish colour, strongly variegated with black spots,
which are irregularly mixed among the yellow, and
often have spots of yellow within them. It is a very
poisonous species, and greatly dreaded by the natives ;
but its flesh is a very rich food, and much esteemed
among them, when properly prepared.
CUD, sometimes means the inside of the throat in
beasts ; but generally the food that they keep there,
and chew over again. See ANATOMY Index.
CUDDALORE, a town on the coast of Coro¬
mandel in India, belonging to the English, very near
the place where Fort St David once stood. N. Lat. 11.
] CUD
30. E. Long. 79. 33. 30. This place was reduced by Coddalore.
the French in the year 1781 ; and in 1783 underwent' 
a severe siege by the British forces commanded by Ge¬
neral Stuart. At this time it was become the prin¬
cipal place of arms held by the enemy on that coast:
they had exerted themselves to the utmost in fortify¬
ing it ; and it was garrisoned by a numerous body of
the best forces of France, well provided with artil¬
lery, and every thing necessary for making a vigorous
defence.
Previous to the commencement of the siege, they
had constructed strong lines of defence all along the
fort, excepting one place where the town was covered
by a wood, supposed to be inaccessible. Through this
wood, however, General Stuart began to cut his way j
on which the besieged began to draw a line of fortifi¬
cation within that also. The British commander then
determined to attack these fortifications before they
were quite completed ; and for this purpose a vigorous
attack was made by the troops under General Bruce.
The grenadiers assailed a redoubt which greatly an¬
noyed them, but were obliged to retire; on which the
whole army advanced to the attack of the lines. The
French defended themselves with resolution ; and as
both parties charged each other with fixed bayonets,
a dreadful slaughter ensued. At last the British were
obliged to retreat; but the French having imprudent¬
ly come out of their lines to pursue them, were in
their turn defeated, and obliged to give up the lines
they had constructed with so much pains, and so gal¬
lantly defended. The loss on the part of the British
amounted to near 1000 killed and wounded, one half
of whom were Europeans ; and that of the French was
not less than 600.
Though the British proved victorious in this eon-^
test, yet the victory cost so dear that there was not
now a sufficient number to carry on the siege with
any effect. The troops also became sickly ; and their
strength diminished so much, that the besieged formed
a design of not only obliging them to raise the siege,
but of totally destroying them. For this purpose
4000 men were landed from the squadron command¬
ed by M. Suffrein ; and the conduct of the enterprise
committed to the Chevalier de Damas, an experienced
and valiant officer. On the 25th of June 1783, he sal¬
lied out at the head of the regiment of Aquitaine, sup¬
posed to be one of the best in the French service, and
of which he was colonel ; with other troops selected
from the bravest of the garrison. The attack was
made bv day-break; but though the British were at
first put into some disorder, they quickly recovered
themselves, and not only repulsed the enemy, but pur¬
sued them so warmly, that the Chevalier de Damas
himself was killed, with about 200 of his countrymen,
and as many taken prisoners.
This engagement was attended with one of the
most remarkable circumstances that happened during
the whole war, viz. a corps of sepoy grenadiers en¬
countering the French troops opposed to them with
fixed bayonets, and overcoming them.. This extraor¬
dinary bravery was not only noticed with due applause,
but procured for that corps a provision for themselves
and families from the presidencies to which they be¬
longed. No other operation of any consequence took
place
C U D
Cuddalore place during the siege, which was now soon ended by
(] the news of peace having taken place between the bel-
(tidworth. ]igecent powers of Europe.
v CUDDY, in a first-rate man of war, is a place lying
between the captain-lieutenant’s cabin and the quarter¬
deck ; and divided into partitions for the master and
other officers. It denotes also a kind ol cabin near the
stern of a lighter or barge of burden.
CUDWEED. See Gnaphalium, Botany In¬
dex.
CUDWORTH, Ralph, a very learned divine of
the church of England in the 17th century. In Janu¬
ary 1657, he was one of the persons nominated by a
committee of the parliament to be consulted about the
English translation of the bible. In 1678 he published
his True Intellectual System of the Universe j a work
which met with great opposition. He likewise publish¬
ed a treatise, entitled, Deus justijicatus: “ or, “ The
divine goodness of God vindicated, against the asser-
rions of absolute and unconditionate reprobation.” He
embraced the mechanical or corpuscular philosophy :
but with regard to the Deity, spirits, genii, and ideas,
he followed the Platonists. He died at Cambridge in
1688. The editor of the new edition of the Biogra-
phia Britannica observes, that it is not easy to meet
with a greater storehouse of ancient literature than
the “ Intellectual System j” and various writers, we
believe, have been indebted to it for an appearance of
learning which they might not otherwise have been
able to maintain. That Dr Cudworth was fanciful in
some of his opinions, and that he was too devoted a
follower of Plato and the Platonists, will scarcely be
denied even by those who are most sensible of his gene¬
ral merit. The reflections that have been cast upon
such a man as the author, by bigotted writers, are al¬
together contemptible. It is the lot of distinguished
merit to be thus treated. Lord Shaftesbury, speaking
on this subject, has given an honourable testimony to
the memory of Dr Cudworth.” “ You know (says his
lordship) the common fate of those who dare to appear
fair authors. What was that pious and learned man’s
case, who wrote the Intellectual System of the Uni¬
verse ! I confess it was pleasant enough to consider,
that though the whole world were not less satisfied with
his capacity and learning, than with his sincerity in
the cause of Deity; yet he was accused of giving
the upper hand to the atheists, for having only stated
their reasons, and those of their adversaries, fairly to¬
gether.”
It is observed by Dr Birch, that Dr Cudworth’s
Intellectual System of the Universe has raised him a
reputation, to which nothing can add but the publi¬
cation of his other writings still extant in manuscript.
That these writings are very valuable cannot be doubt¬
ed. We may be assured that they display a great
compass of sentiment and a great extent of learning.
Nevertheless, from their voluminous quantity, from
the abstruseness of the subjects they treat upon, and
from the revolutions of literary taste and opinion, it
is morally certain that the publication of them would
not be successful in the present age. Dr Cudworth’s
daughter Damaris, who married Sir Francis Masham
of Oates in Essex, was a lady of genius and learning :
she had a great friendship for Mr Locke, who resided
C U F
several years at her house at Oates, where he died in Cud worth
I7°4- ... N
CUE, an item or invendo, given to the actors on the , ^uU* ,
stage what or when to speak. See Prompter.
CUENZA, a town of Spain, in New Castile, and
in the territory of the Sierra, with a bishop’s see. It
was taken by Lord Peterborough in 1706, but retaken
by the duke of Berwick. It is seated on the river
Xucar, in W. Long. r. 45. N. Lat. 40. 10.
CUERENHERT, Theodore Van, a very extra¬
ordinary person, was a native of Amsterdam, where
lie was born in 1522. It appears, that early in life
he travelled into Spain and Portugal ; but the motives
of his journey are not ascertained. He was a man of
science, and according to report, a good poet. The
sister arts at first he considered as an amusement only
but in the end he was, it seems, obliged to have re¬
course to engraving alone for bis support. And though
the diflerent studies in which he employed his time
prevented his attachment to his profession being so
close as it ought to have been, yet at least the marks
of genius are discoverable in bis works. They are
slight, and hastily executed with the graver alone ; hut
in an open careless style, so as greatly to resemble de¬
signs made with a pen. He was established at Haer-
lem $ and there pursuing his favourite studies in litera¬
ture, he learned Latin, and was made secretary to that
town, fi’om whence he was sent several times as am¬
bassador to the prince of Orange, to whom he addres¬
sed a famous manifesto, which that prince published
in 1566. Had he stopped here, it had been well;
but directing his thoughts into a different channel, he
undertook an argument as dangerous as it was absurd.
He maintained, that all religious communions were
corrupted ; and that, without a supernatural mission,
accompanied with miracles, no person had a right to
administer in any religious office : he therefore pro¬
nounced that man to be unworthy the name of a
Christian who would enter any place of public wor¬
ship. This he not only advanced in words, but strove
to show the sincerity of his belief by practice ; and for
that reason would not communicate with either Pro¬
testant or Papist. His works were published in three
volumes folio in 1630 ; and though he was several
times imprisoned, and at last sentenced to banishment,
yet he does not appear to have altered his sentiments.
He died at Dergoude in 1590, aged 68 years. It is
no small addition to the honour of this singular man,
that he was the instructor of that justly celebrated ar¬
tist Henry Goltzius. Cuerenhert worked jointly with
the Galles and other artists, from the designs of Mar¬
tin Hemskerck. The subjects are from the Old and
New Testament, and consist chiefly of middling-sized
plates lengthwise. He also engraved several subjects
from Franc. Floris.
CUERPO. To 'walk in cncrpo, is a Spanish phrase
for going without a cloak ; or without all the formali¬
ties of a full dress.
CUFF, Henry, the unfortunate secretary of the
unfortunate earl of Essex, was born at Hinton St
George in Somersetshire, about the year 1560, of a
genteel family, who were possessed of considerable
estates in that county. In 1576, he was entered of
Trinity college Oxford, where he soon acquired con¬
siderable
[ 5 ]
GUI [6
Cuff slderable reputation as a Grecian ami disputant. He
(! obtained a fellowship in the above-mentioned college 5
Cuirass. put was afterwards expelled for speaking disrespect-
^—' fully of the founder (a). He was, however, soon
after admitted of Merton college; of which, in 1586,
he was elected probationer, and in 1588 fellow. In
this year he took the degree of master of arts. Some
time after he was elected Greek professor, and in 1594
proctor of the university. When he left Oxford is
uncertain ; nor are we better informed as to the means
of bis introduction to the earl of Essex. When that
nobleman was made lord lieutenant of Ireland, Mr
Cuff was appointed his secretary, and continued inti¬
mately connected with his lordship until his confine¬
ment in the Tower; and he is generally supposed to
have advised those violent measures which ended in
their mutual destruction. The earl indeed confessed
as much before his execution, and charged him to his
face with being the author of all his misfortunes. Mr
Cuff was tried for high treason, convicted, and execut¬
ed at Tyburn on the 30th of March 1601. Lord Ba¬
con, Sir Henry Wotton, and Camden, speak of him in
very harsh terms. He was certainly a man of learning
and abilities. He wrote two books : the one entitled,
The Differences of the Ages of Man’s Life ; the other,
De Rebus Gestis in Sancto Concilio Nicceno. The first
was published after his death ; the second is still in
manuscript.
CUJAS, James, in Latin Cujacius, the best civi¬
lian of his time, was horn at Toulouse, of obscure pa¬
rents, in 1520. He learned polite literature and hi¬
story ; and acquired great knowledge in the ancient
laws, which he taught with extraordinary reputation
at Toulouse, Cahors, Bourges, and Valence in Dau-
phine. Emmanuel Philibert, duke of Savoy, invited
him to Turin, and gave him singular marks of his e-
steem. Cujas afterwards refused very advantageous^
offers from Pope Gregory XIII. who was desirous of
having him teach at Bologna; but he chose rather to
fix at Bourges, where he had a prodigious number of
scholars ; whom he not only took great pleasure in in¬
structing, but assisted with his substance, which occa¬
sioned his being called the Father oj"his Scholar's, He
died at Bourges in 1590, aged 70. His works are in
high esteem among civilians.
CUJAVIA, a territory of Great Poland, having on
the north the duchy of Prussia, on the west the palati¬
nate of Kalisk, and on the south those of Licici and
Rava, and on the west that of Ploczko. It contains
two palatinates, the chief towns of which are Inowloez
and Brest, and now belongs partly to Russia, and part¬
ly to Prussia.
CUIRASS, a piece of defensive armour made of
iron plate, well hammered, serving to cover the body,
from the neck to the girdle, both before and behind.
Some derive the word, by corruption, from the Italian
] C U L
cuore, “ heart,” because it covers that part : others Cuirass
from the French cair, or the Latin cor him, “ leather ;” 11
whence coriaceous ; because defensive arms were origi-
nally made of leather. The cuirass was not brought
into use till about the year 1300, though they were
known both to the ancient Greeks and Romans in dif¬
ferent forms.
CUIRASSIERS, cavalry armed with cuirasses, as
many of the Germans are: The French have regi¬
ments of cuirassiers; but we have had none in the Bri¬
tish army since the Revolution.
CULDEE, in church-history, a sort of monkish
priests formerly inhabiting Scotland and Ireland. Be¬
ing remarkable for the religious exercises of preaching
and praying, they were called, by way of eminence,
cultores Dei; from whence is derived the word culdees.
They made choice ot one of their own fraternity to be
their spiritual head, who was afterwards called the Scots
bishop.
CULEMBACH, a district or marquisate of the circle
of Franconia, in Germany. It is bounded on the west
by the bishopric of Bamberg ; on the south by the ter¬
ritory of Nuremberg; on the east by the palatinate of
Bavaria and Bohemia ; and on the north by ^ oegt-
land and part of the circle of Upper Saxony. It is
about 50 miles in length from north to south, and 30
in breadth from east to west. It is full of forests and
high mountains ; the most considerable of the latter are
those of Frichtelberg, all of them covered vyith pine-
trees. Here are the sources of four large rivers, the
Maine, the Sala, the Eger, and the Nab. Since 18x4
this marquisate has formed part of the territories ot
Bavaria.
Culembach, a town of Germany, in Franconia,
the capital of the marquisate of the same name. It has
good fortifications, and is seated at the confluence of
two branches of the river Maine. It was pillaged
and burnt by the Hussites in 1430, and by the inhabi¬
tants of Nuremberg in 1573* Long. 11. 28. N.
Lat. 50. 12.
CULEUS, in Roman antiquity, the largest mea¬
sure of capacity for things liquid, containing 20
amphorae, or 40 urnae. It contained 143 gallons
3 pints, English wine-measure, and was 11,095 solid
inches.
CULEX, the Gnat ; a genus of insects belonging
to the order of diptera. See Entomology Index.
CULIACAN, a province of North America, in
the audience of Guadalajara. It is bounded on the
north by New Mexico, on the east by New Biscay and
the Zacatecas, on the south by Chiametlan, and on the
west by the sea. It is a fruitful country, and has rich
mines.
CULLIAGE, a barbarous and immoral practice,
whereby the lords of manors anciently assumed a right
to the first night of their vassals brides.
CULLEN,
(a) The founder of Trinity college was Sir Thomas Pope, who, it seems, would often take a piece of plate
from a friend’s house, and carry it home concealed under his gown, out of fun, no doubt. Cuff, being merry
with some of his acquaintance at another college, happened to say, alluding to Sir Thomas Pope’s usual joke above
mentioned, “ A pox on this beggarly house ! why, our founder stole as much plate as would build such another.’
This piece of wit was the cause of his expulsion. The heads of colleges in those days did not understand humour.
Anthony Wood was told this story by Dr Bathurst.
Cullen.
C U L [7
CULLEN, a borough town in the county of Banff
In Scotland. It is situated on the sea-coast. W. Long.
2. 12. N. Lat. 57. 38. The manufacture of linen
and damask has been established in this town for more
than 50 years. Population 1070 in 1811.
Cullen, Dr William, an eminent physician and
distinguished medical teacher, was born in Lanarkshire,
in the west of Scotland, 1 ith December, 1712. His
father was for sometime chief magistrate of the town of
Hamilton ; but though a very respectable man, his
circumstances were not such as to permit him to lay out
much money on the education of his son. William there¬
fore, after serving an apprenticeship to a surgeon apothe¬
cary in Glasgow, went several voyages to the West In¬
dies as a surgeon in a trading vessel from London : but
of this employment he tired, and settled himself, at an
early period of life, as a country surgeon in the parish
of Shotts, where he staid a short time practising a-
mong the farmers and country people, and then went
to Hamilton with a view to practise as a physician, hav¬
ing never been fond of operating as a surgeon.
While he resided near Shotts, it chanced that Archi¬
bald duke of Argyle, who at that time bore the chief
political sway in Scotland, made a visit to a gentleman
of rank in that neighbourhood. The duke was fond
of literar-y pursuits, and was then particularly engaged
in some chemical researches, which required to be elu¬
cidated by experiment. Eager in these pursuits, his
grace, while on his visit, found himself much at a loss
for the want of some small chemical apparatus, which
his landlord could not furnish : but happily recollecting
young Cullen in the neighbourhood, he mentioned him
to the duke as a person who could probably furnish it.
—He was accordingly invited to dine ; was introduced
to his grace,—who was so much pleased with his know¬
ledge, his politeness and address, that he formed an ac¬
quaintance which laid the foundation of all Dr Cul¬
len’s future advancement.
The name of Cullen by this time became familiar at
every table in that neighbourhood j and thus he came
to be known, by character, to the duke of Hamilton,
who then resided, for a short time, in that part of the
country: and that nobleman having been suddenly ta¬
ken ill, the assistance of young Cullen was called in j
which proved a fortunate circumstance in serving to
promote his advancement to a station in life more
suited to his talents than that in which he had hitherto
moved.
The duke was highly delighted with the spright¬
ly character and ingenious conversation of his new
acquaintance. Receiving instruction from him in
a much more pleasing, and an infinitely easier way
than he had ever before obtained, the conversation
of Cullen proved highly interesting to his grace.
—No wonder then that he soon found means to get
his favourite doctor, who was already the esteemed
acquaintance of the man through whose hands all pre¬
ferments in Scotland were obliged to pass, appointed
to a place in the university of Glasgow, where his sin¬
gular talents for discharging the duties of the station he
now occupied soon became very conspicuous.
During his residence in the country, however, seve¬
ral important incidents occurred, that ought not to be
passed over in silence. It was during this time that
was formed a connection in business in a very humble
] C U L
line between two men, who became afterwards eminent- Cullen,
ly conspicuous in much more exalted stations. William, —v——
afterwards Doctor Hunter, the famous lecturer on ana¬
tomy in London, was a native of the same part of the
country; and not being in affluent circumstances more
than Cullen, these two young men, stimulated by the
impulse of genius to prosecute their medical studies
witli ardour, but thwarted by the narrowness of their
fortune, entered into a copartnery business as surgeons
and apothecaries in the country. The chief end of
their contract being to furnish the parties with the
means of prosecuting their medical studies, which they
could not separately so well enjoy, it was stipulated,
that one of them alternately should be. allowed to study
iu what college he inclined, during the winter, while
the other should carry on the business in the country,
for the common advantage. In consequence of this
agreement, Cullen was first allowed to study in the uni¬
versity of Edinburgh for one winter j but when it came
to Hunter’s turn next winter, .he, preferring Lon¬
don to Edinburgh, went thither. There his singular
neatness in dissecting, and uncommon dexterity in ma¬
king anatomical preparations, his assiduity in stud}’,
his mildness of manner, and pliability of temper, soon
recommended him to the notice of Dr Douglas, who
then read lectures upon anatomy and midwifery there y
v. ho engaged Hunter as an assistant, and whose chair
he afterwards filled with so much honour to himself and
satisfaction to the public.
Thus was dissolved, in a premature manner, a copart¬
nery perhaps of as singular a kind as is to be found in
the annals of literature : nor was Cullen a man of that
disposition to let any engagement with him prove a bar
to his partner’s advancement in life. The articles were
freely departed from by him j and Cullen and Hunter
ever after kept up a very cordial and friendly corre¬
spondence •, though, it is believed, they never from that
time had a personal interview.
During the time that Cullen practised as a country
surgeon and apothecary, he formed another connection
of a more permanent kind, which happily for him, was
not dissolved till a very late period of his life. With
the ardour of disposition he possessed, it cannot be sup¬
posed he beheld the fair sex with indifference. Very
early in life he took a strong attachment to an amiable
woman, a Miss Johnston, daughter to a clergyman in
that neighbourhood, nearly of his own age, who was
prevailed on to join with him in the sacred bonds of
wedlock, at a time when he had nothing else to recom¬
mend him to her except his person and dispositions.
After giving to him a numerous family, and partici¬
pating with him the changes of fortune which he ex¬
perienced, she died in summer 1786.
In the year 1746, Cullen, who had now taken the
degree of doctor in physic, was appointed a lecturer in
chemistry in the university of Glasgow : and in the
month of October began his lectures in that science.
His singular talents for arrangement, bis distinctness of
enunciation, his vivacity of manner, and his knowledge
of the science he taught, rendered his lectures-interest¬
ing to the students to a degree that had been till then
unknown at the university. He became, therefore, in
some measure, adored by tbe students. The former pro¬
fessors were eclipsed by the brilliancy ofliis reputation j
and he had to experience all those little rubs that envy
C U L ' [8
and disappointed ambition naturally threw in his way.
Regardless, however, of these secret chagrins, he pres¬
sed forward with ardour in his literary career j and,
supported by the favour of the public, he consoled him*
self for the contumely he met with from a few individu¬
als. His practice as a physician increased from day
to day ; and a vacancy having occurred in the year
1751, he was then appointed by the king professor of
medicine in that university. This new appointment
served only to call forth his powers, and to bring to
light talents that it was not formerly known he posses¬
sed j so that his fame continued to increase.
As, at that period, the patrons of the university of
Edinburgh were constantly on the watch for the most
eminent medical men to support the rising fame of the
college, their attention was soon directed towards Cul¬
len •, who, on the death of Dr Plummer, professor of
chemistry, was, in 1756, unanimously invited to accept
the vacant chair. This invitation he accepted : and
having resigned all his employments in Glasgow, he
began his academical career in Edinburgh in the
month of October of that year*, and there he resided
till his death.
If the admission of Cullen into the university of Glas¬
gow gave great spirit to the exertions of the students,
this was still, if possible, more strongly felt in Edin¬
burgh. Chemistry, which had been till that time of
small account in that university, and was attended to by
very few of the students, instantly became a favourite
study 5 and the lectures upon that science were more
frequented than any others in the university, anatomy
alone excepted. The students, in general, spoke of
Cullen with the rapturous ardour that is natural to
youth when they are highly pleased. These eulogiums
appeared extravagant to moderate men, and could not
fail to prove disgusting to his colleagues. A party was
formed among the students for opposing this new fa¬
vourite of the public j and these students, by misrepre¬
senting the doctrines of Cullen to others who could not
have an opportunity of hearing these doctrines them¬
selves, made even some of the most intelligent men in
the university think it their duty publicly to oppose
these imaginary tenets. The ferment was thus augment¬
ed ; and it was some time before the professors discover¬
ed the arts by which they had been imposed upon, and
universal harmony restored.
During this time of public ferment, Cullen went
steadily forward, without taking any part himself in
these disputes. He never gave ear to any tales respect¬
ing his colleagues, nor took any notice of the doctrines
they taught: That some of their unguarded strictures
might at times come to his knowledge is not impossi¬
ble"; but if they did, they seemed to make no impres¬
sion on his mind.
These attempts of a party of students to lower the
character of Cullen on his first outset in the university
of Edinburgh having proved fruitless, his fame as a pro¬
fessor, and his reputation as a physician, became more
and more respected every day. Nor could it well be
otherwise: Cullen’s professional knowledge was always
great, and his manner of lecturing singularly clear and
intelligible, lively and entertaining*, and to his patients,
his conduct in general as a physician was so pleasing,
his address so affable and engaging, and his manner so
open, so kind, and so little regulated by pecuniary
] C U L
considerations, that it was impossible for those who had Cullen,
occasion to call once for his medical assistance, ever to ' »
be satisfied on any future occasion without it. He be¬
came the friend and companion of every family he vi¬
sited ; and his future acquaintance could not be dispen¬
sed with.
But if Dr Cullen in his public capacity deserved to
be admired, in his private capacity by his students he
deserved to be adored. His conduct to them was so
attentive, and the interest he took in the private con¬
cerns of all those students who applied to him for ad¬
vice, was so cordial and so warm, that it was impos¬
sible for any one who had a heart susceptible of gene¬
rous emotions, not to be enraptured with a conduct so
uncommon and so kind. Among ingenuous youth,
gratitude easily degenerates into rapture—into respect
nearly allied to adoration. J. hose who advert to this
natural construction of the human mind, will be at no
loss to account for that popularity which Cullen enjoy¬
ed—a popularity, that those who attempt to weigh
every occurrence by the cool standard of reason alone,
will be inclined to think excessive. It is fortunate,
however, that the bulk of mankind will ever be in¬
fluenced in their judgment not less by feelings and af¬
fections than by the cold and phlegmatic dictates of
reason. The adoration which generous conduct ex¬
cites, is the reward which nature hath appropriated
exclusively to disinterested beneficence. This was the
secret charm that Cullen ever carried about with him,
which fascinated such numbers of those who had in¬
timate access to him. This was the power which bis
envious opponents never could have an opportunity of
feeling.
The general conduct of Cullen to his students was
this. With all such as he observed to be attentive and
diligent, he formed an early acquaintance, by inviting
them by twos, by threes, or by fours at a time, to sup
with him, conversing with them on these occasions with
the most engaging ease, and freely entering with them
on the subject of their studies, their amusements, their
difficulties, their hopes, and future prospects. In this
way, he usually invited the whole of his numerous class,
till he made himself acquainted with their abilities,
their private character, and their objects of pursuit.
Those among them whom he found most assiduous, best
disposed, or the most friendless, he invited the most fre¬
quently, till an intimacy was gradually formed, which
proved highly beneficial to them. Their doubts, with
regard to their objects of study he listened to with at¬
tention, and solved with the most obliging condescen¬
sion. His library, which consisted of an excellent as¬
sortment of the best books, especially on medical sub¬
jects, was at all times open for their accommodation ;
and his advice, in every case of difficulty to them, they
always had it in their power most readily to obtain.
They seemed to be bis family j and few persons ot dis¬
tinguished merit have left the university of Edinburgh
in his time, with whom he did not keep up a corres¬
pondence till they were fairly established in business.
By these means, he came to have a most accurate know¬
ledge of the state of every country, with respect to
practitioners in the medical line *, the only use he made
of Avluch knowledge, was to direct students in their
choice of places, where they might have an opportuni¬
ty of engaging in business Avith a reasonable prospect of
success.
Cullen.
C U L [ 9 ] ' C U L
success. Many, very many, able men has he thus
put into a good line of business, where they never
could have thought of it themselves j and they are
now reaping the fruits of this beneficent foresight on
his part.
Nor was it in this way only that he befriended the
students at the university of Edinburgh. Possessing a
benevolence of mind that made him ever think first of
the wants of others, and recollecting the difficulties
that he himself had to struggle witli in his younger
days, he was at all times singularly attentive to their
pecuniary concerns. From his general acquaintance
among the students, and the friendly habits he was on
with many of them, he found no difficulty in discover¬
ing those among them Avho were rather in embarrassed
circumstances, without being obliged to hurt their de¬
licacy in any degree. To such persons, when their
habits of study admitted of it, he was peculiarly at¬
tentive. They were more frequently invited to his
bouse than others *, they were treated with more than
usual kindness and familiarity j they were conducted to
bis library, and encouraged by the most delicate address
to borrow from it freely whatever books be thought
they had occasion for : and as persons in these circum¬
stances were usually more shy in this respect than others,
books were sometimes pressed upon them as a sort of
constraint, by the doctor insisting to have their opinion
of such or such passages they had not read, and desiring
them to carry the book home for that purpose. He,
in short, behaved to them rather as if he courted their
company, and stood in need of their acquaintance than
they of his. He thus raised them in the opinion of
their acquaintance to a much higher degree of estima¬
tion than they could otherwise have obtained $ which,
to people whose minds were depressed by penury, and
whose sense of honour was sharpened by the conscious¬
ness of an inferiority of a certain kind, was singularly
engaging. Thus they were inspired with a secret sense
of dignity, which elevated their minds, and excited an
uncommon ardour of pursuit, instead of that melancho¬
ly inactivity which is so natural in such circumstances,
and which too often leads to despair. Nor was he less
delicate in the manner of supplying their wants, than
attentive to discover them. He often found out some
polite excuse for refusing to take payment for a first
course, and never was at a loss for one to an after course.
Before they could have an opportunity of applying for
a ticket, he would sometimes lead the conversation to
some subject that occurred in the course of his lectures;
and as his lectures were never put in writing by him¬
self, he would sometimes beg the favour to see their
notes, if he knew they had been taken with attention,
under a pretext of assisting his memory. Sometimes he
would express a wish to have their opinion of a particu¬
lar part of his course, and presented them with a ticket
for that purpose ; and sometimes he refused to take
payment, under the pretext that they had not received
his full course the preceding year, some part of it ha¬
ving been necessarily omitted for want of time, which
he meant to include in this course. By such delicate
address, in which he greatly excelled, he took care to
forerun their wants. Thus he not only gave them the
benefit of his own lectures, but by refusing to take
their money, he also enabled them to attend those of
others that were necessary to complete their course of
Vol. VII. Part I. f
studies. These were particular devices he adopted to
individuals to whom economy was necessary ; but it was
a general rule with him, never to take money from any
student for more than two courses of the same set of
lectures, permitting him to attend these lectures as
many years longer as he pleased gratis.
He introduced another general rule into the univer¬
sity, that was dictated by the same principle of disin¬
terested beneficence, that ought not to be here pas¬
sed over in silence. Before he came to Edinburgh, it
was the custom of medical professors to accept of fees
for their medical assistance, when wanted, even from
medical students themselves, who were perhaps attend¬
ing the professor’s own lectures at the time. But Cul¬
len never would take fees as a physician from any stu¬
dent at the university, though he attended them, when
called in as a physician, with the same assiduity and
care as if they had been persons of the first rank, who
paid him most liberally. This gradually induced others
to adopt a similar practice : so that it is now become a
general rule for medical professors to decline taking any
fees when their assistance is necessary to a student. For
this useful reform, with many others, the students of
the university of Edinburgh are solely indebted to the
liberality of Hr Cullen.
The first lectures which Cullen delivered in Edin¬
burgh were on chemistry; and for many years he also
gave clinical lectures on the cases which occurred in
the royal infirmary. In the month of February 1763,
Hr Alston died, after having begun his usual course of
lectures on the materia medica ; and the magistrates of
Edinburgh, as patrons of that professorship in the uni¬
versity, appointed Hr Cullen to that chair, requesting
that he would finish the course of lectures that had been
begun for that season. This he agreed to do ; and
though he was under a necessity of going on with the
course in a few days after he was nominated, he did not
once think of reading the lectures of his predecessor,
but resolved to deliver a new course entirely his own.
The popularity of Cullen at this time may be guessed
at by the increase of new students who came to attend
his course in addition t® the eight or ten who had en¬
tered to Hr Alston. The new students exceeded 100.
An imperfect copy of these lectures thus fabricated in
haste, having been published, the doctor thought it ne¬
cessary to give a more correct edition of them in the
latter part of his life. But his faculties being then
much impaired, his friends looked in vain for those
striking beauties that characterised his literary exer¬
tions in the prime of life.
Some years afterwards, on the death of Hr White,
the magistrates once more appointed Hr Cullen to give
lectures on the theory of physic in his stead. And it
was on that occasion Hr Cullen thought it expedient to
resign the chemical chair in favour of Hr Black, his
former pupil, whose talents in that department of science
were then well known, and who filled the chair till his
death with great satisfaction to the public. Soon after,
on the death of Hr Rutherford, who for many years
had given lectures with applause on the practice of phy¬
sic, Hr John Gregory (whose name can never be men¬
tioned by any one who had the pleasure of his acquaint¬
ance without the warmest tribute of a grateful respect)
having become a candidate for this place along with Hr
Cullen, a sort of compromise took place between them,
B by
Cullen.
C U L [I
by which they agreed each to give lectures alternately
on the theory and on the practice of physic during
their joint lives, the longest survivor being allowed to
hold either of the classes he should incline, in conse¬
quence of this agreement, Dr Cullen delivered the iirst
course of lectures on the practice of physic in winter
J 766, and Dr Gregory succeeded him in that branch
the following year. Never perhaps did a literary ar¬
rangement take place that could have proved more be¬
neficial to the students than this, lioth these men pos¬
sessed great talents, though of a kind extremely dissimi¬
lar. Both of them had certain failings or defects, which
the other was aware of, and counteracted. Each of
them knew and respected the talents of the other. T-hey
co-operated, therefore, in the happiest manner, to en¬
large the understanding, and to forward the pursuits of
their pupil=. Unfortunately this arrangement was soon
destroyed by the unexpected death of Dr Gregory, who
was cut off in the flower of life by a sudden and unfore¬
seen event. After this time, Cullen continued to give
lectures on the practice of physic till a few months be¬
fore his death, which happened on the 5th of tebruary
1790, in the 77th year of his age.
In drawing the character of Dr Cullen, his biogra¬
pher, Dr Anderson observes, that in scientific pursuits
men may he arranged into two grand classes, which,
though greatly different from each other in their ex¬
tremes, yet approximate at times so near as to be blend¬
ed indiscriminately together ; those who possess a ta¬
lent for detail, and those who are endowed with the
faculty of arrangement. The first may be said to view
objects individually as through a microscope. The
field of vision is confined ; but the objects included
within that field, which must usually be considered
singly and apart from all others, are seen with a won¬
drous degree of accuracy and distinctness. The other
takes a sweeping view of the universe at large, con¬
siders every object he perceives, not individually, but
as a part of one harmonious whole : His mind is there¬
fore. not so much employed in examining the separate
parts of this individual object, as in tracing its rela¬
tions, connections, and dependencies on those around
it.__.Such was the turn of Cullen’s mind. I he talent
for arrangement was that which peculiarly distinguish¬
ed him from the ordinary class of mortals •, and this
talent he possessed perhaps in a more distinguished de¬
gree than anv other person of the age in which he liv¬
ed. Many persons exceeded him in the minute know-
ledo-e of particular departments, who, knowing this,
naturally looked upon him as their inferior *, but pos¬
sessing not at the same time that glorious faculty, which,
« with an eye wide roaming, glances from the earth to
heaven,” or the charms which this talent can infuse
into congenial minds, felt disgust at the pre-eminence
he obtained, and astonishment at the means by which
he obtained it. An Aristotle and a Bacon have had
their talents in like manner appreciated ; and many are
the persona who can neither be exalted to sublime ideas
with Homer, nor ravished with the natural touches of a
Shakespeare. Such things are wisely ordered, that every
department in the universe may be properly filled by
those who have talents exactly suited to the task assign¬
ed them by heaven.
Had Cullen, however, possessed the talents lor ar¬
rangement alone, small would have been his title to
3.
o ] C U L
that high degree of applause he has attained. With- C«
out a knowledge of facts, a talent for arrangement pro- v—
duces nothing but chimeras •, without materials to work
upon, the structures which an over heated imagination
may rear up are merely “ the baseless fabric of a vi¬
sion.” No man was more sensible of the justness of
this remark than Dr Cullen, and few were at greater
pains to avoid it. His whole life, indeed, was em¬
ployed, almost without interruption, in collecting facts.
Whether he was reading, or walking, or conversing,
these were continually falling into his way. W ith the
keen perception of an eagle, he marked them at the first
glance ; and without stopping at the time to examine
them, they were stored up in his memory, to he drawn
forth as occasion required, to be confronted with other
facts that had been obtained after the same manner,
and to have their truth ascertained, or their falsity
proved by the evidence which should appear when care¬
fully examined at the impartial bar of justice. . With¬
out a memory retentive in a singular degree, this could
not have been done ; but so very extraordinary was Dr
Cullen’s memory, that till towards the very decline of
life, there was scarcely a fact that had ever occurred to
him which he could not readily recollect, with all its
concomitant circumstances, whenever he had occasion
to refer to it. It was this faculty which so much
abridged his labour in study, and enabled him so hap¬
pily to avail himself of the labour of others in all his li¬
terary speculations. He often reaped more by the con¬
versation of an hour than another man would have done
In whole weeks of laborious study.
In his prelections, Dr Cullen never attempted to
read. His lectures were delivered 'iiva. voce, without
having been previously put into writing, or thrown in¬
to any particular arrangement. The vigour of his mind
was such, that nothing more was necessary than a few
short notes before him, merely to prevent him from va¬
rying from the general order he had been accustomed
to observe. This gave to his discourses an ease, a vi¬
vacity, a variety, and a force, that are rarely to be met
with in academical discourses. His lectures, by conse¬
quence, upon the same subject, were never exactly the
same. Their general tenor indeed was not much va¬
ried •> but the particular illustrations were always new,
well suited to the circumstances that attracted the ge¬
neral attention of the day, and were delivered in the
particular way that accorded with the cast of mind the
prelector found himself in at the time. To these cir¬
cumstances must be ascribed that energetic artless elo¬
cution, which rendered his lectures so generally capti¬
vating to his hearers. Even those who could not fol¬
low him in those extensive views his penetrating mind,
glanced at, or who were not able to understand those apt
allusions to collateral objects which he could only rapidly
point at as he went along, could not help being warm¬
ed in some measure by the vivacity of his manner. But
to those who could follow him in his rapid career, the
ideas he suggested were so numerous, the views he
laid open were so extensive, and the objects to be at¬
tained were so important—that every active faculty of
the mind was roused •, and such an ardour of enthusiasm
was excited in the prosecution of study, as appeared to
be perfectly inexplicable to those who were merely un¬
concerned spectators. In consequence of this unshack¬
led freedom in the composition and delivery of his lec¬
tures,
C U L [
Culkn. tures, every circumstance was in the nicest unison with
<—-v—~•/ the tone of voice and expression of countenance, which
the particular cast of mind he was in at the time inspi¬
red. Was he joyous, all the figures introduced for il¬
lustration were fitted to excite hilarity, and good hu¬
mour : was he grave, the objects brought under view
were of a nature more solemn and grand : and was he
peevish, there was a peculiarity of manner in thought,
in word, and in action, which produced a most striking
and interesting effect. The languor of a nerveless uni¬
formity was never experienced, nor did an abortive at¬
tempt to excite emotions that the speaker himself could
not at the time feel, ever produce those discordant ideas
which prove disgusting and unpleasing.
It would seem as if Dr Cullen had considered the
proper business of a preceptor to be that of putting his
pupils into a proper train of study, so as to enable them
to prosecute those studies at a future period, and to car¬
ry them on much farther than the short time allowed
for academical prelections would admit. He did not,
therefore, so much strive to make those who attended
his lectures deeply versed in the particular details of
objects, as to give them a general view of the whole
subject ; to shew what had been already attained re¬
specting it *, to point out what remained yet to be dis¬
covered •, and to put them into a train of study that
should enable them at a future period, to remove those
difficulties that had hitherto obstructed our progress,
and thus to advance themselves to farther and far¬
ther degrees of perfection. If these were his views,
nothing could he more happily adapted to them than
the mode he invariably pursued. He first drew, with the
striking touches of a master, a rapid and general out¬
line of the subject, by which the whole figure was seen
at once to start boldly from the canvas, distinct in all
its parts, and unmixed with any other object. He then
began anew to retrace the picture, to touch up the les¬
ser parts, and to finish the whole in as perfect a manner
as the state of our knowledge at the time would permit.
Where materials were wanting, the picture there conti¬
nued to remain imperfect. The wants were thus ren¬
dered obvious j and the means of supplying these were
pointed out with the most careful discrimination. The
student whenever he looked back to the subject, per¬
ceived the defects; and his hopes being awakened, he
felt an irresistible impulse to explore that hitherto un¬
trodden path which had been pointed out to him, and
fill up the chasm which still remained. Thus were the
active faculties of the mind most powerfully excited j
and instead of labouring himself to supply deficiencies
that far exceeded the power of any one man to accom¬
plish, he set thousands at work to fulfil the task, and
put them into a train of going on with it.
It was to these talents, and to this mode of applying
them, that Dr Cullen owed his celebrity as a profes¬
sor j and it was in this manner that he has perhaps
done more towards the advancement of science than
any other man of his time, though many individuals
might perhaps be found who were more deeply versed
in the particular departments he taught than he him¬
self was.
Dr Cullen’s external appearance, though striking
and not unpleasing, was not elegant. He had an ex¬
pressive countenance and a lively eye. In his person
il ] C U L
he was tall and thin, stooping much about the shoulders', CHllen,
and when he walked he had a contemplative look, Culioden.
seemingly regarding little the objects around him. Ac- v
cording to the observation of one who was well ac¬
quainted with the character of Cullen, he was eminent¬
ly distinguished as a professor for three things. “ The
energy of his mind, by which he viewed every subject
with ardour, and combined it immediately with the
whole of Ills knowledge.
“ The scientific arrangement which he gave to his
subject, by which there was a lucidus ordo to the dull¬
est scholar. He was the first person in this country
who made chemistry cease to be a chaos.
“ A wonderful art of interesting the students in every
thing which he taught, and of raising an emulative en¬
thusiasm among them.” Life of Dr Cullen, by Dr
Anderson, in the Bee.
CULLODEN, a place in Scotland within two miles
of Inverness, chiefly remarkable for a complete victorv
gained over the rebels on the 16th of April 1746.
That day the royal army, commanded by the duke
ol Cumberland, began their march from Nairn, form¬
ed into five lines of three battalions each ; headed
by Major-general Huske on the left, Lord Sempill
on the right, and Brigadier Mordaunt in the centre;
flanked by the horse under the generals Hawley and
Bland, who at the same time covered the cannon on
the right and left. In this order they marched about
eight miles, when a detachment of Kingston’s horse,
and ef the Highlanders, having advanced before the
rest of the army, discovered the van of the rebels com¬
manded by the young Pretender. Both armies im¬
mediately formed in the order and numbers shown in
the annexed scheme.
About two in the afternoon the rebels began to
cannonade the king’s army; but their artillery b^ing
ill served, did little execution ; while the lire from
their enemies was severely felt, and occasioned great
disorder. The rebels then made a push at the right
of the royal army, in order to draw the troops for¬
ward ; hut finding themselves disappointed, they turn¬
ed their whole force on the left ; falling chiefly on
Barrel’s and Munro’s regiments, where they attempt¬
ed to flank the king’s front line. But this design
also was defeated by the advancing of Wolfe’s regi¬
ment, while in the mean time the cannon kept play¬
ing upon them with cartridge-shot. General Hawley,
with some Highlanders, had opened a passage through
some stone walls to the right for the horse which ad¬
vanced on that side ; while the horse on the king’s
right wheeled off upon their left, dispersed their bo¬
dy of reserve, and met in the centre of their front line
in their rear ; when being repulsed in the front, and
great numbers of them cut off, the rebels fell in¬
to very great confusion. A dreadful carnage was
made by the cavalry on their backs; however, some
part of the foot still preserved their order; but King¬
ston’s horse, from the reserve, gallopped up briskly,
and falling upon the fugitives, did terrible execution.
A total defeat instantly took place, with the loss of
2500 killed, wounded, and prisoners, on the part of
the rebels, while the royalists lost not above 200. The
young Pretender had his horse shot under him during
the engagement; and after the battle retired to the
B 2 house
C U L
house of a factor of Lord Lovat, about ten miles from
Inverness, where he staid that night. Next day lie
set out for Fort-Augustus, from whence he pursued his
journey through wild deserts with great difficulty and
distress, till at last he safely reached France, as related
under the article Britain, N° 423* (A)*
CULM, or Culmus, among botanists, a straw or
haulm > defined by Linnaeus to be the proper trunk
of the grasses, which elevates the leaves, flower, and
fruit.
This sort of trunk is tubular or hollow, and has
frequently knots or joints distributed at proper distan¬
ces through its whole length. fI he leaves are long,
sleek, and placed either near the roots in great num¬
bers, or proceed singly from the different joints of
the stalk, which they embrace at the base, like a
sheath or glove.
C U L
The haulm is commonly garnished with leaves : Culm.
sometimes, however, it is naked j that is, devoid of  r-
leaves, as in a few species of cypress-grass. Most
grasses have a round cylindrical stalk *, in some species
of schoenus, scirpus, cypress-grass, and others, it is tri¬
angular.
The stalk is sometimes entire, that is, has no bran¬
ches ; sometimes branching, as in sc/iccnus acideutus
et capensis; and not seldom consists of a number of
scales which lie over each other like tiles.
Lastly, in a few grasses the stalk is not interrupted
with joints, as in the greater part. The space contain¬
ed betwixt every two knots or joints, is termed by bo¬
tanists internodium and articuhis culmi.
This species of trunk often affords certain marks of
distinction in discriminating the species. Thus, in the
genus eriocaulon, the species are scarce to be distin¬
guished
[ 12 ]
(a) Plan of the Battle of Culloden.
•1188 Il« UI—3SJ°q s^tioisSuTH PJbmoh iauaipj neoiweg osjoq stuo^§ui^
•xNnva^oj\[ *2ug;
Suiuisu ,, jj fj H§iia JamoSgi ?, P, |j ajlo^V
•axsnjj aofe]^
•SEjp stuiuqqo3 P, P xraI°HO n n n jj *°S jj jj0IU0IMjj jj 13JJB8[ *suoo2EjQstJj3^
•aNvaa ’tiaQ
•aTavwaaTy jo ‘U30 *!n3!rI
'AK^V stONI^I aHX
•wnaDNy pjo^j puop^
N.
Duke of Perth.
The REBEL ARMY.
Lord John Drummond.
Lord Geo. Murray.
0^10
On cT1 Co
O 3 0-3
O cn o
_ Cm g
o O o
£L §
M M
o
o «
S o ^
On 0 3
o <-+
P- °
tc
►*1 2 t“
W ^ O
o ^ o 2. o S
0 3- 0 3 O ^
O
Cw 3
° 3
o ^
>
K» ^
o
O 3
_ O rr
ON O ST*
O ET* o Q
O X- o 3-
o o o o
s.
►d
tt)
►t
?r
Left flank 400. .
Ld. John Drummond.
Guards, hussars,  —-■■■■■
and Perthshire The young Pretender.
squadron.
Fitzjames’s
horse.
Right flank 400
Piquets, by Stapleton.
First column 800.
Those of the above, who
have only guns, and
Kilmarnock’s guards.
Second column 800.
Ld. Lewis Gordon’s and Glenbucket’s,
to be ready to succour when needful.
The D. of Perth’s reg. and Ld. Ogilvie’s,
not to fire without positive order j and to
Leepcloseas a fresh corps de reserve. 800.-
Third column 800.
Colonel Roy Stuart’s, and
those of the above who
have only guns.
-In all 8350..
all, broke down by the Campbells,
CUM [ 13 ] CUN
Culm but by the angles of the culms or stalks.
|1 These in some species are in number 5, in others 6,
Cumber- an(l Jn others 10.
lan‘b CULMIFEROUS plants, (from citlnws, a straw
v or haulm) : plants so called, which have a smooth
jointed stalk, usually hollow, and wrapped about at
each joint with single, narrow, sharp-pointed leaves,
and the seeds contained in chafi'y husks •, such are oats,
wheat, barley, rye, and the other plants of the natu¬
ral family of the Grasses.
CULMINATION, in Astronomy, the passage of
any heavenly body over the meridian, or its greatest
altitude for that day.
CULPRIT, a term used by the clerk of the arraign¬
ments, when a person is indicted for a criminal matter.
See Plea to Indictment, par. 11.
CULROSS, a royal borough town in Scotland, si¬
tuated on the river Forth, about 23 miles north-west
of Edinburgh. Here is a magnificent house, which
was built about the year 1590 by Edward Lord Kin-
loss, better known in England by the name of Lord
Bruce, slain in the noted duel between him and Sir
Edward Sackville. Some poor remains of the Cister¬
cian abbey are still to be seen here, founded by Mal¬
colm earl of Fife in 1217. The church was jointly
dedicated to the Virgin and St Serf confessor. The
revenue at the dissolution was 768 pounds Scots, be¬
sides the rents paid in kind. The number of monks,
exclusive of the abbot, was nine. Population l6n in
1811. W. Long. 3. 34. N. Lat. 56. 8.
CULVERIN, a long slender piece of ordnance or
artillery, serving to carry a ball to a great distance.
Manege derives the word from the Latin colubrina :
others from coluber, “ snake either on account of
the length and slenderness of the piece, or of the i-ava-
ges it makes.
There are three kinds of culverins, viz. the extra¬
ordinary, the ordinary, and the least sized. 1. The
culverin extraordinary has inches bore $ its length
32 calibers, or 13 feet; wreighs 4800 pounds; its load
above 12 pounds; carries a shot 5^ inches diameter,
weighing 20 pounds weight. 2. The ordinary cul¬
verin is 12 feet long; carries a ball of 17 pounds
5 ounces ; caliber 5^ inches ; its weight 4500 pounds.
3. The culverin of the least size, has its diameter 5
inches; is 12 feet long; weighing about 4000 pounds ;
carries a shot 3^ inches diameter, weighing 14 pounds
9 ounces.
CULVERTAILED, among shipwrights, signifies
the fastening or letting of one timber into another, so
that they cannot slip out, as the corlings into the
beams of a ship.
CUMA, or CuMiE, in Ancient Geography, a town
of iEolia in Asia Minor. The inhabitants have been
accused of stupidity for not laying a tax upon all the
goods which entered their harbour during 300 years.
They were called Cumani.
CUM7E, or Cuma, in Ancient Geography, a city
of Campania near Puteoli, founded by a colony from
Chalcis and Cumae of TEolia before the Trojan war.
The inhabitants rvere called Cumcei. One of the Si¬
byls fixed her residence in a cave in the neighbour¬
hood, and was called the Cumean Sibyl.
CUMBERLAND, Cumbria, so denominated from
the Cumbri, or Britons, who inhabited it ; one of the Cumber-
most northerly counties in England. It was formerly iaiul
a kingdom, extending from the vallum of Adrian to II
the city of Dumbritton, now Dumbarton on the inth ,
of Clyde in Scotland. At present it is a county of
England, which gives the title of duke to one of the
royal family, and sends two members to parliament.
It is bounded on the north and north-west by Scotland ;
on the south and south-east by part of Lancashire and
Westmoreland: it 'borders on the east with Northum¬
berland and Durham ; and on the west is washed by
the Irish sea. Its extreme length is 72 miles, its
greatest breadth 38, and it incloses an area of 1516
square miles, or 970,240 acres. It is well watered
with rivers, lakes, and fountains; but none of its
streams are navigable. In some places there are very
high mountains, and the climate is moist, as in all
hilly countries. The soil varies with the face of the
country ; being barren on the moors and mountains, but
fertile in the valleys and level ground bordering on
the sea. In general, the eastern parts of the shire are
barren and desolate : yet even the least fertile parts
are rich in metals and minerals. The mountains of
Copland contain copper, though now little worked.
Veins of the same metal, with a mixture of gold and
silver, were found in the reign of Queen Elizabeth
among the fells of Derwent ; and royal mines were for¬
merly wrought at Keswick. The county produces great
quantities of coal : it abounds with lead mines, has a
mine of black lead, and several mines of lapis calami-
naris. The population in 1811 was 133,744* ^ee
Cumberland, Supplement.
Cumberland, Richard, a learned English divine
in the end of the 17th century, was son of a citizen of
London, and educated at Cambridge. In 1672 he
published a Treatise of the Laws of Nature; and in
1686, An Essay toward the Jewish Weights and Mea¬
sures. After the Revolution he was nominated by
King William to the bishopric-of Peterborough. He
wrote on history, chronology* and philosophy; and waS
as remarkable for humility of mind, benevolence of
temper, and innocence of life, as for his extensive
learning. He died in IJI&.
CUMBRAY, Great and Little, two islands in
the frith of Clyde, in Scotland. The first is about six
miles in circumference, and lies between the isle of
Bute and the coast of Ayrshire. The other is of smal¬
ler extent, and has a light-house.
CUMINUM, Cumin ; a genus of plants belonging to
the pentandria class ; and in the natural method ranking
under the 45th order, umbellatce. See Botany Index.
CUNiEUS, Peter, born in Zealand in 1586, was
distinguished by his knowledge in the learned langua¬
ges, and his skill in the Jewish antiquities. He also
studied law, which he taught at Leyden in 1615; and
read politics there till his death in 1638. His princi¬
pal work is a treatise, in Latin, on the republic of the
Hebrews.
CUNEIFORM, in general, an appellation given to
any body having the shape of a wedge.
Cuneiform Rone, in Anatomy, the seventh bone of
the cranium, called also os basilare, and os sphenoides.
See Anatomy Index.
CUNEUS, in antiquity, a company of infantry
drawn t
CUN [ 14 1 CUN
Ctrem drawn up in form of a wedge, the better to brea&
H through the enemy’s ranks.
Cunning- CUNICULUS. See Lepus, Mammalia Index.
1‘aa1' CUNICULUS, in mining, a term used by authors in
distinction from puteus, to express the several sorts of
passages and cuts in these subterranean works. The
< unionli are those direct passages in mines where they
walk on horizontally ; hut the putei are the perpen¬
dicular cuts or descents. The miners in Germany call
these by the name stnllen, and schachts ; the first word
expressing the horizontal, and the second the perpen¬
dicular cuts.
CUNILA, a genus of plants belonging to the mo-
nandria class } and in the natural method ranking
under the 42d order, Verticillatce. See Botany Index.
CUNfNA, in Mythologtj, a goddess who had the
care of little children.
CUNITZ, or CuNITIA, Maria, astronomer, was
the eldest daughter of Hendric Cunitz, doctor of
medicine in Silesia, and was born about the beginning
of the 17th century. She learned languages with
amazing facility} and understood 1 olisli, German,
French, Italian, Latin, Greek, and Hebrew. She at¬
tained a knowledge of the sciences with equal ease :
she was skilled in history, physic, poetry, painting,
music, and playing upon instruments j and yet these
were onlv an amusement. She more particularly ap¬
plied herself to the mathematics, and especially to
astronomy, which she made her principal study, and
was ranked in the number of the most able astro¬
nomers 6f her time. Her Astronomical Tables ac¬
quired her a prodigious reputation : she printed them
in Latin and German, and dedicated them to the em¬
peror Ferdinand III. She married Elias de Lewin,
M. D. and died at Pistehen in 1664.
CUNNINGHAM, one of the four bailiwicks in
Scotland , and one of the three into which the shire
of Ayr is subdivided. It lies north-east of Kyle. It
contains the sea-port towns oflrvine and Saltcoats.
Cunningham, Alexander, author of a History
of Great Britain from the Kevolution to the acces¬
sion of George I. was born in the south of Scotland
about the year 1654, in the regency of Oliver Crom¬
well. His father was minister at Ettrick, in the
presbytery and shire of Selkirk. He was educated,
as was the custom among the Scottish presbyterian
gentlemen of those times, in Holland 5 where he
imbibtd his principles of government, and lived
much with the English and Scots refugees at the
Ha oue before the revolution, particularly with the
earls of Argyle and Sunderland. He came over to
England with the prince of Orange, and enjoyed
the confidence and intimacy of many leading men
among the whig party, that is, the friends and abet¬
tors of King William and the revolution. He was
employed, at different times, in the character of a
travelling companion ox1 tutor; first, to the earl of
Hyndford, and his brother Mr William Carmichael,
solicitor-general, in tlie reign 01 Queen Anne, for
Scotland ; secondly, with the lord Lome, afterwards
so well known under the name ot John dvke of Ar~
gyle ; and thirdly, with the lord viscount Lonsdale. In
his travels, we find him, at the German courts, in
company with the celebrated Mr Joseph Addison,
whose virtues he celebrates.
Lord Lome, at the time he was under the tuition Cunning-
of Mr Cunningham, though not seventeen years of age, ham.
was colonel of a regiment, which his father, the earl ——v——
of Argyle, had raised for his majesty’s service in Flan¬
ders. Mr Cunningham’s connection with the duke
of A1 gyle, with whom he had the honour of main- v
taining an intimacy as long as he lived, together
with the opportunities he enjoyed of learning, in
his travels, what may be called military geography,
naturally tended to qualify him for writing on military
a Hairs.
Mr Cunningham, both when he travelled with the
nobleman above mentioned, and on other occasions,
was employed by the English ministry in transmitting
secret intelligence to them on the most important sub¬
jects. He was also, on sundry occasions, employed
by the genei’als of the confederate armies, to carry in¬
telligence, and to make representations to the court of
Britain. In Carstaires’s State Papers, published by Dr
Macormick, principal of the United College of St An¬
drew’s, in 1774, there are two letters from our author,
dated Paris the 22d and 26th of August 1701, giving
an account of his conferences with the marquis de
Torey, the French minister, x'elative to the Scots
trade with France. This commercial negotiation,
from the tenor of Cunningham’s letters compared
with his history, appears to have been only the osten¬
sible object of his attention : for he sent an exact ac¬
count to King William, with whom he was personally
acquainted, of the military preparations throughout all
France.
Mr Cunningham’s political friends, Argyle, Sun¬
derland, Sir Robert Walpole, &c. on the accession of
George I. sent him as British envoy to the republic of
Venice. He arrived in that city in 1715 i ant^ con"
tinned there, in the character of resident, till the year
1720, when he returned again to London. He lived
many years after, which he seems chiefly to have pas¬
sed in a studious retirement. In I735» ^ie was vis>ted
in London by Lord Hyndford, by the direction of his
lordship’s father, to whom he had been tutor, when
he appeared to be very old. He seems to have lived
about two years after : for the body of an Alexander
Cunningham lies interred in the vicar chancel cl St
Martin’s church, who died in the 83d year of his age,
on the 15th day of May 1737 J and who was pro¬
bably the same person.
His “ History of Great Britain, from the i-evolu-
tion in 1688 to the accession of George I.” was pub-
fished in two volumes 410, in 1787. It W'as written
by Mr Cunningham in Latin, but was translated into
English by the reverend William Thomson, L.L.D.
The original manuscript came into the possession of the
reverend Dr Hollingberry, archdeacon of Chichester,
some of whose relations had been connected with the
author. He communicated it to the earl of Hardwicke,
and to the reverend Dr Douglas, now bishop of Car¬
lisle, both of whom recommended the publication.
In a short preface to the work, the archdeacon says,
“ My fi rst design was to have produced it in the ori¬
ginal •, but knowing how few are sufficiently learned
to understand, and how many are indisposed to read
two quarto volumes in Latin, however interesting and
entertaining the subject may be, I altered my purpose,
and intended to have sent it into the world in a trans¬
lation.
CUN [i
Ctmnin"- lation. A nervous fever depriving me of the power,
ham defeated the scheme.” But he afterwards transferred
II the undertaking to Dr Thomson ; and Dr Holling-
kerry observes, that Dr Thomson “ has expressed the
‘ i sense of the author with fidelity.” The work was
undoubtedly well deserving of publication. It contains
the history of a very interesting period, written by a
man who had a considerable degree of authentic in¬
formation, and his book contains many curious parti¬
culars not to be found in other histories. His charac¬
ters are often drawn with judgment and impartiality 5
at other times they are somewhat tinctured with preju¬
dice. This is particularly the case with respect to
Bishop Burnet, against whom he appears to have con¬
ceived a strong personal dislike. But he was manifest¬
ly a very attentive observer of the transactions of his
own time ; his work contains many just political re¬
marks ; and the facts which he relates are exhibited
with great perspicuity, and often with much animation.
Throughout his hook he frequently intersperses some
account of the literature, and of the most eminent per¬
sons of the age concerning which he writes; and he
has also adorned his work with many allusions to the
classics and to ancient history.
Alexander Cunningham, the author of the History
of Great Britain, has been supposed to be the same
person with Alexander Cunningham who published an
edition of Horace at the Hague, in two volumes 8vo,
in 1721, which is highly esteemed. But from the
best information we have been able to collect, they were
certainly different persons ; though they were both of
the same name, lived at the same time, had both been
travelling tutors, were both said to have been eminent
for their skill at the game of chess, and both lived to
a very advanced age. The editor of Horace is ge¬
nerally said to have died in Holland, where he taught
both the civil and canon laws, and where he had
collected a very large library, which was sold in that
country.
CUNNUS, in Anatomy, the pudendum midiebre, or
the anterior parts of the genitals of a woman, including
the labia pudendi and mons veneris. See Anatomy,
N° 108.
CUNOCEPHALT, in Mythology, (fr om Kvuf,
“ dog,” and xsQxXi, “ head,”) a kind of baboons, or
animals with heads like those of dogs, which were won¬
derfully endowed, and were preserved with great vene¬
ration by the Egyptians in many of their temples. It
is related, that by their assistance the Egyptians found
out the particular periods of the sun and moon ; and
that one half of the animal was often buried, while
the other half survived : and that they could read and
write. This strange history, Dr Bryant imagines, re¬
lates to the priests of Egypt, styled caken, to the no¬
vices in their temples, and to the examinations they
were obliged to undergo, before they could be ad¬
mitted to the priesthood. The Egyptian colleges were
situated upon rocks or hills, called eaph, and from
their consecration to the sun, caph-el; whence the
Greeks deduced xttpteXi, and from cahen-caph-el they
formed So that cahen-caph-el was some
royal seminary in Upper Egypt, whence they draught¬
ed novices to supply their colleges and temples. By
this etymology he explains the above history. The
S ] CUP
death of one part, while the other survived, denoted the Cunoee-
regular succession of the Egyptian priesthood. The phaii
cunocephali are also found in India and other parts of i!
the world. These and the acephali were thus denomi-
nated from their place of residence and from their
worship.
CUNODONTES, a people mentioned by Solimis
and Isidorus, and by them supposed to have the teeth
of dogs. They were probably denominated, says Dr
Bryant, from the object ot their worship, the deity
Cban-Adon, which the Greeks expressed Kw#?.*;*, and
thence called his votaries Cunodontes.
CUNONIA, a genus of plants belonging to the
decandria class ; and in the natural method ranking
with those of which the order is doubtful. See Bota¬
ny Index.
CUOGOLO, in Natural History, the name of a stone
much used by the Venetians in glass-making, and found
in the river Tesino. It is a small stone of an impure
white, of a shattery texture, and is of the shape of a
pebble.
CUP, a vessel of capacity of various forms and ma¬
terials, chiefly to drink out of. In the Ephem. Ger¬
man. we have a description of a cup made of a common
pepper-corn by Oswald Nerlinger, which holds 1200
other ivory cups, having each its several handle, all
gilt on the edges; with room for 400 more.
Cup, in Botany. See Calyx, Botany Index.
Cup-Galls, in Natural History, a name given by
authors to a very singular kind of galls, found on the
leaves of the oak and some other trees. They are
of the figure of a cup, or drinking-glass without its
foot, being regular cones adhering by their point or
apex to the leaf; and the top or broad part is hollow¬
ed a little way, so that it appears like a drinking-
glass with a cover, which was made so small as not
to close it at the mouth, but fall a little way into it.
This cover is flat, and has in the centre a very small
protuberance, resembling the nipple of a woman’s
breast. This is of a pale green, as is also the whole of
the gall, excepting only its rim that runs round the
top : this is of a scarlet colour, and that very beauti¬
ful. Besides this species of gall, the oak leaves fur¬
nish us with several others, some of which are oblong,
some round and others flatted ; these are of various
sizes, and appear on the leaves at various seasons of the
year. They all contain the worm of some small fly;
and this creature passes all its changes in this its ha¬
bitation, being sometimes found in the worm, some¬
times in the nymph, and sometimes in the fly state, in
the cavity of it.
CUPANIA, in Botany, a genus of plants belonging
to the monoecia class; and in the natural method rank¬
ing under the 38th order, Tricoccce. See Botany'
Index.
CUPEL, in Metallurgy, a small vessel which ab¬
sorbs metallic bodies when changed by fire into a fluid
scoria ; but retains them as long as they continue in
their metallic state. One of the most proper materials
for making a vessel of this kind is the ashes of animal
bones ; there is scarcely any other substance which
so strongly resists vehement fire, which so readily im¬
bibes metallic scoriae, and which is sa little disposed to
be vitrified by them. In want of these,, some make
use
CUP [ I<
Cupel, use of vegetable ashes, freed by boiling'in water from
Cupella- their saline matter, which woulo cause them melt in
. the fire. # ^
" ’ The bones, burnt to perfect whiteness, so that no
particle of coaly or inflammable matter may remain
in them, and well washed from filth, are ground into
moderately fine powder ; which in order to its being
formed into cupels, is moistened with just as much
water as is sufficient to make it hold together when
strongly pressed between the fingers j some direct glu¬
tinous liquids, as whites of eggs or gum-water, in or¬
der to give the powder a greater tenacity : but the
inflammable matter, however small in quantity, which
accompanies these fluids, and cannot be easily burnt
out from the internal part of the mass, is apt to revive
a part of the metallic scoria that has been absorbed,
and to occasion the vessel to burst or crack. The cu¬
pel is formed in a brass ring, from three quarters of
an inch to two inches diameter, and not quite so deep,
placed upon some smooth support: the ring being fill¬
ed with moistened powder, which is pressed close with
the fingers} a round-faced pestle, called a monk, is
struck down into it with a few blows of a mallet, by
which the mass is made to cohere, and rendered suf¬
ficiently compact, and a shallow cavity formed in the
middle : the figure of the cavity is nearly that of a
sphere, that a small quantity of metal melted in it
may run together into one bead. Jio make the ca¬
vity the smoother, a little of the same kind of ashes
levigated into an impalpable powder, and not moist¬
ened, is commonly sprinkled on the surface, through a
small fine sieve made for this purpose, and the monk
again struck down upon it. The ring or mould is a
little narrower at bottom than at top ; so that by pres¬
sing it down on some of the dry powder spread upon
a table, the cupel is loosened, and forced upwards
a little ; after which it is easily pushed out with the
finger; and is then set to dry in a warm place free
from dust. #
CUPELLATION, the act of refining gold or sil¬
ver by means of a cupel. For this purpose another
vessel, called a muffle, is made use of, within which one
or more cupels are placed. The muffle is placed upon
a grate in a proper furnace, with its mouth facing the
door, and as close to it as may be. The furnace be¬
ing filled up with fuel, some lighted charcoal is thrown
on the top, and what fuel is afterwards necessary js
supplied through a door above. I he cupels are set in
the muffle ; and being gradually heated by the succes¬
sive kindling of the fuel, they are kept red hot for
some time, that the moisture which they strongly re¬
tain may be completely dissipated : for if any vapours
should issue from them after the metal is put in, they
WOuld occasion it to sputter, and a part of it to be
thrown off in little drops. In the sides of the muffle
are some perpendicular slits, with a knob over the top
of each, to prevent any small pieces of coals or ashes
from falling in. The door, or some apertures made in
it, being kept open, for the inspection of the cupels,
fresh air enters into the muffle, and passes off through
these slits: by laying some burning charcoal on an iron
plate before the door, the air is heated before its
admission j and by removing the charcoal or supply¬
ing more, the heat in the cavity of the muffle niay be
somewhat diminished or increased more speedily than
3
] CUP
can be effected by suppressing or exciting the fire in Cupelia-
the furnace on the outside of the muffle. The renewal tion.
of the air is also necessary for promoting the scorifi-*y——
cation of the lead.
The cupel being of a full red heat, the lead cast in¬
to a smooth bullet, that it may not scratch or injure
the surface, is laid lightly in the cavity *, it immedi-
atelv melts •, and then the gold or silver to be cupelled
is cautiously introduced either by means of a small
iron ladle, or by wrapping them in paper, and drop¬
ping them on the lead with a pair of tongs. The
quantity of lead should be at least three or four times
that of the fine metal ; but when gold is very impure,
it requires 10 or 12 times its quantity of lead for cu-
pellation. It is reckoned that copper requires for its
scorification about io times its weight of lead : that
when copper and gold are mixed in equal quantities,
the copper is so much defended by the gold, as not to
be separable with less than 20 times its weight of
lead ; and that when copper is in very small proportion,
as a 20th or 30th part of the gold or silver, upwards of
60 parts of lead are necessary for one of the copper.
The cupel must always weigh at least hall as much as
the lead and copper j for otherwise it would not be suf¬
ficient for receiving half the scoria •, there is little dan¬
ger, however, of cupels being made too small for the
quantity of a gold assay.
The mixture being brought into thin fusion, the
heat is to be regulated according to the appearances j
and in this consists the principal nicety in the ope¬
ration. If a various coloured skin rises to the top,
which liquefying, runs off to the sides, and is there
absorbed by the cupel, visibly staining the parts it en¬
ters •, if a fresh scoria continually succeeds, and is ab¬
sorbed nearly as fast as it is formed, only a fine circle
of it remaining round the edge of the metal j if the
lead appears in gentle motion, and throws up a fume
a little way from the surface *, the fire is of the pro¬
per degree, and the process goes on successfully.
Such a fiery brightness of the cupel as prevents its
colour from being distinguished, and the fumes of the
lead rising up almost to the arch of the muffle, are
marks of too strong a heat; though it_ must be obser¬
ved, that the elevation of the fumes is not always in
proportion to the degree of heat j f^r if the heat
greatly exceeds the due limits, both the fumes and
ebullition will entirely cease. In these circumstances
the fire must necessarily be diminished : for while the
lead boils and smokes vehemently, its fumes are apt to
carry off some part of the gold •, the cupel is liable to
crack from the hasty absorption of the scoria, and part
of the gold and silver is divided into globules, which
lying discontinued on the cupel after the piocess is fi¬
nished, cannot easily be collected ; if there is no ebul¬
lition or fumes, the scorification does not appear to go
on. Too weak a heat is known by the dull redness
of the cupel •, by the fume not rising from the surface
of the lead 5 and the scoria like bright drops in languid
motion, or accumulated, or growing consistent all over
the metal. ' The form of the surface affords also an
useful mark of the degree of heat $ the stronger the
fire, the more convex is the surface ; and the weaker,
the more flat: in this point, however, regard must be
had to the quantity of metal ; a large quantity being
alwavs flatter than a small one in an equal fire.
J Towards
CUP [I
Cuoeilation Towards the end of the process, the fire must be
1 I] increased ; for the greatest part of the fusible metal
Cupressus. ieafl being now worked off, the gold and silver will not
 *   continue melted in the heat that was sufficient before.
As the last remains of the lead are separating, the
rainbow colours on the surface become more vivid, and
variously intersect one another with quick motions.
Soon after, disappearing all at once, a sudden lumi¬
nous brightness of the button of gold and silver
shows the process to be finished. T. he cupel is then
drawn forwards towards the mouth ol the muffle ;
and the button, as soon as grown fully solid, taken
out.
CUPELLING furnace. See Cupelling Fur¬
nace.
CUPID, in Pagan mythology, the god of love.
There seems to have been two Cupids \ one the son of
Jupiter and Venus, whose delight it was to raise senti¬
ments of love and virtue ; and the other the son of
Mars and the same goddess, who inspired base and im¬
pure desires. The first of these, called Eros, or true
love, bore golden arrows, which caused real joy, and
a virtuous affection ; the other, called Anteros, had
leaden arrows, that raised a passion founded only on
desire, which ended in satiety and disgust. Cupid was
always drawn with wings, to represent his inconstancy •,
and naked, to shew that he has nothing of his own.
He was painted blind, to denote that love sees no fault
in the object beloved •, and with a bow and quiver of
arrows, to show his power over the mind. Sometimes
he is placed between Hercules and Mercury, to show
the prevalence of eloquence and valour in love ; and
at others is placed near Fortune, to signify that the
success of lovers depends on that inconstant goddess.
Sometimes he is represented with a helmet on his head
and a spear on his shoulder, to signify that love disarms
the fiercest men j he rides upon the backs of panthers
and lions, and uses their manes for a bridle, to denote
that love tames the most savage beasts. He is likewise
pictured riding upon a dolphin, to signify that his em¬
pire extends over the sea no less than the land.
CUPOLA, in Architecture, a spherical vault, or the
round top of the dome of a church, in the form of a cup
inverted.
CUPPING, in Surgery, the operation of applying
cupping-glasses for the discharge of blood and other
humours by the skin. See Surgery.
CUPRESSUS, the Cypress Tree, a genus of
plants belonging to the monoecia class j and in the na¬
tural method ranking under the 51st order, Coniferce.
See Botany Index.
The wood of the sempervirens, or evergreen cypress,
is said to resist worms, moths, and putrefaction, and
to last many centuries. The coffins in which the A-
thenians were wont to bury their heroes, were made,
says Thucydides, of this wood 5 as were likewise the
chests containing the Egyptian mummies. 1 he doors
of St Peter’s church at Rome were originally of the
same materials. These, after lasting upwards ol 600
years, at the end of which they did not discover the
smallest tendency to corruption, were removed by or¬
der of Pope Eugenius IV. and gates of brass substituted
in their place. The same tree is by many eminent au¬
thors recommended as improving and meliorating Tlie
air by its balsamic and aromatic exhalations 5 upon
Vol. VII. Part I. - f
r ] CU11
which account many ancient physicians of the eastern Cupressus
countries used to send their patients svlio were troubled II
with weak lungs to the island of Candia, where these , Cll'at‘-‘-
trees grow in great abundance j and where, from the
salubrious air alone, very few failed of a perfect cure.
In the same island, says Miller, the cypress-trees were
so lucrative a commodity, that the plantations were
called dosfiliee; the felling of them being reckoned a
daughter’s portion. Cypress, says Mr Pococke, is the
only tree that grows towards the top of Mount Leba¬
non, and being nipped by the cold, grows like a small
oak. Noah’s ark is commonly supposed to have been
made of this kind of wood.
CUPRUM ammoniacale. See Chemistry In¬
dex. This preparation is recommended in some kinds
of spasmodic diseases, given in the dose of one or two
grains.
Cuprum, or Copper. See Copper, Chemistry In¬
dex.
CURACOA, or Curassow, one of the larger An¬
tilles islands, formerly subject to the Dutch ; situated
in W. Long. 68. 30. N. Lat. 12. 30. This island is
little else than a bare rock, about ten leagues long and
five broad-, lying three leagues off the coast of Vene¬
zuela. It has an excellent harbour, but the entrance
is difficult. The bason is extremely large, and conve¬
nient in every respect j and is defended by a fort skil¬
fully constructed, and always kept in repair. The rea¬
son of forming a settlement upon this barren spot, was
to carry on a contraband trade with the Spanish colonies
on the continent $ but after some time the method of
managing this trade was changed. Curassow itself
became an immense magazine, to which the Spaniards
resorted in their boats to exchange gold, silver, va¬
nilla, cocoa, cochineal, bark, skins, and mules, for ne¬
groes, linen, silks, India stuffs, spices, laces, ribbands,
quicksilver, steel, and iron-wrare. These voyages,
though continual, did not prevent a number of Dutch
sloops from passing from Curassow to the continent.
But the modern substitution of register-ships, instead
of galleons, has made this communication less frequent j
hut it will be revived whenever, by the intervention ol
war, the communication with the Spanish Main shall
be cut off. The disputes between the courts of Lon¬
don and Versailles also prove favourable to the trade
of Curassow. At these times it furnishes provisions
to the southern parts of St Domingo, and takes oft all
its produce. Even the French privateers, from the
windward islands, repair in great numbers to Curas¬
sow, notwithstanding the distance. The reason is,
that they find there all kinds of necessary stores for
their vessels *, and frequently Spanish, but always Eu¬
ropean goods, which are universally used. Every com¬
modity without exception, that is landed at Curassow,
pays one per cent, port-duty. Dutch goods are never
taxed higher *, but those that are shipped from other
European ports pay nine per cent. more. Foreign
coffee is subject to the same tax, in order to promote
the sale of that of Surinam. Every other production
of America is subject only to a payment of three per
cent, but with an express stipulation, that they are to
be conveyed directly to some port belonging to the re¬
public. This island is now in possession of Great
Britain.
CURATE, the lowest degree in the church of Eng-
C land -f
Curate
II
Curb.
CUR [ 18
land ; lie who represents the incumbent of a church,
parson
]
CUR
or vicar, and performs divine service in his
stead : and in case of pluralities of livings, or where a
clergyman is old and infirm, it is requisite there should
be a curate to perform the cure of the church. He is
to be licensed, and admitted by the bishop of the dio¬
cese, or by an ordinary having episcopal jurisdiction ;
and when a curate hath the approbation of the bishop,
he usually appoints the salary too 5 and in such case, if
he be not paid, the curate hath a proper remedy in the
ecclesiastical court, by a sequestration of the profits of
the benefice ; but if the curate is not licensed by the
bishop, he is put to his remedy at common law, where
he must prove the agreement, &c. A curate having
no fixed estate in his curacy, not being instituted and
inducted, may be removed at pleasure by the bishop or
incumbent. But there are perpetual curates as well
as temporary, who are appointed where the tithes are
impropriate, and no vicarage endowed : these are not
removeable, and the improprietors are obliged to find
them some whereof have certain portions of the tithes
settled on them. Every clergyman that officiates in a
church (whether incumbent or substitute) in the litur¬
gy is called a curate. Curates must subscribe the de¬
claration according to the act of uniformity, or are lia¬
ble to imprisonment, &c.
CURATELLA, a genus of plants belonging to
the polyandria class ; and in the natural method rank¬
ing with those of which the order is doubtful. See
Botany Index.
CURATOR, among the Romans, an officer under
the emperors, who regulated the price of all kinds of
merchandise and vendible commodities in the cities of
the empire. They had likewise the superintendence of
the customs and tributes j whence also they were called
logistce.
Curator, among civilians, a trustee or person no¬
minated to take care of the affairs and interests of a
person emancipated or interdicted. In countries where
the Roman law prevails, between the age of 14 and
24 years, minors have curators assigned them j till 14,
they have tutors.
Curator of an University, in the United Provinces,
is an elective office, to which belongs the direction of
the affairs of the university j as, the administration of
the revenues, the inspection of the professors, &c.
The curators are chosen by the states of each province:
The university of Leyden has three *, the burgher-
masters of the city have a fourth.
CURB, in the manege, a chain of iron made fast to
the upper part of the branches of the bridle in a hole
called the eye, and running over the horse’s beard. It
consists of these three parts 5 the hook fixed to the eye
of the branch *, the chain of SS’s or links j and the
two rings or mailes. Large curbs, provided they be
round, are always most gentle ; but care is to be taken,
that it rest in its proper place, a little above the beard,
otherwise the bit-mouth will not have the effect that
may be expected from it.
English watering bits have no curbs } the Turkish
bits, called genettes, have a ring that serves instead of
a curb. See Genettes.
Curb, in Farriery, is a hard and callous swelling
on the hind part of the hock, attended with stiffness,
sad sometimes with pain and lameness.. See Spavin.
CURCAS, a name given in Egypt to an esculent Curca*
root, approaching to the taste and virtues of the colo- |)
casia. It is also a name used in Malabar for a small , CBretey-
fruit of the shape and size of a hazel nut. Both these ’
things have the credit of being strong provocatives :
and it is very probable that the curcas of the East In¬
dies may be the fruit called bell by Avicenna, and said
to possess the same virtues. Gracias has been led into
a very great error by this similarity of names and vir¬
tues 5 and supposes the curcas of Egypt the same with
that of the East Indies.
CURCULIO, a genus of insects belonging to the
order of coleoptera. See Entomology Index.
CURCUMA, Turmeric, a genus of plants belong¬
ing to the monandria class; and in the natural method
ranking under the 8th order, Scitaminece. See Bo¬
tany Index.
CURDISTAN, a country of Asia, situated between
the Turkish empire and Persia, lying along the eastern
coast of the river Tigris, and comprehending great part
of the ancient Assyria. Some of the inhabitants live
in towns and villages, and others rove from place to
place, having tents like the wild Arabs, and are also
robbers like them. Their religion is partly Christian,
and partly Mahometanism.
CURDLING, the coagulating or fixing any fluid
body j particularly milk. See Cheese, Agriculture
Index.
Pausanias says, that Aristseus son of Apollo, and
Cyrene, daughter of the river Peneus, were the first
who found out the secret of curdling milk.
At Florence they curdle their milk for the making
of cheese with artichoke flowers, in lieu of the rennet
used for the same purpose among us.
The Bisaltae, a people of Macedonia, Rochfort ob¬
serves, live wholly upon curded milk, i. e. on curds.
He adds, that curds are the whole food of the people
of Upper Auvergne in France, and whey their only
drink.
CURETES, in antiquity, a sort of priests or people
of the isle of Crete, called also Corybantes. See Co-
rybantes and Crete. The Curetes are said to have
been originally of Mount Ida in Phrygia j for which
reason they were also called Idcei Dactyli. See Dac-
tyli.
Lucian and Diodorus Siculus represent them as
very expert in casting of darts j though other authors
give them no weapons but bucklers and pikes but all
agree in furnishing them with tabors and castanettas :
and relate, that they used to dance much to the noise
and clashing thereof. By this noise, it is said, they
prevented Saturn from hearing the cries of young
Jupiter, whereby he was saved from being destroy-
ed.
Some authors, however, give a different account of
the Curetes. According to Pezron and others, the
Curetes were, in the times of Saturn, &c. and in the
countries of Crete and Phrygia, what the druids were
afterwards among the Gauls, &c. i. e. they were priests
who had the care of what related to religion and the
worship of the gods. Hence, as in those days it was
supposed there was no communication with the gods
but by divinations, auguries, and the operations of
magic, the Curetes passed for magicians and enchan¬
ters 1 to these they added the study of the stars, of na¬
ture.
CUR
Cm-ctei ture, and poesy; and so were philosophers, astrono-
II mers, &c.
, Vossius, de Idolat. distinguishes three kinds of Cu-
_ v retes, those of iEtolia, those of Phrygia, and those of
Crete, who were originally derived from the Phry¬
gians, The first, he says, took their name from xagae,
tonsure ; in regard, from the time of a combat wherein
the enemy seized their long hair, they always kept it
cut. Those of Phrygia and Crete, he supposes, were
so called from young man, in regard they were
young, or because they nursed Jupiter when he was
young,
CURFEU, Curfew, or Courfew, a signal given
in cities taken in war, &c. to the inhabitants to go to
bed. Pasquin says, it was so called, as being intended
to advertise the people to secure themselves from the
robberies and debaucheries of the night.
Curfew-BcII in French couvrefeu, and in law La¬
tin of the middle ages, ignitegium, ov pyritegium, was
a signal for all persons to extinguish their fires. The
most eminent curfew in England was that established by
William the Conqueror, who appointed, under severe
penalties, that, at the ringing of the bell at 8 o’clock
in the evening, every one should put out their lights
and fires and go to bed ; whence to this day a bell
rung about this time is called a curfew-bell. This law
was abolished by Henry I. in II00.
This practice was highly necessary to prevent acci¬
dents in those ages when the fires were placed in a
hole in the middle of the floor, under an opening in
the roof to allow the escape of the smoke. This hole
was covered up when the family went to bed. The
eame practice still exists in some countries, and particu¬
larly in some parts of Scotland. But besides securing
houses against accidents by fire, the law which was
very generally established in England for extinguishing
or covering fires, was probably meant also to check
the turbulence which frequently prevailed in the middle
ages, by forcing the people to retire to rest, or to keep
within doors. From this ancient practice, in the opi¬
nion of Beckmann, has arisen a custom in Lower Saxo¬
ny of saying, when people wish to go home sooner than
the company choose, that they hear the burgerglocke, the
burgher’s bell.
The ringing of the prayer bell, as it is called, which
is still practised in some Protestant countries, according
to Beckmann, originated in that of the curfeu-bell.
Pope John XXIII. dreading that some misfortunes
were to befal him, ordered every person on hearing the
ignitegium to repeat the ave Maria three times, with a
view to avert them. When the appearance of a comet,
and a dread of the Turks, alarmed all Christendom,
Pope Calixtus VIII. increased these periodical times
of prayer, by ordering the prayer-bell to be rung also
at noon. Hist, of Invent, ii. ioi.
CURIA, in Roman antiquity, was used for the se¬
nate house. There were several curise in Rome; as
the curia calabra, said to be built by Romulus $ the
curia hostilia, by Tullus Hostilius } and the curia pom-
peia, by Pompey the Great.
Curia also denoted the places where the curia
used to assemble. Each of the 30 curiae of old Rome
had a temple or chapel assigned to them for the com¬
mon performance of their sacrifices, and other offices of
their religion j so that they were not unlike our pa-
c u n
rishes. Some remains of these little temples seem to Curia
have subsisted many ages after on the Palatine hill, il
where Romulus first built the city, and afterwards re-
sided.
Curia, among the Romans, also denoted a portion
or division of a tribe. In the time of Romulus, a tribe
consisted of ten curiae, or a thousand men ; each curia
being one hundred. That legislator made the first di¬
vision of his people into thirty curiae. Afterwards
curia, or domus curialis, became used for the place
where each curia held its assemblies. Hence also
curia passed to the senate-house j and it is from hence
the moderns came to use the word curia, “ court,” for
a place of justice, and for the judges, &c. there as¬
sembled.
Varro derives the word from cura, “ care,” q. d. an
assembly of people charged with the care of public af¬
fairs. Others deduce it from the Greeks ; maintaining,
that at Athens they called xv^tct the place where the
magistrate held his assizes, and the people used to as¬
semble : kv^x, again, may come from xvgaf, authority,
power ; because it was here the laws were made.
Curia, in our ancient customs.—It was usual for
the kings of England to summon the bishops, peers,
and great men of the kingdom to some particular
place, at the chief festivals in the year ; and this assem¬
bly is called by our historians curia; because there they
consulted about the weighty affairs of the nation j
whence it was sometimes also called solemnis curia, ge-
neralis curia, augustalis, and curia publica, &c. See
WlTENA-Afo/.
Curia Baronum. See CouRT-Baron.
Curia Claudenda, is a writ that lies against him who
should fence and inclose the ground, but I’efuses or de¬
fers to do it.
CURIATII, three brothers of Alba, maintained
the interest of their country against the Romans, who
had declared war against those of Alba. The two ar¬
mies being equal, three brothers on each side were cho¬
sen to decide the contest; the Curiatii by those of Al¬
ba, and the Horatii by the Romans. The three first
were wounded, and two of the latter killed ; but the
third joining policy to valour, ran away ; and having
thus tired the Curiatii, he took them one after another,
and killed them all three.
CURING, a term used for the preserving fish, flesh,
and other animal substances, by means of certain ad¬
ditions of things, to prevent putrefaction. One great
method of doing this is by exposing the bodies to
the smoke of wood, or rubbing them with salt, nitre,
&c.
CURIO, the chief and priest of a curia.—Romulus,
upon dividing the people into curiae, gave each divi¬
sion a chief, who was to be priest of that curia, under
the title of curio nnAjlamen curialis. His business was
to provide and officiate at the sacrifices of the curia,
which were called curionia; the curia furnishing him
with a sum of money on that consideration, which pen¬
sion or appointment was called cunonium. Each divi¬
sion had the election of its curia; but all these particu¬
lar curios were under the direction of a superior or ge¬
neral, called curio maximus, who was the head of the
body, and elected by all the curios assembled in the co-
mitia curialis.
All these institutions were introduced by Romu-
C 2 Jus,
[ 19 ]
CUR [ 20 ] CUR
Curio lus* and confirmed by Numa, as Halicarnassus relates
“ It- T . ,
Current. CURIOSUS, an officer of the Roman empire du-
v ring the middle age, appointed to take care that no
frauds and irregularities were committed •, particularly
no abuses in what related to the posts, the roads, &c.
and to give intelligence to the court of what passed in
the provinces. This made the curiosi people of impor¬
tance, and put them in a condition of doing more harm
than they prevented j on which account, Honorius ca¬
shiered them, at least in some parts of the empire, anno
4I5‘
The curiosi came pretty near to what we call control¬
lers. They had their name from cura, “ care quod
curis agendis et evectionibus cursus publici inspiciendis
operam darent.
CURLEW. See Scolofax, Ornithology Index.
CURMI, a name given by the ancients to a sort of
malt liquor or ale. It was made of barley, and was
drunk by the people of many nations instead of wine,
according to Dioscorides’s account. He accuses it of
causing pains in the head, generating bad juices, and
disordering the nervous system. He also says, that in
the western part of Iberia, and in Britain, such a sort
of liquor was in his time prepared from wheat instead
of barley. See Ale.
CURNOCK, a measure of corn containing four bu¬
shels, or half a quarter.
CURRANS, or Currants, the fruit of a species
of grossularia. See Grossularia, Botany Index.
The white and red sort are mostly used j for the
black, and chiefly the leaves, upon first coming out,
are in use to flavour English spirits, and counterfeit
French brandy. Currants greatly assuage drought,
cool and fortify the stomach, and help digestion ; and
the jelly of black currants is said to be very efficacious
in curing inflammations of the throat.
Currants also signify a smaller kind of grapes,
brought principally from Zante and Cephalonia. They
are gathered ofl' the bushes, and laid to dry in the sun,
and so put up in large butts. They are opening and
pectoral j but are more used in the kitchen than in
medicine.
CURRENT, or Currant, a term used to express
the present time. Thus the year 1804 is the current
year, the 20th current is the 20th day of the month
now running.—With regard to commerce, the price
current of any merchandise is the known and ordi¬
nary price accustomed to be given for it. The term
is also used for any thing that has course or is re¬
ceived in commerce j in which sense we say, current
coin, &c.
Current, in Navigation, a certain progressive
movement of the water of the sea, by which all bodies
floating therein are compelled to alter their course or
velocity, or both, and submit to the laws imposed on
them by the current.
In the sea, currents are either natural and general,
as arising from the diurnal rotation of the earth about
its axis ; or accidental and particular, caused by the
waters being driven against promontories, or into
gulfs and straits, where, wanting room to spread,
they are driven back, and thus disturb the ordinary
flux of the sea. Currents are various, and directed
towards different parts of the. ocean, .of which some
are constant, others periodical. The most extraordi- Current,
nary current of the sea is that by which part of the y—'
Atlantic or African ocean moves about Guinea from
Cape Verd towards the curvature or bay of Africa,,
which they call Fernando Poo; viz. from west to east,
contrary to the general motion : and such is the force
of the current, that when ships approach too near the
shore, it carries them violently towards that bay, and
deceives the mariners in their reckoning. There is a
great variety of shifting currents, which do not last,
but return at certain periods : and these do, most of
them, depend upon and lollow the anniversary winds
or monsoons, which by blowing in one place may cause
a current in another. Varenius informs us, that at
Java, in the straits of Sunda, when the monsoons
blow from the west, viz. in the month of May, the
currents set to the eastward, contrary to the general
motion. Between the island of Celebes and Madura,
when the western monsoons set in, viz. in December,
January, and February, or when the winds blow from
the north-west, or between the north and west, the
currents set to the south-east, or between the south
and east. At Ceylon, from the middle of March to
October, the currents set to the southward, and in
the other parts of the year to the northward: because
at this time the southern monsoons blow, and at the
other the northern. Between Cochin-China and Ma¬
lacca, when the western monsoons blow', viz. from
April to August, the currents set eastward against
the general motion } but the rest of the year they
set westward, the monsoon conspiring with the general
motion. They run so strongly in these seas, that un¬
experienced sailors mistake them for waves that beat
upon the rocks, known usually by the name of break*
ers. So for some months after the 15th of February,
the currents set from the Maldives towards India on
the east, against the general motion of the sea. On the
shore of China and Cambodia, in the months of Octo¬
ber, November, and December, the currents set to the
north-west, and from January to the south-W'est, when
they run with such rapidity about the shoals of Parcel,
that they seem swifter than an arrow. At Pulo Con-
dore, upon the coast of Cambodia, though the mon¬
soons are shifting, yet the currents set strongly to¬
wards the east, even when they blow to a contrary
point. Along the coasts of the bay of Bengal, as
far as the Cape Romania, at the extreme point of
Malacca, the current runs southward in November and
December. When the monsoons blow from China
to Malacca, the sea runs swiftly from Pulo Cambi to
Pulo Condore on the coast of Cambodia. In the bay
of Sans Bras, not far from the Cape of Good Hope,
there is a current particularly remarkable, where the
sea runs from east to west to the landward j and this
more vehemently,, as it is opposed by winds from a
contrary direction. J he cause is undoubtedly ow'ing
to some adjacent shore which is higher than this. In
the straits of Gibraltar the currents almost constanUy
drive to the eastward, and carry ships into the Medi¬
terranean j they are also found to drive the same way,
into St George’s channel.
The setting or progressive motion of the current
may be either quite down to the bottom, or to a cer¬
tain determinate depth. As the knowledge of the di¬
rection and velocity of currents is a very material ar¬
ticle
CUR [2
tide in navigation, it is highly necessary to discover
js. both, in order to ascertain the ship’s situation and
course with as much accuracy as possible. The most
successful method which has been hitherto practised
by mariners for this purpose, is as follows : A com¬
mon iron-pot, which may contain four or five gallons,
is suspended by a small rope, fastened to its ear or
handles, so as to hang directly upright, as when pla¬
ced upon the fire. This rope, which may be from 70
to too fathoms in length, being prepared for the
experiment, is coiled in the boat, which is hoisted out
of the ship at a proper opportunity, when there is
little or no wind to ruffle the surface of the sea. The
pot being then thrown overboard into the water, and
immediately sinking, the line is slackened till about
70 or 80 fathoms of the line are run outj after which
the line is fastened to the boat’s stern, by which she is
accordingly restrained and rides at an anchor. The
velocity of the current is then easily tried by the log
and half-minute glass, the usual method of discovering
the rate of a ship’s sailing at sea. The course of the
stream is next obtained by the compass provided for
this operation. Having thus found the setting and
drift of the current, it next remains to apply this ex¬
periment to the purposes of Navigation 5 lor which
see that article.
Under-CuRRESTS, are distinct from the upper or ap¬
parent, and in different places set or drive a contrary
way. Dr Smith makes it highly probable, that in
the Downs, in the straits of Gibraltar, &c. there is
an under-current, whereby as much water is carried
out as is brought in by the upper currents. This he
argues from the offing between the North and South
Foreland, where it runs tide and half-tide, i. e. it is
ebb or flood in that part of the Downs three hours
before it is so off at sea : a certain sign, that though
the tide of flood runs aloft, yet the tide of ebb runs
under-foot, i. e. close by the ground ; and so at the
tide of ebb it will flow under foot. This he confirms
by an experiment in the Baltic sound, communicated
to him by an able seaman present at the making of it.
Being there then with one of the king’s frigates, they
went with their pinnace into the mid-stream, and
were carried violently by the current. Soon after
that, they sunk a basket with a large cannon bullet to
a certain depth of water, which gave a check to the
boat’s motion j and sinking it still lower and lower,
the boat was driven a head to the windward against
the upper current, the current aloft not being above
four or five fathom deep. He added, that the lower
the basket was let down, the stronger the under-current
was found.
From this principle, it is easy to account for that
continual indraught of water out of the Atlantic into
the Mediterranean through the straits of Gibraltar, a
passage about 20 miles broad ; yet without any sen¬
sible rising of the water along the coasts of Barhary,
&c. or any overflowing of the land, which there lies
very low.—Dr Halley, however, solves the currents
setting in at the straits without overflowing the banks,
by the great evaporation, without supposing any under
current.
CURRICULUS, in our ancient writers, denotes
the year or course of a year. Actum est hoc annorum
Dominiccc incarnationis quater quinquagems et qnin-
r ] CUR
qvies quinis lit sir is, et tribus curriculis, i. e. In the year Cmriculus
1028 ; for four times fifty make two hundred, and five ||
times two hundred make one thousand j five lustres are pursing
twenty-five years, and three curriculi are three years. '
CURRIE, James, an eminent Scotch physician. See y—«
Supplement.
CURRIERS, those who dress and colour leather af¬
ter it comes from the tan-vard. See Tanning.
CURRODREPANUS, (formed of currus, “ cha¬
riot,” and “ scythe” or “ sickle”), in anti¬
quity, a kind of chariot armed with scythes. The
driver of these chariots was obliged to ride on one of
the horses, as there was no other seat for him ; the
usual place for him being all armed with knives, as was
likewise the hinder part of the chariot. There were
no scythes pointing down to the earth, either from the
beam or axle-tree j but these were fixed at the head of
the axle-tree in such a manner as to be moveable by
means of a rope, and thereby could be raised or let
down, and drawn forward or let fall backward.
CURRYING, the method of preparing leather with
oil, tallow, &c. The chief business is to soften cow
and calve-skins, which make the upper leather and
quarters of shoes, covering of saddles, coaches, and other
things which must keep out water. 1. These skins,
after coming from the tanner’s yard, having many
fleshy fibres on them, the currier soaks them some
time in common water. 2. He takes them out, and
stretches them on a very even wooden horse •, then
with a paring knife he scrapes off all the superfluous
flesh, and puts them in to soak again. 3. He puts
them wet on a hurdle, and tramples them with his
heels till they begin to grow soft and pliant. 4. He
soaks thereon train-oil, which by its unctuous quality
is the best liquor for this purpose. 5. He spreads them
on large tables, and fastens them at the ends. There,
with the help of an instrument called & pummel, which
is a thick piece of wood, the under side of which is
full of furrows crossing each other, he folds, squares,
and moves them forwards and backwards several times,
under the teeth of this instrument, which breaks their
too great stiffness. This is what is properly called
curnjing. The order and number of these operations
is varied by different curriers, but the material part is
always the same. 6. After the skins are curried, there
may be occasion to colour them. The colours are
black, white, red, yellow, green, &c.: the other co¬
lours are given by the skinners, who differ from cur¬
riers in this, that they apply their colours on the flesh
side ■, the curriers on the hair side. In order to whiten
skins, they are rubbed with lumps of chalk or white
lead, and afterwards with pumice-stone. 7. When a
skin is to be made black, after having oiled and dried
it, he passes over it a puff dipt in water impregnated
with iron; and after his first wetting, he gives it ano¬
ther in water prepared with soot, vinegar, and gum-
arabic. These difl’erent dyes gradually turn the skin
black, and the operations are repeated till it be of a
shining black. The grain and wrinkles, which contri¬
bute to the suppleness of calves and cows leather, are
made by the reiterated folds given to the skin in every
direction, and by the care taken to scrape off all hard-
parts on the colour side.
CURSING and Swearing, an offence against
God and religion, and a sin of all others the most ex^
travagant i
CUR [
Cursing travagant and unaccountable, as having no benefit or
awl Swear-ai]vantage attending it. By the last statute against
lljf this crime, 19 George II. which repels all former ones,
Curtins, every labourer, sailor, or soldier, profanely cursing or
swearing, shall forfeit is.-, every other person under
the rank of a gentleman, 2s. ; and every gentleman or
person of superior rank, 5s. to the poor of the parish 5
and, on a second conviction, double : and, for every
subsequent offence, treble the sum first forfeited, with
all charges of conviction: and, in default of payment,
shall be*3sent to the house of correction for ten days.
Any justice of the peace may convict upon his own
hearing, or the testimony of one witness j and any
constable or peace officer, upon his own hearing, may
secure any offender, and carry him before a justice, and
there convict him. If the justice omits his duty, he for¬
feits 5I. and the constable 40s. And the act is to be
read in all parish churches, and public chapels, the
Sunday after every quarter day, on pain of 5k to be
levied by warrant from any justice. Besides this pu¬
nishment for taking God’s name in vain in common
discourse, it is enacted, by stat. 3 Jac. I. c. 21. that it
in any stage-play, interlude, or show, the name of the
Holy Trinity, or any of the persons therein, be jest¬
ingly or profanely used, the offender shall forfeit 10I.
one moiety to the king, and the other to the informer.
CURSITOB, a clerk belonging to the court of
chancery, whose business it is to make out original
writs. In the statute 18 Edw. III. they are called
c/erks of course, and are 24 in number, making a cor¬
poration of themselves. To each of them is allowed a
division of certain counties, into which they issue out
the original writs required by the subject.
CURTATE distance, in Astronomy, the distance
of a planet from the sun to that point, where a per¬
pendicular let fall from the planet meets with the
ecliptic.
CURTATION, in Astronomy, is the interval be¬
tween a planet’s distance from the sun and the curtate
distance.
CURTEYN, {Curtana), was the name of Edward
the Confessor’s sword, which is the first sword carried
before the kings of England at their coronation;
and it is said the point of it is broken as an emblem of
mercy. .
CURTIN, Curtain, or Courtin, in Fortification,
is that part of the rampart of a place which is betwixt
the flanks of two bastions, bordered with a parapet five
feet high, behind which the soldiers stand to fire upon
the covered way and into the moat.
CURTIUS, Marcus, a Roman youth, who de¬
voted himself to the gods manes for the safety of his
country, about 360 years before the Augustan age. A
wide gap had suddenly opened in the forum, and the
oracle*3 had said that it never would close before Rome
threw into it whatever it had most precious. Curtius
immediately perceived that no less than a human sa¬
crifice wras required. He armed himself, mounted his
horse, and solemnly threw himself into the gulf, which
instantly closed over his head.
Curtius, Quintus, a Latin historian, who wrote
the life of Alexander the Great in 10 books, of which
the two first are not indeed extant, but were so well
supplied by Freinshemius, that the loss is scarcely re¬
gretted. Where this writer was born, or even when
22 ] CUR
he lived, are points no one pretends to know. By his
style he is supposed to have lived in or near the Au¬
gustan age } while some are not wanting, who ima¬
gine the work to have been composed in Italy about
300 years ago, and the name of Quintus Curtius to be
fictitiously added to it. Cardinal du Perron was so
great an admirer of this work, as to declare one page
of it to be worth 30 of Tacitus ; yet, M. le Clerc, at
the end of his Art of Criticism, has charged the writer
with great ignorance and many contradictions. He has
nevertheless many qualities as a writer, which will al¬
ways make him admired and applauded.
CURVATURE of a Line, is the peculiar man¬
ner of its bending or flexure, by which it becomes a
curve of any form and properties. Thus the nature of
the curvature of a circle is sue!:, as that every point in
the periphery is equally distant from a point within,
called the centre j and so the curvature of the same
circle is everywhere the same. But the curvature in
all other curves is continually varying.
CURVE, in Geometry, a line which running on
continually in all directions, may be cut by one right
line in more points than one. See Conic Sections
and Fluxions.
Curve of Equable Approach. Leibnitz first propo¬
sed to find a curve, down which a body descending by
the force of gravity, shall make equal approaches to
the horizon in equal portions of time. This curve,
as it has been found by Bernoulli and others, is the
second cubical parabola placed with its vertex upper¬
most, and which the descending body must enter with a
certain determinate velocity. The question was ren¬
dered general by Varignon for any law of gravity, by
which a body may approach towards a given point by
equal spaces in equal times. Maupertuis also resolved
the problem in the case of a body descending in a me¬
dium whose resistance is as the square of the velocity.
Curves, Algebraical or Geometrical, are those in
which the relation of the abscisses to the ordinates can
be expressed by a common algebraic equation.
Curves, Transcendental, or Mechanical, are those
which cannot be defined or expressed by an algebraic
equation.
CURVET, or Corvet, in the manege, an air in
which the horse’s legs are raised higher than in the
demi-volt; being a kind of leap up, and a little for¬
wards, wherein the horse raises both his fore-legs at
once, equally advanced, (when he is going straight
forward, and not in a circle) $ and as his fore-legs are
falling, he immediately raises his hind legs, equally ad¬
vanced, and not one before the other: so that all his
four legs are in the air at once $ and as he sets them
down, he marks but twice with them.
CURVILINEAR, or Curvilinear, is said of fi¬
gures bounded by curves or crooked lines.
CURVIROSTRA. See Loxia, Ornithology
Index.
CURULE chair, in Roman antiquity, a chair
adorned with ivory, wherein the great magistrates of
Rome had a right to sit and be carried.
The curule magistrates were the sediles, the prae¬
tors, censors, and consuls. The chair was fitted in a
kind of chariot, whence it had its name. The sena¬
tors who had borne the offices of sediles, praetors, &c.
were carried to the senate-house in this chair, as were
all
Curtiu*
II
Curule.
C U S [ 23 ] c u s
all those who triumphed, and such as went to admini¬
ster justice, &c. See ./EDILE, &c.
CURZOLA, an island in the gulf of Venice, lying
on the coast of Dalmatia. It is about 20 miles long,
and has a small town of the same name, with a bishop’s
see. It now belongs to the Austrians. E. Long. 17.
15. N. Lat. 43. 6.
CUSA, Nicholas de, a learned cardinal, born of
mean parentage, and named from Cusa, the place of
his birth. He ivas made a cardinal in 1448 j and be¬
ing appointed governor of Rome by Pope Pius II. du¬
ring his absence at Mantua, he was the chief concerter
and manager of the war against the Turks. He found¬
ed a church, and a noble library of Greek and Latin
authors, at Cusa ; and left many excellent works be¬
hind him, which were collected and published in three
volumes at Basil in 1565. In these he has made no
scruple to detect the lying traditions and sophistries of
the Roman church.
CUSCO, a large and handsome town of South A-
merica in Peru, formerly the residence of the Incas.
It is seated at the foot of a mountain, and is built in a
square form, in the middle of which there is the best
market in all America. Four large streets terminate in
this square, which are all as straight as a line, and re¬
gard the four quarters of the world. The Spaniards
tell us wonderful things of the richness of the Inca’s
palace, and of the temple of the sun j but more sober
travellers, judging from what remains, think most of
them to be fabulous. At present it contains eight large
parishes, and five religious houses, the best of which
belongs to the Jesuits j and the number of the inhabi¬
tants may be about 20,000, of which three-fourths are
the original natives, Americans. From this town there
is a very long road, which runs along the Cordilleras $
and, at certain distances, there are small houses for
resting places, some parts of which are so artificially
wrought, that it is surprising how a people who had
no iron tools could perform such workmanship. There
are streams of water run through the town, which are a
great convenience in so hot a country where it never
rains. It is 375 miles east of Lima. W. Long. 71.47.
S. Lat. 13. 40.
CUSCUTA, Dodder j a genus of plants belonging
to the tetrandria class j and in the natural method
ranking under those of which the order is doubtful.
See Botany Index.
CUSH, the eldest son of Ham, and father of Nim¬
rod ; the other sons of Cush were Seba, Havilah, Sab-
tah, Raamah, and Sabtecha, Gen. x. 6—8. Though
we know of no other person in Scripture that is called
by this name, yet there are several countries that are
called by it $ whether the same man may have dwelt
in them all at different times, or that there were some
other men of this name, we are ignorant.
The Vulgate, Septuagint, and other interpreters,
both ancient and modern, generally translate Cush,
Ethiopia ; but there are many passages wherein this
translation cannot take place.
Cush is the name of the country watered by the
Araxes. They who, in translating the situation of
Eden, have made Cush Ethiopia, gave rise to that
unwarrantable opinion which Josephus and several
others have entertained of the river Gihon’s being the
Nile. In this place (Gen. ii. 13.) the LXX transla- Cush
tion renders the word Cush by the name of Ethiopia \ iJ
and, in this mistake, is not only here followed by our 5"^)inian’
English version, but in the same particular in several' v
other places.
Cuth is the same as Cush. The Chaldees generally
put the tau where the Hebrews use the schin : they say
cuth instead of cush. See Cuth.
But Ethiopia is frequently in the Hebrew called
Cush; and Josephus says, that they called themselves
by this name, and that the same name was given them
by all Asia. St Jerome tells us that the Hebrews call
the Ethiopians by the same name, and the Septuagint
give them no other. Jeremiah (xiii. 23.) says, “ Can
the Cushaean, or Ethiopian, change his colour ?” In
Ezekiel (xxxix. 10.) the Lord threatens to reduce
“ Egypt to a desert, from the tower of Syene even
unto the border of Cush, or Ethiopia j” and in Isaiah,
(xi. 11.) he says, “ he will recover the remnant of his
people, which shall be left, from Assyria, and from
Egypt, and Pathros, and from Cush.” All these marks
agree with Ethiopia properly so called, which lies to
the south of Egypt.
Bochart has shown very clearly that there was a
country called the “ land of CWA” in Arabia Petrxa,
bordering upon Egypt j that this country extended
itself principally upon the eastern shore of the Red sea,
and at its extremity to the point of the sea, inclining
towards Egypt and Palestine.
Thus there are three countries of the name of Cush,
described in Scripture, and all confounded by interpre-
ters under the general name of Ethiopia.
CUSHION, in engraving, is a bag of leather filled
with sand, commonly about nine inches square, and
three or four thick, used for supporting the plate to be
engraved.
Cushion, in gilding, is made of leather, fastened to
a square board, from 14 inches square to 10, with a
handle. The vacuity between the leather and board
is stuffed with fine tow or wool, so that the outer sur¬
face may be flat and even. It is used for receiving the
leaves of gold from the paper, in order to its being cut
into proper sizes and figures.
CUSI, in Natural History, a name given by the
people of the Philippine islands to a very small and
very beautiful species of parrot.
CUSP (cuspis), properly denotes the point of a spear
or sword : but is used in astronomy to express the points
or horns of the moon, or any other luminary.
Cusp, in Astrology, is used for the first point of each
of the 12 houses, in a figure or scheme of the heavens.
See House.
CUSPIDATED, in Botany, are such plants whose
leaves are pointed like a spear.
CUSPINIAN, John, a German, was born at Swein-
furt in 1473, and died at Vienna in 1529. He was
first physician to the emperor Maximilian I. and em¬
ployed by that prince in several delicate negotiations.
We have of his in Latin, I. A history of the Roman
emperors from Julius Caesar to the death of Maximi¬
lian I. Degory Wheare, in his Methodus Legendce
Histories, calls this “ luculentum sane opus, et omnium
lectione dignissimum?'* 2. A history of Austria ; being
a kind of continuation of the preceding. 2. A history
c u s
[ 24 ]
c u s
Cuspiuiau of the origin of the Turks, and of their cruelties to-
I! wards Christians. Gerard Vossius calls Cuspinian
Custont and magnum suo cevo histories lumen.
Hahit , CUSSO, the name given by the natives to a tree
which is indigenous to the high country of Abyssinia.
It is particularly described by INIr Bruce j but as this
celebrated traVeller was totally unacquainted with the
language of botany, it is impossible to discover to what
class, order, or genus, it belongs. It grows nearly to
the height of 20 feet, and the seed is employed by the
Abyssinians as a vermifuge. From the figure which
Mr Bruce has given of this plant, it would appear to
be most nearly allied to the palms.
CUSTOM, a very comprehensive term, denoting
the manners, ceremonies, and fashions of a. people,
which having turned into a habit, and passed into use,
obtain the force of laws ; in which sense it implies such
usages, as, though voluntary at first, are yet by prac¬
tice become necessary.
Custom is hence, both by lawyers and civilians, de¬
fined lex non scripta, “ a law or right not written,”
established by long usage, and the consent of our an¬
cestors : in which sense it stands opposed to the lex
sct'ipta, or “ the written law.” See Law Index.
Custom and Habit, in the human economy. The
former is often confounded with the latter. By cu¬
stom we mean a frequent reiteration of the same act j
and by habit, the effect that custom has on the mind
or body. This curious subject falls to be considered
first in a moral, and secondly in a physical, light.
I. Influence of Custom and Habit on the Mind, &c.
Custom hath such influence upon many of our feelings,
by warping and varying them, that its operations de¬
mand the attention of all those who would be acquaint¬
ed with human nature. The subject, however, is in¬
tricate. Some pleasures are fortified by custom : and
yet custom begets familiarity, and consequently indif¬
ference :
If all the year were playing holidays,
To sport would be as tedious as to work:
But when they seldom come, they wish’d-for come,
And nothing pleasetli but rare accidents.
Shakespeare.
Karnes's
Elements
of Criti¬
cism.
In many instances, satiety and disgust are the conse¬
quences' of reiteration : again, though custom blunts
the edge of distress and ol pain ; yet the want of any
thing to which we have been long accustomed is a sort
of torture. A clue to guide us through all the intrica¬
cies of this labyrinth, would be an acceptable present.
Whatever be the cause, it is certain that we are
much influenced by custom : it hath an effect upon
our pleasures, upon our actions, and even upon our
thoughts and sentiments. Habit makes no figure du¬
ring the vivacity of youth : in middle age it gains
ground ; and in old age governs without controul. In
that period of life, generally speaking, we eat at a cer¬
tain hour, take exercise at a certain hour, go to rest
at a certain hour, all by the direction of Habit j nay,
a particular seat, table, bed, comes to be essential
and a habit in any of these cannot be controuled with¬
out uneasiness.
Any slight or moderate pleasure, frequently reite¬
rated for a long time, forms a peculiar connexion be¬
tween us and the thing that causes the pleasure. This
3
connexion, termed habit, has the effect to awaken onr Custom and
desire or appetite for that thing when it returns not Habit. .
as usual. During the course of enjoyment, the plea- ’ ”1'
sure rises insensibly higher and higher till a habit be
established; at which time the pleasure is at its height.
It continues not, however, stationary: the same cu¬
stomary reiteration which carried it to its height,
brings it down again by insensible degrees, even lower
than it was at first *, but of that circumstance after¬
wards. What at present we have in view, is to prove
by experiments, that those things which at first are
but moderately agreeable, are the aptest to become
habitual. Spirituous liquors, at first scarce agreeable,
readily produce a habitual appetite *, and custom pre¬
vails so far, as even to make us fond of things original¬
ly disagreeable, such as coffee, assafeetida, and tobacco.
A walk upon the quarter-deck, though intolerably
confined, becomes however so agreeable by custom,
that a sailor in his walk on shore confines himself com¬
monly within the same bounds. The author knew a
man who had relinquished the sea for a country life :
in the corner of his garden, he reared an artificial
mount with a level summit, resembling most accurate¬
ly a quarter-deck, not only in shape but in size ; and
here he generally walked. In Minorca Governor
Kane made an excellent road the whole length of the
island : and yet the inhabitants adhere to the old road,
though not only longer, but extremely bad. Play or
gaming, at first barely amusing, by the occupation it
affords, become in time extremely agreeable j and is
frequently prosecuted with avidity, as if it were the
chief business of life. The same observation is appli¬
cable to the pleasures of the internal senses, those of
knowledge and virtue in particular: children have
scarce any sense of these pleasures j and men very lit¬
tle who are in the state of nature without culture : our
taste for virtue and knowledge improves slowly j but is
capable of growing stronger than any other appetite in
human nature.
To introduce an active habit, frequency of acts is
not sufficient without length of time: the quickest suc¬
cession of acts in a short time is not sufficient; nor a
slow succession in the longest time. The effect must
be produced by a moderate soft action, and a long se¬
ries of easy touches, removed from each other by short
intervals. ' Nor are these sufficient without regularity
in the time, place, and other circumstances of the ac¬
tion } the more uniform any operation is, the sooner
it becomes habitual. And this holds equally in a pas¬
sive habit; variety, in any remarkable degree, prevents
the effect j thus any particular food will scarce, ever
become habitual where the manner of dressing is va¬
ried. The circumstances then requisite to augment a
moderate pleasure, and at the long-run to form a ha¬
bit, are weak uniform acts, reiterated during a long
course of time, without any considerable, interruption :
every agreeable cause that operates in this manner will
grow habitual.
Affection and aversion, as distinguished from passion
on the one hand, and on the other from original dispo¬
sition, are in reality habits respecting particular ob¬
jects, acquired in the manner above set forth. The
pleasure of social intercourse with any person must
originally be faint, and frequently reiterated, in order
to establish the habit of affection. Affection thus ge¬
nerated,
C U S [
Custom nerated, whether it be friendship or love, seldom swell
juid Habit, into any tumultuous or vigorous passion j but it is how-
'v” ' ever the strongest cement that can bind together two
individuals of the human species. In like manner, a
slight degree of disgust often reiterated with regularity,
grows into the habit of aversion, which commonly
subsists for life.
Objects of taste that are delicious, far from tending
to become habitual, are apt by indulgence to produce
satiety and disgust: no man contracts a habit of using
sugar, honey, or sweetmeats, as he does tobacco.
These violent delights have violent ends,
And in their triumphs die. The sweetest honey
Is loathsome in its own deliciousness,
And in the taste confounds the appetite ;
Therefore love mod’rately, long love doth so;
Too swift arrives as tardy as too slow.
Romeo and Juliet, Act ii. sc. 6.
The same observation holds with respect to all objects
which being extremely agreeable raise violent passions :
such passions are incompatible with a habit of any kind :
and in particular they never produce affection or a-
version : a man who at first sight falls violently in love,
has a strong desire of enjoyment, but no affection for
the woman (a) : a man who is surprised with an un¬
expected favour, burns for an opportunity to exert his
gratitude, without having any affection for his bene¬
factor : neither does desire of vengeance for an atroci¬
ous injury involve aversion.
It is perhaps not easy to say why moderate plea¬
sures gather strength by custom: but two causes con¬
cur to prevent that effect in the more intense plea¬
sures. These, by an original law in our nature, in¬
crease quickly to their full growth, and decay with no
less precipitation : and custom is too slow in its ope¬
ration to overcome that law. The other cause is not
less powerful: exquisite pleasure is extremely fatiguing-,
occasioning, as a naturalist would say, great expence
of animal spirits ; and of such the mind cannot bear
so frequent gratification, as to superinduce a habit: if
the thing that raises the pleasure return before the mind
25 ] c u s
have recovered its tone and relish, disgust ensues in- Custom
stead of pleasure. and Habit.
A habit never fails to admonish us of the wonted "v
time of gratification, by raising a pain for want of the
object, and a desire to have it. The pain of want is
always first felt j the desire naturally follows j and
upon presenting the object, both vanish instantaneously.
Thus a man accustomed to tobacco, feels, at the end
of the usual interval, a confused pain of want j which
at first points at nothing in particular, though it soon
settles upon its accustomed object : and the same may
be observed in persons addicted to drinking, who are
often in an uneasy restless state before they think of
the bottle. In pleasures indulged regularly, and at
equal intervals, the appetite, remarkably obsequious to
custom, returns regularly with the usual time of gra¬
tification -, not sooner, even though the object be pre¬
sented. This pain of want arising from habit, seems
directly opposite to that of satiety; and it must appear
singular, that frequency of gratification should pro¬
duce effects so opposite, as are the pains of excess and
of want.
The appetites that respect the preservation and pro¬
pagation of our species, are attended with a pain of
want similar to that occasioned by habit : hunger and
thirst are uneasy sensations of want, which always pre¬
cede the desire of eating and drinking j and a pain for
want of carnal enjoyment precedes the desire of an ob¬
ject. The pain being thus felt independent of an ob¬
ject, cannot be cured but by gratification. Very dif¬
ferent is an ordinary passion, in which desire precedes
the pain of want: such a passion cannot exist but while
the object is in view : and therefore, by removing the
object out of thought, it vanisheth with its desire and
pain of want.
The natural appetites above mentioned, differ from
habit in the following particular : they have an unde-
tex-mined direction toward all objects of gratification
in general j whereas an habitual appetite is directed
to a particular object : the attachment we have by ha¬
bit to a particular woman, differs widely from the na¬
tural passion which comprehends the whole sex $ and
(a) Violent love, without affection, is finely exemplified in the following story. When Constantinople was
taken by the Turks, Irene, a young Greek of an illustrious family, fell into the hands of Mahomet II. who
was at that time in the prime ot youth and glory. His savage heart being subdued by her charms, he shut him¬
self up with her, denying access even to his ministers. Love obtained such ascendant as to make him frequent¬
ly abandon the army, and fly to his Irene. War relaxed, for victory was no longer the monarch s favourite
passion. The soldiers, accustomed to booty, began to murmur, and the infection spread even among the com¬
manders. The Basha Mustapha, consulting the fidelity he owed his master, was the first who durst acquaint
him of the discourses held publicly to the prejudice of his glory. I he sultan, after a gloomy silence, forme.,
his resolution. He ordered Mustapha to assemble the ti’oops next morning 5 and then with precipitation. re¬
tired to Irene’s apartment. Never before did that princess appear so charming; never befot'e did the piince
bestow so many warm caresses. To give a new lustre, to her beauty, he exhorted her women next morning to
bestow their utmost art and care on her dress. He took her by the hand, led her into the middle of the army,
and pulling off her veil, demanded of the bashas with a fierce look, whether they had ever beheld such a beauty ?
After an awful pause, Mahomet with one hand laying hold ot the young Greek by her beautiful locks, and
with the other pulling out his scimitar, severed the head from the body at one stroke. T-hen tuining to his
grandees, with eyes wild and furious, “ This sword (says he), when it is my will, knows to cut the bands of
love.” However strange it may appear, we learn from experience, that desire of enjoyment may consist with
the most brutal aversion, directed both to the same woman. Of this we have a noted example in the first book
of Sully’s Memoirs ; to which we refer the reader.
Vol. VII. Part I. t
D
C U S [ 26 ] c u s
firtora the habitual relish for a particular dish, is far from
and Habit, being the same with a vague appetite for food. That
' difference notwithstanding, it is still remarkable, that
nature hath enforced the gratification of certain natural
appetites essential to the species, by a pain of the same
sort with that which habit produceth.
The pain of habit is less under our power than any
other pain that arises from want of gratification : hun¬
ger and thirst are more easily endured, especially at
first, than an unusual intermission of any habitual plea¬
sure : persons are often heard declaring, they would
forego sleep or food, rather than tobacco. We must
not, however, conclude, that the gratification of an ha¬
bitual appetite affords the same delight with the grati¬
fication of one that is natural: far from it j the pain of
want only is greater.
The slow and reiterated acts that produce a habit,
strengthen the mind to enjoy the habitual pleasure in
greater quantity and more frequency than originally ;
and by that means a habit of intemperate gratification
is often formed : after unbounded acts of intemperance,
the habitual relish is soon restored, and the pain for
want of enjoyment returns with fresh vigour.
The causes of the present emotions hitherto in view,
are either an individual, such as a companion, a cer¬
tain dwelling-place, a certain amusement j or a par¬
ticular species, such as coffee, mutton, or any other
food. But habit is not confined to such. A constant
train of trifling diversions may form such a habit in
the mind, that it cannot he easy a moment without
amusement : a variety in the objects prevents a habit
as to any one in particular: but as the train is uniform
with respect to amusement, the habit is formed accord-
ingly ; and that sort of habit may be denominated a
generic habit, in opposition to the former, which is a
specific habit. A habit of a town-life, of country-sports,
of solitude, of reading, or of business, where sufficient¬
ly varied, are instances of generic habits. Every spe¬
cific habit hath a mixture of the generic j for the ha¬
bit of any one sort of food makes the taste agreeable,
and we are fond of that taste wherever found. Thus
a man deprived of an habitual object, takes up with
what most resembles it j deprived of tobacco, any bit¬
ter herb will do rather than want; a habit of punch
makes wine a good resource : accustomed to the sweet
society and comforts of matrimony, the man unhap¬
pily deprived of bis beloved object, inclines the sooner
to a second. In general, when we are deprived of a
habitual object, we are fond of its qualities in any other
object.
The reasons are assigned above, why the causes of
intense pleasure become not readily habitual: but now
we discover, that these reasons conclude only against
specific habits. In the case of a weak pleasure, a ha¬
bit is formed by frequency and uniformity of reitera¬
tion, which, in the case of an intense pleasure, pro¬
duceth satiety and disgust. But it is remarkable, that
satiety and disgust have no effect, except as to that
thing singly which occasions them j a surfeit of honey
produceth not a loathing of sugar j and intemperance
with one woman produceth no disrelish of the same
pleasure with others. Hence it is easy to account for
a generic habit in any intense pleasure ; the delight
we had in the gratification of the appetite, inflames
the imagination, and makes us search, with avidity,
for the same gratification in whatever other object it fusions
can be found. And thus uniform frequency in grati-and Hab«t.
fying the same passion upon different objects, produ- t
ceth at length a generic habit. In this manner one
acquires an habitual delight in high and poignant sau¬
ces, rich dress, fine equipages, crowds of company, and
in whatever is commonly termed pleasure. There con¬
curs, at the same time, to introduce this habit, a pe¬
culiarity observed above, that reiteration of acts en¬
larges the capacity of the mind to admit a more plen¬
tiful gratification than originally, with regard to fre¬
quency, as well as quantity.
Hence it appears, that though a specific habit can¬
not be formed but upon a moderate pleasure, a generic
habit may be formed upon any sort of pleasure, mode¬
rate or immoderate, that hath variety of objects. The
only difference is, that a weak pleasure runs naturally
into a specific habit j whereas an intense pleasure is
altogether averse to such a habit. In a word, it is only
in singular cases that a moderate pleasure produces a
generic habit j but an intense pleasure cannot produce
any other habit.
The appetites that respect the preservation and pro¬
pagation of the species, are formed into a habit in a pe¬
culiar manner ; the time as well as measure of their
gratification is much under the power of custom ;
which, introducing a change upon the body, occasions
a proportional change in the appetites. Thus, if the
body be gradually formed to a certain quantity of food
at stated times, the appetite is regulated accordingly^
and the appetite is again changed, when a different
habit of body is introduced by a different practice.
Here it would seem, that the change is not made upon
the mind, which is commonly the case in passive ha¬
bits, but upon the body.
When rich food is brought down by ingredients of
a plainer taste, the composition is susceptible of a spe¬
cific habit. Thus the sweet taste of sugar, rendered
less poignant in a mixture, may, in course of time, pro¬
duce a specific habit for such mixture. As moderate
pleasures, by becoming more intense, tend to generic
habits j so intense pleasures, by becoming more mode¬
rate, tend to specific habits.
The beauty of the human figure, by a special re¬
commendation of nature, appears to us supreme, amid
the great variety of beauteous forms bestowed upon
animals. The various degrees in which individuals
enjoy that property, render it an object sometimes
of a moderate, sometimes of an intense, passion. The
moderate passion, admitting frequent reiteration with¬
out diminution, and occupying the mind without ex¬
hausting it, turns gradually stronger till it become a
habit. Nay, instances are not wanting, of a face at
first disagreeable, afterwards rendered indifferent by
familiarity, and at length agreeable by custom. On
the other hand, consummate beauty, at the very first
glance, fills the mind so as to admit no increase. En¬
joyment lessens the pleasure $ and if often repeated,
ends commonly in satiety and disgust. The impres¬
sions made by consummate beauty, in a gradual suc¬
cession from lively to faint, constitute a series opposite
to that of faint impressions waxing gradually more
lively, till they produce a specific habit. But the mind
when accustomed to beauty contracts a relish for it in
general, though often repelled from particular objects
V
C U S [ 27 ] c u s
CuHom the pain of satiety j and thus a generic habit is
and Habit, formed, of which inconstancy in love is the necessary
consequence j for a generic habit, comprehending every
beautiful object, is an invincible obstruction to a speci¬
fic habit, which is confined to one.
But a matter which is of great importance to the
youth of both sexes, deserves more than a cursory
view. Though the pleasant emotion of beauty differs
widely from the corporeal appetite, yet when both
are directed to the same object, they produce a very
strong complex passion j enjoyment in that case mnst
be exquisite j and therefore more apt to produce sa¬
tiety than in any other case whatever. This is a ne¬
ver-failing effect, where consummate beauty in the
one party, meets with a warm imagination and great
sensibility in the other. What we are here explain¬
ing, is true without exaggeration j and they must be
insensible upon whom it makes no impression : it de¬
serves well to be pondered by the young and the amo¬
rous, who, in forming the matrimonial society, are too
often blindly impelled by the animal pleasure merely,
inflamed by beauty. It may indeed happen, after the
pleasure is gone, and go it must with a swift pace,
that a new connexion is formed upon more dignified
and more lasting principles : but this is a dangerous
experiment; for even supposing good sense, good tem¬
per, and internal merit of every sort, yet a new con¬
nexion upon such qualifications is rarely formed : it
commonly, or rather always happens, that such quali¬
fications, the only solid foundation of an indissoluble
connexion, are rendered altogether invisible by satiety
of enjoyment creating disgust.
One effect of custom, different from any that have
been explained, must not be omitted, because it makes
a great figure in human nature: though custom aug¬
ments moderate pleasures, and lessens those that are
intense, it has a different effect with respect to pain j
for it blunts the edge of every sort of pain and distress,
faint or acute. Uninterrupted misery, therefore, is
attended with one good effect: if its torments be in¬
cessant, custom hardens us to bear them.
The changes made in forming habits are curious.
Moderate pleasures are augmented gradually by reite¬
ration, till they become habitual: and then are at
their height: but they are not long stationary: for
from that point they gradually decay, till they vanish
altogether. The pain occasioned by want of gratifica¬
tion runs a different course : it increases uniformly;
and at last becomes extreme, when the pleasure of
gratification is reduced to nothing.
. — ■ —   It so falls out,
That what we have we prize not to the worth,
While we enjoy it; but being lack’d and lost,
Why then we rack the value ; then we find
The virtue that possession would not show us
Whilst it was ours.
Much ado about Nothings Act iv. sc. 2.
The effect of custom with relation to a specific habit
is displayed through all its varieties in the use of to¬
bacco. The taste of that plant is at first extremely
unpleasant: our disgust lessens gradually till it vanish
altogether; at which period the taste is neither agree¬
able nor disagreeable : continuing the use of the plant,
we begin to relish it 3 and our relish improves by use,
till it arrive at perfection : from that period it gradu- Custom
ally decays, while the habit is in a state of increment, and Habit
and consequently the pain of want. The result is, that' v '
when the habit has acquired its greatest vigour, the
relish is gone 3 and accordingly we often smoke and
take snufl habitually, without so much as being con¬
scious of the operation. We must expect gratification
alter the pain of want 3 the pleasure of which gratifi¬
cation is the greatest when the habit is the most vi¬
gorous : it is of the same kind with the pleasure one
feels upon being delivered from the rack. This plea¬
sure, however, is but occasionally the eflect of habit;
and, however exquisite, is avoided as much as possible
because of the pain that precedes it.
With regard to the pain of want, we can discover
no difference between a generic and specific habit 3
but these habits dift’er widely with respect to the posi¬
tive pleasure. W^e have had occasion to observe, that
the pleasure of a specific habit decays gradually till it
turn imperceptible : the pleasure of a generic habit,
on the contrary, being supported by variety of gratifi¬
cation, suffers little or no decay after it comes to its
height. However it may be with other generic ha¬
bits, the observation certainly holds with respect to the
pleasures of virtue and knowledge: the pleasure of
doing good has an unbounded scope, and may be so va¬
riously gratified that it can never decay : science is
equally unbounded 3 our appetite for knowledge ha¬
ving an ample range of gratification where discove¬
ries are recommended by novelty, by variety, by uti¬
lity, or by all of them.
In this intricate inquiry, we have endeavoured, but
without success, to discover by what particular means
it is that custom hath influence upon us: and now
nothing seems left, but to hold our nature to be so fra¬
med as to be susceptible of such influence. And sup¬
posing it purposely so framed, it will not be difficult to
find out several important final causes. That the power
of custom is a happy contrivance for our good, cannot
have escaped any one who reflects, that business is our
province, and pleasure our relaxation only. Now sa¬
tiety is necessary to check exquisite pleasures, which
otherwise would engross the mind, and unqualify us
for business. On the other hand, as business is some¬
times painful, and is never pleasant beyond modera¬
tion, the habitual increase of moderate pleasure, and
the conversion of pain into pleasure, are admirably
contrived for disappointing the malice of fortune, and
for reconciling us to whatever course of life may be
our lot:
How use doth breed a habit in a man!
This shadowy desert, unfrequented woods,
1 better brook than flourishing peopled towns.
Here I can sit alone, unseen of any.
And to the nightingale’s complaining notes
Tune my distresses, and record my woes.
Two Gentlemen of Verona, Act v. sc. 4.
As the foregoing distinctions between intense and
moderate, hold in pleasure only, every degree of pain
being softened by time, custom is a catholicon for pain
and distress of every sort 5 and of that regulation the
final cause requires no illustration.
Another final cause of custom will be highly relished
by every person of humanity, and yet has in a great
D 2 measure
C U S [ 28 ] c u s
Custom measure been overlooked ; which is, that custom hath
and Habit a greater influence than any other known cause, to put
 v  the rich and the poor upon a level ; weak pleasures,
the share of the latter, become fortunately stronger by
custom ; while voluptuous pleasures, the share of the
former, are continually losing ground by satiety. Men
of fortune, who possess palaces, sumptuous gardens,
rich fields, enjoy them less than passengers do. The
goods 'of Fortune are not unequally distributed j the
opuleiU possess what others enjoy.
And indeed, if it be the effect of habit, to produce
the pain of want in a high degree while there is little
pleasure in enjoyment, a voluptuous life is of all the
least to be envied. Those who are habituated to high
feeding, easy vehicles, rich furniture, a crowd of va¬
lets, much deference and flattery, enjoy but a small
share of happiness, while they are exposed to mani¬
fold distresses. To such a man, enslaved by ease and
luxury, even the petty inconveniences in travelling, of
a rough road, bad weather, or homely fare, are seri¬
ous evils: he loses his tone of mind, turns peevish, and
would wreak his resentment even upon the common ac¬
cidents of life. Better far to use the goods of Fortune
with moderation j a man who by temperance and acti¬
vity hath acquired a hardy constitution, is on the one
hand, guarded against external accidents j and, on the
other, is provided with great variety of enjoyment ever
at command.
We shall close this branch of the subject with an
article more delicate than abstruse, viz. what authority
custom ought to have over our taste in the fine arts.
One particular is certain, that we cheerfully abandon
to tbe authority of custom things that nature hath left
indifferent. It is custom, not nature, that hath esta¬
blished a difference between the right hand and the
left, so as to make it awkward and disagreeable to use
the left where the right is commonly used. The va¬
rious colours, though they affect us differently, are all
of them agreeable in their purity : but custom has re¬
gulated that matter in another manner j a black skin
upon a human being, is to us disagreeable j and a
white skin probably not less so to a negro. Thus
things, originally indifferent, become agreeable or dis¬
agreeable by the force of custom. Nor will this be
surprising after the discovery made above, that the
original agreeableness or disagreeableness of an object
is, by the influence of custom, often converted into the
opposite quality.
Proceeding to matters of taste, where there is natu¬
rally a preference of one thing before another $ it is
certain, in the first place, that our faint and more de¬
licate feelings are readily susceptible of a bias from
custom *, and therefore that it is no proof of a defec¬
tive taste, to find these in some measure influenced
by custom ; dress and the modes of external behavi¬
our are regulated by custom in every country ; the
deep red or vermilion with which the ladies in France
cover their cheeks, appears to them beautiful in spite
of nature ; and strangers cannot altogether be justi¬
fied in condemning that practice, considering the law¬
ful authority of custom, or of the fashion, as it is call¬
ed : it is told of the people who inhabit the skirts of
the Alps facing the north, that the swelling they uni¬
versally, have iq the neck is to them agreeable. So
far has custom povy.er.to change the nature of things*
and to make an object originally disagreeable take on Custom
an opposite appearance. an£l Habit.
But as to every particular that can be denominated vr~—
proper or improper, right or wrong, custom has little
authority, and ought to have none. The principle of
duty takes naturally place of every other ; and it ar¬
gues a shameful weakness or degeneracy of mind, to
find it in any case so far subdued as to submit to cu¬
stom.
II. Effects of Custom and Habit in the Animal Eco¬
nomy. These may be reduced to five beads: 1. Ou
the simple solids. 2. On the organs of sense. 3. On
tbe moving power. 4. On tbe whole nervous power.
5. On the system of blood-vessels.
1. Effects on the Simple Solids. Custom determines
the degree of flexibility of which they are capable.
By frequently repeated flexion, the several particles of
which these solids consist are rendered more supple
and moveable on each other. A piece of catgut, e. g.
when on the stretch, and having a weight appended
to its middle, will be bended thereby perhaps half an-
inchafterwards, by frequent repetitions of tbe same
weight, or by increasing the weight, the flexibility will
be rendered double. The degree of flexibility has a
great effect in determining the degree of oscillation,
provided that elasticity is not affected j if it go beyond
this, it produces flaccidify. Again, custom determines
the degree of tension ; for the same elastic chord that
now oscillates in a certain degree of tension, will, by
frequent repetition of these oscillations, be so far re¬
laxed, that the extension must be renewed in order to
produce the same tension, and consequently the same
vibrations, as at first. This appears in many instances
in the animal economy, as when different muscles con¬
cur to give a fixed point or tension to each other *
and thus a weakly child totters as it walks 5 but by-
giving it a weight to carry, and by thus increasing the
tension of the system, it walks more steadily. In like
manner, the fullness of the system gives strength, by.
distending the vessels everywhere, and so giving ten¬
sion : hence a man, by good nourishment, from being
weak, acquires a great increase of strength in a few
days : and, on the other hand, evacuations weaken by
taking off the tension.
2. Effects on the Organs of Sense. Repetition gives
a greater degree of sensibility, in so far only as it ren¬
ders perception more accurate. Repetition alone gives
lasting impression, and thus lays the foundation of me¬
mory ; for single impressions are but retained for a
short time, and are soon forgot. Thus a person, who
at present has little knowledge of cloths, will by fre¬
quently handling them, acquire a skill of discerning
them, which to others seems almost impossible. Many
are apt to mistake this for a nicer sensibility, hut they
are much mistaken ; for it is an universal law, that the
repetition of impression renders us less acute. This is
well illustrated by the operation of medicines •, for all
medicines which act on the organs of sense must, after
some time, be increased in their dose to produce the
saqie effects as at first. This affords a rule in practice
with regard to these medicines 5 it becoming neces¬
sary, after a certain time, to change one medicine even
for a weaker of the same nature. Thus medicines
which even have no great apparent force, are found,
by long use, to destroy the sensibility of the system ta
other
CUS [29] cus
’ Custom other impressions. But to this general rule, that, by
and Habit, repetition, the force of impressions is more and more
' diminished, there are some exceptions. Thus persons,
by a strong emetic, have had their stomachs rendered
so irritable, that one-20th of the first dose was sufficient
to produce the same effect. rlhis, however, oitener
takes place when the vomit is repeated every day j
for if the same vomit be given at pretty considerable
intervals, the general rule is observed to hold good.
Thus two contrary effects of habit are to be noted ;
and it is proper to observe, that the greater irritability
is more readily produced when the first impression is
great, as in the case first given of the strong emetic.
This may be further illustrated by the effect of fear,
which is commonly observed to be diminished on repe¬
tition ; which can only be attributed to custom •, while,
on the other hand, there are instances of persons, who,
having once got a great fright, have for ever after
continued slaves to fears excited by impressions of the
like kind, however slight; which must be imputed en¬
tirely to excess of the first impression, as has been al¬
ready observed. To this head also belongs the asso¬
ciation of ideas, which is the foundation of memory
and all our intellectual faculties, and is entirely the
effect of custom : with regard to the body also, these
associations often take place. And sometimes, in pro¬
ducing effects on the body, associations seemingly op¬
posite are formed, which, through custom, become ab¬
solutely necessary J e. g. a person long accustomed to
sleep in the neighbourhood of a great noise, is so far
from being incommoded on that account, that after¬
wards such noise becomes necessary to produce sleep.
It will be of use to attend to this in medical practice ;
for we ought to allow for, however opposite it may
seem at the time, whatever usually attended the pur¬
pose we design to effect. Thus, in the instance of
sleep, we must not exclude noise when we want to pro¬
cure rest, or any cause which may seem opposite to
such an effect, provided custom has rendered them ne¬
cessary.
3. Effects on the Moving Fibres. A certain degree
of tension is necessary to motion, which is to be deter¬
mined by custom j e. g. a fencer, accustomed to one
foil, cannot have the same steadiness or activity with
one heavier or lighter. It is necessary also that every
motion should be performed in the same situation, or
posture of the body, as the person has been accustomed
to employ in that motion. Thus, in any chirurgical
operation, a certain posture is recommended ; but if the
operator has been accustomed to another, such a one,
however awkward, becomes necessary afterwards to his
right performance of that operation.
Custom also determines the degree of oscillation of
which the moving fibres are capable. A person accu¬
stomed to strong muscular exertions is quite incapable
of the more delicate. Thus writing is performed by
- small muscular contractions y but if a person has been
accustomed, to stronger motions with these muscles, he
will write with much less steadiness.
This subject of tension, formerly attributed to the
simple fibres, is probably more strictly applicable to the
moving : for besides a tension from flexion, there is
also a tension from irritation and sympathy j e. g. the
tension of the stomach from food, gives tension to the
wJiale body. Wine and spirituous liquors give tension :
e. g. a person that is so affected with tremor as scarce- Custom
ly to hold a glass of any of these liquors to his head, and Habit,
has no sooner swallowed it, than his whole body be- y~——'
comes steady ; and after the system has been accu¬
stomed to such stimuli, if they are not applied at the
usual time, the whole body becomes flaccid, and of con¬
sequence unsteady in its motions.
Again, custom gives facility of motion. This seems
to proceed from the distension which the nervous
power gives to the moving fibres themselves. But in
whatever manner it is occasioned, the effect is obvious }
for any new or unusual motion is performed with great
difficulty.
It is supposed that sensation depends on a commu¬
nication with the sensorium commune, by means of or¬
gans sufficiently distended with nervous influence. We
have found, that sensibility is diminished by repetition.
And we have now to observe, that in some cases it
may be increased by repetition, owing to the nervous
power itself flowing more easily into the part on ac¬
count of custom. Attention to a particular object may
also determine a greater influx into any particular part,
and thus the sensibility and irritability of that particu¬
lar part may be increased.
But with regard to facility of motion, the nervous
power, no doubt, flows most easily into those parts to
which it has been accustomed : yet facility of motion
does not entirely depend on this, but in part also on
the concurrence of the action of a great many muscles j
e. g. Winslow has observed, that in performing any
motion, a number of muscles concur to give a fixed
point to those intended chiefly to act, as well as to 0-
thers that are to vary and modify their action. This,
however, is assisted by repetition and the freer in*
flux ; as by experience we know the proper attitude for
giving a fixed point in order to perform any action with
facility and steadiness.
Custom gives a spontaneous motion also, which seems
to recur at stated periods, even when the exciting causes
are removed. Thus, if the stomach has been accus¬
tomed to vomit from a particular medicine, it will re¬
quire a much smaller dose than at first, nay, even the
very sight or remembrance of it will be sufficient to
produce the effect: and there are not wanting instances
of habitual vomiting, from the injudicious administra¬
tion of emetics. It is on this account that all spas¬
modic affections so easily become habitual, and are so
difficult of cure 5 as we must not only avoid all the ex¬
citing causes, even in the smallest degree, but also
their associations.
Custom also gives strength of motion ; strength de¬
pends on strong oscillations, a free and copious influx
of the nervous power, and on dense solids. But in
what manner all these circumstances have been brought
about by repetition, has been already explained. The
effect of custom in producing strength, may fbe thus il¬
lustrated : a man that begins with lifting a calf, by
continuing the same practice every day, will be able to .
lift it when grown to the full size of a bull.
All this is of considerable importance in the practice
of physic, though but too little regarded j for the re¬
covery of weak people, in a great measure, depends
on the use of exercise suited to their strength, or rather
within it, frequently repeated and gradually increased.
Farther, it is necessary to observe, that custom regu-.
lates s
C U s t 30 ] c u s
Ciistcm iates the particular celerity with which each motion is
a-r.d Haldt to be performed : for a person accustomed, for a con-
1 J.11. y—. giderable time to one degree of celerity, becomes inca¬
pable of a greater j e. g. a man accustomed to slow
walking will be out of breath before he can run 20
paces. The train jor order in which our motions are
to be performed is also established by custom ; for if
a man hath repeated motions, for a certain time, in any
particular order, he cannot afterwards perform them
in any other. Custom also very frequently associates
motions and sensations: thus, if a person has been in
use of associating certain ideas with the ordinary sti¬
mulus which in health excites urine, without these
ideas the usual inclination will scarce excite that ex¬
cretion ; and, when these occur, will require it even
in the absence of the primary exciting cause: e. g. it
is very ordinary for a person to make urine when go¬
ing to bed •, and if he has been for any length of time
accustomed to do so, he will ever afterwards make
urine at that time, though otherwise he would often
have no such inclination : by this means some secre¬
tions become in a manner subject to the will. The
same may be said of going to stool; and this affords
us a good rule in the case of costiveness; for by en¬
deavouring to fix a stated time for this evacuation, it
will afterwards, at such a time, more readily return. It
is farther remarkable, that motions are inseparably as¬
sociated with other motions: this perhaps, very often
proceeds from the necessary degree of tension; but it
also often depends merely on custom, an instance of
which we have in the uniform motions of our eyes.
4. Effects on the whole Nervous Power. "We have
found, that, by custom, the nervous influence may be
determined more easily into one part than another j
and therefore, as all the parts of the system are strong¬
ly connected, the sensibility, irritability, and strength
of any particular part may be thus increased. Cu¬
stom also has the power of altering the natural tem¬
perament, and of inducing a new one. It is also in
the power of custom to render motions periodical, and
periodically spontaneous. An instance of this we have
in sleep, which is commonly said to be owing to the
nervous power being exhausted, the necessary conse¬
quence of which is sleep, e. g. a rest of the voluntary
motions to favour the recruit of that power j but if
this were the case, the return of sleep should be at dif¬
ferent times, according as the causes which diminish
the nervous influence operate more or less powerfully ;
whereas the case is quite otherwise, these returns of
sleep being quite regular. This is no less remarkable
in the appetites, that return at particular periods in¬
dependent of every cause but custom. Hunger, e. g.
is an extremely uneasy sensation; but goes off of it¬
self, if the person did not take food at the usual time.
The excretions are farther proofs of this, e. g. going
to stool, which, if it depended on any particular irri¬
tation, should be at longer or shorter intervals, accord¬
ing to the nature of the aliment. There are many
other instances of this disposition of the nervous influ¬
ence to periodical motions, as the story of the idiot of
Stafford, recorded by Dr Plot (Spectator, N° 447•)>
who, being accustomed to tell the hours of the church
clock as it struck, told them as exactly when it did not
strike by its being out of order. Montaigne tells us
of some oxen that were employed in a machine for
2
drawing water, who, after making 300 turns, which Custom
was the usual number, could be stimulated by no whip and Habit,
or goad to proceed farther. Infants also cry for and V— '
expect the breast at those times in which the nurse has
been accustomed to give it.
Hence it would appear, that the human economy
is subject to periodical revolutions, and that these hap¬
pen not oftener may be imputed to variety ; and this
seems to be the reason why they happen oftener in the
body than mind, because that is subject to greater va¬
riety. We see frequent instances of this in diseases,
and in their crises ; intermitting fevers, epilepsies, asth¬
mas, &c. are examples of periodical affections ; and
that critical days are not so strongly marked in this
country as in Greece, and some others, may be im¬
puted to the variety and instability of our climate ; but
perhaps still more to the less sensibility and irritability
of our system; for the exhibition of medicine has little
effect in disturbing the crises, though it be commonly
assigned as a cause.
We are likewise subject to many habits independent
of ourselves, as from the revolutions of the celestial
bodies, particularly the sun, which determines the bo¬
dy, perhaps, to other daily revolutions besides sleeping
and waking. There are also certain habits depending
on the seasons. Our connections, likewise, with re¬
spect to mankind, are means of inducing habits. Thus
regularity from associating in business induces regular
habits both of mind and body.
There are many diseases which, though they arose
at first from particular causes, at last continue merely
through custom or habit. These are chiefly of the
nervous system. We should therefore study to coun¬
teract such habits; and accordingly Hippocrates,
among qther things for the cure of epilepsy, orders an
entire change of the manner of life. We likewise
imitate this in the chincough; which often resists all
remedies, till the air, diet, and ordinary train of life,
are changed.
5. Effects on the Blood-vessels. From what has been
said on the nervous power, the distribution of the fluids
must necessarily be variously affected by custom, and
with that the distribution of the different excretions;
for though we make an estimate of the proportion of
the. excretions to one another, according to the climate
and seasons, they must certainly be very much varied by
custom.
On this head we may observe, that blood-letting
has a manifest tendency to increase the quantity of the
blood ; and if this evacuation be repeated at stated
times, such symptoms of repletion, and such motions,
are excited at the returning periods, as render the ope¬
ration necessary. The same has been observed in some
spontaneous hemorrhagies. These, indeed, at first,
may have some exciting causes, but afterwards they
seem to depend chiefly on custom. The best proof of
this is with regard to the menstrual evacuation. There
is certainly something originally in females, that deter¬
mines that evacuation to the monthly periods. Con¬
stant repetition of this comes to fix it, independent of
strong causes, either favouring or preventing repletion y
e. g. blood-letting will not impede it, nor filling the
body induce it ; and, indeed, so much is this evacua¬
tion connected with periodical motions, that it is little
in our power to produce any effect by medicines but
at
C U S [
Custom and at th086 particular times. Thus if we would relax the
Habit, uterine system, and bring back this evacuation when
Customs, suppressed, our attempts would be vain and fruitless,
W’”'v unless given at that time when the menses should have
naturally returned.
CUSTOMS, in political economy, or the duties, toll,
tribute, or tariff, payable to the king upon merchandise
exported and imported, form a branch of the perpetual
taxes. See Tax.
The considerations upon which this revenue (or the
more ancient part of it, which ax*ose only from exports)
was invested in the king, were said to be two : i. Be¬
cause he gave the subject leave to depart the kingdom,
and to carry his goods along with him. 2. Because the
king was bound of common right to maintain and keep
up the port and havens, and to protect the merchant
from pirates. Some have imagined they are called with
us customs, because they were the inheritance of the
king by immemorial usage and the common law, and
not granted him by any statute: but Sir Edward Coke
hath clearly shown, that the king’s first claim to them
was by grant of parliament 3 Edw. I. though the re¬
cord thereof is not now extant. And indeed this is
in express words confessed by statute 25 Edw. I. c. 7.
wherein the king promises to take no customs from
merchants, without the common assent of the realm,
“ saving to us and our heirs the customs on wool,
skins, and leather, formerly granted to us by the
commonalty aforesaid.” These were formerly called
hereditary customs of the crown j and were due on the
exportation only of the said three commodities, and
of none other : which were styled the staple commodi¬
ties of the kingdom, because they were obliged to be
brought to those ports where the king’s staple was
established, in order to be there first rated, and then
exported. They were denominated in the barbarous
Latin of our ancient records, custuma (an appellation
which seems to be derived from the French word cou-
stum or coutum, which signifies toll or tribute, and
owes its own etymology to the word const, which sig¬
nifies price, charge, or as we have adopted it in Eng¬
lish, cost) ; not consuetudines, which is the language of
our law whenever it means merely usages. The du¬
ties on wool, sheep skins or woolfells, and leather ex¬
ported, were called custuma antiqua sive tnagna, and
were payable by every merchant, as well native as
stranger: with this difference, that merchant-stran¬
gers paid an additional toll, viz. half as much again as
was paid by natives. The custuma parva et nova were
an impost of 3d. in the pound, due from merchant-
strangers only, for all commodities as well imported as
exported ; which was usually called the aliens duty,
and was first granted in 31 Edw. I. But these ancient
hereditary customs, especially those on wool and wool-
fells, came to be of little account, when the nation be¬
came sensible of the advantages of a home manufacture,
and prohibited the exportation of wool by statute 11
Edw. III. c. 1.
Other customs payable upon exports and imports
were distinguished into subsidies, tonnage, poundage,
and other imposts. Subsidies were such as were im¬
posed by parliament upon any of the staple commodi¬
ties before mentioned, over and above the custuma
antiqua et magna : tonnage was a duty upon all wines
imported, over and above the prisage and butlerage
i ] c u s
aforesaid : poundage was a duty imposed ad valorem. Customs,
at the rate of 12d. in the pound, on all other merchan-
dise whatsoever : and the other imposts were such as
were occasionally laid on by parliament, as circum*
stances and times required. These distinctions are
now in a manner forgotten, except by the officers im¬
mediately concerned in this department ; their produce
being in effect all blended together, under the one de¬
nomination of the customs.
By these we understand, at present, a duty or sub-B&c&rf.
sidy paid by the merchants at the quay upon all im*Comment.
ported as well as exported commodities, by authority
of parliament; unless where, for particular national
reasons, certain rewards, bounties or drawbacks, are
allowed for particular exports or imports. The cus¬
toms thus imposed by parliament are chiefly contain¬
ed in two books of rates, set forth by parliamentary
authority ; one signed by Sir Harbottle Grimeston,
speaker of the house of commons in Charles II.’s
time and the other an additional one, signed by Sir
Spencer Compton, speaker in the reign of George I.
to which also subsequent additions have been made.
Aliens, pay a larger proportion than natural subjects,
which is what is now generally understood by the aliens
duty $ to be exempted from which is one principal
cause of the frequent applications to parliament lor
acts of naturalization.
These customs are then, we see, a tax immediate¬
ly paid by the merchant, although ultimately by the
consumer. And yet these are the duties felt least by
the people: and if prudently managed, the people
hardly consider that they pay them at all. For the
merchant is easy, being sensible he does not pay them
for himself; and the consumer, who really pays them,
confounds them with the price of the commodity j
in the same manner as Tacitus observes, that the em¬
peror Nei'o gained the reputation of abolishing the
tax of the sale of slaves, though be only transferred it
from the buyer to the seller : so that it xvas, as he ex¬
presses it, remissum magis specie, quam vi: quia cum
venditor pendere juberetur, in partem pretii emptoribus-
accrescebat. But this inconvenience attends it on the
other hand, that these imposts, if too heavy, are a
check and cramp upon tx-ade; and especially when the
value of the commodity bears little or no proportion
to the quantity of the duty imposed. This in conse¬
quence gives rise also to smuggling, which then be¬
comes a very lucrative employment: and its natural
and mosf reasonable punishment, viz. confiscation of
the commodity, is in such cases quite ineffectual j the
intrinsic value of the goods, which is all that the
smuggler has paid, and therefore all that he can lose,
being very inconsiderable when compared with his
prospect of advantage in evading the duty. Recourse
must therefore be had to extraordinary punishments
to prevent it; perhaps even to capital ones : which
destroys all proportion of punishment, and puts
murderers upon an equal footing with such as are
really guilty of no natux-al, but merely a positive of¬
fence.
There is also another ill consequence attending high
imposts on merchandise, not frequently considered,
but indisputably cextain $ that the earlier any tax is
laid on a commodity, the heavier it falls upon the
consumer in the end $ for every trader, through
whose
CUT
[ 32 ]
CUT
whose hands it passes, must have a profit, not only up¬
on the raw materials and his own labour and time in
preparing it, hut also upon the very tax itself, which
he advances to the government} otherwise he loses the
use and interest of the money which he so advances.
To instance in the article for foreign paper. The
merchant pays a duly upon importation, which he does
not receive again till he sells the commodity, perhaps
at the end of three months. He is therefore equally
entitled to a profit upon that duty which he pays at the
customhouse, as to a profit upon the original price
which he pays to the manufacturer abroad j and con¬
siders it accordingly in the price he demands of the
stationer. When the stationer sells it again, he re¬
quires a profit of the printer or bookseller upon the
whole sum advanced by him to the merchants : and
the bookseller does not fail to charge the full propor¬
tion to the student or ultimate consumer ; who there¬
fore does not only pay the original duty, but the pro¬
fits of these three intermediate traders who have suc¬
cessively advanced it for him. This might be cairied
much farther in any mechanical, or more complicated,
branch of trade.
CusroM-House, an office established uy the king’s
authority in the maritime cities, or port towns, for the
receipt and management of the customs and duties of
importation and exportation, imposed on merchandises,
and regulated by books of rates.
CUSTOS BREVIUM, the principal clerk belonging
to the court of common pleas, whose business it is to
receive and keep all the writs made returnable in that
court, filing every return by itself 5 and, at the end of
each term, to receive of the protbonotaries all the re¬
cords of the nisi prius, called the posteas.
Gustos Rotulorum, an officer who has the custody of
the rolls and records of the session of peace, and also
of the commission of the peace itself.
He usually is some person of quality, and always a
justice of the peace, of the quorum, in the county where
he is appointed.
Custos Spiritualiumj lie that exercises the spiritual
jurisdiction of a diocese, during the vacancy of any see,
which by the canon law, belongs to the dean and chap¬
ter j but at present, in England, to the archbishop of
the province by prescription.
Gustos Temporalium^ was the person to whom a va¬
cant see or abbey was given by the king, as supreme
lord. His office was, as steward of the goods and pro¬
fits, to give an account to the escheator, who did the
like to the exchequer.
CUT-FEATHER, in the sea-language. If a ship has
too broad a bow, it is common to say, she will not cut
a feather ; that is, she will not pass through the water
so swift as to make it foam or froth.
CuT-Purse, in Law ; it any person clam et secrete,
and without the knowledge of another, cut his puise or
pick his pocket, and steal from thence above the value
of twelve pence, it is felony excluded clergy.
Cut-purses, or saccularii, were more severely punish¬
ed than common thieves by the Homan and Athenian
la'vs* » ...
CuT-JPater, the sharp part of the head of a ship be¬
low' the beak. It is so called, because it cuts or di-
.vides the water before it comes to the bow, that it
3
may not come too suddenly to the breadth of the ship,
which would retard it.
CUTANEOUS, in general, an appellation given to
whatever belongs to the cutis or skin. Thus, we say,
cutaneous eruptions : the itch is a cutaneous disease.
CUTH, or Cuthah, in Ancient Geography, a pro¬
vince of Assyria, which, as some say, lies upon the A-
raxes, and is the same with Cush 5 but others take it
to be the same with the country which the Greeks call
iSV/sicwo, and which to this very day, says Dr Wells, is
by the inhabitants called Chusestan, I. Calmet is of
opinion that Cuthah and Scythia are the same place,
and that the Cuthites who were removed into Samaria
by Salmaneser (2 Kings xvii. 24.) came from Cush or
Cuth, mentioned in Gen. ii. 23. See the article Cush.
The Cuthites worshipped the idol Nergal, Id. ibid. 30.
These people were transplanted into Samaria in the
room of the Israelites, who before inhabited it. Calmet
is of opinion, they came from the land of Cush, or
Cuthah upon the Araxes j and that their first settle¬
ment was in the cities of the Medes, subdued by Sal¬
maneser and the kings of Assyria his predecessors.^ ihe
Scripture observes, that the Cuthites, upon their ar¬
rival in this new country, continued to worship the
gods formerly adored by them beyond the Euphrates.
Esarhaddon king of Assyria, who succeeded Sennache¬
rib, appointed an Israelitish priest to go thither, and
instruct them in the religion of the Hebrews.. But
these people thought they might reconcile theii old
superstition with the worship of the true God. They
therefore framed particular gods for themselves, which
they placed in the several cities where they dwelt.
The Cuthites then worshipped both the Lord and their
false gods together, and chose the lowest of the people
to make priests of them in the high places $ and they
continued this practice for a long time. But after¬
wards they forsook the worship of idols, and adhered
only to the law of Moses, as the Samaritans, who are
descended from the Cuthites, do at this day.
CUTICLE, the Scarf Skin. See Anatomy Index,
CUTICULAR, the same with Cutaneous.
CUTIS, the Skin. See Anatomy Index.
CUTLERY, a general term which includes all cut¬
ting tools. See Supplement.
CUTTER, a small vessel, commonly navigated in
the channel of England. It is furnished with one mast,
and rigged as a sloop. Many of these vessels aie used
in an illicit trade, and others are employed by govern¬
ment to take them ; the latter of which are either un¬
der the direction of the admiralty or custom-house.
Cutter, is also a small boat used by ships of Aval.
Cutter of the Tallies, an officer of the exchequer,
whose business is to provide wood for the tallies, to cut
or notch the sum paid upon them j and then to cast them
into court, to be written upon. See Ially.
CUTTING, a term used in various senses and va¬
rious arts ; in the general it implies a division or sepa-
Cutting is particularly used in heraldry, where the
shield is divided into two equal parts, from right to left,
parallel to the horizon, or in the fesse-uay.
The word also is applied to the honourable ordina¬
ries, and even to animals and moveables, when they are
divided equally the same way j so, however, as that
one
Cut
11
Cutting.
CUT L 33 ] CUT
Cutting. one moiety is colour, the other metal. The ordinaries
Y--—' are said to be cut, couped, when they do not come full
to the extremities of the shield.
Cutting, in Surgei'y, denotes the operation of ex¬
tracting the stone out of the bladder by section. See
Lithotomy, Surgery Index.
Cutting, in coinage. When the laminae or plates
of the metal, he it gold, silver, or copper, are brought
to the thickness of the species to be coined, pieces are
cut out, of the thickness, and nearly of the weight, of
the intended coin j which are now called planchets, till
the king’s image hath been stamped on them. The in¬
strument wherewith they cut, consists of two pieces of
steel, very sharp, and placed over one another j the
lower a little hollow, representing a mortar, the other
a pestle. The metal put between the two, is cut out
in the manner described under Coinage.
Note. Medallions, where the relievo is to be great,
are not cut, but cast or moulded.
Cutting, in the manege, is when the horse’s feet
interfere •, or when with the shoe of one foot he beats
off the skin from the pastern joint off another foot.
This is more frequent in the hind feet than the fore:
the causes are either weariness, weakness in the reins,
not knowing how to go, or ill shoeing.
Cutting, in painting, the laying one strong lively
colour over another, without any shade or softening.
The cutting of colours has always a disagreeable effect.
Cutting in wood, a particular kind of sculpture or
engraving j denominated from the matter wherein it is
employed.
It is used for various purposes j as for figured letters $
head and tail pieces of books ; and even for schemes
and other figures, to save the expences of engraving on
copper; and the prints and stamps for paper, callicoes,
linens, &c.
The invention of cutting in wood, as well as that
in copper, is ascribed to a goldsmith of Florence ; but
it is to Albert Durer and Lucas they are both in¬
debted for their perfection. See Engraving and
Printing.
One Hugo de Carpi invented a manner of cutting
in wood, by means whereof the prints appeared as if
painted in claii'-obscure. In order to this, he made
three kinds of stamps for the same design j which
were drawn one after another through the press for
the same print: they were so conducted, as that one
served for the grand lights, a second for the demi-
teints, and a third for the outlines and the deep
shadows.
The art of cutting in wood was certainly carried
to a very great pitch above two hundred years ago ;
and might even vie, for beauty and justness, with that
of engraving in copper. At present it is in a low con¬
dition, as having been long neglected, and the appli¬
cation of artists wholly employed on copper, as the
more easy and promising province $ not but that wood¬
en cuts have the advantage of those in copper on many
accounts •, chiefly for figures and devices in books 5 as
being printed at the same time and in the same press
as the letters ; whereas for the other there is required
a particular impression. In the representation of plants
and flowers, and in designs for paper-hangings, where
the outline only is wanted to be printed in a bold
Vol. VII. Part I. t
full manner, this method will be found cheaper and Cutting,
more effectual than the use of copperplates. y——
The cutters in wood begin with preparing a plank
or block of the size and thickness required, and very
even and smooth on the side to be cut: for this, they
usually take beech, pear-tree, or box $ though the lat¬
ter is the best, as being the closest, and least liable to
be worm-eaten. The wood being cut into a proper
form and size, should be planed as even and truly as
possible: it is then fit to receive the drawing or chalk¬
ing of the design to be engraved. But the effect may
be made more apparent, and the ink, if any be used in
drawing, be prevented from running, by spreading
thinly on the surface of the wood white lead tempered
with water, by grinding with a brush pencil, and after¬
wards rubbing it well with a fine linen rag whilst it is
wet: and \yhen it is dry, brushing oil' any loose or
powdery part with a soft pencil.
On this block they draw their design with a pen or
pencil, just as they would have it printed. Those
who cannot draw their own design, as there are many
who cannot, make use of a design furnished them by
another j fastening it upon the block with paste made
of flour and water, with a little vinegar or gum
tragacanth $ the strokes or lines turned towards the
wood.
When the paper is dry, they wash it gently over
with a sponge dipped in water; which done, they
take off the paper by little and little, still rubbing it
a little first with the tip of the finger ; till at length
there be nothing left on the block but the strokes of
ink that form the design, which mark out so much of
the block as is to be spared or left standing. Figures
are sometimes cut out of prints, by taking away all the
white part or blank paper, and cemented with gum-
water to the surface of the wood. The rest they cut
off, and take away very curiously with the points of
very sharp knives, or little chisels or gravers, according
to the bigness or delicacy of the work: for they need
no other instruments.
It differs from engraving in copper, because in the
former the impression comes from the prominent parts
or strokes left uncut; whereas in the latter, it comes
from the channels cut in the metal.
The manner of printing with wooden prints is much
more expeditious and easy than that of copper-plate :
because they require only to be dipt in the printing-
ink, and impressed on the object in the same manner
and with the same apparatus as the letter-printing is
managed : and for purposes that do not require great
correctness, the impression is made by the hand only, a
proper handle being fixed to the middle of the print,
by which it is first dipped in the ink, spread by means
of a brush on a block of proportionable size covered
with leather; and then lifted up instantly, and dropped
with some little force on the paper which is to receive
the impression.
Most of our readers are probably not ignorant that
the art of engraving on wood has been revived of late
years, and has been carried to great perfection by
Messrs Bewick of Newcastle, and other ingenious
artists. Of this number we may mention Messrs Nes-
bit and Anderson of London. The Natural History
of Quadrupeds,' in one volume 8vo, and the Natural
E History
CUT
[ 34 3
C Y A
Cutting
11
Cutts.
History of British Birds, in two volumes, published
with engravings cut in wood by Messrs Bewick, axe
excellent specimens of the degree of perfection at
which this art has arrived.
Cuttings, or slips, in Gardening, the branches or
sprigs of trees or plants, cut or slipped off to set again j
which is done in any moist fine earth.
The best season is from August to April ; but caxe
is to be taken, when it is done, the sap be not too much
in the top, lest the cut die before that part in the earth
have root enough to support it: nor yet must it be too
dx-y or scanty 5 the sap in the branches assisting it to
take root.
In providing the cuttings, such branches as have
joints, knots, or burrs, are to be cut oft two or
inches beneath them, and the leaves to be stripped oft
so far as they are set in the earth. Small top branches,
of two or three years growth, are fittest lor this opera¬
tion.
CUTTLE-fish. See Sepia. The bone ot the
cuttle-fish is hard on one side, but soft and yielding on
the other j so as readily to receive pretty neat impres¬
sions from medals, &c. and afterwards to serve as a
mould for casting metals, which thus take the figure
of the original ; the bone is likewise frequently em¬
ployed for cleaning or polishing silver. This fish con¬
tains in a certain distinct vessel a fiuid as black as ink;
which it is said to emit when pursued, and thus to
conceal itself by discolouring the water. The parti¬
cular qualities of this liquor are not yet determined.
Dr Leigh says, he saw a letter which had been written
with it ten years before, and which still continued.
Some report that the ancients made their ink from it $
and others, that it is the basis of China or Indian ink;
but both these accounts appear to have little founda¬
tion. Pliny, speaking of the inks made use of in his
time, after observing that the cuttle-fish is in this re¬
spect of a wonderful nature, adds expressly, that ink
was not made from it.
CUTTS, John Lord, a soldier of most hardy bravery
in King William’s wars, was son of Richard Cutts,
Esq. of Matching in Essex ; where the family were
settled about the time of Henry VI. and had a great
estate. He entered early into the service of the
duke of Monmouth, was aid-de-camp to the duke of
Lorrain in Hungary, and signalized himself in a
very extraordinary manner at the taking of Buda by
the Imperialists in 1686; which important place had
been for near a century and a hall in the hands of the
Turks. Mr Addison, in a Latin poem worthy of the
Augustan age, plainly hints at Mr Cutts’s distinguish¬
ed liravery at that siege. Returning to England at
the revolution, he had a regiment of foot ; was creat¬
ed baron of Gowran in Ireland, Dec. 6. 1690 j ap¬
pointed governor of the isle ol Wight, April 14. 1693 ;
was made a major-general ; and, when the assassina¬
tion project was discovered, in 1695-6, was captain of
the king’s guard. In 1698 he was complimented by
Mr John Hopkins, as one to whom “ a double crown
was due,” as a hero and a poet. He was colonel of
the Coldstream, or second regiment of guards, in 1701;
when Mr Steele, who was indebted to his interest for
a military commission, inscribed to him his first work,
“ The Christian Hero.” On the accession ol Queen
Auno, he was made a lieutenant-general of the forces
in Holland 5 commander in chief of the forces in Ire- Cutts
land, under the duke of Ormond, March 23. 1704-5 ; II
and afterwards one of the lords justices of that king-
dom, to keep him out of the way of action ; a circum¬
stance which broke his heart. He died at Dublin,
Jan. 26. 1706-7, and ‘s hurie(^ ^ie cathedral
of Christ church. He wrote a poem on the death of
Queen Mary j and published, in 1687, “ Poetical Ex¬
ercises, written upon several occasions, and dedicated
to her Royal highness Mary princess of Orange.” It
contains, besides the dedication signed J. Cutts, verses
to that princess j a poem on Wisdom; another to Mr
Waller on his commending it; seven more copies of
verses (one of them called La Muse Cavalier, which had
been ascribed to Lord Peterborough, and as such men¬
tioned by Mr Walpole in the list of that nobleman’s
writings), and 11 songs ; the whole composing but a
very thin volume. A specimen of his poetry is here
added:
Only tell her that I love,
Leave the rest to her and fate j
Some kind planet from above
May perhaps her pity move ;
Lovers on their stars must wait j
Only tell her that I love.
Why, oh, why should I despair ?
Mercy’s pictur’d in her eye $
If she once vouchsafe to hear,
Welcome hope, and welcome fear.
She’s too good to let me die $
Why, oh, why should I despair ?
CUVETTE, or Cunette, in Fortification, is a ditch
within a ditch, being a pretty deep trench, about four
fathoms broad, sunk, and running along the middle
of the great dry ditch, to hold water; serving both to
keep off the enemy, and prevent him from mining.
CYANITE, a species of mineral. See Minera¬
logy Index.
CYANOMETER, an instrument for measuring
the intensity of the blue colour of the sky. See Sup¬
plement.
CYATHUS, KvttQct (from the verb to pour
out), was a common measure among the Greeks and
Romans, both of the liquid and dry kind.. It was
equal to an ounce, or the twelfth part of a pint. The
cyathus was made with a handle like our punch ladle.
The Roman topers used to drink as many cyathi as
there were muses, i. e. nine , also as many as there were
letters in the patron’s name. Thus, they had modes of
drinking similar to the modern health-drinking or toast¬
ing. The cyathus of the Greeks weighed 10 drachms *,
but Galen says that a cyathus contains 12 drachms of
oil, 13 drachms and one scruple of wine, water, or vi¬
negar, and 18 drachms of honey ; and he adds that a-
mongthe Veterinarii the cyathus contained two ounces.
CYAXARES, son of Phraortes, was king of Me¬
dia and Persia. He bravely defended his kingdom,
which the Scythians had invaded. He made war
against Alyattes king of Lydia ; and subjected to his
power all Asia beyond the river Halys. He died after
a reign of 40 years, in the year of Rome 160.
Cyaxares II. is supposed by some to be the same
as Darius the Mede. He was son of Astyages king
of Media. He added seven provinces to his father’s
dominions,
CYC [ 35 ] CYC
Clares dominions, and made war against the Assyrians, whom
|| Cyrus favoured.
Cycas. CYBEBE, a name of Cybele, from kv/3»)/3s<», because
t in the celebration of her festivals men were driven to
madness.
CYBELE, in Pagan mythology, the daughter of
Coelus and Terra, and wife of Saturn. She is sup¬
posed to be the same as Ceres, Rhea, Ops, Vesta, Bo¬
na Mater, Magna Mater, Berecynthia, Dindymene,
See. According to Diodorus, she was the daughter
of a Lydian prince, and as soon as she was born she
was exposed on a mountain. She was preserved by
sucking some of the wild beasts of the forest, and re¬
ceived the name of Cybele from the mountain where
her life had been preserved. When she returned to
her father’s court, she had an intrigue with Atys, a
beautiful youth, whom her father mutilated, &c. All
the mythologists are unanimous in mentioning the
amours of Atys and Cybele. In Phrygia the festivals
of Cybele were observed with the greatest solemnity.
Her priests, called Cot'ybantes, Ga/li, &c. were not ad¬
mitted in the service of the goddess without a previous
mutilation. In the celebration of the festivals, they
imitated the manners of madmen, and filled the air with
shrieks and bowlings mixed with the confused noise of
drums, tabrets, bucklers, and spears. This was in com¬
memoration of the sorrow of Cybele for the loss of
her favourite Atys. Cybele was generally represented
as a robust woman far advanced in her pregnancy, to
intimate the fecundity of the earth. She held keys in
her hand, and her head was crowned with rising tur¬
rets, and sometimes with the leaves of an oak. She
sometimes appears riding in a chariot drawn by two
tame lions: Atys follows by her side, carrying a ball
in his hand, and supporting himself upon a fir-tree
which is sacred to the goddess. Sometimes she is re¬
presented with a sceptre in her hand, with her head
covered with a tower. She is also seen with many
breasts, to show that the earth gives aliments to all li¬
ving creatures j and she generally carries two lions un¬
der her arms. From Phrygia the worship of Cybele
passed into Greece, and was solemnly established at
Eleusis under the name of the JEleusinian mysteries of
Ceres. The Romans, by order of the Sibylline books,
brought the statue of the goddess from Pessinus into
Italy j and when the ship which carried it had run on
a shallow bank of the Tiber, the virtue and innocence
of Claudia were vindicated in removing it with her
girdle. It is supposed that the mysteries of Cybele
were first known about 257 years before the Trojan
war, or 1580 years before the Augustan age. The
Romans were particularly superstitious in washing every
year, on the 6th of the kalends of April, the shrine
of this goddess in the waters of the river Almon.
There prevailed many obscenities in the observation
of the festivals j and the priests themselves were the
most eager to use indecent expressions, and to show
their unbounded licentiousness by the impurity of their
actions.
CYBELLICUM marmoR, a name given by the
ancients to a species of marble dug in a mountain of
that name in Phrygia. It was of an extremely bright
white, with broad veins of bluish black.
CYCAS, in Botany, a genus of plants belonging
to the natural order, Falmce. See Botany Index.
This is a valuable tree to the inhabitants of India, Cyeas
as it not only furnishes a considerable part of their 11
constant bread, but also supplies them with a large ar- Cycl''des'
tide of trade. The pith consists of a farinaceous sub¬
stance, which is extracted from it and made into bread
in this manner : they saw the body into small pieces,
and after beating them in a mortar, pour water upon
the mass $ this is left for some hours to settle. When
fit, it is strained through a cloth, and the finer particles
of the mealy substance running through with the wa¬
ter, the gross ones are left behind and thrown away.
After the farinaceous part is sufficiently subsided, the
water is poured off, and the meal being properly dried,
is occasionally made into cakes and baked. These
cakes are said to eat nearly as well as wheaten bread,
and are the support of the inhabitants for three or four
months in the year.
The same meal more finely pulverized, and reduced
into granules, is what is called sago, which is sent
into all parts of Europe, and sold in the shops as a great
strengthener and restorative.
There is a sort of sago made in the West Indies, and
sent to Europe in the same manner as that from the
East j but the West India sago is far inferior in quality
to the other. It is supposed to be made from the pith
of the areca oleracea. See Areca.
The bt'ood boom (or bread-tree) of the Hotten¬
tots, a plant discovered by Professor Thunberg, is
described as a new species of this genus, by the name
of cycas Cajfra, in the Nova Acta Reg. Soc. Scient.
Ups. vol. ii. p. 283. Table V. The pith, or medulla,
which abounds in the trunk of this little palm, Mr
Sparrman informs us, is collected and tied up in dressed
calf or sheep-skins, and then buried in the earth for
the space of several weeks, till it becomes sufficiently
mellow and tender to be kneaded up with water into
a paste, of which they afterwards make small loaves or
cakes, and bake them under the ashes. Other Hot¬
tentots, not quite so nice, nor endued with patience
enough to wait this tedious method of preparing it,
are said to dry and roast the pith or marrow, and after¬
wards make a kind of frumenty of it.
CYCEON, from “ to mix $” a name given
by the ancient poets and physicians to a mixture ot
meal and water, and sometimes of other ingredients.
These constituted the two kinds of cyceon; the coarser
being of water and meal alone $ the richer and
more delicate composed of wine, honey, flour, water,
and cheese. Homer, in the nth Iliad, talks of cy¬
ceon made with cheese and the meal of barley mixed
with wine, but without any mention either of honey
or water ; and Ovid, describing the draught of cyceon
given by the old woman of Athens to Ceres, mentions
only flower and water. Dioscorides understood the
word in both these senses j but extolled it most in the
coarse and simple kind: he says, when prepared with
water alone, it refrigerates and nourishes greatly.
CYCINNIS, a Grecian dance, so called from the
name of its inventor, one of the satyrs belonging to
Bacchus. It consisted of a combination of grave and
gay movements.
CYCLADES insulas : islands anciently so called,
as Pliny informs us, from the cyclus or orb in which
they lie j beginning from the promontory Geraestum
of Euboea, and lying round the island Delos, (Pliny).
E 2 Where
CYC [ 36 ] C Y D
Cyclades Where they are, and what their number, is not so
[] generally agreed. Strabo says, they were at first
Cycloid. reckoned 12, but that many others were added : yet
most of them lie to the south of Delos, and but few to
the north 5 so that the middle or centre, ascribed to
Delos, is to be taken in a loose, not a geometrical,
sense. Strabo recites them after Artemidorus, as fol¬
lows : Helena, Ceos, Cynthus, Seriphus, Melus, Si-
phus, Cimolus, Prepesinthus, Olearus, Naxus, Parus,
Syrus, Myconus, Tenus, Andrus, Gyarus j but he ex¬
cludes from the number Prepesinthus, Olearus, and
Gyarus.
CYCLAMEN, Sowbread ; a genus of plants, be-
loriging to the pentandria class $ and in the natural
"method ranking under the 21st order, Precice. See
Botany Index.
CYCLE, in Chronology, a certain period or series
of numbers, which regularly proceed from the first to
the last, and then return again to the first, and so cir¬
culate perpetually. See CHRONOLOGY, N° 26.
Cycle of Indiction, is a series of 15 years, return¬
ing constantly around, like the other cycles, and com¬
menced from the third year before Christ; whence it
happens, that if 3 be added to any given year of Christ,
and the sum be divided by 15, what remains is the year
of the indiction.
Cycle of Indiction, a period of 15 years, in use a-
mong the Homans. It has no connection with the
celestial motion, but was instituted, according to Ba-
ronius, by Constantine j who having reduced the time
which the Romans were obliged to serve to 15 years,
he was consequently obliged every 15 years to impose,
or indicere according to the Latin expression, an extra¬
ordinary tax for the payment of those who were dis¬
charged ; and hence arose this cycle, which, from the
Latin word indicere, was styled indiction.
Cycle of the Moon, called also the golden number,
and the Metonic cycle, from its inventor Meton the
Athenian, is a period of 19 years, which when they
are completed, the new moons and full moons return
on the same days of the month, so that on whatever
days the new and full moons fall this year, 19 years
hence they will happen on the very same days of the
month, though not at the same hour, as Meton and
the fathers of the primitive church thought } and
therefore,, at the time of the council of Nice, when
the method of finding the time for observing the feast
of Easter was established, the numbers of the lunar cycle
were inserted in the kalendar, which, upon the ac¬
count of their excellent use, were set in golden letters,
and the year of the cycle called the golden number of
that year.
Cycle of the Sun, a revolution of 28 years, which
being elapsed, the dominical or Sunday letters return
to their former place, and proceed in the same order as
before, according to the Julian kalendar.
CYCLISUS, in Surgery, an instrument in the form
of a half moon, used in scraping the skull, in case of
fractures on that part.
CYCLOID, a curve on which the doctrine of pen¬
dulums, and time-measuring instruments, in a great
measure depends. Mr Huygens demonstrated, that
from whatever point or height, a heavy body, oscillating
on a fixed centre, begins to descend, while it continues
move in. a cycloid,, the time of its falls or oscillations
a.
will be equal to each other. It is likewise demonstra- Cycloid
ble, that it is the curve of quickest descent, i. e. a f]
body falling in it, from any given point above, to ano- Cyder,
ther not exactly under it, will come to this point in a 1 »
less time than in any other curve passing through those
two points. This curve is thus generated: suppose a
wheel or circle to roll along a straight line till it has
completed just one revolution 5 a nail or point in that
part of the circumference of the circle, which at tire
beginning of the motion touches the straight line, will,
at the end of the revolution, have described a cycloid
on a vertical plane.
CYCLOPAEDIA, or Encyclop;edia, denotes the
circle or compass of arts and sciences. A cyclopae¬
dia, say the authors of the French Encyclopedic,
ought to explain as much as possible the order and
connexion of human knowledge. See Encyclope¬
dia.
CYCLOPS, in fabulous history, the sons of Nep¬
tune and Amphitrite ; the principal of whom were
Brontes, Steropes, and Peracmon j but their whole
number amounted to above a hundred. Jupiter threw
them into Tartarus as soon as they were born j but
they were delivered at the intercession of Tellus, and
became the assistants of Vulcan. They were of pro¬
digious stature, and had each only one eye, which
was placed in the middle of their foreheads.
Some mythologists say, that the Cyclops signify the
vapours raised in the air, which occasion thunder and
lightning : on which account they are represented aa.
forging the thunderbolts of Jupiter. Others repre¬
sent them as the first inhabitants of Sicily, who were
cruel, of a gigantic form, and dwelt round Mount
AEtna.
CYCLOPTERUS, the Sucker, a genus of fishes-
belonging to the order of amphibia nantes. See Ich¬
thyology Index.
CYDER, or Cider, an excellent drink made of
the juice of apples, especially of the more curious table
kinds ; the juice of these being esteemed more cordial
and pleasant than that of the wild or harsh kinds. In
making this drink, it hath long been thought necessary,
in every part of England, to lay the harder cyder-
fruits in heaps for some time before breaking their
pulps j but the Devonshire people have much impro¬
ved this practice. In other countries, the method is to
make these heaps of apples in a house, or under some
covering inclosed on every side. This method hath
been found defective, because, by excluding the free
air, the heat soon became too violent, and a great
perspiration ensued, by which in a short time the
loss of juice was so great, as to reduce the fruit to
half their former weight, attended wdth a general rot¬
tenness, rancid smell, and disagreeable taste. In the
South-hams, a middle way has been pursued, to avoid
the inconveniences and loss attending the above. They
make their heaps of apples in an open part of an or¬
chard, where, by the means of a free air and less per¬
spiration, the desired maturity is brought about, with
an inconsiderable waste of the juices and decay of the
fruit entirely free of rankness; and though some apr
pies rot even in this manner, they are very few, and
are still fit for use j all continue plump and full of
juices, and very much heighten the colour of cyders,
without ill taste or smell..
In
C Y D [ 37 ] C Y D
In pursuing the Devonshire method it is to he ob¬
served, l. That all the promiscuous kinds of apples
that have dropped from the trees, from time to time,
are to be gathered up and laid in a heap by them¬
selves, and to be made into cyder after having so lain
about ten days. 2. Such apples as are gathered from
the trees, having already acquired some degree of ma¬
turity, are likewise to be laid in a heap by themselves
for about a fortnight. 3. The later hard fruit, which
are to be left on the trees till the approach of frost is
apprehended, are to be laid in a separate heap, where
they are to remain a month or six weeks, by which,
notwithstanding frost, rain, &c. their juices will re¬
ceive such a maturation, as will prepare them for a
kindly fermentation, and which they could not have
attained on the trees by means of the coldness of the
season.
It is observable, that the riper and mellower the
fruits are at the time of collecting them into heaps, the
shorter should be their continuance there $ and on the
contrary, the harsher, immaturer, and harder they are,
the longer they should rest.
These heaps should be made in an even and open part
of an orchard, without any regard to covering from rain,
dew, or what else may happen during the apples stay¬
ing there ; and whether they be carried in and broke
in wet or dry weather, the thing is all the same. If it
may be objected, that during their having lain together
in the heap, they may have imbibed great humidity, as
well from the air as from the ground, rain, dews, &c.
which are mixed with their juices ; the answer is, this
will have no other effect than a kindly diluting, na¬
tural to the fruit, by which means a speedier fermenta¬
tion ensues, and all heterogeneous humid particles are
thrown off.
The apples are then ground, and the pummice is
received in, a large open-mouthed vessel, capable of
containing as much thereof as is sufficient for one ma¬
king, or one cheese. Though it has been a custom to
let the pummice remain some hours in the vessel appro¬
priated to contain it, yet this practice is by no means
commendable; for if the fruits did not come ripe from
the trees, or otherwise matured, the pummice remain¬
ing in the vat too long will acquire such sharpness and
coarseness from the skins as is never to be got rid of j
and if the pummice is of well ripened fruit, the con¬
tinuing too long there will occasion it to contract a
sharpness that very often is followed with want of spi¬
rit and pricking: nay, sometimes it even becomes vi¬
negar, or always continues of a wheyish colour $ all
which proceeds from the heat of fermentation that it
almost instantly falls into on lying together; the pum¬
mice therefore should remain no longer in the vat than
until there may be enough broke from one pressing, or
that all be made into cheese, and pressed the same day
it is broken. See farther on this subject Agricul¬
ture Index.
In Plate CLXVIII. is a perspective view of the cy¬
der press and apple-mill. A, B, the bottom or lower-
beam ; C, D, the upper beam ; 5, 6, 7, 8* Q, the
rights ; 4, 4, e, e, spurs; Z, 2, 12, braces, or cross¬
pieces ; o, by capitals ; X, blocks ; g, the screw ; E, the
back or receiver ; F, the cheese or cake of pummice,
placed on the stage or bason ; G, the stage or bason ;
3 0, iq, beams that support the pieces of which the
bason is composed ; 11, perpendicular pieces for sup- Cyder
porting these beams ; H, the buckler; R, S, Q, a cir- ii
cular trough of the apple-mill ; T, L, V, compart- ,
ments or divisions, for different sorts of apples ; M, 'r^
the mill-stone ; L, M, axis of the mill-stone ; N, the
spring-tree bar.
CrDER-Spirit, a spirituous liquor drawn from cyder
by distillation, in the same manner as brandy from
wine. The particular flavour of this spirit is not the
most agreeable, but it may with care be divested wholly
of it, and rendered a perfectly pure and insipid spirit
upon rectification. The traders in spirituous liquors
are well enough acquainted with the value of such a
spirit as this : they can give it the flavour of some
other kinds, and sell it under their names, or mix it in
large proportion with the foreign brandy, rum and ar¬
rack, in the sale, without any danger of a discovery of
the cheat.
Cyder-Wine. See Agriculture Index.
CYDERKIN. See Agriculture Index.
CYDIAS, a painter who made a painting of the
Argonauts in the nth Olympiad. This celebrated
piece was bought by the orator Hortensius for 164
talents.
CYDNUS, in Ancient Geography, a river of Cili¬
cia ; rising in Mount Taurus, to the north of Tarsus,
through whose middle it ran, in a very clear and cold
stream, which had almost proved fatal to Alexander
on bathing in it; falling into the sea at a place called
Rhegma, a breach, the sea breaking in there, and af*
fording the people of Tarsus a station or port for
their ships. The water of the Cydnus is commended
by Strabo, as of service in nervous disorders and the
gout.
CYDONIA, in Ancient Geography, one of the
three most illustrious cities of Crete, situated in the
north-west of the island, with a locked port, or walled
round. The circumstances of the founding of Cydon
are uncertain. Stephen of Byzantium says, that it was
at first named Apollonia from Cydon the son of Apol¬
lo. Pausanias ascribes the founding of it to Cydon
the son of Tegetus, who travelled into Crete. Hero¬
dotus affirms, that it was founded by the Samians, aqd
that its temples were erected by them. Alexander,
in the first book of the Cretans, informs us, that it
1‘eceived its name from Cydon the sou of Mercury.
Cydon was the largest city in the island ; and was
enabled to hold the balance between her contending
neighbours. She sustained some famous sieges. Pha-
leucus, general of the Phocians, making an expedi¬
tion into Crete with a fleet and a numerous army, in¬
vested Canea both by sea and land, but lost his army
and his life before its walls. In succeeding times
when Metellus subdued the island, he assailed Cydon
with all his forces; and after combating an obstinate
resistance, subjected it to the power of Rome. Cydon
occupied the present situation of Canea ; only extend¬
ing half a league farther towards St Odero ; where on
the sea-shore the remains are still to be seen of some
ancient walls which appear to have been of a very solid
construction. See Canea.
CYDONIA, the Quince ; so called from Cydon,
a town of Crete, famous for its abounding with this
fruit. Linnaeus has joined this genus to the apple and
pear; but as there is such a remarkable difference be¬
tween
C Y M [3
Ciydouia tween the fruits, Mr Miller treats the quince as a
|) genus by itself. The species are, I. The oblonga, with
Cymbal, an 0blong fruit, lengthened at the base. 2. The mah-
" 'v" forma, with oval leaves, wholly on the upper side,
with some ether varieties. The Portugal quince is
the most valuable ; its pulp turns to a fine purple when
stewed or baked, and becomes much softer and less
austere than the others ; so is much fitter for making
marmalade. The trees are also easily propagated, ei¬
ther by layers, suckers, or cuttings j which must be
planted in a moist soil. Those raised from suckers are
seldom so well rooted as those which are obtained from
cuttings or layers, and are subject to produce suckers
again in greater plenty; which is not so proper for
fruit-bearing trees. These trees require very little
pruning : the chief thing to be observed is, to keep
their stems clear from suckers, and cut off such branches
as cross each other ; likewise all upright luxuriant
shoots from the middle of the ti'ee should be taken off,
that the head may not be too much crowded with vyood,
which is of ill consequence to all fruit trees. These
sorts may also be propagated by building or grafting
upon stocks raised by cuttings; so that the best soits
may be cultivated this w'ay in greater plenty than by
any other method. These are also in great esteem to
bud or graft pears upon ; which for summer or autumn
fruits are a great improvement to them, especially
those designed for walls and espaliers ; for the trees,
upon these stocks do not shoot so vigorously as those
upon free-stocks, and therefore may be kept in less
compass, and sooner produce fruit: but hard winter
fruits do not succeed so well upon these stocks, their
fruit being subject to crack, and are commonly stony,
especially all the breaking pears : therefore these stocks
are only fit for melting pears and a moist soil.
CYGNUS, the Swan. See Anas, Ornithology
Index.
Cygnus, the Swan, in Astronomy, a constellation of
the northern hemisphere, between Lyra and Cepheus.
The stars in the constellation Cygnus, in Ptolemy’s ca¬
talogue, are 19 ; in Tycho’s 18 ; in Hevelius’s q.y ; in
the Britannic catalogue 81.
CYLINDER, in Geometry, a solid body supposed
to be generated by the rotation of a parallelogram.
Rolling or Loaded Cylinder, a cylinder which rolls
up an inclined plane ; the phenomena of which are ex¬
plained under MECHANICS.
CYLINDROID, in Geometry, a solid body ap¬
proaching to the figure of a cylinder, but differing from
it in some respects, as having the bases elliptical, but
parallel and equal.
CYLINDRUS, in Natural History, the name of a
genus of shell-fish, of which there are many elegant and
precious species.
CYMA, in Botany, the tender stalks which herbs
send forth in the beginning of spring, particularly those
of the cabbage kind.
Cyma, or Cymatium, in Architecture, a member
or moulding of the corniche, the profile of which is
waved, that is, concave at top, and convex at bottom.
CYMBAL, a musical instrument in use
among the ancients. The cymbal was made of brass,
like our kettle-drums, and, as some think, in their form,
.but smaller, and of different use. Ovid gives cymbals
3
[ ] C Y N
the epithet of genialia, because they were used at wed- Cymbal
dings and other diversions. |]
Cassiodorus and Isidore call this instrument acetabu- Cynaegiriis.
lum, the name of a cup or cavity of a bone wherein an- '
other is articulated; and Xenophon compares it to a
horse’s hoof; whence it must have been hollow ; which
appears, too, from the figure of several other things de¬
nominated from it; as a basin, caldron, goblet, cask,
and even a shoe, such as those of Empedocles, which
were of brass.
In reality, the ancient cymbals appear to have been
very different from our kettle-drums, and their use of
another kind : to their exterior cavity was fastened a
handle ; whence Pliny compares them to the upper part
of the thigh, and Rabanus to phials.
They were struck against one another in cadence,
and made a very acute sound. Their invention was
attributed to Cybele; whence their use in feasts and
sacrifices : setting aside this occasion, they were seldom
used but by dissolute and effeminate people. M. Lampe,
who has written expressly on the subject, attributes the
invention to the Curetes, or inhabitants of Mount Ida
in Crete; it is certain these, as well as the Corybantes
or guards of the kings of Crete, and those of Rhodes
and Samothracia, were reputed to excel in the music
of the cymbal.
The Jews had their cymbals, or at least instruments
which translators render cymbals ; but as to their mat¬
ter and form, critics are still in the dark. The mo¬
dern cymbal is a mean instrument, chiefly in use among
vagrants, gypsies, &c. It consists of steel wire in a
triangular form, whereupon are passed five rings, which
are touched and shifted along the triangle with an iron
rod held in the left hand, while it is supported in the
right by a ring, to give it the freer motion. Durandus
says, that the monks used the word cymbal for the clois¬
ter-bell, used to call them to the refectory.
CYME, in Ancient Geography, a city built by Pe-
lops on his return to Greece. Cyme the Amazon
gave it name, on expelling the inhabitants, according
to Mela. Latin authors, as Nepos, Livy, Mela, Pliny,
Tacitus, retain the appellation Cyme, after the Greek
manner. It stood in /Eolia, between Myrina and
Phocsea (Ptolemy); and long after, in Peutmger’s
map, is set down nine miles distant from Myrina.—
From this place was the Sibylla Cumaea, called Ery-
thrcea, from Erythra, “ a neighbouring place.” It was
the country of Ephorus. Hesiod was a Cumean origi¬
nally (Stephanus) ; his father coming to settle at As-
cra in Bosotia.
CYMENE, in Botany, a name given by the ancient
Greeks to a plant with which they used to dye woollen
stuffs yellow, and with which the women of those times
used also to tinge the hair yellow, which was then the
favourite colour. The cymene of the Greeks is evi¬
dently the same plant with the lutea herba of the La¬
tins ; or what is now called dyers weed. See IvESEDA,
Botany Index.
CYNiEGIRUS, an Athenian, celebrated for his
extraordinary courage. He was brother to the poet
iF.schylus. After the battle of Marathon he pursued
the flying Persians to their ships, and seized one of
their vessels with his right hand, which was imme¬
diately severed by the enemy. Upon this he seized
C Y N [ 39 ] C Y N
CyiiEgirus the vessel with his left hand, and when he had lost that
(I also, he still kept his hold with his teeth.
Cynics. CYNANCHE, in Medicine, a disease, in which the
L ' throat is inflamed and swelled to such a degree as some¬
times to threaten suftocation. See Medicine Index.
CYNANCHUM, Bastard Dogsbane ; a genus
of plants, belonging to the pentandria class ; and in
the natural method ranking under the 30th order, Con¬
tort#. See Botany Index.
CYNARA, the Artichoke j a genus of plants be¬
longing to the syngenesia class. See Botany Index.
The varieties of the artichoke are propagated by
slips or suckers, arising annually from the stool or root
of the old plants in spring, which are to be taken
from good plants of any present plantation in March
or the beginning of April, and planted in the open
quarter of the kitchen garden, in rows five feet asunder :
and they will produce artichokes the same year in
autumn. It should, however, be remarked, that
though artichokes are of many years duration, the an¬
nual produce of their fruit will gradually lessen in the
size of the eatable parts after the third or fourth year,
so that a fresh plantation should be made every three or
four years. The cardoon is a very hardy plant, and
prospers in the open quarters of the kitchen-garden.
It is propagated by seed sown annually in the full
ground in March ; either in a bed for transplantation,
or in the place where they are designed to remain.
The plants are very large, so must stand at considerable
distances from one another. By this means you may
have some small temporary crops between the rows, as
of lettuce, spinach, endive, cabbage, savoy, or bro-
coli plants. In the latter end of September, or in Oc¬
tober, the cardoons will be grown very large, and their
footstalks have acquired a thick substance ; you must
then tie up the leaves of each plant, to admit of earthing
them closely all round for blanching, which will take
up six or eight weeks $ and thus the plants will come
in for use in November and I>ecember, and continue
all winter.
CYNEUS, of Thessaly, the scholar of Demosthenes,
flourished 275 years before Christ. Pyrrhus had so
high an esteem for him, that he sent him to Rome to
solicit a peace ; and so vast was his memory; that the
day after his arrival he saluted all the senators and
knights by name. Pyrrhus and he wrote a Treatise of
War, quoted by Tully.
CYNICS, a sect of ancient philosophers, who va¬
lued themselves upon their contempt of riches and
state, arts and sciences, and every thing, in short, ex¬
cept virtue or morality.
The Cynic philosophers owe their origin and insti¬
tution to Antisthenes of Athens, a disciple of Socrates;
who being asked of what use his philosophy had been
to him, replied, “ It enables me to live with myself.”
Diogenes was the most famous of his disciples, in
whose life the system of this philosophy appears in
its greatest perfection. He led a most wretched life, a
tub having served him for a lodging, which he rolled
before him wherever he went. Yet he was neverthe¬
less not the more humble on account of his ragged
cloak, bag, and tub ; for one day entering Plato’s
house, at a time when there was a splendid entertain¬
ment there for several persons of distinction, he jump¬
ed upon a very rich couch in all his dirt, saying, Cyme
“ I trample on the pride of Plato.” “ Yes (replied II
Plato), but with great pride, Diogenes.” He had the
utmost contempt for all the human race ; for he walked . —
the streets of Athens at noon-day with a lighted lan-
thorn in his hand, telling the people, “ He was in
search of a man.” Among many excellent maxims
of morality, he held some very pernicious opinions :
for he used to say that the uninterrupted good fortune
of Harpalus, who generally passed for a thief and a
robber, was a testimony against the gods. He re¬
garded chastity and modesty as weaknesses. Hence
Laertius observes of him, that he did every thing open¬
ly, whether it belonged to Ceres or Venus ; though he
adds, that Diogenes only ran to an excess of impu¬
dence to put others out of conceit of it. But impu¬
dence was the characteristic of these philosophers ; who
argued, that what was right to be done, might be done
at all times, and in all places. The chief principle of
this sect in common with the Stoics, was, that we
should follow nature. But they differed from the Stoics
in their explanation of that maxim ; the Cynics being
of opinion, that a man followed nature that gratified
hi^ natural motions and appetites ; while the Stoics un¬
derstood right reason by the word nature.
CvNic-Spasm, a kind of convulsion, wherein the pa¬
tient imitates the bowlings of dogs.
CYNIPS, a genus of insects belonging to the hy-
menoptera order. See Entomology Index.
CYNOCEPHALUS, in Zoology, the trivial name
of a species of Simia. See Mammalia Index.
CYNOGLOSSUM, Hound’s Tongue ; a genus
of plants belonging to the pentandria class, and in the
natural method ranking under the 41st order, Asperifo*
lice. See Botany Index.
CYNOMETRY, in Botany, a genus of plants be¬
longing to the decandria class, and in the natural me¬
thod ranking with those of which the order is doubtful.
See Botany Index.
CYNOMORIUM, in Botany, a genus of plants
belonging to1 the monoecia class, and in the natural me¬
thod ranking under the 50th order, Amentacece. See
Botany Index.
CYNOPHONTIS, in antiquity, a festival observ¬
ed in the dog days at Argos, and so called axe rus kwxs
<pe>nit, i. e. from killing dogs : because it was usual on
this day to kill all the dogs they met with.
CYNOREXY, an immoderate appetite, to the de¬
gree of a disease, called also fames canina and bulimy.^
CYNOSARGES, a place in the suburbs of Athens,
named from a white or swift dog, who snatched away
part of the sacrifice offering to Hercules. It had a
gymnasium, in which strangers or those of the hall-
blood performed their exercises ; the case of Hercules,
to whom the place wfas consecrated. It had also a court
of judicature to try illegitimacy, and to examine whe¬
ther persons were Athenians of the whole or half blood.
Here Antisthenes set up a new sect of philosophers
called Cynics, either from the place, or from the snarl¬
ing or the impudent disposition of that sect.
CYNOSCEPH ALiE, in Ancient Geography, a
place in Thessaly near Scotussa; where the Romans,
under Q. Flaminius, gained a great victory over Philip,
sou of Demetrius king of Macedon. These Cynosce-
phake
C Y P C 40 ] C Y P
Cynosce- phalte are small tops of several equal eminences j named
phalas from their resemblance to dogs heads, according to Plu-
JI . tarch.
ryil_°nism; CYNOSSEMA, the tomb of Hecuba, on the pro¬
montory Mastusia, over against Dardanus, in the south
of the Chersonesus Thracica \ named either from the fi¬
gure of a dog, to which she was changed, or from her
sad reverse of fortune (Pliny, Mela).
CYNOSUPtA, in Astronomy, a denomination given
by the Greeks to ursa minor, “ the little bear,” by
which sailors steer their course. The word is formed
of q. d. the dog’s tail. This is the constella¬
tion next our pole, consisting of seven stars •, four
whereof are disposed like the four wheels of a chariot,
and three lengthwise representing the beam ; whence
some give it the name of the chariot, or Charles's
wain.
CyNosura, Cynosnrce, or Cynosuris, in Ancient Geo-
graph//, a place in Laconia; but whether maritime or
inland, uncertain. Here iEsculapius, being thunder¬
struck, was buried (Cicero).
Cynosura was also the name of the promontory of
Marathon in Attica, opposite to Euboea.
Cynosura, in Mythology, a nymph of Ida in Crete.
She nursed Jupiter, who changed her into a star which
bears the same name. It is the same as the ursa mi-/
nor.
CYNOSURUS, in Botany, a genus of plants be¬
longing to the triandria class, and in the natural me¬
thod ranking under the 4th order, Gramineee. See Bo¬
tany Index.
CYNTHIUS and Cynthia, in Mythology, sur¬
names of Apollo and Diana, derived from Cynthia,
the name of a mountain in the middle of the island of
Delos.
CYNTHUS, in Ancient Geography, a mountain of
the island Delos, so high as to overshadow the whole
island. On this mountain Latona brought forth Apollo
and Diana : hence the epithet Cynthius (Virgil), and
Cynthia (Lucan, Statius).
CYNURIA, or Cynurius Ager, in Ancient Geo¬
graphy, a district of Laconia, on the confines of Ar-
golis. A territory that proved a perpetual bone of
contention between the Argives and Spartans (Thu¬
cydides). For the manner of deciding the dispute, see
Thyrea.
CYPERUS, in Botany, a genus of plants belong¬
ing to the triandria class, and in the natural method
ranking under the 3d order, Calamarice. See Botany
Index.
CYPHON, in antiquity, a kind of punishment used
by the Athenians. It was a collar made of wood ; so
called because it constrained the criminal who had this
punishment inflicted on him to bow down his head.
CYPHONISM (Cyphonismus), from kvQm, which
has various significations 5 derived from crooked;
a kind of torture or punishment in use among the an¬
cients.
The learned are at a loss to determine what it was.
Some will have it to be that mentioned by Jerome
in his Life of Paul the Hermit, chap. 2. which con¬
sisted in smearing the body over with honey, and thus
exposing the person, with his hands tied, to the warm
sun, to invite the flies and other vermin to persecute
him.
CYPRiEA, or Cowrie, a genus of shells belong- Cypraea
ing to the order of vermes testacea. See CoNCHOLOGY |]
Index. _ ,Cypn'anu;}
This genus is called cyprcea and venerea from its be- 1
ing peculiarly dedicated to Venus, who is said to have
endowed a shell of this genus with the powers of a re¬
mora, so as to impede the course of the ship which was
sent by Periander tyrant of Corinth, with orders to
emasculate the young nobility of Corcyra.
CYPRESS. See Cupressus, Botany Index.
CYPRIANUS, Thascius-Calcilius, a principal
father of the Christian church, was born at Carthage
in Africa, at the latter end of the second or beginning
of the third century. We know nothing more of his
parents than that they were Heathens j and he himself
continued such till the last 12 years of his life. He
applied himself early to the study of oratory j and
some of the ancients, particularly Lactantius, inform
us, that he taught rhetoric in Carthage with the high¬
est applause. Cyprian’s conversion is fixed by Pear¬
son to the year 246 ; and was at Carthage, where, as
St Jerome observes, he had often employed his rhe¬
toric in the defence of paganism. It was brought
about by one Crecilius, a priest of the church of Car¬
thage, whose name Cyprian afterwards took ; and
between whom there ever after subsisted so close a
friendship, that Csecilius at his death committed to Cy¬
prian the care of his family. Cyprian was also a
married man himself; but as soon as he was convert¬
ed to the faith, he resolved upon a state of continence,
which was thought a high degree of piety, as not be¬
ing yet become general. Being now a Christian, he
was to give the usual proof of the sincerity of his con¬
version ; and that was by writing against Paganism
and in defence of Christianity. With this view he
composed his piece De Gratia Dei, or “ concerning
the grace of God,” which he addressed to Donatus.
It is a work of the same nature with the Apologetic
of Tertullian, and the Octavius ofMinutius Felix. He
next composed a piece De Idolorum Vanitate, or “ up¬
on the vanity of idols.” Cyprian’s behaviour, both
before and after his baptism, was so highly pleasing
to the bishop of Carthage, that he ordained him a
priest a few months after. It was rather irregular to
ordain a man thus in his very noviciate j but Cyprian
Was so extraordinary a person, and thought capable
of doing such singular service to the church, that it
seemed allowable in this case to dispense a little with
the form and discipline of it. For besides his known
talents as a secular man, he had acquired a high re¬
putation of sanctity since his conversion ; having not
only separated himself from his wife, as we have ob¬
served before, which in those days was thought an ex¬
traordinary act of piety, but also consigned over all
his goods to the poor, and given himself up entirely
to the things of God. It was on this account no doubt,
too, that when the bishop of Carthage died the year
after, that is, in the year 248, none was judged so
proper to succeed him as Cyprian. I he quiet and re¬
pose which the Christians had enjoyed during the last
40 years, had, it seems, greatly corrupted their man¬
ners •, and therefore Cyprian’s first care, after his ad¬
vancement to the bishopric, was to correct disorders
and reform abuses. Luxury was prevalent among
them and many of their women were not so strict
as
GYP [4
Cyprianus as they should be, especially in the article of dress.
H This occasioned him to draw up his piece De habitu
Cyprus, virginum, “ concerning the dress of young women
in which, besides what he says on that particular
head, he inculcates many lessons of modesty and so¬
briety. In the year 249, the emperor Decius be¬
gan to issue out very severe edicts against the Chri¬
stians, which particularly affected those upon the coast
of Africa : and in the beginning of 250, the Heathens
in the circus and amphitheatre of Carthage, insisted
loudly upon Cyprian’s being thrown to the lions : a
common method of destroying the primitive Christi¬
ans. Cyprian upon this withdrew from the church at
Carthage, and fled into retirement, to avoid the furv
of the persecutions. He wrote, in the place of his re¬
treat, pious and instructive letters to those who had
been his hearers ; and also to the libellatici, a name
by which those pusillanimous Christians were called,
who procured certificates of the Heathen magistrates,
to show that they had complied with the emperor’s or¬
ders in sacrificing to idols. At his return to Carthage,
he held several councils on the repentance of those who
had fallen during this persecution, and other points of
discipline; he opposed the schemes of Novatus and
Novatianus 5 and contended for the rebaptizing of those
who had been baptized by heretics. At last he died a
martyr in the persecution of Valerian and Gallienus, in
258. Cyprian wrote 81 letters, and several treatises.
The best edition of his works are those of Pamelius in
15685 of Rigaltius in 16485 and of Oxford in 1682.
His works have all been translated into English by Dr
Marshal.
CYPIUNUS, a genus of fishes, belonging to the
order of abdominales. See Ichthyology Index.
CYPRIPEDIUM, the Lady’s Slipper 5 a genus
of plants belonging to the gynandria class, and in the
natural method ranking under the 7th order, Orchidece.
See Botany Index.
CYPRUS, an island situated in the Levant, or most
easterly part of the Mediterranean sea, between 33 and
36 degrees of east longitude, and 35 and 36 of north
latitude. In ancient times this island was known by
the names of Acamis, Cerastis, Aspalia, Amathus,
Macaria, Cryptos, Colinia, Sphecia, Paphia, Salaminia,
iErosa, and Cyprus. The etymologies of these names
are neither very easily found, nor are they of much
importance. The name by which it was most gene¬
rally known is that of Cyprus, said to be derived from
cypros, the name of a shrub or tree with which the island
abounds 5 supposed to be the cypress.
Cyprus, according to-Eratosthenes, was first disco¬
vered by the Phoenicians, two or three generations be¬
fore the days of Asterius and Minos, kings of Crete;
that is, according to Sir Isaac Newton’s computation,
2006 years before the Christian era. It was at that
time so lull ot wood that it could not be tilled, and
the Phoenicians first cut down that wood for melting
copper, with which the island abounded 5 and after¬
wards, when they began to sail without fear on the
Mediterranean, that is, after the Trojan war, they built
great navies ol the wood produced on this island. Jo¬
sephus, however, informs us, that the descendants of
Chttim, the son of Javan, and grandson of Japhet, were
the original inhabitants of Cyprus. According to his
account, Cittim, seeing his brother Tarshish settled in
Vol. VII. Part I. +
t ] C Y P
Cilicia, where he built the city of Tarsus, settled with Cyprus,
his followers in this opposite island ; and either he or v—“
his descendants laid the foundation of the city of Cittim,
which, according to Ptolemy, was the most ancient in
the island. As Cyprus was too narrow to contain the
great numbers who attended him, he left here as manv
as might serve to people the country, and with the rest
passed over to Macedon.
The island of Cyprus was divided among several
petty kings till the time of Cyrus the Great. He sub¬
dued them all ; but left each in possession of his king¬
dom, obliging them only to pay him an annual tribute,
and to send supplies of men, money, and ships when
required. The Cyprian princes lived thus subject to
the Persians till the reign of Darius Hystaspes, when
they attempted to shake off the yoke, but with bad suc¬
cess 5 their forces being entirely defeated, and them¬
selves again obliged to submit. They made another
more successful attempt about the year before Christ
357 ) hut, however, could never totally free them¬
selves from their subjection. It is very probable that
they submitted to Alexander the Great, though histo¬
rians are silent as to that event. On the death of the
Macedonian conqueror, the dominion of Cyprus was
disputed by Antigonus and Ptolemy the son of Lagus.
At last xlntigonus prevailed, and the whole island sub¬
mitted to him about 304 years before Christ. He and
his son Demetrius kept possession of it for 1 r years,
when it was recovered by Ptolemy, and quietly pos¬
sessed by him and his descendants till 58 years before
Christ, when it was most unjustly seized by the Ro¬
mans. In the time of Augustus, it began to be rank¬
ed among the proconsular provinces, and to be govern¬
ed by magistrates sent thither by the senate. Yn the
year 648 it was conquered by the Saracens 5 but reco¬
vered by the Romans in 957. They held it, however,
but for a very short time, and the barbarians kept pos¬
session of it till the time of the croisades. It was then
reduced by the croisaders ; and Richard I. of England
gave it to the princes of the Lusignan family, who
held it till, the year 1570. They divided it into 12
provinces, in each of which was a capital city, from
which the province was denominated. So consider¬
able was the island at this time, that besides the cities
above mentioned, and others of less note, it contained
800 villages. In 1570 it was taken by the Turks, and
though it hath ever since continued under their tyran¬
nical yoke, is still so considerable as to be governed by
a beglerbeg, and seven sangiacs under him.
1 he air in this island is lor the most part very un¬
wholesome, on account of the many fens and marshes
with which the country abounds. The soil is an ex¬
cellent lertile clay 5 and would produce all the neces¬
saries ol life in abundance, if properly cultivated.
There are but few springs or rivers in this island 5 so
that when the rains do not fall plentifully at the usual
seasons, the inhabitants are much distressed bv the
scarcity of water. By reason of the uncultivated state
of the country, they are also greatly infested with poi¬
sonous reptiles of various kinds. The people are ex-»
tremely ignorant and lascivious, as indeed they are re¬
marked to have been from the remotest antiquitv. An¬
ciently the worship of Venus was established in this
island, whence her title among the poets of the Cyprian
queen ; and such an inclination had the inhabitants to
F become
C Y R [ 42 ] C Y R
Cvprus become the votaries of this goddess, both in theory and
ft practice, that the young women used to prostitute
Cy»cnaica. t[jerfjselves in her temple in order to raise themselves
' ^ portions. 1 he exports of the island are silks, oil,
cotton, wine, salt, and turpentine : the imports are
French and Venetian broad cloths j and sometimes a
few bales of English manufacture, cutlery wares, sugar,
tin, lead, &c. The number of inhabitants at present
is believed not t» exceed 60,000.
Knights of Cyprus, an order instituted by Guy de
Lusignan, titular king of Jerusalem, to whom Richard I.
of England, after conquering this island, made over
his right.
CYRANO, Bergerac, a French author, born in
Gascony, about the year 1620. He first entered into
the army, where his natural courage engaged him fre¬
quently in duels in the quality ot a second ; which,
with other rash actions, procured him the title ol the
Intrepid. But the little prospect he saw of prefer¬
ment made him renounce the trade ol war for the
exercise of wit. His comic histories of the states and
empires in the sun and moon, show him well acquaint¬
ed with the Cartesian philosophy, and to have a lively
imagination. Our Lord Orrery classes him with Swift
for his turn ot humour, which he says the latter adopt¬
ed and pursued.
CYRENALCA, an ancient kingdom of Africa, cor¬
responding to the present kingdom and desert ol Barca
and Tripoli. It was originally inhabited by a number
of barbarous nations, differing little from great gangs
of robbers. Afterwards some colonies from Greece set¬
tled here, and Cyrenaica became so powerful a state,
that it waged war with Egypt and Carthage, often
with success. In the time ol Harms Hystaspes, Avce-
silaus, the reigning prince in Cyrenaica, was driven
from the throne : on which his mother Bheretima ap¬
plied for assistance to the king of Cyprus. Her son af¬
terwards returning to Barca, the chief city ol Cyrene,
was there assassinated, together with his father-in-law.
Pheretima finding herself disappointed by the king ol
Cyprus, applied to Darius Hystaspes, and by the assist¬
ance of the Persians reduced Barca. Here she beha¬
ved with the utmost cruelty, causing all those who
had been concerned in her son’s death to be impaled,
and the breasts of their wives to be cut ofl and affixed
near them. She is said to have been afterwards devour¬
ed by worms j which was looked upon as a divine judg¬
ment for her excessive cruelty. The prisoners in the
mean time were sent to Darius, who settled him in a
district of Bactria, from them called Barca. Cyre¬
naica, however, seems to have remained free till the
time of Alexander the Great, who conquered it along
with Egypt. Soon after his death the inhabitants
recovered, their liberty j but were in a short time redu¬
ced by Ptolemy king of Egypt. Under these kings
it remained till Ptolemy Physcon made it over to his
bastard son Apian, who in the 658th year of Rome left
it by will to the Romans. The senate permitted all
the cities to be governed by their own laws j and this
immediately filled the country with tyrants, those who
were most potent in every city or district endeavoui-
ing to assume the sovereignty ol it. Thus the kingdom
was thrown into great contusion ; but Lucullus in a
good measure restored the public tranquillity on bis
coming thither during the first Mithridatic war. It was
2
found impossible, however, totally to suppress these Cyrenaica
disturbances till the country was reduced to the form li
of a Roman province, which happened about 20 years t Cyrt!-
after the death of Apian, and 76 before Christ. Upon
a revolt, the city of Cyrene was ruined by the Romans ;
but they afterwards rebuilt it. In process of time it
fell to the Arabs ; and then to the Turks, who are still
the nominal masters of it.
CYRENAICS, a sect of ancient philosophers, so
called from their founder Aristippus of Cyrene, a dis¬
ciple of Socrates.
The great principle of their doctrine was, that the
supreme good of man in tins life is pleasure ; whereby
they not only meant a privation of pain, and a tran¬
quillity of mind, but an assemblage of all mental and
sensual pleasures, particularly the last.
Cicero makes frequent mention of Aristippus’s school,
and speaks of it as yielding debauchees. 1 hree disciples
of Aristippus, after his death, divided the sect into three
branchesj under which division it languished and sunk:
the first called the IIgestae school ; the second the
Anniceriati; and the third the Ihcodoran; from the
names of their authors.
CYRENE, in Ancient Geography, the capital of
Cyrenaica, and one of the cities called Pentapotis, di¬
stant from Apollonia, its sea-port, 10 miles, situated
on a plain, of the form of a table, according to Stra¬
bo: A colony of the Thereans. Though they were
descendants of the Lacedasmonians, yet they differed
from them in their turn of mind or disposition, apply¬
ing themselves to philosophy; and hence arose the Cy-
renaic sect, at the head of which was Aristippus, who
placed all happiness in pleasure. The Cyreneans were
a people much given to aurigation, or the use of the
chariot, from their excellent breed of horses, (Pindar,
Ephorus, Strabo).
CYRIL, St, bishop of Jerusalem, succeeded Maxi¬
mus in 350. He was afterwards deposed for the crime
of exposing to sale the treasures of the church, and ap¬
plying the money to the support of the poor during a
great famine. Under Julian he was restored to his
see, and was firmly established in all his old honours
and dignities under Theodosius j in which he conti¬
nued unmolested to his death in 386. The remains of
this father consist only of 23 catecheses, and one let¬
ter to the emperor Constantins.
Cyril, St, patriarch of Alexandria, succeeded
Theophilus, his uncle, in 412. Scarce was he instal¬
led, when he began to exert his authority with great
rigour $ he drove the Novatians and Jews from Alex¬
andria, permitting their wealth and synagogues to be
taken from them. This proceeding highly displeased
Orestes, the governor of the city, who saw that if the
bishop’s authority was not soon suppressed, it might
grow too strong for that of the magistrate. Upon which
a kind of civil tvar broke out between Orestes and the
bishop j many tumults were raised, and some battles
fought in the very streets of Alexandria. St Cyril also
distinguished himself by his zeal against Nestorius
bishop of Constantinople, who in some of his homilies,
had asserted that the Virgin Mary ought not to he cal¬
led the mother of God. The dispute at first proved
unfavourable to Cyril, whose opinion was not only
condemned, but himself deprived of his bishopric and
thrown into prison. But he was soon after released,
and
C Y K [ 43 ] C Y R
Cyr|]j and gained a complete victory over Nestorlus, who in
Cyrus. 431 was deposed from his see of Constantinople. Cyril
■““■v—returned to his see at Constantinople, where he died
in 444. St Cyril also wrote against Theodoras of
Mopsuesta, Diodorus of Tarsus, and Julian the apo¬
state. He composed commentaries on St John’s gos¬
pel, and wrote several other books. His works were
published in Greek and Latin in 1638, in six volumes
folio.
CYRUS, the son of Cambyses the Persian, by Man-
dane, the daughter of Astyages king of the Medes.
The two chief historians, who have written the life of
Cyrus, are Herodotus and Xenophon ; but their ac¬
counts of him are different, in as much as the latter
makes his father a king of Persia, and the former a
meaner man. The account of Herodotus, as Dr Pri-
deaux observes, indeed contains narratives that are
much more strange and surprising, and consequently
more diverting and agreeable to the reader : and for
this reason more have chosen to follow him than Xeno¬
phon.
v Herodotus informs us, that Astyages king of the
Medes dreamed that a vine sprung from the womb
of his daughter Mundane, the branches whereof over¬
shadowed all Asia ; whereupon having consulted the
soothsayers, lie was told that his dream portended the
future power and greatness of a child who should be
born of his daughter : and further that the same child
should deprive him of his kingdom. Astyages, to pre¬
vent the accomplishment of this prediction, instead of
marrying his daughter to some powerful prince, gave
her to Cambyses, a Persian of mean condition, and one
who had no great capacity for forming any important
design, nor for supporting the ambition of his son by
his own riches and authority. Nor did Astyages stop
here : the apprehensions he was under lest Mandane’s
son might perhaps find that assistance in his own cou¬
rage, or some lucky circumstance which his family
was not able to supply him with, induced him to take
a resolution of despatching the child, if there should be
any. As soon, therefore, as he understood his daugh¬
ter was with child, he commanded one of his officers,
whose name was Harpagus, to destroy the infant as
soon as it came into the world. Harpagus, fearing
the resentment of Mundane, put the child into the
hands of one who was the king’s shepherd, in order to
expose him. The shepherd’s wife was so extremely
touched with the beauty of Cyrus, that she desired her
husband rather to expose her own son, who was born
some time before, and preserve the young prince. Af¬
ter this manner Cyrus was preserved, and brought up
among the king’s shepherds.
One day, as the neighbouring children were at play
together, Cyrus was chosen king ; and having punish¬
ed one of his little playfellows with some severity, for
disobeying bis commands, the child’s parent complain¬
ed of Cyrus to Astyages. This prince sent for young
Cyrus, and observing something great in his air, his
manner and behaviour, together with a great resem¬
blance of his daughter Mundane, he made particular
inquiry into the matter, and discovered that, in reality,
Cyrus was no other than his grandson. Harpagus,
who was the instrument of preserving him, was punish¬
ed with the death of his own son : however, Astyages
believing that the royalty which the soothsayers had
promised to the young prince, was only that which he
had lately exercised among the shepherd’s children,
troubled himself no more about it. Cyrus being grown
up, Harpagus disclosed the whole secret of his birth to
him, together with the manner wherein he had deliver¬
ed him from the cruel resolution of his grandfather.
He encouraged him to come into Media, and promised
to furnish him with forces, in order to make him ma¬
ster of the country, and depose Astyages. Cyrus heark¬
ened to these propositions, engaged the Persians to take
up arms against the Medes, marched at the head of
them to meet Astyages, defeated him, and possessed
himself of Media. He carried on many other wars 5
and at length sat down before Babylon, which after a
long siege he took.
rIhe relation of Cyrus’s life from Xenophon is as
follow's : Astyages king of Media married his daugh¬
ter Mandane to Cambyses king of Persia, son to Achae-
menes king of the same nation. Cyrus was horn at
his father’s court, and was educated with all the care
his birth required. When he was about the age of
12 years, bis grandfather Astyages sent for him to
Media, together with his mother Mandane. Some
time after, the king of Assyria’s son having invaded
Media, Astyages, with his son Cyaxares and his grand¬
son Cyrus, marched against him. Cyrus distinguish¬
ed h imself in this war, and defeated the Assyrians.
Cambyses afterwards recalled him, that he might have
him near his own person ; and Astyages dying, his son
Cyaxares, uncle by the mother’s side to Cyrus, suc¬
ceeded him in the kingdom of Media.
Cyrus, at the age of 30 years, was, by his father
Cambyses, made general of the Persian troops ; and
sent at the head of 30,000 men to the assistance of his
uncle Cyaxares, whom the king of Babylon, with his
allies the Cappadocians, Caiians, Phrygians, Cilicians,
and Paphlagonians w'ere preparing to attack. Cyax¬
ares and Cyrus prevented them, by falling upon them
and dispersing them. Cyrus advanced as far as Baby¬
lon, and spread terror throughout the country. From
this expedition he retired to his uncle, towards the
frontiers of Armenia and Assyria, and was received by
Cyaxares in the tent of the Assyrian king whom he had
defeated.
After this Cyrus carried the war into the countries
beyond the river Halys, entered Cappadocia, and sub¬
dued it entirely. From thence he marched againsf
Croesus king of Lydia, beat him in the first battle j
then besieged him in Sardis his capital; and after a
siege of fourteen days obliged him to surrender. See
Croesus. After this, Cyrus having reduced almost
all Asia, repassed the Euphrates, and made war upon
the Assyrians. He marched directly to Babylon, took
it, and there prepared a palace for his uncle Cyaxares,
whither he might retire, if at any time he had an in¬
clination to come to Babylon ; for he was not then in
the army. After all these expeditions, Cyrus return¬
ed to his father and mother into Persia, where they"
were still living: and going some time after to his
uncle Cyaxares into Media, he married his cousin the
only daughter and heiress of all Cyaxares’s dominions,
and went with her to Babylon, from whence he sent
pien of the first rank and quality to govern all the se¬
veral nations which he had conquered. He engaged
again in several wars, and subdued all the nations
F 2 which
C Y R [ 44 ] C Y S
Cyrus, which lie between Syria and the Red sea. He died
i—v ' at the a<re of 70 years, after a reign of 30 : but au¬
thors differ very much concerning the manner of his
death. Herodotus, Justin, and Valerius Maximus re¬
late, that he died in the war against the Scythians j
and that falling into an ambush which Queen Tomyris
had laid for him, she ordered his head to be cut off,
and cast into a vessel full of blood, saying, “ Thou hast
always thirsted after human blood, now glut thysell
with it.” Diodorus the Sicilian says, that he was taken
in an engagement, and hanged. Ctesias assures us, that
lie died of a wound which he received in his thigh :
but by Xenojihon’s account he died peaceably in his
bed, amidst his friends and his servants j and certain it
is, that in Alexander’s time his monument was shown
at Pasagarda in Persia.
From all this it is easy to conclude, that we are but
imperfectly acquainted with the history of this great
prince, the founder of the Persian, and destroyer of the
Chaldean empire. We learn fewer particulars of it
from Scripture, but then they are more certain than
any that we have produced. Daniel (viii. 3—20.)
in the famous vision wherein God showed him the ruin
of several great emperors, which were to precede the
birth of the Messiah, represents Cyrus to us under the
idea of “ a ram, which had two horns ; and the two
horns were high, but the one was higher than the
other, and the higher came up last. This ram pushed
westward, and northward, and southward, so that no
beasts might stand before him ; neither was there any
that could deliver out of his hand, but he did ac¬
cording to his will, and became great.” The ram’s
two horns signify the two empires which Cyrus re¬
united in his person ; that of the Medes, and that of
the Persians. The last was greater and more power¬
ful than the empire of the Medes-, or otherwise, these
two horns signify the two branches of Cyrus’s succes¬
sors. His son Cambyses dying, the empire was trans¬
ferred to Darius the son of Hystaspes, and was conti¬
nued down to Darius Codomannus, who, as Calmet
thinks, is the great horn which the he-goat, that de¬
notes Alexander, run against. In chap. vii. 5. Daniel
compares Cyrus to a bear, with three ribs in the mouth
of it, to which it was said, “ Arise, devour much
flesh.” Cyrus succeeded his father Cambyses in the
kingdom of Persia, and Darius the Mede, by Xeno¬
phon called Cyaxares, and Astyages in the apocryphal
chapter (xiii. 1.) of Daniel, in the kingdom of the
Medes and empire of Babylon. He was monarch of
all the east; or as he speaks (2 Chr. xxxvi. 22, 23.
and Ezr. i. 1, 2.) “ of all the earth,” when he per¬
mitted the Jews to return to their own country, in
the year of the world 3466, before Jesus Christ 538.
The enemies of the Hebrews, making use of this
prince’s affection to his own religion, prevailed with
him to put a stop by his orders to the building of
the temple at Jerusalem; (Ezra iv. 5.). The pro¬
phets frequently foretold the coming of Cyrus ; and
Isaiah (xliv. 28.) has been so particular as to declare
his name 200 years before he was born. Josephus
(Antiq. lib. ii. c. 2.) says, that the Jews of Babylon
showed this passage of the prophet to Cyrus ; and that
this prince, in the edict which he granted them lor
their return, acknowledged that he received the empire
qX the wurld from, the God,of, Israel j and that. thp.
same God had described him by name in the writings Cym*, <
of the prophets, and foretold that he should build a Cyst-
temple to him at Jerusalem. Cyrus is pointed out in » ^
Scripture under the name of the righteous man and
the shepherd of Israel, (Isaiah xli. 2. IC. xliv. 28.) and
xlvi. 11. Notwithstanding this, God says of him
(Isaiah xlv. 5.) “ I girded thee, though thou hast not
known me.” And Jeremiah calls Cyrus and his peo¬
ple who overthrew the Babylonish empire, thieves and
robbers. The taking of Babylon by Cyrus is clearly
set down by the prophets, and may be seen under the
articles Babylon and Belshazzar. Archbishop
Usher fixes the birth of Cyrus to the year of the world
3405; his first year at Babylon to 3466, and his
death to 3475. The eastern people will have it, that
Cyrus by his mother’s side was descended from some
of the Hebrew prophets : as also that his wife was a
Jew, which is the reason (say they) that this prince so
attached himself to the Jews, to whom he was so near¬
ly allied.
Cyrus II. was the younger son of Darius Nothus,
and the brother of Artaxerxes. He was sent by his i
father at the age of 16 to assist the Lacedaemonians
against Athens. Artaxerxes succeeded to the throne
at the death of Nothus ; and Cyrus, who was of an
aspiring soul, attempted to assassinate him. He was
discovered, and had been punished with death, had not
his mother Parysatis saved him from the hands of the
executioner by her tears and entreaties. This circum¬
stance did not in the least check the ambition of Cy¬
rus ; he was appointed over Lydia and the sea-coasts,
where he secretly fomented rebellion and levied troops
under various pretences. At last he took the field
with an army of 100,000 barbarians, and 13,000
Greeks under the command of Clearchus. Artaxer¬
xes met him with 900,000 men near Cunaxa. The
battle was long and bloody ; and Cyrus might have
perhaps obtained the victory, had not his uncommon
rashness proved his ruin. It is said that the two royal
brothers met in person, and their engagement ended
in the death of Cyrus, 401 years before the Augustan
age. Artaxerxes was so anxious of its being universal¬
ly reported that his brother had fallen by his hand,
that he put to death two of his subjects for boasting
that they had killed Cyrus. The Greeks, who were
engaged in the expedition, obtained much glory in the
battle; and after the death of Cyrus they remained
victorious in the field without a commander. They
were not discouraged though at the distance of above
600 leagues from their country, and surrounded on
every side by a powerful enemy. They unanimously
united in the election of commanders, and traversed all
Asia, in spite of the continual attacks of the Persians ;
and nothing is more truly celebrated in ancient history
than the bold retreat of the ten thousand. The jour¬
ney that they made from the time of their first embar¬
kation till their return, has been calculated at 1155
leagues, performed in the space of 15 months, including
all the time which was devoted to tak# rest and re¬
freshment. This retreat has been celebrated by Xe¬
nophon, who was one of their leaders, and among the
friends and supporters of Cyrus.
CYST, the bag or tunic including all encysted tu¬
mors, as. tlje scirrhus, atheroma, steatoma, meliceres,
&.c.
QYSTIC,
Cystic
H
Czm-
C Z A [
CYSTIC, in Anatomy, a name given to two arteries
and two veins.
Cystic Duct. See Anatomy Index.
CYTHERA, -ovum, in Ancient Geography, an
island opposite to Malle?., a promontory, and to Boise
a town of Laconia. The island was sacred to Venus,
with a very ancient temple of that goddess exhibited
in armour at Cythera, as in Cyprus. It is now called
Cerigo, and forms one of the seven Ionian islands.
See Ionian Islands, Supplement.
CYTHEREA, in Mythology, the surname of Ve¬
nus, so called from Cythera an island, where she had
a temple esteemed the most ancient in Greece, and on
the shores of which she was believed to be borne by the
Zephyrs, surrounded by the Loves, the Tritons, and
Nereides, reclining in a languishing posture in a sea-
shell. They give the name of Cytheriades to the Graces
which attended her on the shore without quitting her,
except on those occasions when she rather chose to be
waited upon by the Pleasures.
CYTLNUS, a genus of plants belonging to the
gynandria class •, and in the natural method ranking
under the llth order, Sai-ment-acea. See BOTANY
Index.
CYTISUS, Tree Trefoil, a genus of plants be¬
longing to the diadelphia class, and in the natural me¬
thod ranking under the 3 2d order, Papilionaceee. See
Botany Index.
CYZICENS, CyzicENA, among the ancient Greeks,
were a sort of magnificent banqueting houses, always
looking toward the north, and usually opening upon
gardens.
They had their name from Cyzicus, a city very con¬
siderable for the grandeur of its buildings •, situated in
an island of Mysia, bearing the same name.
CYZICUM, or Cyzicus, in Ancient Geography, one
of the noblest cities of the hither Asia j situated in a
cognominal island of the Propontis, on the coast of My¬
sia } joined to the continent by two bridges (Strabo) ;
the first by Alexander *, the city, a colony of the Mi¬
lesians (Pliny). Rendered famous by the siege of Mi-
thridates, which was raised by Lucullus.—The inhabi¬
tants were made a free people by the Romans, but for¬
feited their freedom under Tiberius. It was adorned
with a citadel and walls round it j had a port and
marble towers ; and three magazines, one for arms,
another for warlike engines, and a third for corn.
Cyziceni, the people; noted by the ancients for their
timidity and efi’eminacy: hence the proverb in Zeno-
dotus and others, Tinctura Cy%enica, applied to persons
guilty of an indecency through fear } but Stateres Cy-
%iceni, nummi Cyziceni, denote things executed to per¬
fection.
CZACKTHURN, a strong town of Germany, in
Austria, and near the frontiers of Hungary. It is
seated between the rivers Drave and Muhir, in E.
Long. 17. 19. N. Lat. 46. 24.
CZAR, a title of honour, assumed by the grand
dukes, or, as they are now styled, emperors of Russia.
The natives pronounce it tzar, or zaar ; and this, by
corruption (it has been fancied), from Ccesar, “ em¬
peror,” from some imagined relation to tbe Roman
emperors. But this etymology does not seem correct.
^Vhen the czar Peter formerly required of the Euro¬
pean courts an acknowledgement of his imperial titles,
45 J C Z E
and that the appellation of Emperor should never be Czar
omitted, there was great difficulty made about it, J)
especially at the court of Vienna •, which occasioned C-zellst«-
him to produce the famous letter, written in the Ger-. how*
man tongue, from Maximilian 1. emperor of Germany,
to \ assili Ivanovitch, confirming a treaty of alliance
ofiensive and defensive against Sigismund king of Po¬
land. In this dispatch, which is dated August the
4th, 1514, and is ratified with the seal of the golden
bull, Maximilian addresses Vassili by calling him Kay-
ser and Ilerrscher alter Russen, “ emperor and ruler of
all the Russias.” But independently of this document,
there could be no doubt that the foreign courts, in
their intercourse with that of Moscow, styled the sove¬
reigns indiscriminately Great Duke, Czar, and Em¬
peror. With respect to England in particular, it is
certain that in Chancellor’s Account of Russia, so
early as the middle of the 16th century, Ivan Vassilie-
vitch II. is called Lord and Emperor of all Russia ; and
in the English dispatches, from the reign of Elizabeth
to that of Anne, he is generally addressed under the
same appellation. When the European powers, how-1
ever, styled the czar Emperoi' of Muscovy, they by no
means intended to give him a title similar to that
which was peculiar to the emperor of Germany 5 but
they bestowed upon him that appellation as upon
an Asiatic sovereign, in the same manner as we
now say the emperors of China and Japan. When
Peter, therefore, determined to assume the title of em¬
peror, he found no difficulty in proving that it had *
been conferred upon his predecessors by most of the
European powers j yet when he was desirous of affix¬
ing to the term the ^European sense, it was considered
as an innovation, and was productive of more negotia¬
tions than would have been requisite for the termina¬
tion of the most important state affair. At the same
time it occasioned a curious controversy among the
learned, concerning the rise and progress of the titles
by which the monarchs of this country have been di¬
stinguished. From their researches it appeared, that
the early sovereigns of Russia were called great dukes,
and that Vassili Ivanovitch was probably the first who
styled himself tzar, an expression which in the Sclavo-
nian language signifies king ; and that his successors
continued to bear within their own dominions that title
as the most honourable appellation, until Peter the
Great first took that of Poi'elitel, or emperor. After
many delays and objections, the principal courts of
Europe consented, about the year 1722, to address the
sovereign of Russia with the title of Emperor •, without
prejudice, nevertheless, to the other crowned heads of
Europe.
CZASLAU, a town of Bohemia, and capital of a
circle of the same name. The principal church has
the highest tower in Bohemia; and near this place the
king of Prussia gained a victory over the Austrians in
1742. It is seated on the river Crudenka, in E. Long.
13. 33. N. Lat. 49. 50.
CZENSTOKOW, a town of Russian Poland in the
palatinate of Cracovia, with a fort, in which they keep
a rich treasure called “ the treasure of the Virgin
Mary.” The pilgrims flock hither so much for the
sake of a convent near it, that it is called the Loretto
of Poland. The town is situated on the river Warte.
E. Long. 19. 15. N. Lat. 50, 48^
CZERNIC,
D A C [ 46 ] D A C
Czernic, CZERNIC, a town of Carniola, in Austria, situated
Czernikon. in E. Long. 15* O* Lat. 12, It is remarkable
f0l- its lake •, for a particular description of which see
the article ClRCHNITZER.
CZERNIKOU, a considerable town of Muscovy,
and capital of a duchy of the same name, with a castle.
It is seated on the river Dezna, in E. Long. 32, 13. Czernikou,
N. Lat. 51. 20. Ccongrodt.
CZONGRODT, a town of Upper Hungary, and —y—-w
capital of a territory of the same name, at the conflu¬
ence of the rivers Teisse and Keres. E. Long. 20. 57.
N. Lat. 46. 50.
D
E> yx THE fourth letter of the alphabet, and the
ajjca Ul third consonant.
. ’ « Grammarians generally reckon 1) among the lingual
letters, as supposing the tongue to have the princi¬
pal share in the pronunciation thereof j though the Ab¬
bot de Dangeau seems to have reason in making it a
palate letter. The letter D is the fourth in the He¬
brew, Chaldee, Samaritan, Syriac, Greek, and Latin
alphabets j in the five first of which languages it has
the same name, though somewhat differently spoke,
e. g. in Hebrew, Samaritan, and Chaldee, Daleth, in
Syriac Doleth, and in Greek Delta.
The form of our D is the same with that of the
Latins, as appears from all the ancient medals and in¬
scriptions, and the Latin I) is no other than the Gieek
A, rounded a little, by making it quicker and at two
strokes. The A of the Greeks, ag-ain, is borrowed from
the ancient character of the Hebrew Daleth : which
form it still retains, as is shown by tbe Jesuit Souciet,
in his dissertation on the Samaritan Medals.
D is also a numerical letter, signifyingj'ine hundred,
which arises hence, that in the Gothic characters, the
D is half the M, which signifies a thousand, hence
tbe verse,
Litera D velut A quingentos signijicabit.
A dash added a-top £>, denotes it to stand for five
thousand.
Used as an abbreviation, it has various significations :
thus D stands for Doctor j as, M. D. for Doctor of
Medicine ; D. T. Doctor of Theology ; D. D. im¬
plies Doctor of Divinity, or “ dono dedit D. D. D.
is used for “ dat, dicat, dedicate and D. D. D. D.
for “ dignum Deo donum dedit.”
DAB, the English name of a species of Pleuro-
kectes. See Ichthyology Index.
DABUL, a town of Asia, in the East Indies, on
the coast of Malabar, and to the south of the gulf of
Cambaye, on a navigable river. It was formerly very
flourishing, but is now much decayed. It belongs to
the Mahrattas, and its trade consists principally in
pepper and salt. E. Long. *]2. 50. N. Lat. l"]. 0,0.
DACCA, a town of Asia, in the kingdom of Ben¬
gal in the East Indies, situated in E. Long. 90. 10.
N. Lat. 23. 45.—The advantages of tbe situation of
this place, and the fertility of the soil round it, long
since made it the centre of an extensive commerce.
The courts of Delhi and Muxadavad were furnished
from thence with the cottons wanted for their own con¬
sumption *, and it was formerly the custom of each to Dacca,
maintain an agent on the spot to superintend the ma~ Dace,
nufacture, who had an authority, independent of the ——v*-”
magistrate, over the brokers, weavers, embroiderers,
and all of the workmen whose business had any relation
to the object of his commission. These unhappy people
are forbidden, under pecuniary and corporeal penalties,
to sell, to any person whatever, a piece exceeding the
value of three guineas. Dacca was for eighty years
the capital of Bengal.
In this, as in all the other markets, the Europeans
treat with the Moorish brokers settled upon the spot,
and appointed by the government. They likewise lend
their name to the individuals of their own nation, as
well as to Indians and Armenians living in their settle¬
ments, who, without this precaution, would infallibly
be plundered. The Moors themselves, in their private
transactions, sometimes avail themselves of the same
pretence, that they may pay only two, instead of five
per cent. A distinction is observed, in their contracts,
between the cottons that are bespoke and those which
the weaver ventures, in some places, to manufacture on
his own account. The length, the number of threads,
and the price, of the former are fixed : nothing further
than the commission for the latter is stipulated, because
it is impossible to enter into the same detail. These,
nations that make a point of having fine goods, take
proper measures that they may be enabled to advance
money to their workmen at the beginning of the year.
The weavers, who in general have but little employ¬
ment at that time, perform their work with less hurry
than in the months of October, November, and De¬
cember, when the demand is pressing.
Some of the cottons are delivered unbleached, and
others half bleached. It were to be wished that this
custom might be altered. It is very common to see
cottons that look very beautiful go off in the bleach¬
ing. Perhaps the manufacturers and brokers foresee
bow they will turn out; but the Europeans have net
so exquisite a touch, nor such an experienced eye, to
discern this. It is a circumstance peculiar to India,
that cottons, of what kind soever they are, can never
be well bleached and prepared but in tbe place where
they are manufactured. If they have the misfortune
to get damage before they are shipped for Europe,
they must be sent back to the places from whence they
came.
DACE, a species of Cyprinus. See Ichthyology
Index.
This
Dace
!!
Dacier
D A C [ 47 ] D A C
Tins fish Is extremely common In our rivers, and
gives the expert angler great diversion. The dace will
bite at any fly j but he is more than ordinarily fond of
the stone caddis, or May fly, which is plentiful in the
latter end of April and the whole month of May.
Great quantities of these may be gathered among the
reeds or sedges bv the water-side, and on the hawthorn
bushes near the waters. These are a large and hand¬
some bait; but as they only last a small part of the year
in season, recourse is to be had to the ant-fly. Of these
the black ones found in large mole-hills or ant-hills are
the best. These may be kept alive a long time in a
bottle, with a little of the earth of the hill, and some
roots of grass 5 and they are in season throughout the
months of June, July, August, and September. 1 he
best season of all is when they swarm, which is in the
end of July or beginning of August; and they may be
kept many months in a vessel washed out with a solu¬
tion of honey and water, even longer than with the
earth and grass-roots in the vial j though that is the
most convenient method with a small parcel taken for
one day’s fishing. In warm weather this fish very sel¬
dom refuses a fly at the top of the water 5 but at other
times he must have the bait sunk to within three
inches of the bottom. The winter fishing for dace
requires a very different bait: this is a white maggot
with a reddish head, which is the produce of the eggs
of the beetle, and is turned up with the plough in
great abundance. A parcel of these put in any vessel,
with the earth they were taken in, will keep many
months, and are an excellent bait. Small dace may
be put into a glass jar with fresh water; and there pre¬
served alive for a long time, if the water is properly
changed. They have been observed to eat nothing
but the animalcula of the water. They will grow very
tame by degrees.
DACHAW, a town of Bavaria in Germany. It is
pretty large, well built, and seated on a mountain, near
the river Amber, 10 miles N. W. of Munich. Here
the elector has a palace and fine gardens. E. Long.
11. 30. N. Lat. 48. 20.
DACIA, in Ancient Geography, a country which
Trajan, who reduced it to a province, joined to Mossia
by an admirable bridge. This country lies extended be¬
tween the Danube and Carpathian mountains, from the
river Tibiscus, quite to the north bend of the Danube ;
so as to extend thence in a direct line to the mouth of
the Danube and to the Euxine ; on the north side,
next the Carpates, terminated by the river Hierasus,
now the Pruth ; on the west by the Tibiscus or Teiss ;
comprising a part of Upper Hungary, all Transylvania
and Waliachia, and a part of Moldavia. Daci, the
people ; a name which Strabo takes to be the same
with the Davi of comedies ; neighbours, on the west,
to the GetcPj an appellation common also in come¬
dies. Josephus mentions a set of religious men among
the Daci, whom he calls Plisti, and compares with the
Esseni: of these Plisti no other author makes any men¬
tion. iJacicns, the epithet assumed by some empe¬
rors (Juvenal). There was a Dacia Aureliana, a
part of Ulyricum, which was divided into the eastern
and western ; Sirmium being the capital of the latter,
and Sardica of the former. But this belongs to the
lower age.
DACIER, Andrew, born at Castres in Upper
Languedoc, 1651, had a great genius and inclination
for learning, and studied at Saumur under Tannegui 1c
Fevre, then engaged in the instruction of his daugh¬
ter, who proved afterwards an honour to her sex. This
gave rise to that mutual tenderness which a marriage
of 40 years could never rveaken in them. The duke of
Montausier hearing of his merit, put him in the list of
commentators for the use of the Dauphin, and engaged
him in an edition of Pompeius Festus, which he pu¬
blished in 1681. His edition of Horace, printed at
Paris in 10 vols. 12mo, and his other works, raised
him a great reputation. He was made a member of
the academy of inscriptions in 1695. When the his¬
tory of Louis XIV. by medals was finished, he was
chosen to present it to his majesty ; who being inform¬
ed of the pains which he had taken in it, settled upon
him a pension of 2000 livres, and appointed him keep¬
er of the books of the king’s closet in the Louvre.
When that post was united to that of library-keeper to
the king, he was not only continued in the privilege of
his place during life, but the survivance was granted to
his wife ; a favour of which there had been no instance
before. But the death of Madame Dacier in 1720, ren¬
dered this grant, which was so honourable to her, in¬
effectual. He died September 18. 1722, of an ulcer
in the throat. In bis manners, sentiments, and the
whole of his conduct, he was a complete model of that
ancient philosophy of which he was so great an admir¬
er, and which he improved by the rules and principles
of Christianity.
Dacier, Anne, daughter of Tannegui !e Fevre,
professor of Greek at Saumur in France. She early
showed a fine genius, which her father cultivated with
great care and satisfaction. After her father’s death
she went to Paris, whither her fame had already reach¬
ed ; she was then preparing an edition of Callimachus,
which she published in 1674. Having shown some
sheets of it to Mr Huet, preceptor to the dauphin, and
to several other men of learning at the court, the work
was so highly admired, that the duke of Montausier
made a proposal to her of publishing several Latin au¬
thors for the use of the dauphin. She rejected this pro¬
posal at first, as a task to which she was not equal.—
But the duke insisted upon it ; so that at last he gained
her consent; upon which she undertook an edition
of Florus, published in 1674. Her reputation being
now spread over all Europe, Christina, queen of Swe¬
den, ordered Count Konigsmark to make her a compli¬
ment in her name : upon which Mademoiselle le Fevre
sent the queen a Latin letter with her edition of Flo¬
rus ; to which her majesty wrote an obliging answer,
and not long after sent her another letter, to persuade
her to abandon the Protestant religion, and made her
considerable offers to settle at her court. In 1683 she
married Mr Dacier ; and soon after declared her design
to the duke of Montausier and the bishop of Meaux of
Dacier.
reconciling herself to the church of Rome, which she
had entertained for some time : but as Mr Dacier was
not yet convinced of the reasonableness of such a
change, they retired to Castres in 1684, where they
had a small estate, in order to examine the points of
controversy between the Protestants and the Roman
Catholics. They at last determined in favour of the
latter, and made the public abjuration in 1685. Af¬
ter this, the king gave both husband and wife marks
of
D A C [ 48 1 DAD
Dacia his favour. In 1693, s^ie aPP^e^ berself to the edu-
|| cation of her son and daughter, who made a prodigi-
Dictyli. 0lls progress : the son died in 1694, and the daughter
V '■ 1,11 became a nun in the abbey of Longchamp. She had
another daughter, who had united in her all the vir¬
tues and accomplishments that could adorn the sex } but
she died at 18. Her mother has immortalized her me¬
mory' in the preface to her translation of the Iliad.
Madame Dacier was in a very infirm state of health
the two last years of her life j and died, after a very
painful sickness, August 17. I'JIO, aged 69. She was
remarkable for her firmness, generosity, equality of
temper, and piety.
DACTYL, (dactylus}) a foot in the Latin and Greek
poetry, consisting of a long syllable, followed by two
short ones ; as carmine.
Some say it is derived from “ a finger,”
because it is divided into three joints, the first ot which
is longer than the other two.
The dactyl is said to have been the invention of
D ionvsius or Bacchus, who delivered oracles in this
measure at Delphos, before Apollo. The Greeks call
it The dactyl and spondee are the most
considerable of the poetical feet; as being the measures
used in heroic verse by Homer, Virgil, &c. Ihese
two are of equal time, but not equal motion. T he spon¬
dee has an even, strong, and steady pace, like a trot:
the dactyl resembles the nimbler strokes of a gallop.
DACTYLI ID/Ei y the Fingers of Mount Ida.
Concerning these, Pagan theology and fable give very
different accounts. The Cretans paid divine worship
to them, as those who had nursed and brought up the
god Jupiterj whence it appears that they were the
same as the Corybantes and Curetes. Nevertheless
Strabo makes them different; and says, that the tradi¬
tion in Phrygia was, that “ the Curetes and Corybantes
were descended from the Dactyli Idtei: that there were
originally an hundred men in the island, who were cal¬
led Dactyli Icleei; from whom sprang nine Curetes, and
each of these nine produced ten men, as many as the
fingers of a man’s two hands ; and that this gave the
name to the ancestors of the Dactyli Idaei.” He re¬
lates another opinion, which is, that there were but
five Dactyli Idaei j who, according to Sophocles, were
the inventors of iron : that these five brothers had five
sisters, and that from this number they took the name
of Fingers of Mount Ida, because they were in number
ten : and that they worked at the foot of this moun¬
tain. Diodorus Siculus reports the matter a little dif¬
ferently. He says, “ the first inhabitants of the island
of Crete were the Dactyli Idaei, who had their resi¬
dence on Mount Ida: that some said they were an
hundred j others only five in number, equal to the fin¬
gers of a man’s hand, whence they had the name of
.Dactyli: that they were magicians, and addicted to
mystical ceremonies: that Orpheus was their disciple,
and carried their mysteries into Greece: that the Dac¬
tyli invented the use of iron and fire, and that they
had been recompensed with divine honours.”
Diomedes the grammarian says, the Dactyli Idsei
were priests of the goddess Cybele : called Idcei, be¬
cause that goddess was chiefly worshipped on Mount
Ida in Phrygia 5 and Dactyli, because that, to prevent
Saturn from hearing the cries of infant Jupiter, whom
Cybele had committed to their custody, they used to
3
sing certain verses of their own invention, in the Dac- Dactyli
tylic measure. See Curetes and Corybantes. H
DACTYLIC, something that has a relation to Padudn.
dactyls.
Anciently there were dactylic as well as spondaic
flutes, tibia: dactylicce. The dactylic flutes consisted of
unequal intervals j as the dactylic foot does ot unequal
measures.
Dactylic Verses are hexameter verses, ending in
a dactyl instead of a spondee j as spondaic verses are
those which have a spondee in the fifth foot instead of
a dactyl.
An instance of a dactylic verse we have in ^ irgil 5
Fis patrice cecidere inanus ; quin protinus omnia
Perlegerent ocu/is. TEn. vi. 33.
DACTYLIOMANCY, (Dactyliomantin'), a sort
of divination performed by means of a ring. rI he
word is composed of the Greek %ux.TvXi6s, “ ring,” of
}ctxTv\os, “ a finger,” and pMvruct, “ divination.”
Dactyliomancy consisted principally in holding a
ring, suspended by a fine thread, over a round table,
on the edge whereof were made divers marks with the
twenty-four letters of the alphabet. The ring in shak¬
ing, or vibrating over the table, stopped over certain
of the letters, which, being joined together, composed
the answer required. But the operation was preceded
and accompanied by several superstitious ceremonies :
for first the ring was to be consecrated with a great
deal of mystery $ the person who held it was to be clad
in linen garments to the very shoes j his head was to be
shaved all round; and in his hand he was to hold ver¬
vain. And before he proceeded, the gods were first
to be appeased by a formulary of prayers, &c. Am-
mianus Marcellinus gives the process at large in his
29th book.
DACTYLIS, Cock’s-foot Grass, a genus of
plants belonging to the triandria class ; and in the na¬
tural method ranking under the 4th order, Gramma.
See Botany Index.
DACTYLS, the fruit of the palm-tree, more usually-
called dates.
DACTYLUS, a sort of dance among the ancient
Greeks, chiefly performed, Hesychius observes, by the
athletae.
Dactylus, a name given by Pliny to a species of
Pholas. See Pholas, Conchology Index.
DADUCHI, in antiquity, priests of Ceres. That
goddess having lost her daughter Proserpine, say my-
thologists, began to make search for her at the begin¬
ning of the night. In order to do this in the dark,
she lighted a torch and thus set forth on her travels
throughout the world : for which reason it is that she
is always seen represented with a lighted torch in her
hand. On this account, and in commemoration of
this pretended exploit, it became a custom for the
priests, at the feasts and sacrifices of this goddess, to
run about in the temple, with torches after this man¬
ner j one of them took a lighted torch from off the
altar, and holding it with his hand, ran with it to a cer¬
tain part of the temple where he gave it to another,
saying to him, Tibi trado: this second ran after the
like manner to another part of the temple, and gave
it to the third, and so of the rest. Prom this cere¬
mony the priests became denominated daduchi,
DAE
[ 49 1
DAE
Daduclii, q- d. “ torch-bearers from Jotf, “ an unctuous resl-
Daedalus! nous wood, as pine, fir,” &c. whereof the ancients
' v made torches j and “ I have, I hold.”—The A-
thenians also gave the name daduchus to the high-priest
of Hercules.
DiEDALA, a mountain and city of Lycia, where
Dsedalus was buried, according to Pliny.—Also two
festivals in Boeotia, so called ; one of them observed
at Alalcomenos by the Platseans in a large grove,
where they exposed in the open air pieces of boiled
flesh, and carefully observed whither the crows that
came to prey upon them directed their flight. All the
trees upon which any of these birds alighted were im¬
mediately cut down, and with them statues were made,'
called JDcedalay in honour of Daedalus. The other fes¬
tival was of a more solemn kind. It was celebrated
every 60 years by all the cities of Boeotia, as a com¬
pensation for the intermission of the smaller festivals,
for that number of years, during the exile of the Pla-
taeans. Fourteen of the statues called Dcedala were
distributed by lot smong the Plataeans, Lebadaeans,
Coroneans, Orchomenians, Thespians, Thebans, Ta-
nagraeans, and Chaeroneans, because they had effected
a reconciliation among the Plataeans, and caused them
to be recalled from exile about the time that Thebes
was restored by Cassander the son of Antipater. Du¬
ring this festival a woman in the habit of a bridemaid
accompanied a statue which was dressed in female gar¬
ments, on the banks of the Eurotas. This procession
was attended to the top of Mount Cithaeron by many
of the Boeotians, who had places assigned them by lot.
Here an altar of square pieces of wood cemented to¬
gether like stones was erected, and upon it were thrown
large quantities of combustible materials. Afterwards
a bull was sacrificed to Jupiter, and an ox or heifer to
Juno, by every one of the cities of Boeotia, and by
the most opulent that attended. The poorer citizens
offered small cattle j and all these oblations, together
with the Dsedala, were thrown into the common heap
and set on fire, and totally reduced to ashes. They
originated in this: When Juno, after a quarrel with
Jupiter, had retired to Euboea, and refused to return
to his bed, the god, anxious for her return, went to
consult Cithseron king of Platsea, to find some effectual
measure to break her obstinacy. Cithseron advised
him to dress a statue in women’s apparel, and carry it
in a chariot, and publicly to report it was Platsea the
daughter of Asopus, whom he was going to marry.
The advice was followed 5 and Juno, informed of her
husband’s future marriage, repaired in haste to meet
the chariot, and was easily united to him, when she
discovered the artful measures he made use of to effect
a reconciliation.
DiEDALUS, an Athenian, son of Eupalamus, de¬
scended from Erichtheus king of Athens. He was
the most ingenious artist of his age •, and to him we are
indebted for the invention of the wedge and many
other mechanical instruments, and the sails of ships.
He made statues which moved of themselves, and seem¬
ed to be endowed with life. Talus his sister’s son
promised to be as great as himself by the ingenuity of
his inventions; and therefore from envy he threw
him down from a window and killed him. After the
murder of this youth, Daedalus, with his son Icarus,
fled from Athens to Crete, where Minos king of the
Vql. VII. Part I. f
country gave him a cordial reception. Daedalus made rtedalu*,
a famous labyrinth for Minos, and assisted Pasiphae Da;mon.
the queen to gratify her unnatural passion for a bull. *
For this action Dredalus incurred the displeasure of
Minos, who ordered him to be confined in the laby¬
rinth which he had constructed. Here he made him¬
self wings with feathers and wax, and carefully fitted
them to his body and that of his son, who was the
companion of his confinement. They took their flight
in the air from Crete : but the heat of the sun melted
the wax on the wings of Icarus, whose flight was too
high, and he fell into that part of the ocean which
from him has been called the Icarian sea. The father,
by a proper management of his wings, alighted at
Cum®, where he built a temple to Apollo, and thence
directed his course to Sicily, where he was kindly re¬
ceived by Cocalus, who reigned over part of the coun¬
try. He left many monuments of his ingenuity in
Sicily, which still existed in the age of Diodorus Si¬
culus. He was despatched by Cocalus, who was afraid
of the power of Minos, who had declared war against
him because he had given an asylum to Daedalus. The
flight of Daedalus from Crete with wings is explained
by observing that he was the inventor of sails, which
in his age might pass at a distance for wings. He lived
1400 years before the Christian era. There were two
statuaries of the same name $ one of Sicyon, son of Pa-
troclus j the other a native of Bithynia.
DAEMON, a name given by the ancients
to certain spirits or genii, which they say appeared to
men, either to do them service or to hurt them.
The Greek word Zcttpied* is derived (according to
Plato, in his Cratylus, p. 398, ed. Serrani, vol. i.) from
txvtfMtr, “ knowing or intelligent j” but according to
others from ixttptcUy “ to distribute,” (see the Scholiast
on Homer, 11. 1. ver. 222.). Either of these deriva¬
tions agrees with the office ascribed to deemons by the
ancient heathens, as the spirit intrusted with the in¬
spection and government of mankind. For, accor¬
ding to the philosophers, dsemons held a middle rank
between the celestial gods, and men on earth, and car¬
ried on all intercourse between them $ conveying the
addresses of men to the gods, and the divine benefits
to men. It was the opinion of many, that the ce¬
lestial divinities did not themselves interpose in hu¬
man affairs, but committed the entire administration
of the government of this lower world to these subal¬
tern deities : Neque enim pro majestate deum ccdestium
fuerit, heec curare ; (Apuleius de deo Socratis, p. 677.).
Cuncta ccdestium voluntate, nuniiney et authontate, sed
dcemonum obsequio, et opera et ministerio fieri arbitran-
dum est; {Id. p. 675.). Hence they became the ob¬
jects of divine worship. “ If idols are nothing,” says
Celsus {apud Origen. cont. Cels. lib. viii. p. 393*) “ w^at
harm can there be to join in the public festivals ? If
they are dsemons, then it is certain that they are gods,
in whom we are to confide, and to whom we should offer
sacrifices and prayers to render them propitious.”
Several of the heathen philosophers held that there
were diffei'ent kinds of daemons 5 that some of them
were spiritual substances of a more noble origin
than the human race, and that others had once been
men.
But those daemons who were the more immediate
objects of the established worship among the ancient
G nations
DAE [ 5° ] DAE
Deeraon. nations were human spirits, such as were believed to
—"v become daemons or deities after their departure from
their bodies. Plutarch teaches (Vit. liomul. p. 36.
ed. Paris'), “ that according to a divine nature and ju¬
stice, the souls of virtuous men are advanced to the
rank of daemons ; and that from daemons, if they are
properly purified, they are exalted into gods, not by
any political institution, but according to right reason.”
The same author says in another place (de Is. et Osir.
p. 361.), “ that Isis and Osiris were, for their virtue,
changed from good daemons into gods, as were Her¬
cules and Bacchus afterwards, receiving the utiited ho¬
nours both of gods and daemons.” Hesiod aful other
poets, who have recorded the ancient history or tradi¬
tions on which the public faith and worship were found¬
ed, assert, that the men of the golden age, who were
supposed to be very good, became daemons after death,
and dispensers of good things to mankind.
Though dcnnon is often used in a general sense as
equivalent to a deity, and is accordingly applied to
fate or fortune, or whatever else was regarded as a god;
yet those daemons who were the more immediate ob¬
jects of divine worship amongst the heathens, were hu¬
man spirits; as is shown in Farmer on Miracles, chap,
iii. sect. 2.
The word deemon is used indifferently in a good and
a bad sense. In the former sense, it was very com¬
monly used among the ancient heathens. “ We must
not (says Menander) think any daemon to be evil,
hurtful to a good life, but every god to be good.”
Nevertheless, those are certainly mistaken who affirm,
that deemon never signifies an evil being till after the
times of Christ. Pythagoras held daemons who sent
diseases to men and cattle (Diog. Laert. Vit. Pitha-
gor. p. 514. ed. Amsteli) Zaleucus, in his preface to
his Laws {apud Stobceum, Serm. 42.) supposes that an
evil daemon might be present with a man, to influence
him to injustice. The daemons of Empedocles were
evil spirits, and exiles from heaven j (Plutarch Ih^i rv
firitiuv SxnifyrUcti). And in this life of Dion (p. 958.),
he says, “ It was the opinion of the ancients that evil
and mischievous daemons, out of envy and hatred to
good men, oppose whatever they do.” Scarce did any
opinion more generally prevail in ancient times than
this, viz. that as the departed souls of good men became
good daemons, so the departed souls of bad men became
evil daemons.
It has been generally thought, that by deemons we
are to understand devils, in the Septuagint version of
the Old Testament. Others think the word is in that
version certainly applied to the ghosts of such dead men
as the heathens deified, in Deut. xxxii. 17. Ps. cvi. 37.
That deemon often bears the same meaning in the New
Testament, and particularly in Acts xvii. 18. 1 Cor. x.
21. 1 Tim. iv. 1. Rev. ix. 13. is shown at large by
Mr Joseph Mede (Works, p. 623, et rey.).. That the
word is applied always to human spirits in the New
Testament, Mr Farmer has attempted to show in his
Essay on dtemoniacs, p. 208, et seq. As to the mean¬
ing of the word deemon in the fathers of the Christian
church, it is used by them in the same sense as it was
by the heathen philosophers, especially the latter Pta-
tonists j that is, sometimes for departed human spirits,
and at other times for such spirits as had never inha¬
bited human bodies. In the fathers, indeed, the word
a
is more commonly taken in an evil sense, than in the Daemon,
ancient philosophers. Besides the two forementioned Dseinoniac.
kinds of demons, the fathers, as well as the ancient
philosophers, held a third, viz. such as sprang from the
congress of superior beings with the daughters of men.
In the theology of the fathers, these were the worst
kind of daemons.
Different orders of daemons had different stations and
employments assigned them by the ancients. Good
daemons were considered as the authors of good to
mankind; evil daemons brought innumerable evils both
upon men and beasts. Amongst evil daemons there was
a great distinction with respect to the offices assigned
them $ some compelled men to wickedness, others sti¬
mulated them to madness. See Djemoniac.
Much has been said concerning the daemon of So¬
crates. He pretended to his friends and disciples, and
even declared to the world, that a friendly spirit,
whom he called his deemon, directed him how to act on
every important occasion in his life, and restrained him
from imprudence of conduct.
In contemplating the character of this great philo¬
sopher, while we admire him as the noblest pattern
of virtue and moral wisdom that appeared in the hea¬
then world, we are naturally led to inquire, whether
what he gave out concerning his daemon were a trick
of imposture, or the reverie of a heated imagination, or
a sober and true account of a favour which heaven
deigned to confer on so extraordinary a man.
To ascertain in this case the object of our inqui¬
ries, is by no means so easy as the superficial thinker
may be apt to imagine. When we consider the dig¬
nity of sentiment and simplicity of manners which So*
crates displayed through the general tenor of his life,
we cannot readily bring ourselves to think that he
could be capable of such a trick of imposture. No¬
thing of the wildness of an enthusiast appears in his
character •, the modesty of his pretensions, and the
respect which in his conversation and conduct he uni¬
formly testified for the ordinary duties of social life,
sufficiently prove that he was free from the influence
of blind enthusiasm r we cannot infer, therefore, that,
like the astronomer in Raselas, he was deceived with
respect to his daemon by an overheated imagination.
It is no less difficult to believe, that God would di¬
stinguish a heathen in so eminent a manner, and yet
leave him uninstructed in the principles of true reli¬
gion. Surely, if ever scepticism be reasonable, it must
be in such matters as the present.
Yet, if it be still insisted, that some one of these
three notions concerning the daemon of Socrates must
be more probable than the others j we would rather
esteem Socrates an enthusiast in this instance, than
degrade him to the base character of an impostor, or
suppose that a spiritual being actually revealed himself
to the philosopher, and condescended to become his
constant attendant and counsellor. People are often
under the influence of an overheated imagination with
regard to some one thing, and cool and sober as to
every thing else. ^ 1
DALMONIAC (from deemon), a human being whose Definitios.
volition and other mental faculties are overpowered
and restrained, and his body possessed and actuated by
some created spiritual being of superior power.
Such seems to be the determinate sense of the word j
but
DAE
[ 5i ]
DAE
« but it is disputed whether any of mankind ever were
^ in this untortunate condition,
s It is generally agreed, that neither good nor evil
Dispute spirits are known to exert such authority at present
demoniacs over ^ie ^unian race : ^ut l*ie anc‘ent heathen world,
BB*t° and among the Jews, particularly in the days of our
Saviour, evil spirits at least are thought by many to
^ have been more troublesome.
Kotions of The Greeks and Homans imagined that their dei-
the Greeks ties, to reveal future events, frequently entered into
and Ro- ^jie propjiet 0r prophetess who was consulted, over-
cendng11" powered their faculties, and uttered responses with
possession, their organs of speech. Apollo was believed to enter
into the Pythoness, and to dictate the prophetic an¬
swers received by those who consulted her. Other
oracles besides that of Delphi were supposed to unfold
futurity by the same machinery. And in various
other cases either malignant daemons or benevolent
deities were thought to enter into and to actuate hu¬
man alfairs. The Lymphatici, the Cerriti, the Larvati,
of the Homans, were all of this description} and the
Greeks, by the use of the word show that
they referred to this cause the origin of madness. A-
mong the ancient heathens, therefore, it appears to have
been a generally received opinion, that superior beings
entered occasionally into men, overpowered the facul¬
ties of their minds, and actuated their bodily organs.
They might imagine that this happened in instances
in which the effects were owing to the operation of dif¬
ferent causes j but an opinion so generally prevalent
had surely some plausible foundation.
The Jews, too, if we may trust the sacred writings
and Josephus, appear to have believed in dsemoniacal
possession. The case of Saul may be recollected as one
among many in which superior created beings were
believed by the Jews to exert in this manner their in¬
fluence over human life. The general tenor of their
history and language, and their doctrines concerning
good and evil spirits, prove the opinion of daemoniacal
possession to have been well known and generally re¬
ceived among them.
In the days of our Saviour, it would appear that
kind iage-daemoniacal possession was very frequent among the
neraJ ia Jews and the neighbouring nations. Many were the
our Sa^5 °f ev^ 8P,r*ts whom Jesus is related in the gospels to have
viour. ejected from patients that were brought unto him as
possessed and tormented by those malevolent daemons.
His apostles too, and the first Christians, who were
most active and successful in the propagation of Chri¬
stianity, appear to have often exerted the miraculous
powers with which they were endowed on similar oc¬
casions. The daemons displayed a degree of know¬
ledge and malevolence which sufficiently distinguished
them from human beings : and the language in which
the daemoniacs are mentioned, and the actions and sen¬
timents ascribed to them in the New Testament, show
that our Saviour and his apostles did not consider the
idea of daemoniacal possession as being merely a vulgar
error concerning the origin of a disease or diseases pro¬
duced by natural causes.
The more enlightened cannot always avoid the use
of metaphorical modes of expression ; which, though
founded upon error, have yet been so established in
language by the influence of custom, that they cannot
be suddenly dismissed. When we read in the book of
4
Of the
Jews.
5
Of man-
Joshua, that the sun on a certain occasion stood still, Diemoniac.
to allow that hero time to complete a victory $ we -v—w
easily find an excuse for the conduct of the sacred hi¬
storian, in accommodating his narrative to the popular
ideas of the Jews concerning the relative motions of
the heavenly bodies. In all similar instances, we do
not complain much of the use of a single phrase, ori¬
ginally introduced by the prevalence of some ground¬
less opinion, the falsity of which is well known to the
writer.
But in descriptions of characters, in the narration of
facts, and in the laying down of systems of doctrine,
we require different rules to be observed. Should any
person, in compliance with popular opinions, talk in
serious language of the existence, dispositions, declara¬
tions, and actions of a race of beings whom he knew
to be absolutely fabulous, we surely could not praise
him for candid integrity : we must suppose him to be
either exulting in irony over the weak credulity of
those around him, or taking advantage of their weak¬
ness, with the dishonest and the selfish views of an
impostor. And if he himself should pretend to any
connexion with this imaginary system of beings, and
should claim, in consequence of his connexion with
them, particular honours from his contemporaries $
whatever might be the dignity of his character in all
other respects, nobody could hesitate even for a mo¬
ment to brand him as an impostor of the basest charac-
ter. 6
Precisely in this light must we regard the conduct Jesus
of our Saviour and his apostles, if the ideas of dsemo- Christ and
niacal possession were to be considered merely as a vul- apostles
gar error. They talked and acted as if they believed ^eUlieVedTe
that evil spirits had actually entered into those whoj^onia.
were brought to them as possessed with devils, and cal posses-
as if those spirits were actually expelled by their au-si°ntobe
thority out of the unhappy persons whom they hadrea^
possessed. They expected, they demanded too, to
have their profession and declarations believed, in con¬
sequence of their performing such mighty works, and
to be honoured as having thus triumphed over the
powers of hell. The reality of daemoniacal possession
stands upon the same evidence with the gospel system
in general. 7
Neither is there any thing absurd or unreasonable in Heason-
this doctrine. It does not appear to contradict those abjenMs of
ideas which the general appearance of nature and the^V®^06*
series of events suggest concerning the benevolence
and wisdom of the Deity, and the councils by which
he regulates the affairs of the universe. We often
fancv ourselves able to comprehend things to which
our understanding is wholly inadequate : we persuade
ourselves, at times, that the whole extent of the works
of the Deity must be well known to us, and that his
designs must always be such as we can fathom. We
are then ready, whenever any difficulty arises to us, in
considering the conduct of Providence, to model things
according to our own ideas ; to deny that the Deity
can possibly be the author of things which we cannot
reconcile ; and to assert, that he must act on every oc¬
casion in a manner consistent with our narrow views.
This is the pride of reason and it seems to have sug¬
gested the strongest objections that have been at any
time urged against the reality of dsemoniacal posses¬
sion. But the Deity may surely connect one order of
G 2 his
DAE [52
Demoniac, his creatures with another. We perceive mutual re-
lations and a beautiful connexion to prevail through
all that part of nature which falls within the sphere
of our observation. The inferior animals are con¬
nected with mankind, and subjected to. their autho¬
rity, not only in instances in which it is exerted for
their advantage, but even where it is tyrannically a-
bused to their destruction. Among the evils to which
mankind have been subjected, why might not their
being liable to daemoniacal possession be one ? While
the Supreme Being retains the sovereignty of the
universe, he may employ whatever agents he thinks
proper in the execution of his purposes $ he may either
commission an angel or let loose a devil; as well as
bend the human will, or communicate any particular
impulse to matter.
All that revelation makes known, all that human
reason can conjecture, concerning the existence of va¬
rious orders of spiritual beings, good and bad, is
perfectly consistent with, and even favourable to, the
doctrine of daemoniacal possession. It was generally
believed through the ancient heathen world j it was
equally well known to the Jews, and equally respected
by them} it is mentioned in the New Testament m
such language, and such narratives are related concern¬
ing it, that the gospels cannot well be regarded?in any
other light than as pieces of imposture, and Jesus
Christ must be considered as a man who dishonestly
took advantage of the weakness and ignorance of his
contemporaries, if this doctrine be nothing but a vulgar
error : it teaches nothing inconsistent with the general
conduct of Providence *, it is not the caution of philo¬
sophy, but the pride of reason, that suggests objections
against this doctrine.
Those, again, who are unwilling to allow that angels
’or devils have ever intermeddled so much with the con¬
cerns of human life, urge a number of specious argu¬
ments in opposition to these.
The Greeks and Romans of old, say they, did be¬
lieve in the reality of dsemoniacal possession. They
the Greeks se(i tjiat spiritual beings did at times enter into
supposed4118 the sons or daughters of men, and distinguish them-
dsemoalacal selves in that situation by capricious freaks, deeds of
possession, rvanton mischief, or prophetic enunciations. But in
were only ^ instances in which they supposed this to happen, it
instances of evj(jenfc tiiat no such thing took place. Their ac¬
counts of the state and conduct of those persons whom
they believed to be possessed in this supernatural man¬
ner, show plainly that what they ascribed to the influ¬
ence of daemons were merely the effects of natural
diseases. Whatever they relate concerning the larvati,
the cerrili, and the lymphatici, shews that these were
merely people disordered in mind, in the same unfor¬
tunate situation with those madmen and idiots and
melancholy persons whom we have among ourselves.
Festus describes the Larvati as being/wnW ei mente
moii. Horace says,
Hellade pcrcussa, Marius cum prcedpitat se,
Cerritus full ?
The* same Plato, in his Timceus, says vhi{ H»ovf apurUrui p«,Uns
is true of tfdttvx., ctMfovi. Lucian describes dmmomacs as lunatic,
the dsemo- and as staring with their eyes, foaming at the mouth,
S
Arguments
of the Anti-
daanonists.
9
The eases
in which.
instances
m&daes#,
&»c.
niacs fhs n(i[ being speechless
New Tes- 0
tame nt.
It appears still more evidently, that all the poisons
] DAE
spoken of as possessed with devils in the New Tes-Daemoniae*
tament, were either mad or epileptic, and precisely v—~v '
in the same condition with the madmen and epileptics
of modern times. The Jews, among other reproaches
which they threw out against our Saviour, said, He
hath a devil, and is mad: why hear ye him $ The ex¬
pressions, he hath a devil, and is mad, were certainly
used on this occasion as synonymous. With all their
virulence, they would not surely ascribe to him at once
two things that were inconsistent and contradictory.
Those who thought more favourably of the character
of Jesus, asserted concerning his discourses, in reply to
his adversaries, 'These are not the words of him that hath
a deemon; meaning, no doubt, that he spoke in a more ra¬
tional manner than a madman could be expected to speak.
The Jews appear to have ascribed to the influence of
daemons, not only that species of madness in which the
patient is raving and furious, but also melancholy mad¬
ness. Of John, who secluded himself from intercourse
with the world, and W'as distinguished for abstinence
and acts of mortification, they said, He hath a deemon.
The youth, whose father applied to Jesus to free him
from an evil spirit, describing his unhappy condition in
these words, Have mercy on my son, for he is lunatic
and sore vexed with a deemon ; for oft times he falleth
into the fire, and oft into the water, was plainly epilep¬
tic. Every thing indeed that is related in the New
Testament concerning daemoniacs, proves that they were
people affected with such natural diseases as are far
from being uncommon among mankind in the present
age. When the symptoms of the disorders cured by
our Saviour and his apostles as cases of dgemoniacal
possession, correspond so exactly with those of diseases
well known as natural in the present age, it would be
absurd to impute them to a supernatural cause. It is
much more consistent with common sense and sound
philosophy to suppose, that our Saviour and his apos¬
tles wisely, and with that condescension to the weak¬
ness and prejudices of those with whom they conversed,
which so eminently distinguished the character of the
Author of our holy religion, and must always be a pro¬
minent feature in the character of the true Christian,
adopted the vulgar language in speaking of those un¬
fortunate persons who were groundlessly imagined to
be possessed with daemons, though they welLknew the
notions which had given rise to such modes of ex¬
pression to be ill-founded; than to imagine that dis¬
eases, which arise at present from natural causes, were
produced in days of old by the intervention of dae¬
mons, or that evil spirits still continue to enter into
mankind in all cases of madness, melancholy, or epi-
lepsy. t
Besides, it is by no means a sufficient reason for
receiving any doctrine as true, that it has been ge¬
nerally received through the world. Error, like an epi¬
demical disease, is commuuicated from one to another.
In certain circumstances, too, the influence of imagina¬
tion predominates, and restrains the exertions of
reason. Many false opinions have extended their in¬
fluence through a very wide circle, and maintained it
long. On every such occasion as the present, there¬
fore, it becomes us to inquire, not so much how gene¬
rally any opinion has been received., or how long it
has prevailed, as from what causes it has originated,
and on what evidence it rests.
DAG
C 53 ]
D A H
Datnoniac
n
Dagon.
Inference
JVom the
When we contemplate the frame of nature, we behold
a grand and beautiful simplicity prevailing through
the whole : Notwithstanding its immense extent, and
though it contains such numberless diversities of being j
yet the simplest machine constructed by human art
does not display easier simplicity, or an happier connec-
llanalogy of tion of parts. We may therefore venture to draw an
nature. inference, by analogy, from what is observable of the
order of nature in general to the present case. To
permit evil spirits to intermeddle with the concerns of
human life, would be to break, through that order
which the Deity appears to have established through
his works •, it would be to introduce a degree of
confusion unworthy of the wisdom of Divine Provi¬
dence.
Such are the most rational arguments that have been
urged on both sides in this controversy. Perhaps the
dcemonianists have the stronger probabilities on their
side j but we will not presume to take upon ourselves
the office of arbitrators in the dispute.
DEMONIACS, in church history, a branch of the
Anabaptists j whose distinguishing tenet is, that the
devils shall be saved at the end of the world.
DAFFODIL. See Narcissus, Botany Index.
DAGELET, an island on the coast of Corea, dis¬
covered by La Perouse in the year 1787. It is about
three leagues in circumference, and is encircled with
steep rocks, excepting a few sandy creeks, which
form convenient landing-places. The island is covered
with fine trees j and at the time the French navigator
visited it, some boats were found on the stocks of a
Chinese construction. The workmen, who were sup¬
posed to be Corean carpenters, were employed upon
them, but fled to the woods on the approach of the
ships. La Perouse supposes that the island is unin¬
habited, and that these people go from Corea, and
live there only during the summer, for the purpose
of building boats. The north-east point of this island
is in N. Lat. 33. 15. E. Long. 129. 2. from Paris.
DAGHESTAN, a country of Asia, bounded by
Circassia on the north, by the Caspian sea on the east,
by Chirvein a province of Persia on the south, and by
Georgia on the west. Its chief towns are Tarku and
Derbent, both situated on the Caspian sea.
DAGNO, a town of Turkey in Europe, in Albania,
with a bishop’s see. It is the capital of the district of
Ducagini, and is seated on the rivers Drino and Nero,
near their confluence. It is 15 miles south-east of Scu¬
tari, and 15 north-east of Alessio. E. Long. 19. 48.
N. Lat. 42. O.
DAGO, or Dagho, an island in the Baltic sea,
on the coast of Livonia, between the gulf of Finland
and Riga. It is of a triangular figure, and is about
20 miles in circumference. It has nothing considera¬
ble but two castles, called T)agger-wot't and Paden.
E. Long. 22. 30. N. Lat. 58. 48.
Sam. DAGON, the false god of Aslulod*, or as the
chap. t. Greeks call it Axotus. He is commonly represented as
a monster, half man and half fish j whence most learned
men derive his name from the Hebrew dag, which sig¬
nifies “ fish.” Those who make him to have been the
inventor of bread corn, derive his name from the He¬
brew Dagon, which signifies framentum ; whence Philo
Biblius calls him Zgt>s Ag*]ge;*$, Jupiter Aratrius.
This deity continued to have a temple at Ashdod
during all the ages of idolatry to the time of the Mac¬
cabees ; for the author of the first book of Maccabees
tells us, that “ Jonathan, one of the Maccabees, having
beaten the army of Apollonius, Demetrius’s general,
they fled to Azotus, and entered into Bethdagon (the.
temple of their idol) : but that Jonathan set fire to
Az.otus, and burnt the temple of Dagon and all those
who had fled into it.”
Dagon, according to some, was the same with Ju¬
piter, according to others Saturn, according to others,
Venus, and according to most, Neptune.
DAHALAC is the largest island in the Red sea,
and is placed by Mr Bruce, who has given a minmo
description of it, between 15. 27. and 15. 54. N. Lat.
It is a low, flat island, with a sandy soil, mixed with
shells, and in summer destitute of every kind of herb¬
age, excepting a small quantity of bent grass, which is
barely sufficient to feed a few antelopes and goats. In
many places the island is covered with extensive plan¬
tations of acacia trees, which rarely exceed eight feet
in height, spreading wide, and turning flat at top,
probably from the influence of the wind, which blows
from the sea. No rain falls in Dahalac from the end
of March to the beginning of October j but in the in¬
termediate months there are heavy showers, during
which the water is collected in a great number of ar¬
tificial cisterns, to serve the inhabitants during the en¬
suing summer. Of these cisterns, which are said to be
the work of the Persians, or, as some suppose, of the
first Ptolemies, 370 yet remain, cut out of the solid
rock.
The inhabitants of Dahalac are a simple, fearful,
and inoffensive people. It is the only part ot Arabia
where no one is furnished with arms of any kind. Af¬
ter the rains fall, the grass springs up with great luxu¬
riance, and then the goats give the inhabitants a copi¬
ous supply of milk, which in winter is the principal
part of their subsistence. The poorer sort live entirely
on shell and other fish. The sole employment of the
inhabitants is to work the vessels which trade to the
different parts of the coast. Dahalac contains 12 vil¬
lages or towns, each of which is surrounded with a
plantation of doom trees. Of the leaves of this tree,
which are of a glossy white when dried, the inhabitants
make baskets of great beauty and neatness. This
seems to be the only thing like manufacture in the
island. Dahalac, as well as the other islands of the
Red sea is dependent upon Masuah. Each of the 12
villages furnishes a goat monthly to the governor, and
every vessel putting in there for Masuah, pays him a
pound of coffee, and every one from Arabia a dollar.
These are his principal revenues. In the time of the
Ptolemies, the pearl fishery in the vicinity of Daha¬
lac flourished greatly, as well as another valuable
fishery, namely that of tortoises.
DAHOMY, or Dauma, a powerful kingdom of
Africa, on the coast of Guinea. Abomy, the modern
capital, lies in N. Lat. 7. 59. This kingdom occurs
in its true position, in the maps of Sanuto, Plancius,
and Mercator, where Dawhee* the ancient capital, is
denominated Dauvna. In 1700, it was erased from
the maps of Africa, and the existence of the ancient
nation of Dauma denied, till 1727, when it emerged
from obscurity, and became known by the conquests of
the maritime states of Whidah and Ardra. Between
Dauma
Dagcn
11
Dahomy.
Dahomy.
D A H
Dauma and Gago the lake Sigesmes,
[ 54
or Guards,
("vvhich extends a&bout 100 leagues from east to west,
and co from north to south, which lies about 370 miles
N. N. E. of Arada, and is represented as the source ot
various large rivers, which descend into the gulf of
Guinea) is placed by Barbot and Snelgrave, who de¬
rived their authority from the native traders. It nei¬
ther occurs in Edrisi nor Leo, though it is found in
the maps to Ruscelli’s edition of Ptolemy, in 1561.
Dahomy is a fertile cultivated country •, the soil is a
deep rich reddish clay, intermixed with sand, scarce y
containing a stone of the size of an egg in the whole
country. It is extremely productive ot maize, millet,
beans,‘yams, potatoes, cassada, plantain, and the ba¬
nana; indigo, cotton, tobacco, palm-oil, and sugar,
are raised, as well as a species of black pepper. Bread,
and a species of liquor, or rather diluted gruel, aie
formed of the lotus-berry. Animals, both wild and
tame, are numerous, and the lakes abound in fish. m
maritime districts ofWhidah and Ardra, before they
were ruined by the Dahomans, were highly cultivated
and beautiful.
The character of the Daumanese, or Dahomans, is
] DAI
The palace of the king of Dahomy is an extensive Daiomy,
building of bamboo and mud-walled huts, surrounded Daide.
by a mud-wall about 20 feet high, inclosing a quadrangu- « J
lar space of about a mile square. The entrance to the
king’s apartment is paved with human sculls, the late¬
ral'walls adorned with human jaw-bones, with a few
bloody heads intermixed at intervals. Ihe whole
building resembles a number of farm-yards, with long
thatched barns and sheds for cattle, intersected with
low mud-walls. On the thatched roofs, numerous hu¬
man sculls are ranged at intervals, on small wooden
stakes. In allusion to these, when the king issues or¬
ders for war, he only announces to his general, t/sat
his house wants thatch. In this palace, or large house,
as it is termed by the Dahomans, above 3000 females
are commonly immured, and about §00 are appiopii-
ated by each of the principal officers. From this inju¬
rious and detestable practice, originate many flagrant
abuses; the population is diminished, the sources of
private happiness destroyed, and the best feelings^ of
human nature being outraged, the energies of passion
are converted into bitterness and ferocity.
The religion of Dahomy is vague and uncertain m
The character o the ” ;t8 and rather consists in.the performance of
coUa^imrnners^'and have had little intercourse with some traditionary ceremonies, than m any^xed system
either Europeans or Moors. They exhibit the germ
of peculiar institutions and modifications of manners,
that have appeared incredible to modern nations, when
they perused the ancient records of the Egyptians,
Hindus, and Lacedsemonians. Like the Lacedaemo¬
nians, they display a singular mixture of ferocity and
politeness, of generosity and cruelty. Their conduct
towards strangers is hospitable, without any mixture ot
rudeness or insult. Their appearance is manly, and
their persons strong and active ; and though they are
less addicted to the practice of tatowing than their
neighbours, their countenance rather displays ferocity
than courage. Their government is the purest despo¬
tism ; every subject is a slave ; and every slave impli¬
citly admits the right of the sovereign to dispose of Ins
property and of his person. “ I think of my king,
said a Dahoman to Mr Norris, “ and then I dare en¬
gage five of the enemy myself. My head belongs to
the^king, not to myself: ii he pleases to send lor it, I
am readv to resign it; or if it be shot through in bat¬
tle, I am satisfied—if it be in his service.” This at¬
tachment continues unshaken, even when their nearest
relations become the victims of the avarice or caprice
of the king, and his enormities are always attributed
to their own indiscretions. With this devoted spirit,
the Dahoman rushes fearless into battle, and fights as
long as he can wield his sabre.
The modern history of the Dahomans realizes all
that history has recorded of ancient Lacedeemon,
and of those Lacedaemonians of the north, the in¬
habitants of Jomsburgh, who were forbidden to men¬
tion the name of Fear, even in the most imminent
dangers, and who proudly declared that they would
fight their enemies, though they were stronger than
the gods. Saxo relates, that when Frotho, king of
Denmark, was taken prisoner in battle, he obstinately
refused to accept of life, declaring, that the restoration
of his kingdom and treasures could never restore his
honour, but that future ages would always say, Frotho
has been taken by his enemy.
of belief, or of‘moral conduct. They believe more
firmly in their amulets and fetiches, than in the deity ;
their national fetiche is the Tiger; and their habita¬
tions are decorated with ugly images, tinged with
blood, stuck with feathers, besmeared with palm-oil,
and bedaubed with eggs. As their ideas of deity do
not coincide with those of Europeans, they imagine
that their tutelafy gods are different. “ Perhaps,
said a Dahoman chief to Snelgrave, “ that god may be
yours, who has communicated so many extraordinary
things to white men ; but as that god
has not been
pleased to make himself known to us, we must be sa¬
tisfied with this we worship.” The Dahomans manu¬
facture and dye cotton-cloth, and form a species of
cloth of palm-leaves. They are tolerably skilful m
working in metals. The bards, who celebrate the ex¬
ploits of the king and his generals, are likewise the hi¬
storians of the country. . . -n •
DAILLE, John, a Protestant minister near Bans,
was one of the most learned divines of the 17th ceutu"
ry, and was the most esteemed by the Catholics ot all
the controversial writers among the Protestants. He
was tutor to two of the grandsons of the illustrious JVJ.
Du Plessis Mornai. M. Daille having lived 14 years
with so excellent a master, travelled into Italy with his
two pupils ; one of them died abroad ; with the other
he saw Italy, Switzerland, Germany, Flanders, Hol¬
land, and England, and returned in 1621. He was
received minister in 1623, and first exercised his office
in the family of M. Du Plessis Mornai; but this did
not last long,' for that lord died soon after. Ihe me¬
moirs of this great man employed M. Dailte the fol¬
lowing year. In 1625 he was appointed minister ot
the church of Saumur, and in 1626 removed to Paris.
He spent all the rest of his life in the service of this
last church, and composed several works. His first
piece was his masterpiece, and an excellent work, Ot
the Use of the Fathers, printed 1631. It is a strong
chain of reasoning, which forms a moral demonstration
against those who would have religious disputes decid-
o ed
i
DAL [5
Daille e(^ ^ie authority of the fathers. Hb died in 1670,
f! aged 77.
Dalaca. DAIRI, or Dairo, in the history of Japan, is the
L-^v sovereign pontiff of the Japanese ; or, according to
Ktempfer, the hereditary ecclesiastical monarch of Ja¬
pan, In effect, the empire of Japan is at present un¬
der two sovereigns, viz. an ecclesiastical one called the
dairo, and a secular one who bears the title of kubo.
The last is the emperor, and the former the oracle of
the religion of the country.
DAIRY, in rural affairs, a place appropriated for
the management of milk, and the making of butter,
cheese, &c. See Agriculture Index.
The dairy-house should always he kept in the neatest
order, and so situated as that the windows or lattices
never front the south, south-east, or south-west. Lat¬
tices are also to be preferred to windows, as they ad¬
mit a more free circulation of the air than glazed
lights possibly can do. It has been objected, that they
admit cold air in winter and the sun in summer j but
the remedy is easily obtained, by making a frame the
size of or somewhat larger than the lattice, and con¬
structing it so as to slide backward and forward at
pleasure. Packthread strained across this frame, and
oiled cap-paper pasted thereon, will admit the light,
and keep out the sun and wind.
It is hardly possible in the summer to keep a dairy-
house too cool ; on which account none should be situ¬
ated far from a good spring or current of water. They
should be neatly paved either with red brick or smooth
hard stone j and laid with a proper descent, so that
no water may lodge. This pavement should be well
washed in the summer every day, and all the utensils
belonging to the dairy should be kept perfectly clean.
Nor should wre ever suffer the churns to be scalded in
the dairy, as the steam that arises from hot water will
injure the milk. Nor should cheese be kept therein,
nor rennet for making cheese, nor a cheese-press be
fixed in a dairy, as the whey and curd will diffuse their
acidity throughout the room.
The proper receptacles for milk are earthen pans,
or wooden vats or trundles j but none of these should
be lined with lead, as that mineral certainly contains
a poisonous quality, and may in some degree affect the
milk: but if people are so obstinate as to persist in using
them, they should never forget to scald them, scrub
them well with salt and water, and to dry them thorough¬
ly, before they deposit the milk therein. Indeed all
the utensils should be cleaned in like manner before
they are used 5 and if after this, they in the least de¬
gree smell sour, they must undergo a second scrubbing.
See Dairy, Supplement.
DAIS, a genus of plants belonging to the decandria
class $ and in the natural method ranking under the
31st order, Vepreculce. See Botany Index.
DAISY. See Bellis, Botany Index.
DAKIR, in our statutes, is used for the twentieth
part of a last of hides. According to the statute of
51 Hen. III. De compositionepondenwi et mensurarum,
a last of hides consists of twenty dakirs, and every da-
kir of ten hides. But by 1 Jac. cap. 33. one last of
hides or skins is twelve dozen. See Dicker.
DALACA, an island of the Red sea, which is said
to be very fertile, populous, and remarkable for a
5 ] DAL
pearl fishery. It is probably the same with DAHALAC, Dalaca
which see. H .
DALBERGIA, a genus of plants belonging to the , n'atn*,
diadelphia class. See Botany Index.
DA LEA, a province of Sweden, bounded on the
west by Dalecarlia, on the east by the Wermeland
and the lake Wener, on the south by Gothland, and
on the north by Norway and the sea.
DALEBURG, a town of Sweden, and capital of the
province of Dalea, seated on the western bank of the
lake Wener, 50 miles north of Gottenburg. E. Long.
13. o. N. Lat. 59. o.
DALECARLIA, a province of Sweden, so called
from a river of the same name, on which it lies, near
Norway. It is divided into six districts, and is about
175 miles in length and 100 in breadth. It contained
124,806 inhabitants in 1811. It is full of mountains,
which abound in mines of copper and iron, some of
which are of a prodigious depth. Idra is the capital.
The inhabitants are rough, robust, and warlike : and
all the great revolutions in Sweden had their rise in
this province.
DALECHAMP, James, a physician, was born at
Caen in Normandy, in 1513. He was distinguished
for his industry in botany, as well as in other branches
of literature. He wrote notes on Pliny’s Natural His¬
tory, and translated Athenseus into Latin. He added
30 plates of rare plants to the Dioscorides of Ruellius,
printed in 1552. After his death appeared his li His-
toriogeneralis Plantarum in xviii. hbros digestu” Lugd.
1587, two vols folio. In this work, which is said to
have been the labour of 30 years, the author proposed
to include all the botanical discoveries previous to his
own time, as well as those which he had made himseli
in the vicinity of Lyons and the Alps. He also pub¬
lished editions of Paulus iEgineta, and Caelius Aure-
lianus, with notes j a work on surgery, and another Be
Peste, lib. iii.
He practised physic at Lyons from 1552 to 1558,
when he died, aged 75.
DALECHAMP1A, a genus of plants belonging
to the monoecia class ; and in the natural method rank¬
ing under the 38th order, Tricoccee. See Botany
Index.
DALEM, a town in the kingdom of the Nether¬
lands, and capital of a district of the same name. It
was taken by the French in 1672, who demolished the
fortifications. It is seated on the river Bervine, five
miles north-east of Liege. E. Long. 5. 43. N. Lat.
50. 40.
D’ALEMBERT. See Alembert.
DALGARNO, George, an old and unjustly ne¬
glected Scottish writer. See Supplement.
DALKEITH, a town of Scotland, in Mid-Lothian,
six miles south-east of Edinburgh; W. Long. 2. 20..
N. Lat. 55. 50. It is the principal residence of the
duke of Buccleugh, who has here a noble house and
extensive parks. In this house, which at the time was
the head quarters of General Monk, the restoration
of Charles II. was planned.—The duke]s eldest son
has the title of Earl of Dalkeith. Here is a consider¬
able corn market weekly on Thursdays. Population
4709 in 1811.
DALMATIA, a province in Europe, bounded on
the
DAL [ S<5
Dalmatia, the north by Bosnia, on the south by the gulf of\e-
Daltymple. nice, on the east by Servia, and on the west by IVIor-
* lachia. Spalatro is the capital of that part belonging
to the Venetians ; and Ilaguza, of a republic of that
name ; the Turks have a third, whose capital is Her¬
zegovina. The air is wholesome, and the soil fruitlul j
and it abounds in wine, corn, and oil.
DALRYMPLE, Sir David, a Scottish lawyer and
judge, was born in Edinburgh, on the 28th October
new style, 1726. His father was Sir James Dalrymple,
of Hailes, Bart, and his mother Lady Christian Hamil¬
ton, a daughter of the Earl of Haddington. His grand¬
father Sir David Dalrymple was the youngest son of
the first Lord Stair, and is said to have been the ablest
of that family, so much distinguished for ability. He
was lord advocate for Scotland, in the reign of George
I. and his son, Sir James, had the auditorship of the
exchequer for life. Sir David Dalrymple was bred at
Eton school, where he was distinguished as a scholar,
and remarkable as a virtuous and orderly youth : from
thence he went to the university of Utrecht, where he
remained till after the rebellion in 1746. He was cal¬
led to the bar at Edinburgh, 23d February 1748;
where he was much admired for the elegant propriety
of the cases he drew. He did not attain indeed to the
highest rank as a practising lawyer, but his character
for sound knowledge and probity in the profession was
great. He was appointed one of the judges of the
Court of Session in the room of Lord Nesbit, March
6th 1776, with the warmest approbation of the public j
and in May 1776, one of the lords commissioners of
Justiciary, in the room of Lord Coalston, who resign¬
ed. He took his seat on the bench, according to the
usage of the Court of Session, by the title of Lord
Hailes, the name by which he is generally known a-
mong the learned of Europe. As a judge^ of the su¬
preme civil and criminal courts, he acted in the view
of his country ; from which he merited and obtained
high confidence and approbation.
But he was not only conspicuous as an able and up¬
right judge, and a sound lawyer j he was also eminent
as a profound and accurate scholar 5 being a thorough
master of classical learning, the belles lettres, and
historical antiquities, particularly of his own country,
to the study of which he was led by his profession.
Indefatigable in the prosecution of the studies he culti¬
vated, his time was sedulously devoted to the promo¬
tion of useful learning, piety, and virtue. Numerous
are the works that have issued from his pen, all of them
distinguished by uncommon accuracy, taste, and learn¬
ing. Besides some occasional papers, both serious
and humorous, of his composing, that appeared In tne
World ; and a variety of communications, critical, and
biographical, in the Gentleman’s Magazine, and othei
publications of like nature j he allotted some part of
his time to the illustration and defence of primitive
Christianity. In the year 1771 he composed a very
learned aqd ingenious paper, or law-case, in the dis¬
puted peerage of Sutherland. He was one of the
trustees of the Lady Elizabeth, the daughter of the
last earl j and being then a judge, the names of two
eminent lawyers were annexed to it. In that case, he
displayed the greatest accuracy of research, and the
most profound knowledge of the antiquities and rules
of descent, in this country *, which he managed with
3
] DAL
such dexterity of argument, as clearly to establish the Dalrymple.
right of his pupil, and to form a precedent, at the y—»
same time, for the decision of all such questions in fu¬
ture. In the year 1773, he published a small volume,
entitled, “ Remarks on the History of Scotland.”
These appeared to be the gleanings of the historical
research which he was making at that time, and dis¬
covered his lordship’s turn for minpte and accurate in¬
quiry into doubtful points of history, and at the same
time displayed the candour and liberality of his judg¬
ment. This publication prepared the public for the
favourable reception of the Annals ot Scotland, in
2 vols 4to, the first of which appeared in 1776, and
the second in 1779, and fully answered the expecta¬
tions which he had raised. The difficulties attending
the subject, the want of candour, and the spirit. of
party, had hitherto prevented our having a genuine
history of Scotland, in times previous to those of Queen
Mary j which had been lately written, in a masterly
manner, by the elegant and judicious Dr Robertson.
Lord Hailes carried his attention to the Scottish hi¬
story, as far back as to the accession of Malcolm Can-
more, in 1057, and his work contains the annals of
14 princes, from Malcolm III. to the death of Da¬
vid II. And happy it was that the affairs of Scotland
attracted the talents of so able a writer, who to the
learning and skill of a lawyer, joined the industry and
curiosity of an antiquarian ; to whom no object appears
frivolous or unimportant, that serves to elucidate his
subject. Lord Hailes has so well authenticated his
work by references to historians of good credit, or
deeds and writings of undoubted authority ; and has so
happily cleared it from fable, uncertainty, and conjec¬
ture, that every Scotsman, since its appearance, has
been able to trace back, with confidence in genuine
memoirs, the history of his country, for 736 years, and
may revere the memory' of the respectable judge, who
with indefatigable industry, and painful labour, has re¬
moved the rubbish under which the precious remains
were concealed.
Lord Hailes at first intended, as appears by an ad¬
vertisement prefixed to his work, to carry down his An¬
nals to the accession of James I. but to the great dis¬
appointment of the public, he stopped short at the death
of David II. and a very important period of our history
still remains to be filled up by an able writer. Lord
Hailes’s Annals of Scotland, it is believed, stand un¬
rivalled in the English language, for a purity aad sim¬
plicity of style, an elegance, perspicuity, and concise¬
ness of narration, that particularly suited the form ot
his work *, and is entirely void of that false ornament
and stately gait, which makes the works of some other
writers appear in gigantic, but fictitious majesty. In
1786, Lord Hailes came forward with the excellent
Dr Watson, and other writers in England, to repel
Mr Gibbon’s attack on Christianity, and published a
4to volume, entitled, “ An Enquiry into the Secon¬
dary causes which Mr Gibbon has assigned for the ra¬
pid Progress of Christianity,” in which there is a great
display of literary acumen, and of zeal for the cause he
espouses, without the rancour of theological contro¬
versy. This was the last work he sent from the press,
except a few biographical sketches of eminent Scotch¬
men, designed as specimens of a Biographia Scotica,
which he justly considered as a desideratum in our li¬
terature j
DAL [ 57 ] DAM
e. terature *, and which, it is much to be regretted, the in¬
firmities of age, increasing fast upon him, did not allow
him to supply ; for he was admirably qualified for the
undertaking, not only by his singular diligence and
candour, but from the uncommon extent and accuracy
of his literary and biographical knowledge : in which,
it is believed, he excelled all his contemporaries.
Although his lordship’s constitution had been long
in an enfeebled state, he attended his duty on the bench
till within three days of his death, which happened on
the 2pth of November 1792., in the 66th year of his
age. His lordship was twice married. By his first
wife, Anne Brown, daughter of Lord Coalston; he left
issue one daughter, who inherits the family estate. His
second marriage, of which there is issue also one
daughter, was to Helen Fergusson, youngest daughter
of Lord Kilkerran, who survived him. Though our
church does not encourage funeral discourses in gene¬
ral, because they are liable €0 much abuse, a very
laudable endeavour was made, in these degenerate
times, to render his lordship’s pre-eminent talents and
virtues a theme of instruction to mankind, in a sermon
preached, soon after his death, in the church of In-
veresk, by his learned friend, and venerable pastor,
Dr Carlyle j from which we shall transcribe a sum¬
mary view of his character as a judge, a scholar, a
Christian, and a citizen. “ His knowledge of the
laws was accurate and profound, and he applied it in
judgment with the most scrupulous integrity. In his
proceedings in the criminal court, the satisfaction he
gave to the public could not be surpassed. His ab¬
horrence of crimes, his tenderness for the criminals,
his respect for the laws, and his reverential awe of the
Omniscient Judge, inspired him on some occasions,
with a commanding sublimity of thought, and a feeling
solemnity of expression, that made condemnation seem
just, as the doom of Providence, to the criminals
themselves, and raised a salutary horror of crimes in
the breasts of the audience. Conscious of the dignity
and importance of the high office he held, he never
departed from the decorum that becomes that reverend
character} which indeed it cost him no effort to sup¬
port, because he acted from principle and sentiment,
both public and private. Affectionate to his family and
relations, simple and mild in his manners, pure and
conscientious in his morals, enlightened and entertain¬
ing in his conversation 5 he left society only to regret,
that, devoted as he was to more important employ¬
ments, he had so little time to spare for intercourse
with them. He was well known to be of high rank
in the republic of letters, and his loss will be deeply
felt through many of her departments. His labours in
illustration of the history of his country, and many
other works of profound erudition, remain as monu¬
ments of his accurate and faithful research for mate¬
rials, and his sound judgment in the selection of them.
Of his unfeigned piety and devotion, you have very
often been witnesses where we now are. I must add,
however, that his attendance on religious ordinances,
was not merely out of respect to the laws, and for
the sake of example, (motives which should never fail
to have influence on persons of superior rank, for the
most obvious reasons) ; but from principle and con¬
viction, and the most conscientious regard to his duty :
for he not only practised all the virtues and charities
Vol. VII. Part I. t
in proof of his faith, but he demonstrated the sincerity Dakymple
of his zeal, by the uncommon pains he took to illustrate |)
primitive Christianity, and by his elaborate and able Dam.
defences of it against its enemies. His profound re- ’
searches into history, and his thorough knowledge of
the laws, made him perfectly acquainted with the pro¬
gress of the constitution of Britain, from the first
dawn of liberty in the common law of the land, and
the trial by jury, which precede all written records,
and afterwards in the origin and establishment of par¬
liaments, through all its vicissitudes and dangers, till
at last, by the blessing of divine Providence, which
brought many wonderful events to concur to the same
end, it was renewed, strengthened, and finally con¬
firmed by the Revolution. It was this goodly and ve¬
nerable fabric of the British constitution, which the
deceased most respectable character contemplated with
admiration and delight, (of late indeed with a mixture
of anxiety and fear) as the temple of piety, as the ge¬
nuine source of greater happiness and freedom, to a
larger portion of mankind, than ever flowed from any
government upon earth. Ill indeed can the times
bear the loss of such an affectionate patriot, and able
guardian of the laws of his country. But we must
not murmur at the will of Providence, which in its
mercy may have withdrawn the good man from the
evil to come. In mercy, I say, to him, whose righte¬
ous spirit was so deeply grieved, when he saw the
wicked rage, and the people imagine a vain thing.”
Such is the memorial which, in the hour of recent
sorrow, followed this excellent man to the grave ! Be¬
side the works already mentioned, Lord Hailes publish¬
ed a great number of others, which consisted chiefly of
re-editions and translations of old works, and editions
of MS. papers.
DALTON, a town of Lancashire, in England. It
is seated on the spring-head of a river, in a champaign
country, not far from the sea; and the ancient castle
is made use of to keep the records, and prisoners far
debt in the liberty of Fumes. Population 643 in 1811.
W. Long. 3. o. N. Lat. 54. 18.
Dalton, John, D. D. an eminent divine and poet,
was the son of the Rev. Mr John Dalton, rector of
Dean near Whitehaven in Cumberland, where he was
born in 1709. He was educated at Queen’s College,
Oxford ; and became tutor or governor to the Lord
Beauchamp, only son of the earl of Hertford, late
duke of Somerset j during which time he adapted
Milton’s admirable mask of Comus to the stage, by a
judicious insertion of several songs and different passa¬
ges selected from other of Milton’s works, as well as of
several songs and other elegant additions of his own,
suited to the characters and to the manner of the ori¬
ginal author. During the run of this piece he indus¬
triously sought out a grand-daughter of Milton’s, who
was then oppressed with age and poverty ; and procured
her a benefit from it, the profits of which amounted to
a very considerable sum. He was promoted by the
king to a prebend of Worcester; where he died on the
22(1 of July 1763. Besides the above, he wrote a de¬
scriptive poem, addressed to two ladies at their return
from viewing the coal-mines near Whitehaven j and
Remarks on 12 historical designs of Raphael, and the
Museum Grcecum et Egyptiacum.
DAM, a boundary or confinement, as to dam up or
H dam
DAM [ 53 ] DAM
Ram dam out. Infra damnum suum, within the bounds or
(] limits of his own property or jurisdiction.
Damascus. DAMAGE, in Law, is generally understood of a
* hurt or hinderance attending a person’s estate : but, in
common law, it is a part of what the jurors are to in¬
quire of in giving verdict for the plaintift or defendant
in a civil action, whether real or personal j for after
giving verdict on the principal cause, they are likewise
asked their consciences touching costs and damages,
which contain the hinderances that one party hath suf¬
fered from the wrong done him by the other. See
Costs.
DAMAN, a maritime town of the East Indies, at
the entrance into the gulf of Cambay. It is divided
by the river Daman into two parts 5 one of which is
called Ueiv Daman, and is a handsome town, well for¬
tified, and defended by a good Portuguese garrison.
The other is called Old Daman, and is very ill built.
There is a harbour between the two towns, defended
by a fort. It was taken by the Portuguese in 1535.
Ship-building is carried on here to a considerable ex¬
tent, the teak forests being at no great distance. E.
Dong. 73. N. Eat. 20. 22.
DAMASCENUS, John, an illustrious father of the
church in the 8th century, born at Damascus, where
his father, though a Christian, enjoyed the office of
counsellor of state to the Saracen caliph ; to which the
son succeeded. He retired afterwards to the monas¬
tery of St Sabas, and spent the remainder of his life in
writing books of divinity. His works have been often
printed: but the Paris edition in 1712, two vols folio,
is esteemed the best.
DAMASCIUS, a celebrated heathen philosopher,
born at Damascus in the year 540, when the Goths
reigned in Italy. He wrote the life of his master Isi-
dorus j and dedicated it to Theodora, a very learned
and philosophical lady, who had also been a pupil to
Isidorus. In this life, which was copiously written, he
frequently made oblique attacks on the Christian reli¬
gion. We have nothing remaining of it but some ex¬
tracts preserved by Photius. ijamascius succeeded
Theon in the rhetorical school, and Isidorus in that of
philosophy, at Athens.
DAMASCUS, a very ancient city of Syria, in A-
sia, seated in E. Long. 36* 4°* 33* 20, S°me
of the ancients suppose this city to have been built by
one Damascus, from whom it took its name 5 but the
most generally received opinion is, that it was found¬
ed by Uz the eldest son of Aram. It is certain, from
Gen. xiv. 5. that it was in being in Abraham’s time,
and consequently may be looked upon as one of the
most ancient cities in the world. In the time of King
David it seems to have been a very considerable place j
as the sacred historian tells us, that the Syrians of Da¬
mascus sent 20,000 men to the relief of Hadadezer
king of Zjobah. We are not informed whether at that
time it was governed by kings, or was a republic.
Afterwards, however, it became a monarchy which
proved very troublesome to the kingdom of Isiael, and
would even have destroyed it entirely, had not the Dei¬
ty miraculously interposed in its behalf. At last this
monarchy was destroyed by liglath Pileser king of
Assyria, and Damascus was never afterwards governed
by its own kings. From the Assyrians and Babylonians
it passed to the Persians, and from them to the Greeks
a
under Alexander the Great. After his death it belong- Ramascns
ed, with the rest of Syria, to the Seleucidae ; till their }|
empire was subdued by the Romans, about 70 years be- < Damask.
fore Christ. From them it was taken by the Saracens * J
in 633 and it is now in the hands of the Jerks.-—
Notwithstanding the tyranny of the Turks, Damascus
is still a considerable place, and is supposed to con¬
tain 200,000 inhabitants. It is situated in a plain of
so great extent, that one can but just discern the
bounding mountains. It stands on the west side of the
plain, about two miles from the head of the river Bar-
rady, which waters it. It is of a long, straight figure,
extending about two miles in length, adorned with
mosques and steeples, and encompassed with gardens
computed to be full 30 miles round. The river Barra-
dy, as soon as it issues from the clefts of the Antiliba-
nus into the plain, is divided into three streams, where¬
of the middlemost and biggest runs directly to Damas¬
cus, and is distributed to all the cisterns and fountains
of the city. The other two seem to be artificial; and
are drawn round, one to the right and the other to the
left, on the borders of the gardens, into which they are
let by little currents, and dispersed everywhere. The
houses of the city, whose streets are very narrow, are
all built on the outside either with sun-burnt brick or
Flemish wall : and yet it is no uncommon thing to see
the gates and doors adorned with marble portals, car¬
ved "and inlaid with great beauty and variety*, and
within these portals to find large square courts beauti¬
fied with fragrant trees and marble fountains, and com¬
passed round with splendid apartments. In these apart¬
ments the ceilings are usually richly painted and gild¬
ed } and their duans, which are a sort of low stages
seated in the pleasantest part of the room, and elevated
about 16 or 18 inches above the floor, whereon the
Turks eat, sleep, say their prayers, &c. are floored, and
adorned on the sides with variety of marble mixed in
mosaic knots and mazes, spread with carpets, and fur¬
nished all round with bolsters and cushions, to the very
height of luxury. In this city are shown the church of
John the Baptist, now converted into a famous mosque j
the house of Ananias, which is only a small grotto or
cellar, wherein is nothing remarkable j and the house
of Judas with whom Paul lodged. In this last is an
old tomb, supposed to be that of Ananias; which the
Turks hold in such veneration, that they keep a lamp
continually burning over it. There is a castle belong¬
ing to Damascus, which is like a little town, having
its own streets and houses ; and in this castle a maga¬
zine of the famous Damascus steel was formerly kept.
The fruit-tree called the damascene, and the flower
called the damask rose, were transplanted from the gar¬
dens belonging to this city j and the silks and linens
known by the name of damasks, were probably invent¬
ed by the inhabitants.
Damascus Steel. See Damask.
DAMASIA, in Ancient Geography, a town of Vin-
delicia, on the Licus. Afterwards called Augusta.
Now Augsburg in Suabia, on the Eech. E. Eong^,
10. 50. N. Eat. 48. 20.
DAMASK, a sort of silken stuff, having some parts
rising above the ground, representing flowers or other
figures. Damask should be of dressed silks, both in
warp and woof. It has its name from its being origi¬
nally brought from Damascus in Syria,,
There
DAM [ 59 1 DAM
Damask There is also a stuff in France called the cajfart-dci-
|| tnask, made in imitation of the true damask, having
Damiens. WOof of hair, coarse silk, thread, wool, or cotton. Some
»" ' " have the warp of silk and the woof of thread ; others
are all thread or all wool.
Damask is also a kind of wrought linen, made in
Flanders j so called, because its large flowers resemble
those of damasks. It is chiefly used for tables $ a ta¬
ble-cloth and a dozen of napkins are called a damask-
service.
Damask is also applied to a very fine steel, in some
parts of the Levant, chiefly at Damascus in Syria:
whence its name. It is used for sword and cutlass
blades, and is finely tempered.
DAMASKEENING, or Damasking, the art or
operation of beautifying iron, steel, &c. by making
incisions therein, and filling them up with gold or silver
wire j chiefly used for adorning sword-blades, guards
and grips, locks of pistols, &c.
Damaskeening partakes of the mosaic, of engraving,
and of carving : like the mosaic, it has inlaid work ;
like engraving, it cuts the metal, representing divers
figures j and, as in chasing, gold and silver are wrought
in relievo. There are two ways of damasking: the
one, which is the finest, is when the metal is cut deep
with proper instruments, and inlaid with gold and sil¬
ver wire: the other is superficial only.
DAMELOPRE, a kind of bilander, used in Hol¬
land for conveying merchandise from one canal to ano¬
ther ; being very commodious for passing under the
bridges.
DAMIANISTS, in church-history, a branch of the
ancient acephali-severitge. They agreed with the ca¬
tholics in admitting the sixth council, but disowned
any distinction of persons in the Godhead; and pro¬
fessed one single nature, incapable of any difference :
yet they called God “ the Father, Son, and Holy
Ghost.”
DAMIENS, Robert Fran^ais, an assassin by
whom Louis XV. of France was wounded in the year
1757. He was born in the suburbs of Arras, in the
year 1714 j and seems rather to have been actuated by
frenzy or insanity in the perpetration of the horrid
deeds of which he was guilty, than by any of the mo¬
tives to which they have been ascribed. This spirit
appeared in the early period of his life; and such were
the extravagance and violence of his conduct, that he
was distinguished, while a boy, by the appellation of
Robert the Devil.
When he grew up he entered into the army, served
as a soldier at the siege of Philipsburgh, and was pre¬
sent at several engagements. He returned afterwards
to France, and became a domestic servant in the col¬
lege of Jesuits at Paris. He married in 1738, which
rendered it necessary for him to resign this service.
He was then employed in the same capacity by differ¬
ent masters, one of whom* it is said, he poisoned ;
and having robbed another, he was obliged to abscond
to escape the punishment due to his crimes. During
a period of five months after the dicovery of the rob¬
bery, he lurked in the neighbourhood of St Omer,
Dunkirk, and Brussels $ and was observed to express
himself in an absurd and incoherent manner concern¬
ing some disputes which at this time prevailed in France.
The following soliloquy is said to have been uttered
by him in a small town near Ypres : “ If I return to Damiens.
France—Yes, I will return, I will die there, and the * ■■-y—
greatest man on earth shall die likewise, and you shall
hear news of me.” These expressions were uttered in
the month of August 1756; and it is probable that
they were regarded at the time only as the ravings of
a madman. He spoke indeed in a similar strain in the
December following, at the house of a relation, at
Falesque near Arras, saying, “ That the kingdom,
his wife, and daughter, were all ruined !” It was
about this time that he set out for Paris, and arrived
there on the 31st of December. He was seen at Ver¬
sailles, on the first day of January 1757. To blunt his
feelings, and to prepare himself for the perpetration of
the horrid act, it is said that he swallowed opium for
several days. But the state of mind in which Damiens
is described to have been for some time before, seemed
to render such auxiliaries unnecessary.
It was on the 5th of January, between five and six
in the evening, that Louis XV. was wounded by the
hand of this frantic assassin. He struck with a knife
the right side of the king, while he was surrounded
with his courtiers, and just as he was entering his car¬
riage to go to Trianon. Damiens was instantly seized,
examined at Versailles, and afterwards sent to Paris
and confined in the tower of Montgommeri, in an a-
partment prepared for him, near to that which was for¬
merly occupied by Ravaillac the murderer of Hen¬
ry IV. The great court of parliament was charged
by tbe king to institute his process; and although he
was subjected to the most cruel tortures, which he bore
with unexampled fortitude, no confession or acknow¬
ledgment could be extorted which afforded the smallest
ground for suspicion that he had a single accomplice.
When it was found that the torture failed of the pur¬
pose for which it was inflicted, he was condemned to
die by the same punishment which Ravaillac suffered.
The 28th of March following was fixed as the day
of his execution. On that day he was brought to the
Place de Greve, where the apparatus and instruments
of his destruction were prepared. All these he beheld
with an undismayed countenance and a tearless eye,
although he must have known well that new and more
dreadful tortures yet awaited him. His punishment
commenced with burning his right hand; his flesh was
then torn with red-hot pincers j and the wounds were
filled with melted wax, pitch, and lead. In attempt¬
ing to quarter his body, the four horses which were
employed pulled in vain for 50 minutes. All their
efforts seemed to be ineffectual, till the executioners
cut with knives the ligaments with which the limbs
are attached to the body. Even after the legs were
cut he was still alive, and it was only after the arms
were treated in the same way that he ceased to breathe,
and hisjbody was dismembered. The period of his pu¬
nishment, from the time he was put upon the scaffold
till his death, was not less than an hour and a half;
during the greater part of it he seemed to retain his
recollection; for he raised his head many times, and
cast his eyes on his mangled and burned limbs, and on
the horses which were then exerting their whole force
to tear his body asunder. And even during the se¬
verest of his tortures, the firmness of his mind was so
little shaken, that he affected some degree of jocula-
Thus
DAM
[
Damiens, Thus perished this unfortunate assassin, the history
Damietta, 0f whose life, considered in itself, is scarcely worthy
of a place even for the shortest sketch ; and indeed we
should probably not have introduced it here, were it
not for the purpose of rectifying the mistaken views of
some of his biographers. While we are told that he
was an insane assassin, he is charged with the same de¬
gree of guilt, as if he had been all his life in full pos¬
session of every rational faculty. But the events of his
life leave no doubt of his insanity ; and the last horrid
deed which he perpetrated strongly confirms it. He
was not actuated by either public or private revenge }
he had no accomplices j and it does not appear that he
had any purpose whatever to serve by taking away the
life of the monarch, even if he had succeeded and es¬
caped. In the midst of his most cruel tortures, he ob¬
stinately persisted that it was not his intention to kill
the king. According to his own fanatical language,
he wished that God would touch his heart to induce
him to give peace to his kingdom. Our readers will
probably anticipate us in remarking the needless excess
of lingering punishment which was inflicted on the in¬
sane Damiens ; and some of them will perhaps be sur¬
prised to be told that the execution was attended by
some of the ladies of the court. Many of them too will
naturally compare this event with what has happened
more lately in our own country ; and recollect, that a
Nicholson and a Hadfield, influenced by a similar frenzy
which urged them to a similar attempt, have been on¬
ly doomed to perpetual confinement, not as a punish¬
ment, but merely to preclude the possibility of perpe¬
trating such deeds ; because in such a state of mind
they are not recognized by our milder and more equi¬
table laws as rational beings; and therefore they are
improper objects of punishment.
DAMIETTA, a port-town of Egypt, situated on
the eastern mouth of the river Nile, four miles from the
sea, and loo miles north of Grand Cairo. E. Long.
31. 49. and N. Eat. 31. 25. The present town stands
upon a different site from the ancient Damietta, so re¬
peatedly attacked by the European princes. The latter,
according to Abulfeda, was “ a town surrounded by
walls, and situated at the mouth of the eastern branch
of the Nile.” Stephen of Byzantium informs us, that
it was called Thamiatis under the government of the
Greeks of the lower empire, but that it was then very
inconsiderable. It increased in importance every day,
in proportion as Pelusium, which was frequently plun¬
dered, lost its power. The total ruin of that ancient
town occasioned the commerce of the eastern parts of
the Delta to be transferred to Damietta. It was, how¬
ever, no longer a place of strength, when, towards the
year 238 of the Hegira, the emperors of Constantino¬
ple took possession of it a second time. The import¬
ance of a harbour so favourably situated opened tire
eyes of the caliphs. In the year 244 of the Hegira,
Elmetouakkel surrounded it with strong walls. This
obstacle did not prevent Roger king' of Sicily from ta¬
king it from the Mahometans in the year 550 of the
Hegira. He did not, however, long enjoy his con¬
quest. Salah Eddin, who about that period mounted
the throne of Egypt, expelled the Europeans from Da-
rpietta. Fifteen years after they returned to besiege
it; but this able sultan baffled all their effoi'ts. Not¬
withstanding their land army was supported by a fleet,
60 ] DAM
of 1200 sail, they were obliged to make a disgraceful Damietta.
X'e treat.
It was the fate of this place to be constantly be¬
sieged. In the year 615 of the Hegira, under the
reign of Eladel, the crusaders attacked it with a very
considerable force. They landed on the western shore
of the Nile j and their first care was to surround their
camp with a ditch and pallisado. The mouth of the
river was defended by two towers, furnished with nu¬
merous garrisons. An enormous iron chain, stretch¬
ing from one side to the other, hindered the approach
of vessels. The crusaders carried by storm the tower
on the same side with their camp, broke the chain,
and opened the entrance of the river for their fleet.
Nejm Eddin, the sultan’s son, who was encamped near
Damietta, covered it with an army. To stop the ene¬
mies vessels he threw a bridge over the Nile. The
Franks overturned it, and the prince adopted the mea¬
sure of choking up the mouth of the river, which he al¬
most rendered impassable by several large boats he sunk
there. After alternate and various successes, many
bloody battles, and a siege of 17 months, the Christian
princes took Damietta by storm. They did not, how¬
ever, long enjoy the fruit of so much blood spilt, and of
an armament which had cost immense sums. Complete¬
ly invested near the canal of Achmoun, by the waters of
the Nile and by the Egyptian army, they purchased their
lives and their liberty by the sacrifice of their conquest.
One-and-thirty years after this defeat St Louis car¬
ried Damietta without striking a stroke. The Arabs,
however, soon recovered it j but tired of keeping a
place which continually drew upon them the most
warlike nations of Europe, they totally destroyed it,
and rebuilt it further up in the country. This modern
Damietta, first called Menchie, as Abulfeda tells us,
has preserved the memory of its origin in a square still
called by that name. Writers in general have con-v
founded these two towns, ascribing to the one the at¬
tributes of the other. The modern Damietta is round¬
ed in a semicircle on the eastern bank of the Nile, two
leagues and a half from the mouth of it. The eye,
placed at one of the extremities of the crescent, takes
in its whole extent. Savary reckoned it to contain
80,000 souls, others reduce it to 40,000. It has se¬
veral squares, the most considerable of which has re¬
tained the name of Menchit. Spacious okals or khans,
collecting under their porticoes the stuffs of India, the
silks of Mount Lebanon, sal ammoniac, and pyramids
of rice, proclaim that it is a commercial town. The
houses, those in particular which are on the banks of
the river, are very lofty. They have in general hand¬
some saloons built on the top of their terraces, which
are cheerful belvideres, open to every wind, where the
Turk, effeminately reclining on a sofa, passes his life
in smoking, in looking on the sea, which bounds th&
horizon on one side, on the great lake that extends it¬
self on the other, and on the Nile, which, running
between them, traverses a rich country. Several large
mosques, adorned with lofty minarets, are dispersed
over the town. The public baths, lined with marble,
are distributed in the same manner as those of Grand
Cairo. The linen you are served with is clean, and
the water very pure. The heat and the treatment in
them, so far from injuring the health, serve to strength¬
en, nay even to improve it, if used with moderationr
' This
DAM [ 61 ] DAM
Damietta.
This custom, founded on experience, is general in
Egypt- .
The port of Damietta is continually filled with a
multitude of boats and small vessels. Those called
scherm serve to convey the merchandise on board the
ships in the road, and to unload them ; the others car¬
ry on the coasting-trade. This town carries on a great
trade with Syria, with Cyprus, and Marseilles. The
rice called nie%elaoni, of the finest quality there is in
Egypt, is cultivated in the neighbouring plains. The
exports of it amount annually to about six millions of
livres. The other articles of the produce of the coun¬
try are linens, sal ammoniac, corn, &c. A ruinous
policy for the country prohibits the exportation of this
last article ; but the law is evaded, and it passes under
the name of rice.
The Christians of Aleppo and Damascus, settled in
this town, have for several ages carried on its principal
commerce. Turkish indolence, content with extort¬
ing from them from time to time, suffers them to be¬
come rich. The exportation of rice to foreign coun¬
tries is prohibited ; but by means of some douceurs to
the customhouse-officers, the people of Provence load
annually several ships with it. The Bogax preventing
them from entering the Nile, their cargoes are con¬
veyed on board by the boats of the country. This in¬
convenience is the source of endless vexation and abu¬
ses. The boat, which is loaded in the evening with
rice of the first quality, is frequently not that which
arrives at the ship; an inferior quality is substituted for
it during the night. The Marseilles captains, aware
of these rogueries, without being able to prevent them,
endeavour to play off trick against trick, so that this
commerce has become a general scene of knavery. But
the badness of the port is still more detrimental to Da-
inietta. The road where the vessels lie being exposed
to every wind, the slightest gale obliges the captains
to cut their cables and take shelter at Cyprus, or to
stand off’ to sea. It would be easy, by cutting a canal
only of half a league, to open a passage for ships into
the Nile, where there is deep water. This work,
which might be executed at very little expence, would
render Damietta a noble harbour 5 but despotism, in¬
sensible to the interest of the people, is always sur¬
rounded by destruction in its progress, and wants both
the will and the power to create.
The tongue of land on which Damietta is situated,
straitened on one side by the river, and on the other
by the western extremity of Lake Mennale, is only from
two to six miles wide from east to west. It is intersect¬
ed by innumerable rivulets in every direction, which
render it the most fertile spot in Egypt. The soil
there produces, communibus annis, 80 bushels of rice
for one. The other produce is in the same proportion.
It is there that nature, lavishing profusely her pomp
and riches, presents flowers, fruits, and harvests, at
every season of the year. Winter never deprives it of
these advantages ; its beauties are never impaired by
summer. Destructive heats, as well as chilling colds,
are equally unknown in that happy spot. The ther¬
mometer varies only from 9 to 24 degrees above the
freezing point. Damietta is indebted for this charm¬
ing temperature to the immense quantity of water
with which it is surrounded. The verdure is no¬
where so fresh j the trees are nowhere covered with
such quantities of fruit. The rivulets around the DamicUa
fields of rice are lined with several kinds of reeds, ||
some of which rise to a great height. The reed cala- Damon.
mus is here found in abundance, which is made use of
for writing by the orientals. Its slender stalks bear
long narrow leaves, which hang gracefully, and spread¬
ing branches covered with white flowers. Here also
are to be seen forests of papyrus, of which the ancient
Egyptians made their paper. Strabo, who calls it
biblius, gives an accurate description of it. It is here
also that the lotus, of which the Arabs have preserved
the primitive name oinuphar, exalts its lofty stalk above
the waters. Its large calyx blows either of an azure
blue or of a brilliant white, and it appears with the ma¬
jesty of the king of the aquatic plants. The marshes
and the canals in the interior parts of the country are
filled with this superb flower, which diffuses a most
agreeable odour.
There are a great many villages around Damietta,
in most of which are manufactures where the most
beautiful linens of the country are fabricated. The
finest napkins in particular are made there, fringed
with silk. You are served at table with them, but
especially on ceremonial visits, when the slave presents
you with one to wipe your mouth with, after you have
drank your sherbet, or eaten the sweetmeats, which are
carried round on a silver plate to all the company.
These small towns, generally surrounded with little
woods, or trees promiscuously planted, form a whim¬
sical and picturesque assemblage. By the side of the
sycamore and the melancholy tamarind, one sees the
elegant cassia-tree, with its clusters of yellow flowers,
like, those of the cytisus. The top of the date-tree,
loaded with enormous bunches, rises above the grove.
The cassia, with its sweet-scented flower, grows under
its shade. The orange and lemon trees cover the la¬
bourer’s cabin with their golden fruit. The banana
tree with its long leaves, the pomegranate with its
scarlet flower, and the fig-tree with its sugary fruit,
throw a vast variety into these landscapes.
DAMNII, anciently a people of Britain j situated
between the Selgovse to the south and the Caledonii to
the north. Now Clydesdale.
DAMNONII. See Danmonii.
DAMOCLES, one of the flatterers of Dionysius the
Elder of Sicily. He admired the tyrant’s wealth, and
pronounced him the happiest man on earth. Dionysius
prevailed upon him to undertake for a while the charge
of royalty, and be convinced of the happiness which a
sovereign enjoyed. Damocles ascended the throne,
and while he gazed upon the wealth and splendour that
surrounded him, he perceived a sword hanging over his
head by a horse hair. This so terrified him that all his
imaginary felicity vanished at once, and he begged
Dionysius to remove him from a situation which expo¬
sed his life to such fears and dangers.
DAMON, the name of several illustrious ancients j
particularly of a Pythagorean philosopher very inti¬
mate with Pythias. When he had been condemned to
death by Dionysius, he obtained from the tyrant leave
to go and settle his domestic affairs, on promise of re¬
turning at a stated hour to the place of execution.
Pythias pledged himself to undergo the punishment
which was to be inflicted on Damon, should he not re¬
turn in time, and he consequently delivered himself in-
3 t0
DAM [ 62 ] DAM
Damon, to the hands of the tyrant. Damon returned at the ap-
Dumpkr. pointed moment, and Dionysius was so struck with the
fidelity of those two friends, that he remitted the pu¬
nishment, and entreated them to permit him to share
their friendship and enjoy their confidence.
DAMPIETl, William, an English navigator, was
born at East Coker in Somersetshire, about the year
1652. His parents died while he was young, and ha¬
ving thus become an orphan, he was removed from the
Latin school, and placed with the master of a ship at
Weymouth. In this ship he made a voyage to iS'ew-
foundland ; but, on his return, he left his master, with
the resolution, as he himself observes, of never again
exposing himself to the pinching cold of that northern
climate. As the acquisition of experience in the art
of navigation was ever his great object, he engaged
himself as a common sailor in a voyage to the East
Indies. Pie served in the Dutch war under Sir Ed¬
ward Sprague, and was present at two engagements.
The declining state of his health would not permit him
to remain on board the fleet; he therefore came on
shore, and removed to the country, where he remained
some time. The year following he accepted an ofl’er
of employment in Jamaica as an under manager of an
estate : but he only continued a short time in that situ¬
ation •, after which he. engaged in a coasting trader,
and thus acquired an accurate knowledge of all the
ports and bays of that island. Soon after he entered
on board a vessel bound to the bay of Campeachy, and
returning a second time to the same coast, he remained
with the log-wood-cutters, and engaged himself as a
common workman. During his stay in this country
he collected the materials for the minute and interest¬
ing account which he has given of the laborious life
of these people, as well as of the geographical de¬
scription and the natural history of the tract which
they occupy.
Satisfied with the knowledge which he had obtained
of the nature of the trade and country, he returned to
Jamaica, and from thence to England, where he ar¬
rived in 1678. About the beginning of the year fol¬
lowing he went out to Jamaica as a passenger, with the
intention of revisiting the bay of Campeachy j but he
was persuaded to associate himself with a body of
privateers, as they were called, who were then lying
in several vessels in a bay of that island. These peo¬
ple who were called privateers, were pirates, who,
having no commission whatever from any government,
undertook a predatory warfare on the commerce and
settlements of the Spaniards. This body of plunderers
was composed of English, Dutch, and French. In this
expedition Dampier crossed the isthmus of Darien
with his associates, and spent the year 1680 on the Pe¬
ruvian coast, and was occasionally successful in plun¬
dering the towns. The following year, in consequence
of a dissension which arose among them, Dampier, and
the minority with whom he had joined, recrossed the
isthmus, and entered with another fleet of privateers,
which was then stationed on the Spanish main j and,
having spent another year among the West India
islands, he, with some others, proceeded to Virginia
in a single ship to dispose of their prize goods. Here
he remained for a year j and afterwards engaged with
a Captain Cook, who, with about 70 men, undertook
an expedition against the Spaniards in the South seas.
They sailed in 1683 in the month of August, touched at Dampier,
the coast of Guinea, and then proceeded round Cape < v mi
Horn into the Pacific ocean. Having fallen in with
a ship from London, which had sailed on 'a similar ex¬
pedition, they joined company*, and, having touched
at the island of Juan Fernandez, they made the coast
of South America, cruizing along Chili and Peru.
They took some prizes, and with them they proceeded
to the Mexican coast, which they fell in with near
Cape Blanco. While they lay here Captain Cook
died, and the command devolved on Captain Davis.
Having separated from the London ship, they were
joined by another commanded by Captain Swan. An
attempt to plunder the town of Guaiaquil was unsuc¬
cessful, but at the mouth of the river they took some
vessels which had about 1000 slaves on board. With
these negroes Dampier proposed to work the gold
mines in the neighbourhood of Santa Maria on the
isthmus of Darien, from which the Spaniards had been
driven away by some privateers. But this plan was
not attempted. The next object of plunder was the
Spanish fleet having on board the treasure of the Peru¬
vian mines; hut the English being ill supported by
some French ships which had joined them, the fleet, af¬
ter a running fight, got safe into Panama.
The English ships afterwards cruizing along the
coast of Mexico, landed, took the town of Puebla
Nova, and burnt two others. Dampier leaving Davis,
went on board of Swan’s ship, and proceeded with him
along the northern parts of Mexico, as far as the
southern part of California. During this expedition
they frequently landed for the purpose of plunder, but
particularly when they were in want of provisions.
Returning from the plunder of one place, 50 of the
party were killed by the Spaniards. This disaster so
discouraged them that they relinquished all farther at¬
tempts on these coasts. Swan then proposed to run
across the Pacific ocean, and return by the East
Indies -, and in hopes of a successful cruise off the
Manillas the crew were persuaded, with a very slender
provision, to risk this long passage. On the last day of
March 1686, they took their departure from Cape
Corrientes, and on the 5 2d day reached Guam, one of
the Ladrone islands. About this time the crew talked
of killing and eating Swan and the officers, in case
their stock of provision should be exhausted before it
could be supplied. From Guam they proceeded to
Mindanao. While the ship lay here a mutiny arose
among the crew, and the majority carried her off, Swan
and some of his people being left on the island. Among
the former was Dampier,' although it is said that he
had no concern in the mutiny. After cruizing some
time off Manilla, and having careened their vessel at
Polo Condore, in 1687 they were driven to the Chinese
coast, made the circuit of Luzonia and Mindanao,
passed through the group of Spice islands, and reached
the coast of New Holland in the beginning of 1688.
They left this in March, and having passed along the
west coast of Sumatra, they arrived at the Nicobar
islands, where Dampier, at his own request, and two
other Englishmen, a Portuguese, and some Malays,
were set on shore. Dampier’s object was to establish
a trade in ambergris. ^Attempting to navigate a canoe
to Acheen in Sumatra, they were overtaken by a se¬
vere storm, in which they experienced great hardships.
DAM [ 63 ] DAM
Dampier. They at last reached Sumatra $ but the fatigues and
—V 1 '■* distress of the voyage proved fatal to several of them,
who were carried off by a fever. Dampier himself
was scarcely recovered at the end of a twelvemonth.
After making several voyages to different places of
the East Indies, he acted for some time as gunner at
the English fort of Bencoolen. In 1691, wishing to
revisit his native country, he embarked on board a
ship for England, where he arrived in September. At
this time he brought with him a native of Meangis,
one of the Spice islands, who was supposed to be the son
of a chief, and after being exhibited as a sight, died of
the smallpox at Oxford.
It is not known in what manner Dampier was em¬
ployed for some years after this period. It appears,
however, that he was at last engaged in the king’s
service. He had the command of the Roebuck, a
sloop of 12 guns and 50 men. This vessel, it is sup¬
posed, was fitted out for some voyage of discovery, for
she had 20 months provisions on board. He sailed
from Britain in 1699, touched at the coast of Brasil,
and then ran across to the coast of New Holland, and
arrived there on the 1st of August, about latitude 26°.
He proceeded northwards along the coast, exploring
the country in different places where he landed. To
procure refreshments he found it necessary to direct his
course towards Timor 5 and from this he sailed to the
coast of New Guinea, where he arrived on the 3d of
December. By sailing along to its easternmost ex¬
tremity, he discovered that it was terminated by an
island, which he circumnavigated, and named New
Britain.
Here it would appear from his own journal that he
encountered considerable difficulties from the small
number of his men, and their eager desire to hasten
home. On account of these difficulties he was pre¬
vented from prosecuting his discoveries. In May he
returned to Timor, and from thence proceeded home¬
ward by Batavia and the Cape of Good Hope. In
February i^oi he arrived off the island of Ascension,
when the vessel sprung a leak and foundered; and it
Was with much difficulty that the crew reached the
island. They remained at Ascension till they were
taken away by an East India ship, and conveyed to
England. This closes the account of Dampier’s life
and adventures, as it is detailed by himself. It ap¬
pears, however, from the preface to the third volume,
that he was preparing in 1703 for another voyage. It
is mentioned also in Woodes Rogers’ Voyage, round
the World, that Dampier had the command of a ship
in the South seas about the year 1705, along with Cap¬
tain Stradling, whose vessel foundered at sea. Dam¬
pier accompanied Woodes Rogers in his voyage round
the world, in the years 1708, 1709, 1710, and 1711 j
but only in the capacity of pilot, which is supposed to
be owing to something faulty in his conduct. During
this expedition Guaiaquil was taken, and Dampier had
the command of the artillery. Nothing farther is
known of the life of Dampier ; and we are equally ig¬
norant of the place and time of his death.
The works of Dampier are well known, and have
been often reprinted. They consist of, 1. A Voyage
round the world, 3 vols octavo. 2. A Supplement
to it, describing the countries of Tonquin, Malacca,
&c. 3. Two Voyages to Campeachy. 4. A Dis-
course of Trade-winds, Seasons, Tides, &c. in the Tor- Dampier,
rid Zone. 5. A Voyage to New Holland. His obser- Damp«.
vations are curious and important, and conveyed in a v——v"——
plain manly stile. His nautical remarks discover a great
deal of professional knowledge. His knowledge in na¬
tural history is not scientific ; but it appears to be ac¬
curate, and has been frequently quoted.
DAMPS, in Natural History, (from the Saxon word
clamp, signifying vapour or exhalation), are certain
noxious exhalations issuing from some parts of the earth,
and which prove almost instantly fatal to those who
breathe them.
Ihese damps are chiefly observed in mines and coal¬
pits 5 though vapours of the same kind often issue from
old lavas of burning mountains, and, in those countries
where volcanoes are common, it is said that they fill the
houses, and destroy people suddenly without the least
warning of their approach. In mines and coal-pits they
are chiefly of two kinds, called by the miners and col¬
liers the choke and fire damps ; and both go under one
general name Hfioul air. The choke-damps, known in
modern chemistry by the name of fixed air, or carbonic
acid gas, usually infests those places which have been
formerly worked, but long neglected, and are called
by the miners wastes.. No place, however, can be
reckoned safe from this kind of damps, except where
there is a due circulation of air; and the procuring of
this is the only proper means of preventing accidents
from damps of all kinds. The choke-damp suffocates
the miners suddenly, with all the appearances found in
those that are suffocated by fixed air. Being heavy,
it descends towards the lowest parts of the workings,
and thus is dangerous to the miners, who can scarce
avoid breathing it. The fire-damp, which is inflamma¬
ble air, hydrogen gas, rises to the roof of the work¬
ings, as being specifically lighter than the common
atmosphere ; and hence, though it will suffocate as
well as the other, it seldom proves so dangerous in
this way as by its inflammable property, by which it
often takes fire at the candles, and explodes with ex¬
treme violence.
In the Phil. Trans. N° 119. there is an account of
some explosions by damps of this kind, on which we
have the following observations. 1. Those w-ho are in
the place where the vapour is fired suddenly find
themselves surrounded with flames, but hear little or
no noise; though those who are in places adjacent, or
above ground, hear a very great one. 2. Those who
are surrounded by the inflamed vapour feel themselves
scorched or burnt, but are not moved out of their
places, though such as unhappily stand in the way of
it are commonly killed by the violence of the shock,
and often thrown with great force out at the mouth of
the pit ; nor are the heaviest machines found able to re-
sisttheimpetuosity of the blast. 3. No smell is perceived
before the fire, but a very strong one of brimstone is after¬
wards perceptible. 4. The vapour lies towards the roof,
and is not perceived if the candles are held low; but
when these are held higher, the damp descends like a
black mist, and catches hold of the flame, lengthening
it to two or three handfuls ; and this appearance ceases
when the candles are held nearer the ground. 3. The
flame continues in the vault for several minutes after
the crack. 6. Its colour is blue, something inclining
to green, and very bright. 7. On the explosion of the
vapour,
DAM
Damp!;, vapour, a dark smoke like that proceeding from fired
—'y-—■■ i gunpowder is perceived. 8* Damps are generallj ob¬
served to come about the latter end of May, and to
continue during the heat of summer. They return se¬
veral times during the summer season, hut observe no
certain rule.
Besides these kinds of damps, which are very com¬
mon, we find others described in the Philosophical
Transactions, concerning the nature of which we can
say nothing. Indeed the account seems somewhat sus¬
picious. they are given by Mr Jessop^from whom
we have the foregoing observations concerning the fire¬
damp, and who had these from the miners in Derby¬
shire. After describing the common damp, which
consists of fixed air, “ They call the second sort (says
he) the pease-bloom damp, because, as they say, it smells
like pease-bloom. They tell me it always comes in the
summer time-, and those grooves are not free which
are never troubled with any other sort of damps. I
never heard that it was mortal; the scent, perhaps,
freeing them from the danger of a surprise: but by
reason of it many good grooves lie idle at the best and
most profitable time of the year, when the subterrane¬
ous waters are the lowest. They fancy it proceeds from
the multitude of red-trefoil flowers, by them called ho-
tieysuckles, with which the limestone meadows m the
Peake do much abound. The third is the strangest and
most pestilential of any ; if all be true which is said con¬
cerning it. Those who pretend to have seen it (for it
is visible) describe it thus: In the highest part of the
roof of those passages which branch out from the main
groove, they often see a round thing hanging, about
the bigness of a foot-ball, covered with a skin of the
thickness and colour of a cobweb. This, they say, if it
is broke by any accident, as the splinter of a stone, or
the like, dispeVseth itself immediately, and suffocates
all thg company. Therefore, to prevent casualties, as
soon as they have espied it, they have a way, by the
help of a stick and long rope, of breaking it at a di¬
stance ; which done, they purify the place well with
fire, before they dare enter it again. I dare not a-
vouch the truth of this story in all its circumstances,
because the proof of it seems impossible, since they say
it kills all that are likely to bear witness to the parti¬
culars: neither do I deny but snch a thing may
have been seen hanging on the root, since I have heard
manv affirm it.”—Some damps, seemingly of the same
nature with those last mentioned, are noticed by the
author of the Chemical Dictionary, under the w-ord
Damps, “ Amongst the noxious mineral exhalations
(says he), we may place those which are found in the
mines of sal gem in Poland. These frequently appear
in form of light flocks, threads, and spiders webs. Ihey
are remarkable for their property of suddenly catching
fire at the lamps of the miners with a terrible noise
and explosion. They instantly kill those whom thev
touch. Similar vapours are found, in some mines ot
fossil coal.” . „ , .
With regard to the formation of damps we have as
vet no certain theory *, nor, though the experiments
of aerologists are abundantly able to show the. compo¬
sition and manner of forming these noxious airs arti¬
ficially, have they yet thrown much light on the me¬
thod by which natnre prepares them on a large scale.
There are two general ways in which we may suppose
DAM
this to be done : one by the stagnation of atmospheri- Damp*. D
cal air in old waste places of mines in coal-pits, and v——v-—^
its conversion into these mephitic exhalations j the
other by their original formation from the phlogistic
or other materials found in the earth, without any in¬
terference of the atmosphere. In favour of the for¬
mer opinion it may be urged, that old wastes are ne¬
ver free from damps, especially those of the kind re¬
sembling fixed air; nor are they always deficient in
the inflammable kind. The same is also true of old
wells, or even cellars, and in short every place
where the air stagnates for any considerable time. But,
on the other hand, we have many instances of fixed
air coming out ot the earth, and that in vast quanti¬
ties, where no considerable stagnation of the atmo¬
sphere could be suspected as for instance, in the grot¬
to del Cani in Italy, where a continual stream of it has
issued from time immemorial. rIhe same seems to be
the case with the tops of some high mountains, parti¬
cularly Mont Blanc, the highest in Europe 5 on the
top of which M. Saussure found the atmosphere so
much impregnated with fixed air, that lime w'ater ex¬
posed to it very quickly gathered a crust on its surface.
Sir William Hamilton, in his account of the eruptions
of Vesuvius, intorms us, that the inhabitants in the
neighbeurhood of that mountain are infested with a
kind of pestilential vapours named by them mofetes,
which issue from the old lava thrown out by the vol¬
cano. These are of the nature of the damps in our
mines or coal-pits, and issue forth in such quantity as
either to infect the atmosphere for a very considerable
way round, or to do mischief by being carried from
place to place by the atmospherical currents, which
are not strong enough to dissipate them for some time.
From some late accounts the samiel (or scorching
winds, as they have been represented) in the eastern
countries, seem to be no other than streams of fixed
air of considerable extent, which exert their usual and
fatal efiects on those who breathe them. A strong, ar¬
gument in favour of this opinion is, that these winds
cannot cross a river, it being the nature of water to
absorb fixed air, and thus destroy them. # ^
Hence it is rendered probable that these mephitic
vapours are often to be met with in the open atmo¬
sphere, and consequently cannot always be the effect
of stagnation $ nor indeed does it at all appear that
mere stagnation can affect the quality of the atmo¬
sphere either one way or other. This fluid cannot
have its properties altered but by something immersed
in it upon which it can act, and by means of which
action its component parts may. be changed or sepa¬
rated. While this process is going on, there is gene¬
rally, if not always, an absorption of air, accompanied
indeed frequently'with an emission of some aerial fluid
equal in quantity to that which is absorbed. Mr
Scheele, in his Essay on Fire, has shown by a number
of experiments the effect of exposing Certain substan¬
ces to the action of air, both on the substances them¬
selves and on the aerial fluid. The result of all these
is no other than what we might expect from a very slow
combustion, and which perhaps may on inquiry be
found to be the only way by which air can be decom¬
posed. If the substance exposed to the air was capa¬
ble of absorbing that part of the fluid which had un¬
dergone a change, there was always an evident dimi-
° nution
[ 64 ]
I
DAM L 65 ] DAM
j*; nution, but not otherwise. Thus, on inclosing some
' caustic fixed alkali in a phial of atmospheric air, a con¬
siderable diminution took place j and the alkali, by be¬
coming saturated with fixed air, showed that a decom¬
position had taken place, and that the dephlogisticated
part of the air had separated from the other, attached
itself to the fixed alkali, and become fixed air by uni¬
ting with a certain proportion of phlogistic matter.
Hence we may conceive, that in any place where the
air was confined over a vast quantity of caustic alkaline
salt, it would soon become unfit for the purposes of
animal life, and we might say that a damp would be
formed. But this would be a damp of a very different
kind from that usually met with in mines j for here
the dephlogisticated part of the atmosphere being con¬
verted into fixed air, and absorbed by the salt, only the
azotic gas, or, as it has been called, phlogisticated air,
would remain, so that no fixed air could ever be sepa¬
rated from it.
Let us now suppose, that instead of the alkaline
salt a quantity of burning charcoal is confined in a
place where there is not a proper circulation of air,
and we shall soon see that a damp of the very same
kind with that called by miners the choke-damp will be
formed. But this takes place by reason of the dis¬
sipation of the charcoal by heat, and its union with the
pure part of the atmosphere, or oxygen gas, which
always constitutes fixed air. In this case, however,
the damp must be but of short continuance, and will
soon be dissipated after the charcoal is extinguished j
but if, instead of the charcoal, we substitute a large
quantity of fermenting liquor, from whence the fixed
air is naturally emitted, a damp will be formed much
more difficult to be dissipated than the former, because
it renews itself in a very short time j and, unless there
is a very constant circulation of air, it will be danger¬
ous to enter the place where it is.
From the last example we may form an idea of the
manner in which these damps, consisting chiefly of
fixed air, are formed. We know not indeed thorough¬
ly the nature of fermentation $ but we are assured,
that it is always accompanied by an internal heat;
which, in some cases, is raised to the utmost height,
insomuch that large quantities of moist vegetable sub¬
stances, packed together, will sometimes burst out into
flame. It is not, however, at all times necessary for
the extrication of fixed air, that the heat should come
to this extremity. The example of fermenting liquors
shows, that in some cases a very moderate heat is suf¬
ficient for the purpose. Now, though the compari¬
son may seem somewhat inadequate between the solid
substance of the earth and a fermenting liquid, yet
we know that a gentle heat constantly takes place in
the bowels of the earth ; and that almost all terrestrial
substances will emit fixed air on being exposed to
heat. It is not at all improbable, therefore, that, on
the large scale of nature, the quantity of materials may
compensate for the weakness of the heat, and thus oc¬
casion a constant emission of fixed air ; which, though
slow in comparison of what is effected in our experi¬
ments by a violent artificial heat, may yet accumu-
** late in the narrow spaces of mines in such a manner
as to be very troublesome. In volcanic countries,
where the heat of the earth is much greater, the emis¬
sion of fixed air is in proportion: and thus we mav
Vol. VII. Part I. f
account for that continued stream of it, which issues Damps.
from the grotto del Cani, and perhaps other places. ^   , 1 ■.
The mofetes, which are said to proceed from old lavas,
can only be accounted for by supposing the heat,
which originally took place in them, to be in some
measure renewed j or that they have been again, by
some means or other, disposed to take fire as formetly:
but this we offer merely as a conjecture j there not
being as yet sufficient data to determine any thing po¬
sitively upon the subject.
It may be objected to the hypothesis just now laid
down, that, if there is a continual disposition in the
earth to produce fixed air, the whole surface of it must
pour out such a quantity as would destroy every living
creature upon it. This indeed might be granted,
were the surface of the earth quite bare, and destitute
of vegetation : but there is no absurdity, in supposing
that the fixed air may be continually decomposed by
the vegetables which grow all over the surface of the
earth j and the atmosphere not only thus preserved
from any taint from it, but supplied with a quantity of
pure air, which it is certain vegetables give out. It is
also certain, that wherever the atmosphere is suffered
to be in contact with the bare surface of the ground for
some time, a considerable quantity of fixed air will
be produced, unless there is a constant circulation
of atmospherical air to carry off the former before it
has time to produce any sensible effect. Hence we
may account for the damps in wells, cellars, and even
in the confined places of old castles and ruinous build¬
ings, where the air is not in contact with the surface
of the ground itself, but with mere heaps of rubbish
and old walls.
With regard to what is called the fire-damp, the
case seems to be more plain. In the Phil. Trans. N°
136. we have the following account of one of this
kind, which seemed evidently to issue from the earth :
“ This work is upon a coal of five yards in thickness,
and hath been begun upon about six or eight and
thirty years ago. When it was first found, it was
extremely full of water, so that it could not be
wrought down to the bottom of the coal j but a wit-
chet, or cave, was driven out of the middle of it, upon
a level, for gaining room to work, and drawing down
the spring of water that lies in the coal to the eye of
the pit. In driving of which witchet, after they had
gone a considerable way under ground, and were scant¬
ed of wind, the fire-damps began by little and little to
bieed, and to appear in crevices and slits of the coal,
where water had lain before the opening of the coal,
with a small bluish flame, working and moving conti¬
nually ; but not out of its first seat, unless the work¬
men held their candles to it.; and then being weak,
the blaze of the candle would drive it out with a sud¬
den fizz away to another crevice, where it would soon
after appear blazing and moving as formerly. This
was the first knowledge of it in this work, which the
workmen made but a sport of, and so partly neglected,
till it had gotten some strength ; and then upon a
morning the first collier that went down, going for¬
wards in the witchet with his candle in his hand, the
damp presently darted out so violently at his candle,
that it struck the man clear down, singed all his hair
and clothes, and disabled him from working for a while
after. Some other small warnings it gave them, inso-
I much
Damps.
DAM [ 6(5 ] DAN
much that they resolved to employ a man on purpose
that was more resolute than the rest, to go down a
while before them every morning, to chase it from
place to place, and so to weaken it. His usual man¬
ner was to put on the worst rags he bad, and to wet
them all in water, and when he came within the dan¬
ger of it, then he fell down grovelling upon his belly,
and so went forward, holding in one hand a long wand
or pole, at the head whereof he tied candles burning,
and reached them by degrees towards it j then the
damp would fly at them, and, if it missed of putting
them out, would quench itself with a blast, and leave
an ill-scented smoke behind. Thus they dealt with it
till they had wrought the coal down to the bottom,
and the water following, and not remaining as before
in the body of it, among sulphureous and brassy metal
that is in some veins of the coal, the fire-damp was not
seen nor heard of till the latter end of the year 1675,
which happened as followeth :
“ After long working of this coal, it was found
upon the rising grounds that there lay another roach
of coal at the depth of 14 yards under it, which proved
to be 3J yards thick, and something more sulphure¬
ous. This encouraged us to sink in one of the pits we
had formerly used on the five-yards coal. As we sunk
the lower part of it, we h^d many appearances of the
fire-damp in the watery crevices of the rocks we sunk
through, flashing and darting from side to side of the
pit, and showing rainbow-like colours upon the surface
of the water in the bottom ; but upon drawing up of
the water with buckets, which stirred the air in the pit,
it would leave burning, till the colliers at work, with
their breath and sweat, and the smoke of their candles,
thickened the air in the pit, and then it would appear
again ; they lighted their candles at it sometimes when
they went out} and so in this pit it did no farther
harm.”
In another pit, however, it soon appeared, and at
last produced a most terrible explosion. This was oc¬
casioned by one of the workmen going imprudently
down with a lighted candle, after a cessation of work
for some days, and the force exerted by it seemed equal
to that of gunpowder.
The formation of inflammable air in mines is to be
ascribed, according to the doctrines of modern chemi¬
stry, to the decomposition of water, a process which
is constantly going on in places where metallic sub¬
stances are exposed to its action. As the metals are
oxidated by their combination with the oxygen, one
of the component parts of water, the hydrogen, its
other component parts, is set at liberty, and accumu¬
lates in those places where it is generated.
A much more important consideration than the for¬
mation of damps, however, is the proper method of
avoiding their pernicious effects. The inflammability
of one kind affords an easy method of preventing it
from accumulating, viz. by setting fire to it. This
may be done with safety, unless it has been suffered to
go too far before the experiment is made: for the in¬
flammable air being much lighter than any other
kind will naturally rise to the top ; so that a man, ly¬
ing flat on the ground to avoid the force of the ex¬
plosion, and holding up a lighted candle fixed upon a
pole, may at once free the mine from such a trouble¬
some guest., But where it has been allowed to accu-
3l
mulate in too great quantity, so that this method Damps
cannot be used, or in the other kind, which is not in- ||
flammable, the method commonly practised is to pro- ,
duce a constant circulation of air as much as possible
through all parts of the mine. To procure this, they
make a perpendicular opening, which they call a s/iY/w/l:,
or s/ia/i, so that the mine may have two or more open¬
ings : and thus by reason of the difference of tempera¬
ture between the open atmosphere anil that in the
mine, there is a continual draught of air through
them both. This current will always be stronger ia
proportion to the difference between the external at¬
mosphere and that of the mine *, and likewise in pro¬
portion to the difference between the depth of the two
shafts. But as the temperature of the atmosphere is
variable, it happens at certain seasons of the year,
that there is not a sufficient difference between that
of the atmosphere and in the mine to produce the ne¬
cessary circulation. This happens principally in the
spring and autumn ; at which seasons it is necessary to
light fires in the shafts, which are always efficacious
for the purpose desired.
Among the other uses to which dephlogisticated air
might be applied, Mr Cavallo reckons that of securing
people from the dangerous effects of damps in mines,
and other subterraneous places. “ If a lax*ge bladder,”1
says he, “ into which a solution of lime in water is in¬
troduced, he filled with dephlogisticated air, and a small
wooden or glass pipe be adapted to its neck, a man
may hold that pipe in his mouth, and may breathe
the dephlogisticated air ; and thus equipped, he may
enter into these subterranean places, amidst the vari¬
ous elastic fluids contained in them. A large bladder
of dephlogisticated air will serve for above a quarter of
an hour, which is a length of time sufficient for vari¬
ous purposes ; besides, if longer time is required to be
spent in these places, a person may have two or more
bladders of dephlogisticated air along with him, and
may shift as soon as the air of one is contaminated.
Without the necessity of any more complicated appa-'
ratus, the bladders full of dephlogisticated air may be
kept stopped by putting corks into the glass or %vooden.
pipes that are tied to their necks. This air might also
be used for diving-bells.”
DAMSEL, from the French damoiselov damoiseau,
an appellation anciently given to all young people of
either sex, that were of noble or genteel extraction, as
the sons and daughters of princes, knights, and barons:
thus we read of Damsel Pepin, Damsel Louis le Gros,
Damsel Richard Prince of Wales.
From the sons of kings this appellation first passed
to those of great lords and barons, and at length to
those of gentlemen who were not yet knights.
At present damsel is applied to all maids or girls not
married, provided they be not of the vulgar.
DAN, or Jor-dan, which last literally denotes
“ the river Dan so named from the neople where it
has its source, which is a lake called Phiala, from its
round figure, to the north of its apparent rising from
the mountain Panium or Paneum, as was discovered by
Philip, tetrarch of Trachonites for on throwing light
bodies into the Phiala, he found them to emerge again
at Paneum (Josephus). From Paneum it runs in a di¬
rect course to a lake called Samac/ioniles, as far as
which it is called Jordan the less > and thence to the
lake
BAN [ 67 ] DAN
j}an lake Genesavetli, or of Tiberias, where it comes in-
(] creased by the lake Samachonites and its springs, and
Danaides. called the Greater' Jordan ; continuing its direct
' * course southwards, till it fall into the Asphaltites.
Dan, in Ancient Geography, a town to the west of
the source of the Jordan ; formerly called Lais (Joshua,
Judges, Josephus). This was the north, as Beersheba
was the south, boundary of the Israelites •, as appears
from the common expression in Scripture from Dan to
Beersheba. At Dan Jeroboam erected one of the gold¬
en calves (1 Kings xii.).
Dan, the tribe, extended itself westward of Judah,
and wras terminated by Azotas and Dora on the Medi¬
terranean (Josephus.)
DANAE, in antiquity, a coin somewhat more than
an obolus, used to be put into the mouths of the dead,
to pay their passage over the river Acheron.
DaNAE, in fabulous history, wras the daughter of
Acrisius king of Argos, by Eurydice. She was con¬
fined in a brazen tower by her father, who had been
told by an oracle that his daughter’s son would put
him to death. His endeavours to prevent Danae from
becoming a mother proved fruitless ; and Jupiter, who
was enamoured of her, introduced himself into her bed
by changing himself into a golden shower. From his
embraces Danae had a son, with whom she was ex¬
posed on the sea by her father. The wind drove the
bark which carried her to the coasts of the island of Se-
riphus, where she was saved by some fishermen, and
carried to Polydectes king of the place, whose bro¬
ther, called Dictys, educated the child called Perseus,
and tenderly treated the mother. Polydectes fell in
love with her ; but as he was afraid of her son, he sent
him to conquer the Gorgons, pretending that he wish¬
ed Medusa’s head to adorn the nuptials which he was
going to celebrate with Hippodamia the daughter of
Oenomaus. When Perseus had victoriously finished
his expedition, he retii'ed to Argos with Danae to the
house of Acrisius, whom he inadvertently killed. Some
suppose that it was Proetus the brother of Acrisius
who introduced himself to Danae in the brazen tower;
and instead of a golden shower, it was maintained that
the keepers of Danae were bribed by the gold of her
seducer. Virgil mentions that Danae came to Italy
with some fugitives of Argos, and that she founded a
city called Ardea.
DANAIDES, in fabulous history, the fifty daugh¬
ters of Danaus king of Argos. When their uncle Al-
gyptus came from Egypt with his fifty sons, they were
promised in marriage to their cousins ; and before the
celebration of their nuptials, Danaus, who had been
informed by an oracle that he was to be killed by the
hands of one of his sons-in-law, made his daughters so¬
lemnly promise that they would destroy their husbands.
They were provided with daggers by their father; and
all except Hypermnestra stained their hands with the
blood of their cousins the first night of their nuptials;
and, as a pledge of their obedience to their father’s in¬
junctions, they presented him each with the head of
the murdered sons of ABgyptus. Hypermnestra was
summoned to appear before her father, and answer for
her disobedience in suffering her husband Eynceus to
escape ; but the unanimous voice of the people declared
her innocent, and she dedicated a temple to the god¬
dess of Persuasion. The sisters were purified of this
murder by Mercury and Minerva by order of Jupiter ; Danaides
but according to the more received opinion, they were [j
condemned to severe punishment in hell, and were com- Dance,
pelled to fill with water a vessel full of holes, so that '—nr—'
the water ran out as soon as poured into it ; and there¬
fore their labour was infinite, and their punishment
eternal. Jhe heads of the sons of ^Egyptus were bu¬
ried at Argos; but their bodies were left atLerna,
where the murder had been committed.
DANAUS, in fabulous history, a son of Belus and
Anchinoe, who, after his father’s death, reigned con¬
jointly with his brother AEgyptus on the throne of E-
gypt. Some time after, a difference arose between the
brothers, and Danaus set sail with his fifty daughters
in quest of a settlement. He visited Bhodes, where he
consecrated a statue to Minerva, and arrived safe on
the coast of Peloponnesus, where he was hospitably
received by Gelanor king of Argos. Gelanor had late¬
ly ascended the throne, and the first years of his reign
were marked with dissensions with his subjects. Da¬
naus took advantage of Gelanor’s unpopularity, and
obliged him to leave the crown. In Gelanor, the race
of the Inachidas was extinguished, and the Belides be¬
gan to reign at Argos in Danaus. Some authors say,
that Gelanor voluntarily resigned the crown to Danaus,
on account of the wrath of Neptune, who had dried up
all the waters of Argolis, to punish the impiety of
Inachus. The success of Danaus invited the fifty sons
of AEgyptus to embark for Greece. They were kind¬
ly received by their uncle ; who, either apprehensive
of their number, or terrified by an oracle which threat¬
ened his ruin by one of his sons-in-law, caused his daugh¬
ters, to whom they were promised in marriage, to mur¬
der them the first night of their nuptials. His order
was executed. Hypermnestra alone spared the life of
Lynceus : (See Danaides). Danaus at first perse¬
cuted Lynceus with unremitted fury ; but he was af¬
terwards reconciled to him, and he acknowledged him
for his son-in-law and successor after a reign of 50 years.
He began his reign about 1586 years before the Chri¬
stian era ; and after death he was honoured with a
splendid monument in the town of Argos, which still
existed in the age of Pausanias. According to AEs-
chylus, Danaus left Egypt, not to be present at the
marriage of his daughters with the sons of his bro¬
thers; a connexion which he deemed unlawful and im¬
pious.
DANCE, or Dancing, as at present practised, may
be defined “ an agreeable motion of the body, adjusted
by art to the measures or tone of instruments, or of the
voice.”—But, according to what some reckon more
agreeable to the true genius of the art, dancing is “ the
art of expressing the sentiments of the mind, or the pas¬
sions, by measured steps or bounds that are made in ca¬
dence, by regulated motions of the body, and by grace¬
ful gestures: all performed to the sound of musical in¬
struments or of the voice.”
There is no account of the origin of the practice of
dancing among mankind. It is found to exist among all
nations whatever, even the most rude and barbarous ;
and, indeed, however much the assistance of art may be
necessary to make any one perfect in the practice, the
foundation must certainly lie in the mechanism of the
human body itself.
The connexion that there is between certain sounds
I 2 and
DAN [ 68 ] DAN
X)ance. and those motions of the human body called dancing,
■*—V"1 hath seldom or never been inquired into by philoso¬
phers, though it is certainly a very curious speculation.
The power of certain sounds not only over the human
species, but even over the inanimate creation, is indeed
very surprising. It is well known, that the most solid
walls, nay the ground itself, will be found to shake at
some particular notes in music. This strongly indi¬
cates the presence of some universally diffused and
exceedingly elastic fluid, which is thrown into vibrations
by the concussions of the atmosphere upon it, produced
by the motion of the sounding body.—If these con¬
cussions are so strong as to make the large quantity of
elastic fluid vibrate that is dispersed through a stone
■wall or a considerable portion of earth, it is no won¬
der they should have the same effect upon that invisi¬
ble and exceedingly subtle matter that pervades and
seems to reside in our nerves.
Some there are that have their nerves constructed
in such a manner, that they cannot be affected by the
sounds which affect others, and some scarce with any *,
while others have such an irritability of the nerves in
this case, that they cannot, w-ithout the greatest diffi¬
culty, sit or stand still when they hear a favourite
piece of music played.
It is conjectured by very eminent philosophers, that
all the sensations and passions to which we are subject,
do immediately depend upon the vibrations excited in
the nervous fluid above mentioned. Hence, musical
sounds have the greatest power over those people who
are of a delicate sensible frame, and who have strong
passions. If it be true, therefore, that every passion
in the human nature immediately depends upon a cer¬
tain affection of the nervous system, or a certain mo¬
tion or vibration in the nervous fluid, we shall immedi¬
ately see the origin of the different dances among dif¬
ferent nations. One kind of vibration, for instance,
raises the passions of anger, pride, &c. which are in¬
dispensably necessary in warlike nations. The sounds,
for such there are, capable of exciting a similar vi¬
bration, would naturally constitute the martial music
among such nations, and dances conformable to it
would be instituted. This appears to be the case par¬
ticularly among barbarous nations, as we shall present¬
ly have occasion to remark. Other vibrations of the
nervous fluid produce the passions of joy, love, &c.;
and sounds capable of exciting these particular vibra¬
tions will immediately be formed into music for dancers
of another kind.
As barbarous people are observed to have the strong¬
est passions, so they are also observed to be the most
easily affected by sounds, and the most addicted to dan¬
cing. Sounds to us the most disagreeable, the drum¬
ming of sticks upon an empty cask, or the noise made
by blowing into reeds incapable of yielding one musi¬
cal note tolerable to us, is agreeable music to them.
Much more are they affected by the sound of instru¬
ments which have any thing agreeable in them. Mr
Gallini informs us, that “ The spirit of dancing pre¬
vails almost beyond imagination among both men and
women in most parts of Africa. It is even more than
instinct, it is a rage, in some countries of that part of
the globe.—Upon the Gold coast especially, the inha¬
bitants are so passionately fond of it, that in the midst
af then’, hardest labour, if they hear a person,sing, or
any musical instrument played, they cannot refrain from
dancing.—There are even W'ell attested stories of some '■
negroes flinging themselves at the feet of an European
playing on a fiddle, entreating him to desist, unless he
had a mind to tire them to death j it being impossible
for them to cease dancing while he continued playing.”
The same thing is found to take place in America,
though, as the inhabitants of that continent are found
to be of a more fierce and barbarous nature than the
African nations, their dances are still more uncouth
and barbarous than those of the negroes. “ In Mexi¬
co, says Gallini, they have also their dances and mu¬
sic, but in the most uncouth and barbarous style. For
their symphony they have wooden drums, something
in form of a kettle-drum, with a kind of pipe or fla-
gelet, made of a hollow cane or reed, but very gra¬
ting to an European ear. It is observed they love
every thing that makes a noise, how disagreeable so¬
ever the sound is. They will also hum over something
like a tune when they dance 30 or 40 in a circle,
stretching out their hands, and laying them on each
others shoulders. They stamp and jump, and use the
most antic gestures for several hours, till they are hear¬
tily weary. And one or two of the company some¬
times step out of the rings to make sport for the rest,
by showing feats of activity, throwing their lances up
into the air, catching them again, bending backwards,
and springing forwards with great agility.”
The origin of dancing among the Greeks was most
certainly the same as among all other nations ; but as
they proceeded a certain length in civilization, their
dances were of consequence more regular and agree¬
able than those of the more barbarous nations. They
reduced dancing into a kind of regular system j and had
dances proper for exciting, by means ot the sympathy
above mentioned, any passion whatever in the minds of
the beholders. In this way they are said to have pro¬
ceeded very great lengths, to us absolutely incredible.
At Athens it is said, that the dance of the Eumeni-
des or Furies on the theatre had so expressive a cha¬
racter as to strike the spectators with irresistible terror :
men grown old in the profession of arms trembled j
the multitude ran out j women with child miscarried j
people imagined they saw in earnest those terrible dei¬
ties commissioned with the vengeance of heaven to pur¬
sue and punish crimes upon earth.
The Greeks had martial dances, which they reckon¬
ed to be very useful far keeping up the warlike spirit
of their youth j but the Romans, though equally war¬
like with the Greeks, never had any thing of the kind.
This probably may be owing to the want ot that ro¬
mantic turn for which the Greeks were so remarkable.
The Romans had no heroes among them, such as Her¬
cules, Achilles, or Ajax ; nor does the whole Roman
history furnish an example of a general that made war
after the manner of Alexander the Great. Though
their soldiers were as valiant as ever the Greeks could
pretend to be, the object with them was the honour of
the republic, and not their own personal praise. Hence
there was less fury, and much more cool deliberate va¬
lour, exercised by the Romans than any other nation
whatever. The passions of pride, resentment, obstinacy,.
&c. were excited in them, not by the mechanical means
of music and dancing, but by being taught that it was
their chief honour, to fight for the republic. It does,
not
Dance.
DAN [ 69 ] DAN
not however appear, that the Romans were at all less
capable of being affected in this mechanical manner
than the Greeks. When dancing was once introduced,
it had the very same effects at Rome as at Athens.
Among the Jews, dancing seems to have made a
part of the religious worship on some occasions, as we
learn from some passages in the Psalms, though we do
not find either that or singing positively enjoined as a
divine precept. In the Christian churches mentioned
in the New Testament, there is no account of dancing
being introduced as an act of worship, though it is cer¬
tain that it was used as such in after ages. Mr Gal-
lini tells us, that “ at Limoges, not long ago, the
people used to dance the round in the choir of the
church which is under the invocation of their patron
saint; and at the end of each psalm, instead of the
Gloria T* atri, they sung as follows: St Marcel, pray
for us, and we will dance in honour of you?'—Though
dancing would now be looked upon as the highest de¬
gree of profanation in a religious assembly, yet it is
certain, that dancing, considered as an expression of
joy, is no more a profanation than singing, or than
simple speaking j nor can it be thought in the least
more absurd, that a Christian should dance for joy that
Jesus Christ is risen from the dead, than that David,
danced before the ark when it was returned to him
after a long absence.
Plato reduces the dances of the ancients to three
classes. 1. The military dances, which tended to make
the body robust, active, and well disposed for all the
exercises of war. 2. The domestic dances, which had
for their object an agreeable and innocent relaxation
and amusement. 3. The mediatorial dances, which
were in use in expiations and sacrifices.—Of military
dances there were two sorts : the gymnopcdique dance,
or the dance of children 5 and the enoplian, or armed
dance. The Spartans had invented the first for an
early excitation of the courage of their children, and
to lead them on insensibly to the exercise of the armed
dance. This children’s dance used to be executed in
the public place. It was composed of two choirs ; the
one of grown men, the other of children : whence, be¬
ing chiefly designed for the latter, it took its name.
They were both of them in a state of nudity. The
choir of the children regulated their motions by those
of the men, and all danced at the same time, singing
the poems of Thales, Aleman, and Dionysodotus.—-
The enoplian or pyrrhic was danced by young men
armed cap-a-pee, who executed, to the sound of the
flute, all the proper movements either for attack or
for defence. It was composed of four parts.—The
first the podism or footing j which consisted in a quick
shifting motion of the feet, such as was necessary for
overtaking a flying enemy, or for getting away from
him when aa overmatch.—The second part was the
xjphism.:. this was a kind of mock fight, in which the
dancers imitated all the motions of combatants ; aim¬
ing a stroke, darting a javelin, or dexterously dodging,
parrying, or avoiding a blow or thrust. The third
part, called the komos, consisted in very high leaps or
vaultings, which the dancers frequently repeated for
the better using themselves occasionalIv to leap over a
ditch, or spring over a wall. The tetracomos was the
fourth and last part: this was a square figure, execu¬
ted by slow and majestic movements j but it is uncer¬
tain whether this was everywhere executed in the same Dance,
manner. .
Of all the Greeks, the Spartans were those who most
cultivated the Pyrrhic dance. Athenaeus relates, that
they had a law by which they were obliged to exercise
their children at it from the age of five years. This
warlike people constantly retained the custom of accom¬
panying their dances with hymns and songs. The
following was sung for the dance called trichoria, said
to be instituted by Lycurgus, and which had its name
from its being composed of three choirs, one of
children, another of young men, and the third of old.
The old men opened the dance, saying, “ In time past
we were valiant.” The young men answered, “ We
are so at present.” “ We shall be still more so when
onr time comes,” replied the chorus of children. The
Spartans never danced but with real arms. In process
of time, however, other nations came to use only wea¬
pons of wood on such occasions. Nay, it was only so
late as the days of Athenasus, who lived in the second
century, that the dancers of the Pyrrhic, instead of
arms, carried only flasks, ivy-bound wands (thyrsus)
or reeds. But, even in Aristotle’s days, they had be¬
gun to use thyrsuses instead of pikes, and lighted tor¬
ches in lieu of javelins and swords. With these torches
they executed a dance called the conflagration of the
world.
Of the dances for amusement and recreation, some
were but simply gambols, or sportive exercises, which
had no character of imitation, and of which the greater
part exist to this day. The others were more complex,
more agreeable, figured, and were always accompanied
with singing. Among the first or simple ones was the
ascoliasmus: which consisted in jumping, with one foot
only, on bladders filled with air or wine, and rub¬
bed on the outside with oil. The dypodium was jumped
with both feet close. The kyheslesis was what is called
in this country the somerset.—Of the second kind was
that called the wine-press, of which there is a descrip¬
tion in Longinus, and the Ionian dances : these last, in
the original of their institution, had nothing but what
was decent and modest} but, in time, their movements
came to be so depraved, as to be employed in expres¬
sing nothing hut voluptuousness, and even the grossest
obscenity.
Among the ancients there were no festivals nor reli¬
gious assemblies but what were accompanied with songs
and dances. It was not held possible to celebrate any
mystery, or to be initiated, without the intervention of
these two arts. In short, they were looked upon to he
so essential in these kinds of ceremonies, that to express
the crime of such as were guilty of revealing the sacred
mysteries, they employed the word kheistce, “ to be out
of the dance.” The most ancient of these religious
dances is the Bacchic ; which was not only consecrated
to Bacchus, but to all the deities whose festival was ce¬
lebrated with a kind of enthusiasm. The most grave,
and majestic was the hyporchematic ; it was executed to
the lyre, and accompanied with the voice. At his re¬
turn from Crete, Theseus instituted a dance at which
he himself assisted at the head of a numerous and splen¬
did band of youths, round the altar of Apollo. The
dance was composed of three parts : the strophe, the o«-
tistrophe, and the stationary. In the strophe, the move¬
ments were from the right to the left} in the antistro-.
DAN
[ 70 ]
DAN
Daucc. phe, from the left to the right. In the stationary, they
danced before the altar; so that the stationary did not
mean an absolute pause or rest, but only a more slow
or grave movement. Plutarch Is persuaded, that in
this dance there is a profound mystery. He thinks,
that by the strophe is indicated the motion of the world
from east to west j by the antistrophe, the motion of the
planets from the west to the east; and by the station¬
ary, the stability of the earth. To this dance Theseus
gave the name of geranos, or “ the cranebecause
the figures which characterised it bore a resemblance
to those described by cranes in their flight.
With regard to the modern practice of dancing as
an art, there are few directions that can be of much
service. The following is extracted from Mr Gallini’s
description of the several steps or movements.
“ The dancing (says he) is generally on a theatre,
or in a saloon or room. At the theatre there are four
parts to be considered. 1. The nearest front to the
spectators. 2, and 3. The two sides or wings. 4. The
farthest front from the spectators.
“ In a saloon or room, the place in which are the
spectators decides the appellation respectively to them
of right and left. The dancer should place himself in
as advantageous a point of view to them as possible.
“ In the dance itself, there are to be distinguished,
the attitude of the body, the figure, the position,
the bends, the risings or leaps, the steps, the cabriole,
the fallings, the slides, the turns of the body, the ca¬
dences.
“ The attitude of the body requires the presenting
one’s self in the most graceful manner to the com¬
pany.
“ The figure is to follow the track prescribed to the
steps in the dance.
“ The position is that of the varied attitudes, which
must be at once striking and easy, as also of the diffe¬
rent exertions of the legs and feet in dancing.
“ The bends are inflections of the knees, ot the body,
of the head, of the arms.
“ The risings are the contrast to the bends, the ex¬
tension of the knee. One ot these two motions neces¬
sarily precedes the other.
“ "The step is the motion by the foot or feet from one
place to another.
“ The leap is executed by springing up into the air ;
it begins with a bend, and proceeds with a quick ex¬
tension of the legs, so that both feet quit the ground.
“ The cabriole is the crossing, or cutting of capers,
fluring the leap, before the return of the feet to the
ground.
“ The fialling is the return of the feet to the ground,
by the natural gravitation of the body.
“ The slide is the action of moving the foot along
the ground without quitting it.
“ The turn is the motion of the body towards either
side, or quite round.
“ The cadence is the knowledge of the different mea¬
sures, and of the times of movement the most marked
in the music.
“ The t?'ack is the line marked by the dance : it
may be either straight or curve, and is susceptible of
all the inflections correspondent to the various designs
of the composer. There are the right, the diametral
line, the circular line, and the oblique line. The right
line is that which goes lengthwise, reckoning from one Dance,
end of the room towards the other. The diametral line v —v' ~
is across the room, from one side to the other. T-he
circular line is waving, or undulatory, from one place
to another. The oblique line proceeds obliquely from
one quarter of the room towards another.—Each of
these lines may directly or separately form the dancer’s
track, diversified with steps and positions.
“ The regular figure is when two or more dancers
move in contrary directions ; that is to say, that when
one moves towards the right, the other moves to the
left. The irregular line is when the couples figuring
together are both on the same side.
“ Commonly the man gives the right hand to the
lady in the beginning or ending of the dance, as we
see in the minuet, louvre, &c.
“ When a great number of dancers figure together,
they are to execute the figure agreeably to the compo¬
sition of the dance, with special attention to keep an
eye constantly on the partner. When, in any given
dance, the dancers have danced for some time in the
same place, the track is only to be considered as the
conductor of the steps, but not of the figure ; but when
the dance continues, without being confined to the
same place, then the track must be considered as the
conductor both of the steps and of the figure.
“ Now, to observe the figure, the dancer must have
placed himself at the beginning of the track upon
which he is to dance, and comprehend the figure before
he himself begins it. He is to remark and conceive
whether the figure is right, diametrical, circular, or ob¬
lique ; if it is progressive or retrogressive, or towards
the right or left. He should have the air played or
sung to him, to understand the movement.—-W here the
tracks cross one another, the steps of each of the couples
must leave a sufficient distance between them not to
confuse the figure.
<s There are commonly reckoned ten kinds of posi¬
tions, which are divided into trtie andyb/se, five each.—
There are three principal parts of the foot to be obser¬
ved ; the toes, the heel, and the ancle.
“ The true positions are when the two feet are in a
certain uniform regularity, the toes turned equally out¬
wards.—The false are divided into regular and irre¬
gular. They differ from the true, in that the toes are
either both turned inwards ; or it the toes of one fool
are turned outwards, the others are turned inwards.
“ In the first of the true positions, the heels of the
two feet are close together, so that they touch j the
toes being turned out. In the second, the two feet are
open in the same line, so that the distance between the
two heels is precisely the length of one foot. In the
third, the heel of one foot is brought to the ancle
of the other, or seems to lock in with it. In the fourth
the two feet are the one before the other a foot’s length
distance between the two heels, which are on the same
line. In the fifth, the two feet are across, the one be¬
fore the other ; so that the heel of one foot is directly
opposite to the toes of the other.
“ In the first of the false positions, the toes of both
feet are turned inwards so that they touch, the heels
being open. The second is, when the feet are asunder
at a foot’s distance between the toes of each, which are
turned inward, the heels being on a line. The third
is when the toes of one foot are turned outwards, the
DAN [7
other inwards, so that the two feet form a parallel.
The fourth is, when the toes of the two feet are turn¬
ed inwards j but the toes of one foot are brought near¬
er the ancle of the other. The fifth is, when the toes
of the two feet are turned inwards, but the heel of one
foot is opposite to the toes of the other.
“ There are mixed positions, composed of the true
and false in combination $ which admit of such infinite
variety, and are in their nature so unsusceptible of de¬
scription by words, that it is only the sight of the per¬
formance that can give any tolerable idea of them.
“ Of the bends of the knee there are two kinds ;
the one simple^ the other forced. The simple bend is
an inflection of the knees without moving the heel,
and is executed with the foot flat on the ground. The
forced bend is made on the toes with more force and
lower.
“ Much is to be observed on the head of steps. First,
not to make any movement before having put the body
in an upright posture, firm on the haunches.
“ Begin with the inflection of the knee and thigh j
advance one leg foremost, with the whole foot on the
ground, laying the stress of the body on the advanced
kg.
“ There are some who begin the step by the point
of the toes j but that has an air of theatrical affecta¬
tion. Nothing can be more noble than a graceful ease
and dignity of step. The quantity of steps used in
dancing are almost innumerable; they are nevertheless
reducible under five denominations, which may serve
well enough to give a general idea of the different
movements that may be made by the leg, viz. the di¬
rect step, the open step, the circular step, the twisted
step, and the cut step.
“ The direct step is when the foot goes upon a right
line, either forwards or backwards.
“ The open step is when the legs open. Of this step
there are three kinds ; one when they open outwards j
another, when, describing a kind of circle, they form
an in-knee’d figure; a third, when they open sidewise ;
this is a sort of right step, because the figure is in a
right line.
“ The round is when the foot, in its motion, makes
a circular figure, either inwards or outwards.
“ The twisted step, ov pas tortille, is when the foot in
its motions turns in and out. There are three kinds of
this step ; one forwards, another backwards, and the
third sidelong.
“ The cut step is when one leg or foot comes to
strike against the other. There are also three sorts of
this step ; backwards, and sidelong.
“ The steps may be accompanied with bendings,
risings, leaps, cabrioles, fallings, slidings, the foot in
the air, the tip-toe, the rest on the heel, quarter-turns,
half-turns, three-quarter turns, and whole turns.
“ There may he practised three kinds of bends, or
sinkings, in the steps ; viz. bending before the step
proceeds, in the act of stepping, and at the last of the
steps.
“ The beginning or initial sink-pace is at the first
setting off, on advancing the leg.
“ The bend in the act of stepping continues the
march or walk.
“ The final sink-pace closes the march.
r ] DAN
“ The rising is just the reverse of the bend, or sink-
pace, which shall have preceded it.
“ Some great masters in the art of dancing, having
observed that music, which is inseparable from it, was
capable of being preserved and conveyed by the musi¬
cal characters, imagined by analogy, that the like ad¬
vantage could be procured to the composition of dan¬
cers. Upon this plan they attempt what is called
the chorography, an art which they suppose was either
utterly unknown to the ancients, or not transmitted to
us from them.
“ It may indeed be easily allowed, that the track or
figure of a dance may be determined by written or en¬
graved lines; but those lines will necessarily appear so
perplexing, so intricate, so difficult, if not impossible to
seize in their various relations, that they are only fit to
disgust and discourage, without the possibility of their
conveying a satisfactory or retainable instruction.—
Whence it is, that the article Chorography in the
French Encyclopedic is universally exploded as unintel¬
ligible and useless: though nothing more than an ele¬
mentary indication of the art ; and an explanation,
such as it is, of some of the technical terms of it.”
Stage-UANCES. The Greeks were the first who uni¬
ted the dance to their tragedies and comedies ; not in¬
deed as making part of those spectacles, but merely as
an accessary.
The Romans, as usual, copied after the Greeks ;
but in the reign of Augustus they left their instructors
far behind them. Two very extraordinary men made
their appearance at that time : they invented a new
species of entertainment, and carried it to an astonish¬
ing degree of perfection. Nothing was then talked of
but the wonderful talents and amazing performances
of Pylades and Bathylus, who were the first to in¬
troduce among the Romans what the French call the
ballet d'action, wherein the performer is both actor and
dancer.
Pylades undertook the hard task of representing,
with the assistance of the dance alone, strong and pa¬
thetic situations. He succeeded perhaps beyond his
own expectation, and may be called the father of that
style of dancing which is known to us by the name of
grave or serious pantomime.
Bathylus an Alexandrian and a freedman of Me-
cenas, took upon himself to represent such subjects as
required a certain liveliness and agility. He was hand¬
some in his person ; and the two great scourges of
Roman follies, Persius, and especially Juvenal, speak
of him as the gallant of every woman in Rome. The
latter, in his cynic style, even goes so far as to say,
that when Bathylus performed the dance called, after
the name of a celebrated female dancer, Cheromenos-
Leda, the gravest matron was turned off her guard,
and the young virgin longed for the dancer’s ad-
di'esses.
Nature had been excessively partial to those two
men. They were endowed with genius, and all the
exterior charms that could captivate the eye. By their
study, application, and the desire to establish a lasting
reputation, they displayed to the greatest advantage
all the resources which the art of dancing could supply.
These, like two phenomena, disappeared, and never
did the world see “ their like again.” Government
withdrew.
DAN [ 72 ] DAN
Dance, withdrew its protection j the art gradually sunk into
V—obscurity, and became even entirely forgotten on the
accession of Trajan to the empire.
Thus buried with the other arts in entire oblivion,
dancing remained uncultivated till about the 15th cen¬
tury, when ballets were revived in Italy at a magnifi¬
cent entertainment given by a nobleman of Lombardy
at Tortona, on account of the marriage between Galeas
duke of Milan and Isabella of Arragon. Every re¬
source that poetry, music, dancing, and machinery
could supply, was employed and exhausted on the oc¬
casion. The description given of so superb an enter¬
tainment excited the admiration of all Europe, and ex¬
cited the emulation of several men ef genius, who im¬
proved the hint to introduce among their countrymen
a kind of spectacle equally pleasing and novel.
It would seem, however, that at first the women had
no share in the public or theatrical dance j at least we
do. not see them mentioned in the various entertain¬
ments given at the opera in Paris till the 21st of Janu¬
ary 1681, when the then dauphiness, the princess of
Gonti, and some other ladies of the first distinction in
the court of Louis XIV. performed a ballet with the
opera called Le Triomphe de VAmour, This union of
the two sexes served to enliven and render the spectacle
more pleasing and more brilliant than it ever was at
any other period. It was received with so much ap¬
plause, that on the 16th of May following, when the
same opera was acted in Pans at the theatre of the Pa¬
lais Royal, it was thought indispensable for the success
of that kind of entertainment to introduce female dan¬
cers. They have continued ever since to be the prin¬
cipal support of the opera.
The dance is now in such commendation, that, par¬
ticularly m France, the opera-house seems rather an
academy for dancing, than calculated for the repiesen-
tation of lyric poems. The disgusting and immoderate
length of their recitatives is one of the chief causes of
that general taste for dancing which prevails amongst
them. A wit being asked one day what could be done
to keep up an opera threatened with a most complete
damnation ? “ Do! (says he) j why, lengthen the
dances and shorten the petticoats.” So evident it is,
that singing, though apparently the chief purpose of an
opera, is by no means the most pleasing part of the en¬
tertainment for the spectators.
Thus what was at first introduced as a mere acces¬
sary to the musical performance, became in process of
time its only support; and this circumstance excited
the emulation of several eminent ballet-masters. The
art, however, of composing those grand dances, winch
are now so much admired, was for many years in a state
of infancy, till Monsieur Noverre stept forth and gave
it that degree of perfection which it seems impossible
to exceed.^This celebrated ballet-master and performer,
in a work lately published, has with great elegance and
ingenuity delineated the nature, objects, and powers of
dancing, enumerated the proper requisites to give it
effect, and shown how much it may be ennobled by an
acquaintance with the kindred arts.
Ballets, he observes, have hitherto been the faint
sketches only of what they may be one day. . An ait
entirely subservient, as this is, to taste and genius, may
receive daily variation and improvements. History,
painting, mythology, poetry, all join to raise it from
3
that obscurity in which it lies buried $ and it is truly Dance,
surprising, that composers have hitherto disdained so v ■
many valuable resources.
According to our author, the reason why this art
has remained so long in its infancy, is because its ef¬
fects have been restrained to the transitory ones of
fire-works calculated only to please the eye : and it
never was supposed to have powers sufficient to speak
to the heart: whereas it may vie, he says, with the best
dramatic pieces, prove equally interesting, and capti¬
vate the spectator by the charms of the most complete
illusion.
If ballets, therefore, says he, are for the most
part uninteresting and uniformly dull: if they fail in
the characteristic expression which constitutes their es¬
sence, the effect does not originate from the art itself,
but should be ascribed to the artists. Are then the
latter to be told that dancing is an imitative art ? I am
indeed inclined to think that they know it not, since
we daily see the generality of composers sacrifice the
beauties of the dance, and give up the graceful naivete
of sentiment, to become the servile copyists of a certain
number of figures, known and hackneyed for above a
century j so that the ballets of Phaeton, or of any
ancient opera, revived by a modern composer, would
prove so very similar to former ones, that one would
think they have undergone no alteration, and are the
same in every step.
“ Ballet-masters should consult the productions of
the most eminent painters. This would bring them
nearer to nature, and induce them to avoid, as often
as possible, that symmetry of figures, which, by repeat¬
ing the object, present two difi'erent pictures on one and
the same canvas.
“ Those symmetrical figures from right to left, ac¬
cording to my judgment, are supportable only in the
entrees, which are not meant to express any thing in
particular, but are only calculated to afford some relief
to the principal dancers. They may be introduced in
a general dance at the conclusion of an entertainment j
they may also be admitted in the pas of four, six, 8tc.
though in my opinion it be ridiculous even in this case
to prefer the display of bodily strength and agility to
expression and sentiment. But such figures must give
way to nature in what we call ballets action. An in-
tance,1 though perhaps not very forcible, may serve to
elucidate and support my argument.
“ At the sudden and unexpected appearance of
some young fauns, a troop of nymphs take themselves
to flight with equal affright and precipitation. The
former are in pursuit of the latter with that eagerness
which the very hope of pleasure can inspire. Now
they stop to observe what impression they have made
on the nymphs ; these at the same time, and for a
similar reason, check their career 5 with fear they sur¬
vey their pursuers, endeavour to guess at their inten¬
tions, and provide for a retreat to some spot, where they
may rest secure from the dangers that threaten them.
Both troops now join, the nymphs resist, defend them¬
selves, and at last effect their escape with no less swift¬
ness than dexterity.
“ This I call a busy active scene, in which the
dance, as it were, should speak with energy. Here
studied and symmetrical figures cannot be introduced,
without a manifest violation of the truth, without de¬
stroying
DAN [ 73 1 DAN
Dance, stroying the rules of probability, anti without weaken-
—v—' ing the action and lessening the effect.—This scene
should be conspicuous j for its beautiful disorder, and
the art of the composer, must here be the handmaids
of nature.
“ A ballet-master, devoid of taste and discernment,
will make of this a mechanical piece of dancing, and
thus deprive it of the effect it was calculated to pro¬
duce, for want of entering into the spirit of it. His
nymphs and fauns will be arranged upon a parallel
line: he will place the former in attitudes awkwardly
uniform, and insist on the latter holding up their arms
to an even altitude ; rather than deviate from the
beaten path, and the antique rules of opera-dancing,
he will cautiously avoid to have, on the right and
left, his nymphs placed in unequal numbers, but will
reduce a scene of action, which ought to be supported
with spirit, to an exercise equally affected and unin¬
teresting.
“ Perhaps some ill-disposed critics, so far strangers
to the art as not to judge of it from its various effects,
will maintain, that the above scene should present only
two different objects, the one pourtrayed in the love¬
sick fauns, the other expressed by the affright of the
nymphs. But how many shades may serve to embel¬
lish those pictures ? how varied may be the strokes of
the pencil? how opposite the lights? and what a num¬
ber of tints ought to be employed in order to draw
from this twofold situation a multiplicity of images,
each more lively and spirited than the other?
“ As all men share the same passions, and these dif¬
fer in proportion to their sensations and feelings, they
may therefore be worked upon more or less powerful¬
ly in proportion as they manifest themselves outward¬
ly with more or less force and impetuosity. This
principle once acknowledged, and nature indeed en¬
forces it daily, it would certainly be more to the pur¬
pose to diversify the attitudes and vary the expression j
for then the pantomime action of each personage
would be divested of a disgusting uniformity. The
truth of imitation and the skill of the painter would
conspicuously appear in giving a different aspect to
the features, some of them expressing a kind of fe¬
rocity, others betx-aying less eagerness, these casting a
more tender look ; and to the rest, the languishing
air of voluptuousness. The sketch of this first picture
naturally leads to the composition of'the second : here
some nymphs appear divided between fear and desire ;
there some others express by the contrast of their atti¬
tudes the various emotions of their soul. Some are
more scornful than their companions, whilst others be¬
tray a curiosity equal to their fears. This ensemble
gives life to the whole picture, and is the more plea¬
sing that it is perfectly consistent with nature. From
this exposition, you will not hesitate to agree with me,
that symmetry, the offspring of art itself, should never
find place in the ballets d'action.
“ I shall beg leave to inquire of all those who rea¬
son from habitual prejudice, whether they will look
for their favourite symmetry in a herd of sheep flying
from the wolf, or among wretched peasants leaving
their huts and fields, in order to shelter them¬
selves from the fury of a party of enemies ? By no
means. But the art lies in concealing art itself: my
aim is by no means to introduce disorder and confu-
Vol. VII. Part I. f
sion j on the contrary, I will have regularity even in Dance,
irregularity. What I most insist on is, the intro- “v~—
ducing of well-concerted groups, situations forcibly
expressed, but never beyond nature, and above all, a
certain ease in the composition, which betrays not the
labour of the composer. As for the figures, they are
likely to please only in proportion as they quickly
succeed each other, and are devised with equal taste
and elegance.”
A ballet perfect in all its parts, our author proceeds
to observe, is a picture drawn from life, of the man¬
ners, dresses, ceremonies, and customs of all nations.
It must therefore be a complete pantomime, and
through the eyes speak, as it were, to the very soul
of the spectator. If it wants expression, if it be de¬
ficient in point of situation and scenery, it degenerates
into a spectacle equally flat and monotone.
According to Plutarch, a ballet is, if the expression
may be allowed, a mute conversation, or a speaking
and animated picture, whose language consists of mo¬
tions, figures, and gestures.—These figures, says our
author, are unlimited in their number, because there
are a thousand things that the ballet may express.
Phrynicus, one of the oldest tragedy writers, says, that
he could find in our ballet as many figures as the sea
rolls waves in a high winter tide.
A well-composed ballet, therefore, may do without
the assistance of words : M. Noverre even remarks that
these only sei re to weaken the action, and partly destroy
its effects. He has no opinion of a pantomime which,
in order to be understood, must borrow the help of a
verbal explanation. “ Any ballet whatever (says he)
destitute of intrigue, action, and interest, displaying
nothing more than the mechanical beauties of the art,
and though decorated with a pompous title, unintel¬
ligible throughout, is not unlike those portraits and
pictures to which the painters of old subscribed the
names of the personages and actions they meant to re¬
present : because they were imperfect in point of imi¬
tation, the situations weakly expressed, the outlines in¬
correct, and the colours unseemly.
“ When dancers shall feel, and, Proteus-like, trans¬
form themselves into various shapes to express to the
life the conflict of passions; when their features, their
very looks, shall speak their inward feelings $ when
extending their arms beyond the narrow circle pre¬
scribed by the rigid rules of pedantry, and with equal
grace and judgment giving them a fuller scope, they
shall by proper situations describe the gradual and suc¬
cessive progress of the passions; when, in fine, they
call good sense and genius to the assistance of their
artj then they may expect to distinguish themselves:
explanatory speeches will become useless j a mute but
powerful eloquence will be substituted to much better
effect j each motion will be a sentence ; every atti¬
tude will pourtray a situation ; each gesture convey a
thought, and each glance a new sentiment: every part
will please, because the whole will be a true and faith¬
ful imitation of nature.
A ballet, in whatever style it may be, should, ac¬
cording to Aristotle, be composed, as well as poetry,
of two different parts, which he calls parts of quality
and parts of quantity. Nothing exists in nature with¬
out matter, form, and figure: the ballet therefore be¬
comes a mere nonentity, if it be deficient in any of
K those
DAN [74
J>ance. those essential parts which mark and constitute the be-
— - v— 11 < jng of any one thing animate or inanimate. T- he mat¬
ter here is the subject intended for representation •, its
form consists in the ingenious distribution of the plan ;
and the various compounding parts constitute its figure.
Form therefore contains the parts of quality, and the
extent the parts of quantity.
Thus it appears, that ballets are in some degree
subject to the rules of poetical composition. They,
nevertheless, differ from tragedies and comedies, in
that the former are not subject to the three unities of
time, place, and action : Yet they require an unity of
plot, in order that the various scenes may meet and
end on the same point.—The ballet, therefore, may be
termed the brother of the drama, though not restrain¬
ed to its stricter rules, which only serve to cramp the
imagination, check its flight, and confine genius j and
if adhered to, must set aside all thought of composition
of ballets, by depriving them of their chief ornament,
pleasing variety.
M. Noverre considers tragedy as the subject most
suitable for the art of dancing. The former abounds
in noble incidents, situations, &c. and these produce
the best stage effects. Besides, the passions are more
forcibly expressed by great characters than by common
men : the imitation is of course less difficult, the action
in the pantomime more significant, natural, and intel¬
ligible. ,v . .
“ The business of a skilful master (he observes), is
to foresee, as it were at one glance, the general eflect
that may result from the ensemble, and never give the
preference to one single part over the whole. T-he only
way for him to bestow his thoughts on the greatest
number, is to forget for a while the principal charac¬
ters of the drama 5 if his whole attention should en¬
tirely be taken up with the parts of his first dancers of
both sexes, the action is suspended, the scenes are slow
in their progress, and the whole performance must fall
short of its desired effect.
“ In the tragedy of Merope by Voltaire, the prin¬
cipal characters are Merope, Polifonte, Egiste, and
Narbas : But although the parts of the inferior actors
are not of equal importance, yet they all concur to the
general action, and to the progression of the drama,
which Would appear deficient in some parts, should
either of those characters be wanting in the representa¬
tion. No useless personage should be obtruded on the
stage. Every thing therefore that may tend to weak¬
en the effect of the drama ought to be carefully avoid¬
ed, and only that number of actors introduced which
is’barely requisite for the execution of the perform-
“ A ballet is a production of the same kind. It
must be divided into acts and scenes, each of which, as
well as the act itself, must have its beginning, its
middle, and its end 5 that is, in other words, exposi¬
tion, plot, and denouement. .
“ I have observed above, that the principal per¬
formers in a ballet should be forgotten for a while :
My reason is, that, in my ©pinion, it is easier to give
striking parts to Hercules and Omphale, Ariadne and
Bacchus, Ajax and Ulysses, &c. than to 24 persons
in their retinue. If these have nothing to say, they
are superfluous, and of course ought to be reject¬
ed y but if they are to speak, let their convex'sa-
] DAN
tion be consonant with that of the principal charac
ters.
“ The difficulty, therefore, does not lie m assigning
a primary and distinctive part to Ajax or Ulysses j
since it springs naturally from the importance of
their situation in the play ; but in introducing the
figures in a becoming style, giving them parts of more
or less importance, connected with the action of the
two heroes •, in introducing women, some of whom
will appear concerned for Ajax, and the greater
number showing their partiality for Ulysses. Ihe
triumph of the latter, the former’s death, present to
the man of genius a series of images that vie with each
other in point of interesting and picturesque situa¬
tions. These, by means of a colouring skilfully con¬
trasted, cannot but produce the most lively sensations.
In fine, a ballet pantomime should be dramatic in all
its parts •, and the figure-dancers, who succeed to the
principal performers, ought to continue the scene,
not by a number of symmetrical figures and studied
steps, but by that kind of animated expression which
keeps up the attention of the spectators to the main
subject for which the preceding actors have prepared
the audience.
“ Yet, either through ignorance, or in consequence
of a vitiated habit, there are but few well supported
ballets. Dance is introduced for the mere purpose of
dancing *, the end is supposed to be answered by the
mechanical motions of the feet, or by high jumping,
and that the idea which people of real taste may have
of a ballet is fully answered, when inactive performers
are introduced in it, who mix and jostle each other,
presenting a confused heap of pictures, sketched with¬
out tasted awkwardly grouped, and totally devoid of
that harmony and expression, the offspring of the soul,,
which alone can embellish art by giving it life.”
M. Noverre, in considering the knowledge necessary
for attaining perfection in the present art, observes,
that mythology, ancient poetry, and chronology, ought
to be the primary study of a ballet-master, ^yho ought
also to possess a genius for poetry and painting, since
the art borrows all its charms from a perfect imitation
of nature.
A slight knowledge of geometry cannot but prove
very advantageous, as it will help the master to intro¬
duce his figures in due proportion, to calculate exactly,
and execute with precision. By means of that unerr¬
ing guide, he will retrench every superfluous accessary,
and thus enliven the performance. Taste will intro¬
duce elegance, genius create variety, and judgment
direct the whole.
What is a ballet but a piece of more or less com¬
plicated machinery, which strikes or surprises the be¬
holder by its various effects, only in proportion as
those are diversified and sudden : That chain and
connection of figures, those motions succeeding each
other with rapidity, those various forms turning con¬
trary ways, that mixture of different incidents, the
ensemble and harmony which mark the steps and ac¬
company the exertions of the dancers 5 do not all these
give you the idea of a mechanism most ingeniously
contrived ? , ,. .
Ballets are often built on preternatural subjects y
several of them require the assistance of machinery.
For instance, few of the subjects taken from Ovid will
Dance.
DAN [ 75 ] DAN
be fit for representation, without a change of scenery,
flights through the air, metamorphoses, &c. This
author, therefore, must never be taken for a model, un¬
less the ballet-master himself he an expert mechanist,
None are to be found out of the capital, but journey¬
men and stage-sweepers, whom the patronage of some
mighty son of the sock has preferred by degrees to that
employment. The talents of those upstarts consist in,
and reach not beyond, the capacity of putting up the
lights which they were wont to snulf for many years,
or letting down awkwardly a glory of the most wretch¬
ed style. The theatres in Italy are not remarkable for
their machinery j those of Germany, built upon the
same plan, are not less deficient in point of that en¬
chanting part of stage-exhibition ; so that a ballet-
master must, in these countries, find himself greatly em¬
barrassed, if, unskilled in the mechanical arts, he cannot
convey his ideas with perspicuity, by building for that
purpose small models, which are better understood by
the generality of workmen than the clearest verbal ex¬
planation.
The theatres of Paris and London are the best sup¬
plied with these resources. The English are very in¬
genious •, their stage machinery is more simplified than
the French, and of course produces a quicker effect.
Among them all these kinds of works are most ex¬
quisitely finished ; that neatness, care, and exactitude,
which are remarkable throughout every part, greatly
contribute to the precision of the whole. Those chef-
d’cEuvres of mechanism particularly display themselves
in their pantomimes; which, however, are low and
trivial, devoid of taste and interest, and built upon the
meanest incidents. It may be said that this kind of en¬
tertainment, which is got up at a prodigious expence,
is only calculated to please those eyes which are shocked
at nothing; and that it would meet with no success on
the French theatres, where no other pleasantry is per¬
mitted but such as is not incompatible with decency,
abounds with delicacy and wit, and is nowise levelled
against morals and humanity,
A composer who wishes to rise superior to the gene¬
rality of ballet-masters, should study the painters, and
trace them in their various manners of drawing and
composing. Both arts have the same object in view,
whether it be for taking likenesses, mixing the colours
and preserving the clare-obscure ; or for grouping the
figures properly, laying on the draperies, throwing the
former into elegant attitudes, and giving them life and
expression.
Upon the same principle, the knowledge of anatomy
will serve to render more clear and intelligible the pre¬
cepts which he has to lay down for his pupils. It will
be an easy matter for him to distinguish properly be¬
tween the natural and habitual defects in their confor¬
mation. These are the greatest obstacles that so often
impede the progress of young beginners. Thus once
knowing the cause, he will be able to remedy the evil;
as his lessons and precepts will then be the result of
strict attention, they never can fail of becoming pro¬
fitable.
Drawing is too useful in the composition of ballets
for the master not to pay a serious attention to that art;
it will contribute to the beauty of the forms; will give
to the figures an air of novelty and elegance, animate
the groups, throw the body into graceful positions, and Dance,
show the attitudes in a just precision, v —
A ballet-master who is no proficient in music, will
make a bad choice of his airs. He will not enter into
the spirit or character of them. The motions of his
dancers will not beat time with that precision and de¬
licacy which are absolutely necessary, unless he is en¬
dued with that sensibility of organ which is more com¬
monly the gift of nature than the result of art, and is
far above what may be acquired by long practice and
steady application.
A good choice of music is as essential to dancing, as
the choice of words and the phrasing of a speech is to
eloquence. It is the tune and time of the music that
fix and determine the motion of the dancers. If the
former be uniform and devoid of taste, the ballet will,
like its model, be dull and unmeaning.
By this immediate connection between music and
dancing, it clearly appears that, from a practical
knowledge of the former, the ballet-master will derive
the greatest advantages. He will then be able to im¬
part his thoughts to the composer ; and if taste and
knowledge combine together-, he will either set the
music himself, or at least furnish the composer with
the principal outlines, to characterise the action of
the dancer; as this will he varied and expressive,
the ballet cannot fail of being equally so. Music
well composed should paint and speak ; and the
dance set to those sounds, will be, as it were, the echo
to repeat the words. If, on the contrary, it he mute,
if it speak not to the ear of the dancer, then all sen¬
timent and expression are banished from the perform¬
ance.
As nothing can appear trifling to the man of ge¬
nius, nothing should seem so to the ballet-master. It
is impossible for him to distinguish himself in his pro¬
fession, unless he applies to study those arts which have
been just mentioned. Yet to insist that he should be
master of them all in that degree of perfection which is
attainable only by those who give themselves entirely
up to the study of each of them in particular, would be
requiring a mere impossibility.
All that can be deemed strictly requisite, therefore,
is a general knowledge, a slight tincture of those scien¬
ces which, by the connection they have with each
other, are likely to contribute to the improvement of
the art and to its reputation. From the natural
union, however, that subsists between the arts, and
from the harmony which reigns amongst them, that
ballet-master will ennoble his composition with the
most fire, spirit, liveliness, and interest, who has most
genius and imagination, and whose knowledge is most
extensive.
As to performers and their personal qualifications :
The first point to which it is directed to pay attention
when one takes up the profession of a dancer (at least
so soon as he becomes capable of reflection), is his bo¬
dily formation : If one is conscious of any natural de¬
fect which seems irremediable by art, it will be best
immediately to renounce every idea that may have been
formed of the advantage arising from popular appro¬
bation. But where personal defects can be reformed
by application, study, or the advice and assistance of
judicious masters, then it becomes an essential concern
K 2 quickly
DAN [ ] DAN
Dance, quickly to exert every efiort, before the parts to be
■p-V— corrected have acquired strength and consistence, be¬
fore nature has unalterably taken her bent, and the er¬
ror becomes too habitual and inveterate.
Among other personal defects, there are two which
deserve particular notice: L he first is that of being
jarrete, “ knock-kneed j” the other of being arque, or
“ bow-legged.”
A man is said to be jarrete or inknee’d when the
haunches are strait, and inclining inwardly, the thighs
lie near, and the knees are. protuberant, and so close
that they touch and knock together at every step,
even when the feet are at a distance ; so that such a
person, from the knees to the feet, makes the figure ot
a triangle. In people of this formation, likewise,
there is a clumsiness in the inside of the ancle, a great
elevation in the instep, while the tench Achillis is not
only very slender, but much extended in the articula¬
tion.
The other defect of being arqne or bow-legged, is
the opposite of the former, and exists in the same parts,
' namely, from the haunches to the feet, which describe
a sort of bow or arch ; for the haunches being in this
case hollow, the thighs and knees stand open, and at a
distance, so that they can never be brought in proper
contact like those of a well-shaped person $ their feet
also are long and flat, the ancle juts out, and the fencfo
Achillis is large and closely inserted. A single view of
these diametrically opposite effects, proves more forci¬
bly than any arguments that the instructions which
might correct the errors of one of this sort of dancers,
would tend only to increase the defects of the other ^
and that consequently their aim and study ought to be
correspondently opposite.
The dancer whose defect is of the first kind, that of
being jarrete, must use the means which art furnishes
him with, to separate and widen the too closely con¬
nected parts. The first step to this end is to turn the
thighs outwardly, endeavouring to move them in that
position, by taking the advantage of the free rotation
which the thigh bone has in the cotyloidal cavity of the
haunches : assisted by this exercise, the knees will fol¬
low the same direction, and return, as it were, to their
proper position. The knee-pan (which seems intended
to prevent the knee from being thrown too far back¬
ward from its insertion) will stand perpendicular over
the point of the foot, while the thigh and leg thus placed
describe a line that will ensure firmness and stability to
the whole body.
The second remedy to be used is, to keep the knees
in a constant bend, and to make them appear very
much stretched, without their being really so. This must
be the result of long and constant practice ; but when
the habit is firmly contracted, it is impossible to return
to the former vicious position, without causing an in¬
supportable pain and numbness. Some dancers have
been able to conceal this defect so artfully, that it was
entirely undiscoverable, unless in dancing strait-capers
or in very quick movements. I he reason of its becom¬
ing visible at such times is, that the contraction of
the muscles in the effort of leaping makes them stiff
about the articulation, and forces every part into its
former and natural situation \ the knees thus strained,
turn inwardly, and (for the time) regain their usual
protuberance, which becomes an obstacle to tfie display
of the entre-chat. The more these parts connect, to the Danee.
greater distance will the lower extremities be thrown •, c—y—
hence the legs, neither being able to beat nor cross, re¬
main motionless at the time of the knees rolling over
each other, while the entre-chat, being neither cut, beat,
nor crossed by the feet, is deprived of that life and
brilliancy which are its chief merit.
A person thus formed, should entirely renounce the
entre-chat, cabrioles, and every kind of dance that re¬
quires very quick and complicated movements, as it
will infallibly render him weak and powerless ; for the
haunches being so strait, the muscles that are attached
to them (whereon the motions of the trunk depend),
have not a proper and easy play, which will be always
in proportion to the dimension of these bones, because
then the muscles shoot out or divide from a point more
distant from the centre of gravity: therefore the
grander sort of dancing, and tcri'e a tcrrc, is the best
adapted to such dancers 5 and wre may add, that what¬
ever they lose on the score of strength, they regain in
elegance and address. They are luxuriant and shining
in the simplest parts ; easy even in difficult ones, w here
no great efforts are required ; just in their execution j
elegant in their display, and their spring is always
exerted with an infinity of grace, as they dexterously
employ every resource which the motion of the instep
can give them. These are advantages which atone for
W'ant of personal strength j and in dancing, agility and
address are always preferable to the mere efforts of
force.
The art of concealing or overcoming the defects of
such performers as we have characterized by being
arqve or bow-legged, is in a great measure the oppo¬
site of the former j namely, by endeavouring to bring
together the parts that are too much separated, and
lessening that vacancy which is particularly observable
between the knees. These require no less exercise than
the former in turning the thighs outwardly, and gene¬
rally are less able to disguise their faults : for being
more robust and vigorous, there is less pliability in their
muscles, and their joints move less easily. And it
must be added, if the deformity results from a natural
distortion of the bone, labour will be as useless as all
the aids of art will be impotent.
It was remarked, that dancers of the first class, or
jarretes, should preserve a slight genuflexion or bend in
their performance •, while these, for the opposite rea¬
son, ought to keep their limbs rather extended or
stretched, and to cross more closely, by that means
diminishing the vacancy occasioned by the natural sepa¬
ration. Such dancers are nervous, lively, and brilliant
in all cases which require more strength than elegance j
vigour and agility may be inferred from their mus¬
cular force, and the firmness and resistance of their
articular ligaments ; lively in their dancing, because
they cross low rather than high 5 and requiring on
that account less space in beating time, they perform
it with more liveliness : they display more brilliancy,
because the light becomes visible between the limbs at
the moment of crossing and recrossing ; and this is pre¬
cisely the clair-obscure of dancing; for if the time in
the entre-chat or cross-caper is neither cut nor beat,
but rolled or huddled over, there is no light to give
distinction to the shadows, and the limbs, so closely-
joined, present an indistinct and effectless mass.
Thes
Dance.
DAN [ 77 ] DAN
These dancers have less address than the others, as
they generally depend on their strength 5 and indeed
that strength is a constant obstacle to ease and pliancy j
il' it forsakes them a single moment, they appear awk¬
ward and ridiculous: nor can they conceal their situa¬
tion by any trifling display ; that, requiring mere ad¬
dress, would give them time to recover, which their
want of natural elasticity otherwise prevents.
Dancers who are jarretcs, are weak, slender, and de¬
licate *, the others, strong and vigorous, large made,
and nervous. It is a common opinion, that stout,
squat-built men are heavy and sluggish j which they
doubtless are in respect of bodily weight; but the
notion is erroneous so far as regards dancing; for
activity owes its very existence to muscular strength,
and every man who has not a requisite share of that
will always fall heavy. The reason is evident ; the
weak parts, in the instant of falling, not being able to
resist the stronger (that is, the weight of the body,
which acquires a. momentum in proportion to the height
it falls or descends from), yield and bend ; and it is at
the moment of relaxation or flexion that the noise of
the fall is heard ; a circumstance greatly lessened, or
rather entirely avoided, when the body is able to main¬
tain itself in a perpendicular direction ; and while the
muscular spring is sufficient to oppose that descending
force, and vigorously resist a shock which would other¬
wise destroy it.
Nature has not exempted the fair sex from those im¬
perfections we have been taking notice of; but art,
and the use of petticoats, come fortunately to the help
of the female dancer. The hoop conceals a multitude
of defects, which the critic’s curious eye cannot ascend
to discover. Most of them dance with their knees
open, as if they were naturally nrqtites; but, thanks
to this bad habit, and to the petticoats, they appear
more brilliant than the men ; because, as they beat
from the lower part of the leg, they perform the time
quicker than we, who, concealing nothing from the
spectator, are obliged to beat at a greater extent, and
to do it originally from the haunch.
The vivacity of the sex contributes much to the
brilliancy of their execution ; though certainly not
less is owing to the petticoats, which, by concealing
the length of the limbs, catch the attention, and fix
it more advantageously : thus all the fire of the beats
being united in one point, appears more lively and
brilliant ; while the eye embraces one object only,
without being hurried and confused in proportion to
the space it has to overlook.
To perfection in dancing, M. Noverre observes,
nothing is more necessary than the outward turn of the
thigh ; yet nothing is more natural to mankind than
the contrary position ; it is born with us. It will be
superfluous, in establishing this truth, to cite for ex¬
ample the Asiatics, the Africans, or any people who
dance, or rather leap and move, without art or prin¬
ciple. If we attend only to children, or the rustic in¬
habitants of the villages, we shall see that they all turn
their feet inwardly. The other position is purely in¬
vention ; and a proof, far from equivocal, of this fault
being an imaginary one, is, that a painter would trans¬
gress as much against nature as the rules of his art,
were he to place the feet of his portrait in the situa¬
tion of a dancer’s. It is plain, then, that to dance
elegantly, walk gracefully, or address ourselves with Dance,
ease and manliness, we must absolutely reverse the na- v——y——
ture of things ; and force our limbs, by artificial ap¬
plications equally tedious and painful, to assume a very
different situation from what they originally received.
Such a change, however necessary in this art, can
only be accomplished by laying its foundation in the
earliest stages of infancy, when every bone and muscle
are in a state of pliability, and capable of receiving
any direction which we choose to give them.
The difficulty of attaining the outward position of
the limbs, is owing to our ignorance of the proper arts-
to be employed. Most beginners persuade themselves
that it is to be acquired by forcing the feet to turn
outward : and though this part may readily take such
a direction, from their suppleness, and being so easily
moved at their articulation with the leg; yet this-
method is so far false, as it tends to displace the ancle-
bones, and besides has not any effect upon either the
knees or thighs.
Neither is it possible to throw the knees outwardly
without the assistance of the thigh. The knees have
only two motions, bending and extension ; the one
drawing the leg backward, the other throwing it for¬
ward : they have no power, therefore, of themselves
to determine or assume an outward position; but must
eventually depend on the thigh, which entirely com¬
mands all the lower part of the body, and turns them
in consequence of its own rotatory motion ; so that,
in fact, whatever motion or position that takes, the
knee, foot, and leg, are obliged to follow.
M. Noverre condemns the tourne-haunch as a clumsy
and useless invention, which, instead of producing any
good effect, serves only to lame those who use it, by
giving a distortion to the waist, much more disagree¬
able than what it was intended to remove.
The simplest and most natural means are those which
reason and good sense ought to adopt ; and of these a
moderate but continual exercise is indispensable : the
practice of a circular motion or turning of the legs,
both inwardly and outwardly, and of boldly beating-
at full extent from the haunch, is the only certain
exercise to be preferred. It insensibly gives freedom,
spring and pliancy ; while the motions acquired by
using the machine have more an air of constraint,
than of that liberty and ease which should shine con¬
spicuous in them.
It has been maintained, that a strong and vigorous
person ought to spring higher and better than a slen¬
der or weaker man. But experience (says M. Noverre)
daily proves the contrary. We see many dancers, who
cut the time very strong, who beat with much vigour
and firmness, and yet cannot spring to any considerable
perpendicular elevation : for an oblique elevation, or on
one side, ought here to be distinguished from the former;
the latter is faint, and depends entirely upon address in
the dancer. There are others, again, whose slender
form renders their execution less bold, and rather ele¬
gant than forcible, rather lively than nervous, but who
can rise to an extraordinary height: it is to the shape
and formation of the foot, and to the length and ela¬
sticity of the tendon, that this power of elevation is
originally owing; the knees, the loins, and the arms,
all co-operate in this action ; the stronger the pressure
upon the muscles, the greater is the re-action, and the
spring
DAN
Dance, spring or leap is proportionably high.
-' motion oi' the knees participates with those of the in¬
step and tendo Achillis, though the latter are still the
most essential auxiliaries *, the muscles of the trunk
lend their assistance, and preserve the body in a per¬
pendicular direction; while the arms, running imper¬
ceptibly to the mutual assistance of all the parts, serve
as wings to counterbalance the machine.
Observe all those animals that have long and slender
ancles, as stags, roebucks, sheep, cats, monkeys, &c.
and you will perceive that they have a quickness and
facility of springing and leaping, which animals dit-
ferently formed in that part can never obtain.
But were a man endowed with all the other quali¬
ties essential to the perfection of the art, yet still with¬
out strength and firmness in his loins be never can be
a good dancer. This strength is certainly the gift of
nature ; but it may be much improved by the assiduity
of an able teacher. We daily see
neither perpendicularity nor firmness, and whose per¬
formance is altogether unstable and irregular ; and we
likewise see others, who, though they possess not so
great a degree of native force, have all the appearance
of sinewy firmness and muscular strength in their
haunches, back, and loins. Art has furnished a sub¬
stitute for nature, in the lessons of some excellent
teacher, who has convinced them, that when once
they forego an attention to the loins, it is impossible
to keep themselves in a right perpendicular line j and
therefore all their exertions will be devoid of taste:
that all wavering and instability in this part is incon¬
sistent with perpendicularity and firmness, and will cer¬
tainly cause distortion of the shape and waist: that the
depressure and sinking of the body deprives the lower
parts of that liberty which is necessary to their easy
motion: that hence the body is undetermined in its
positions; frequently drags the limbs, and constantly
loses the centre of gravity; and therefore cannot re¬
cover an equilibrium, but after various efforts and con¬
tortions totally repugnant to the graceful and harmo¬
nious motions of good dancing.
Such is the performance of those dancers who have
no strength in their loins, or at least do not exert what
they possess. In order to dance well, the body should
be firm and steady : it should particularly be motion¬
less and free from wavering while the legs are in exer¬
tion ; for when the body follows the action of the
feet, it displays as many grimaces and distortions as
the’legs execute different steps; the performance is
then robbed of its ease, uniformity, harmony, exact¬
ness, firmness, perpendicularity, and equilibrium; in
a word, of all those beauties and graces which are so
essential to make dancing give pleasure and delight.
Many dancers are of opinion, that to be soft and
luxuriant, the knees must be bent very low. But in
this they are most certainly mistaken; for a more than
ordinary flexion of the knees gives rather a dryness
and insipidity to dancing; and a dancer may be very
inelegant, and jerk, as it were, all his movements, as
well in bending very low as in not bending at all. -the
reason will appear natural and evident, when we reflect,
that the time and motions of the dancer are strictly
subordinate to the time and movements of the music :
pursuing this principle, it is not to be doubted, that
when the flexion of the knees is greater than what the
[ 78 ] DAN
The alternate air or time of the dance requires, the measure then Dance,
drawls along, languishes, and is lost. To recover and 1 l'"r"
catch again the time which this unnecessary flexion had
destroyed, the extension of the knee must be equally
quick ; and it is this sudden transition which gives such
a harshness and sterility to the execution, and renders
it as disgustful as the opposite fault of stiffness and in¬
flexibility.
That luxuriant softness requires more to its perfec¬
tion than merely an exact flexion and extension of the
knees; the spring of the instep must add its assistance,
while the loins must balance the body to preserve these
springs in proper bounds. It is this rare harmony of
motion (says M. Noverre) which has procured the ce¬
lebrated Dupre the glorious title of the God of Dance.
There are many dancers, and of an inferior class
only, who can display a great variety of steps, badly
enough chosen to be sure, and often displayed without
either judgment or taste; but it is very uncommon to
find among them that exactness of ear (that rare but
innate talent of a dancer), which gives life to and
stamps a value upon steps, and which diffuses over all
their motions a spirit that animates and enlivens them.
There are some ears stupid and insensible even to the
most simple, plain, and striking movements; there are
others, more cultivated or refined, that can feel and
comprehend the measure, but cannot seize its intrica¬
cies ; and there are others again to whom the most dif¬
ficult airs and movements are easy and intelligible, and
at once comprehended. It is nevertheless certain, that
a dancer may have a very perfect and nice feeling, and
dancers who have
yet not make his feelings intelligible to the audience,
if he has not the art of commanding those resources
which depend upon a proper exertion of the covp de
pied', awkwardness becomes visible where the exactest
proportion was necessary; and every step which would
have been becoming, and produced the happiest effect,
had it been smartly introduced at the conclusion of the
measure, will now be cold and lifeless, if all the limbs
are in motion at once. It requires more time to move
the whole body than to exert any single member; the
flexion and extension of the instep is more readily and
quickly made than the reciprocal motion of all the
joints. This principle allowed, that the dancer is de¬
stitute of precision, who (supposing he possesses a mu¬
sical ear) knows not how to time his steps; the elasti¬
city of the instep, and the more or less active play of
the muscles, add to the natural sensibility of the ear,
and stamp value and brilliancy on the dance. The
joint charms of the harmony springing from the move¬
ments of the music, and the motions of the dancer,
captivate even those whose ears are the most insensible
and least susceptible of musical impression.
There are some countries where the inhabitants in
general are endowed with this innate musical taste.
The Palatinate, Wirtemberg, Saxony, Brandenburg,
Austria, and Bohemia, supply the orchestras of the
German princes with many excellent musicians and e-
minent composers. The Germans, indeed, are born
with a very lively and just taste for music, and have in
them the seeds of true harmony ; nothing is more com¬
mon than to hear concerts, both in the streets and in
the shops of their mechanics, performed with the
greatest skill and exactness.
Such a natural and native taste for music as we have
been
DAN [ 79 ] DAN
Dance, been mentioning, is usually accompanied by, or in-
dudes in it, a similar one for dancing ; they are kin¬
dred arts ; the tender and harmonious accents of the
one excite and produce the agreeable and expres¬
sive motions of the other, and their union entertains
the eye and ear with animated pictures of sentiments $
these two senses again convey to the heart the inte¬
resting images which affect them, while the heart, in
its turn, communicates them to the mental faculty :
thus the pleasure resulting from the harmony and in¬
telligence of these two arts, enchants the spectator,
and fills him with the most seducing pleasures of vo¬
luptuousness.
Dancing is probably nowhere varied to such a de¬
gree as in the provinces of Germany ; where the well
known dances of one village are strangers in the adja¬
cent hamlet j their songs of mirth and merriment have
no less different airs and movements, though they are
all marked with that of gaiety. Their dances are
pleasing and engaging, because the offspring of simple
nature j their motions express joy and pleasure 5 and
the exactness with which the whole is performed, gives
a peculiar agreeableness to their steps, gestures, and
attitudes. Do they spring ?—a hundred persons, as¬
sembled round an oak, or some ancient pillar, seize
the time at one instant, bound up and descend with the
same exactness. Do they wish to mark the measure
bv a coup-de pied?—all strike with one consent j or
when they catch up their women, you see them all in
the air at an equal height, nor do they descend but at
the precise note that marks the time.
The counter-point, which is doubtless the touch¬
stone of a delicate ear, is to them an object of no dif¬
ficulty *, hence their dance is so particularly animated,
and the nicety of that organ has the effect of giving
their different motions an air of gaiety and variety al¬
together exquisite.
A dancer whose ear is untuned to harmony, displays
his steps without order or regularity, wanders from his
part, and pursues the measure without being able to
teach it: devoid of judgment, his dancing has nei¬
ther sentiment nor expression; and the music which
should direct his motions, regulate his steps, and guide
his time, serves only to expose his imperfections and
insufficiency. The study of music should therefore be
applied to for the purpose of obviating this defect, and
giving more sensibility and exactness to the organs of
hearing.
It will not be expected that we should proceed to
give a description of all the intricacies and combina¬
tions of steps that are or can be exerted in dancing;
or enlarge on the mechanical particulars of the art.
A dissertation on the latter would be insipid and dis¬
gustful 5 for the language of the feet and limbs is
addressed to the eyes, and not to the ears $ and a detail
of the former would be endless, since every dancer has
his peculiar manner of joining or varying the time.
It may be sufficient just to mention on this point, that
it is in dancing as in music, and with dancers as with
musicians: dancing does not abound with more funda¬
mental steps than music with notes j but there are oc¬
taves, breves, semibreves, minims, crotchets, double
and treble crotchets 5 times to count and measures to
follow. This mixture, however, of a small number of
steps, and a few notes, furnishes dancers with a mul¬
titude of connexions and a variety of figures j taste Dance
and genius will always find a source of novelty in ar- [|
ranging them in different manners, and to express vari- Kandng*
ous ideas. Slow and lengthened, or quick and precipi-.
tate steps, and the time correspondently varied, give
birth to this endless diversity.
Country-DANCE. See CouNTRY-Dancc.
Country-Dance, commonly so written, and hence
seeming to imply a rustic way of dancing borrowed
from country people or peasants, is by others supposed
to be a corruption of the French Contre-danse, where a
number of persons placing themselves opposite one to
another begin a figure.
Rope-DANCER, (schocnobates), a person who walks,
leaps, dances, and performs several other feats upon a
small rope or wire.
The ancients had their rope-dancers as well as we.
These had four several ways of exercising their ait:
The first vaulted, or turned round the rope like a wheel
round its axis, and there hung by the heels or neck.
The second flew or slid from above, resting on their
stomachs, with the arms and legs extended. The third
ran along a rope stretched in a right line or up and
down. Lastly, the fourth not only walked on the
rope, but made surprising leaps and turns thereon.
They had likewise the cremnobates or orobates ; that
is, people who walked on the brinks of precipices.
Nay more, Suetonius in Galba, c. 6. Seneca in his
85th Epistle, and Pliny, lib. viii. c. 2. make men¬
tion of elephants, that were taught to walk on the
rope.
St Vitus's Dance. See Medicine Index.
DANCETTE, in Heraldry, is when the outline of
any bordure, or ordinary, is indented very largely, the
largeness of the indentures being the only thing that
distinguishes it from indented.
DANCING. See Dance.
Dancing- Girls of Egypt. See Alme.
Dancing-girls are employed all over the east, as af¬
fording great diversion at all public entertainments.
They are all prostitutes j and, by the laws of their so¬
ciety, are bound to refuse no one for their price,
which is rated according to their beauty and other
accomplishments. There are even particular sets of
them appropriated to the service of the Gentoo tem¬
ples, and the use of the Rramin priests who attend
them. These poor creatures say that they were first
debauched by their gW, and afterwards by him con¬
signed over to the use of the priests who belong to his
temple.
These dancing-girls, whether in a settled or unset¬
tled condition, live in a band or community under the
direction of some superannuated female of the same pro¬
fession, under whom they receive a regular education,
and are trained up in all the arts of love and pleasing,
like scholars in an academy. Thus they acquire the
art of captivating the affections of the other sex to such
a degree, that nothing is more common than for one -
of the princes or chief people of the country to take a
liking to one of these girls, and waste immense sums on
her, though at the same time their own haram is stocked
with beauties far superior, and who- are besides posses¬
sed of the natural modesty of the sex, to which the others
have not the smallest pretensions. Thus some of these
girls acquire immense wealth. In the neighbourhood
DAN [
Dancing- of Goa, for instance on a part of tlie continent bor-
girls. dering on the district of that island, the dancing-guls
' *   founded a village, after being driven from Goa by the
zeal of the archbishop. Here they reside in a body
corporate, and attend the parties of pleasure of the no¬
blemen and principal inhabitants, for it is not every
one’s purse that can afford them. Here many of them
acquire considerable fortunes by this scandalous traffic,
and throw it into a common stock for the sake of car¬
rying on merchandise •, being concerned in shipping
and the most profitable voyages, for which they have
regular factors and brokers.
The dress of these women varies according to the
in ; but in all it is the most gor-
country they live ,
geous imaginable. They are loaded with jewels, lite¬
rally from top to toe, since even on their toes they
wear rings. Their necks are adorned with carcanets,
their arms with bracelets, and their ancles with chains
of gold and silver, often enriched with precious stones.
They also wear nose-jewels, which at first have an odd
appearance, but to which the eye is soon reconciled.
In Indostan, these dancing-girls, as well as the other
women of the country, have a peculiar method of pre¬
serving and managing their breasts, which at the same
time makes no inconsiderable part of their finery.
They inclose them in a pair of hollow cases, exactly
fitted to them j made of very light wood, linked to¬
gether and buckled at the back. Ihese at once con¬
fine their breasts so that they cannot grow to any dis-
gustfully exuberant size ; though, from their smooth¬
ness and pliancy, they play so freely with every mo¬
tion of the body, that they do not crush the tender
texture of the flesh in that part, like the stiff whale¬
bone stays in use among the Europeans. The out¬
side of them is spread over with a thin plate of gold or
silver, or set with gems, if they can afford it. An¬
other occassional ornament the dancing-girls put on,
particularly when they resort to their gallants, viz.
a necklace of many loose turns, composed of flowers
strung together, which they call mogrecs^ somewhatvre-
sembling Spanish double jessamy, but of a much strong¬
er and more agreeable fragrant odour, and far prefer¬
able to anv perfumes. “ They have nothing,” says
Mr Grose, “ of that nauseous boldness which charac¬
terizes European prostitutes, their style of seduction
being all softness and gentleness.”
With regard to the performances of these women as
dancers, we have various accounts. The author of
Memoirs of the late war in Asia, acquaints us, “ that
their attitudes as well as movements are not ungrace¬
ful. Their persons are delicately formed, gaudily at¬
tired, and highly perfumed. By the continuation of
wanton attitudes, they acquire, as they grow warm in
the dance, a frantic lasciviousness themselves, and com¬
municate, by a natural contagion, the most voluptuous
desires to the beholders.” Mr Ives seems to have been
very cool on this subject. “ I could not (says he) see
anv thing in their performance worthy of notice.
Their movements are more like tumbling or showing
postures than dancing. Their dress is thin and light j
and their hair, necks, ears, arms, wrists, fingers, legs
feet, and even their toes, are covered with ring of
gold and silver, made after a clumsy manner. J.hey
wear two rings in their noses *, and by their staring
looks and odd gesticulations, you W'ould rather suspect
3
8o ] DAN
them to be mad women than morris dancers. The
band of music that attends them is not less singular in
its way i it is chiefly composed of three or four men,
who hold two pieces of bell-metal in their hand, with ___
which they make an incessant noise j another man beats
what he is pleased to call a drum ; and that they may
not want vocal music to complete the band, there are
always two others appointed to sing. These last gene¬
rally lay in their mouths a good loading of betel-nut
before they begin, which, after having been well
chewed, tinges the saliva with such a redness, that a
stranger would judge them to bleed at the mouth by
too violent an exertion of their voice. These gentry
are called ticky-taw boys, from the two words ticky taw,
which they continually repeat, and chant with great
vehemence. The dancing-girls are sometimes made
use of in their religious ceremonies, as when the priests
bring forth the images of their gods into the open
fields on a car ornamented with lascivious figures, these
girls dance before the images amidst a great crowd of
people •, and having been selected for their superior
beauty, are very profitable to their masters the priests,
who are said to prostitute them to all comers.
Mr Grose informs us, that “ these dances would
hardly at first relish with Europeans, especially as they
are accompanied with a music far from delightful, con-
aisting of little drums called gum gums, cymbals, and
a sort of fife, which makes a hideous din, and are played
on by men, whose effeminacy, grimaces, and uncouth
shrivelled features, all together shock the eye and tor¬
ture the ear. However by use we become reconciled
to the noise, and may observe some not unpleasant airs,
with which the dancers keep time : the words often
express the matter of a pantomime dance, such as a
lover courting his mistress j a procuress bringing a let¬
ter, and endeavouring to seduce a woman from one
gallant in favour of another; a girl, timorous and
afraid of being caught in an intrigue. All these love-
scenes the girls execute in character dances, and with
no despicable expression, if they are proficients in their
art; for then their gestures, air, and steps, are mark¬
ing and well adapted. In some of their dances, even
in public, modesty is not much respected by the lasci¬
vious attitudes into which they throw themselves, with¬
out exposing any nudity ; being richly clad and be¬
decked with jewels after their manner. But in private
parties to which they are called, as in gardens, they
give themselves a great loose, and have dances in re¬
serve, in which, though still without any grossness in
discovering their bodies, they are mistresses of such
motions and lewdness of looks and gestures as are per¬
haps more provoking.
DANDELION. See Leoxtodon, Botany Index.
DANDINI, Pietro, an eminent painter, was born
at Florence in 1646, and received his first instructions
in the art of painting from Valero Spada, who excel¬
led in small drawings with a pen. M hilst he was un¬
der the care of that artist, he gave such evident proofs
of a ready genius, that he was then placed as a dis¬
ciple with his uncle Vincencio Dandini, a master of
great reputation through all Italy, who had been
bred up under Pietro da Cortona. He afterwards tra¬
velled through most of the cities of Italy, studying the
works of those who were most distinguished ; and re¬
sided for a long time at Venice, where he copied the
paintings
Dancing.
girls
H.
Damlini,
DAN [8
paintings of Titian, Tintoretto, and Paolo Veronese.
He next visited Parma and Modena, to design the
works of Corregio j omitting no opportunity that
might contribute to improve his hand or his judgment.
■When he returned to Florence, the grand duke Cos¬
mo III. the grand duchess Victoria, and the prince
Ferdinand, kept him perpetually employed, in fresco
painting as well as in oil j his subjects being taken not
only from sacred or fabulous history, hut from his own
invention and fancy, which frequently furnished him
with such as were odd and singular, and especially with
whimsical caricatures. He died in 1712.—This ma¬
ster had a most extraordinary talent for imitating the
style of even the most celebrated ancient painters of
every school, particularly Titian, Veronese, and Tin¬
toretto 5 and with a force and elegance, equal to his
subjects of history, he painted portraits, landscapes,
architecture, flowers, fruit, battles, animals of all
kinds, and likewise sea pieces 5 proving himself an uni¬
versal artist, and excellent in every thing he under¬
took.
He had a son, Octavio, who proved not inferior to
him in any branch of his profession, and was an honour
to his family and his country.
Dandini, Ccesare, history painter, was born at Flo¬
rence j and was the elder brother and first instructor of
Vincentio .Dandini, the uncle of Pietro. This master
had successively studied as a disciple with Cavalier Cur-
radi, Passignano, and Cristofano Allori; from whom
he acquired a very pleasing manner of designing and
colouring. He was extremely correct in his drawing,
and finished his pictures highly. Several noble altar-
pieces in the churches of Florence are the productions
of his pencil *, and one, which is in the chapel I’Annon-
ciata, is particularly admired.
DANDOLA, Henry, doge of Venice, a brave ad¬
miral and politician. With a Venetian fleet he took
Constantinople in 1203, and had the moderation to re¬
fuse to be emperor. He died in 1250.
DANEGELT, an annual tax laid on the Anglo-
Saxons, first of is. afterwards of 2s. for every hide of
land throughout the realm, for maintaining such a num¬
ber of forces as were thought sufficient to clear the Bri¬
tish seas of Danish pirates, which heretofore greatly
annoyed our coasts.
Danegelt was first imposed as a standing yearly
tax on the whole nation, under King Ethelred, A. D.
991. That prince, says Camden, B?'itan. 142. much
distressed by the continued invasions of the Danes, to
procure a peace, was compelled to charge his people
with heavy taxes called Danegelt.—At the first he paid
I0,000l. then i6,OOol. then 24,000!. after that
36,000!. and lastly 48,000!.
Edward the Confessor remitted this tax : William I.
and II. reasumed it occasionally. In the reign of
Henry I. it was accounted among the king’s standing
revenues $ but King Stephen, on his coronation day,
abrogated it for ever.
No church or church-land paid a penny to the dane¬
gelt ; because, as is set forth in an ancient Saxon law,
the people of England placed more confidence in the
prayers of the church than in any military defence they
could make.
DANET, Peter, abbot of St Nicholas de Verdun,
was one of the persons chosen by the duke of Montau-
Vol. VII. Part I. t
I ] DAN
sier to write on the classics for the use of the dauphin. Dane!.
He had a share in Phaedrus, which he published with Daniel.
notes and explications in Latin. He also wrote a die- lj"r '“v —
tionary in Latin and French, and another in French
and Latin. He died at Paris in 1709.
DANIEL, the fourth of the greater prophets, was
born in Judea, of the tribe of Judah, about the 25th
year of the reign of Josiah. He was led captive to
Babylon, with other young Hebrew lords, after the
taking of Jerusalem by Nebuchadnezzar, who took
them into his service. That prince gave them masters
to instruct them in the language and sciences of the
Chaldeans, and ordered them to be fed with the most
delicate viands : but they, fearing that they should eat
meat forbidden by the law of Moses, desired the king’s
officers to allow them only pulse. The wisdom and
conduct of Daniel pleasing Nebuchadnezzar, that
prince gave him several posts of honour. It is com¬
monly believed, that this prophet, when but 12 years
of age, made known the innocence of the chaste Su¬
sannah : but the learned are not agreed, that the young
Daniel, who confounded the old men, was the same
with this prophet. However, he explained Nebuchad¬
nezzar’s dream of the mysterious statue, which foretold
the four great monarchies j on which account he was
made prefect of the province of Babylon. In the reign
of Darius, the king of the Medes, he refused to adore
the golden statue of the king, and was cast into the
lions den, when those beasts, though pinched with hun¬
ger, did him no manner of hurt. And he explained
the characters written on the wall of the room where
Belshazzar was feasting.
It is believed that Daniel died in Chaldea, and that
he did not take advantage of the permission granted by
Cyrus to the Jewrs of returning to their own country.
St Epiphanius says he died at Babylon j and herein he
is followed by the generality of historians.
The prophecies of Daniel concerning the coming of
the Messiah, and the other great events of after-times,
are so clear and explicit, that, as St Jerome tells us,
Porphyry objected to them, that those which related
to the kings of Syria and Egypt, chap. xi. must have
been written after the times of Antiochus Epiphanes j
whereas his prophecy was translated into Greek 100
years before his time, and the translation was in the
hands of the Egyptians, who had no great kindness
for the Jews and their religion. And those prophecies
foretelling the success of Alexander, chap. viii. 5. xi. 3.
were shown to Alexander by the Jews, in consequence
of which they obtained several privileges from him ;
(Ant. lib. xi. c. 8.). The style of Daniel is not so lofty
and figurative as that of the other prophets ; it is clear
and concise, and his narrations and descriptions simple
and natural : in short, he writes more like a historian
than a prophet.
The Jews do not reckon Daniel among the pro¬
phets $ part of his book, that is, from the fourth verse
of his second chapter to the end of the seventh chap¬
ter, was originally written in the Chaldee language ;
the reason of which was, that in that part he treats of
the Chaldean or Babylonish affairs : all the rest qf
the book is in Hebrew. The first six chapters of the
book of Daniel are a history of the kings of Babylon,
and what befel the Jews under their government. In
the last six he is altogether prophetical, foretelling not
L only
dan [ S;
Daniel onty wliat should happen to his own church and nation,
Danmonii. but events in which foreign princes and kingdoms were
”v ' concerned. _ .
DANIEL, Samuel, an eminent poet and Instonan,
was born near Taunton in Somersetshire in the year
1562, and educated at Oxford ; but leaving that uni¬
versity without a degree, he applied himself to English
history and poetry under the patronage of the earl of
Pembroke’s family. He was afterwards tutor to the
lady Anne Clifford ; and, upon the death of Spenser,
was created poet-laureat to Queen Elizabeth. In King
James’s reign he was appointed gentleman extraordi¬
nary, and afterwards one of the grooms oi the privy-
chamber to the queen consort, who took great delight
in his conversation and writings. He wrote a history
of England, several dramatic pieces, and some poems j
and died in 1619. . c
Daniel, Gabriel, a celebrated Jesuit, and one ot
the best French historians, was born at llouen in 1649.
He taught polite literature, philosophy, and divinity,
among the Jesuits ; and was superior of their house at
Paris, where he died in 1728. There are a great
number of his works published in French, of which
the principal are, I. A History ot France, of wine 1
he also wrote an abridgement in nine volumes, i2mo.
2. A History of the French Militia, in two vols
4to. 2. An Answer to the Provincial Letters. 4. A
Voyage to the World of Descartes. 5. Letters on
the doctrines of the Theorists, and on Probability.
6. New difficulties relating to the knowledge ot
Brutes : And, 7. A Theological treatise on the Effi¬
cacy of Grace. .... 1
DANMONH, an ancient British nation, supposed
to have inhabited that tract of country which is now
called Cornwall and Devonshire, bounded on the south
by the British occean, on the west by St George’s chan¬
nel, on the north by the Severn sea, and on the east
bv the country of the Durotriges. Some other British
tribes were also seated within these limits 5 as the Eos-
sini and Ostidamnii ; and, according to Mr Baxter,
they were the keepers of their flocks and herds. As the
several tribes of the Danmonii submitted without much
resistance to the Romans, and never joined in any re¬
volt against them, that people were under no necessity
of building many forts, or keeping many garrisons
in their country. This is the reason why so few Ro¬
man antiquities have been found in that country, and
so little mention is made of it and its ancient inhabi¬
tants by Roman writers. Ptolemy names a few places,
both on the sea coasts and in the inland parts ol this
country, which were known to, and frequented by, the
Romans. The most considerable of these places are
the two famous promontories of Bolerium and Ocri-
num, now the Land’s end and the Lizard ; and the
towns of Isca Danmoniorum and Tamare, now Exeter
and Saltash. As the Danmonii submitted so tamely
to the Romans, they might perhaps permit them to
live, for some time at least, under their own princes
and their own laws ; a privilege which we know they
granted to some other British states. In the most per¬
fect state of the Roman government in Britain, the
country of the Danmonii made a part of the province
called Flavia Caisariensis, and was governed by the pre¬
sident of that province. After the departure of the
Romans, kingly government was immediately revivet
. ] DAN
among the Danmonii in the person of S ortigern, who Danmonii,
was perhaps descended from the race of their ancient Da»Ve»
princes, as his name signifies in the British language * "
a chieftain or the head ot a family.
DANTE, Aligheri, one of the first poets of Italy,
was born at Florence in 1265, an ancient and ho¬
nourable family. Boccacio, who lived in the same
period, has left a very curious and entertaining treatise,
on the life, the studies, and manners of this extraor¬
dinary poet, whom he regarded as his master, and for
whose memory he professed the highest veneration.
This biographer relates, that Dante, befoie he was
nine years old, conceived a passion for the lady whom
he has immortalized in his singular poem. Her age
was near his own j and her name was Beatnce, the
daughter of Folco Portinari, a noble citizen ot Flo¬
rence. The passion of Dante, however, like that of
his successor Petrarch, seems to have been of the chaste
and platonic kind, according to the account he has
himself given of it, in one of his early productions, en¬
titled Vita Nuova ; a mixture of mysterious poetry and
prose 5 in which he mentions both the origin of his
affection and the death of his mistress, who, according
to Boccacio, died at the age of 24. Ihe same author
asserts, that Dante fell into a deep melancholy in con¬
sequence of this event, from which his friends endea¬
voured to raise him, by persuading him to marriage..
After some time he followed their advice, and repent¬
ed it} for he unfortunately made choice of a lady who
bore some resemblance to the celebrated Xantippe.
The poet, not possessing the patience of Socrates, se¬
parated himself from her with such vehement expres¬
sions of dislike, that he never afterwards admitted her
to his presence, though she had born him several chil¬
dren. In the early part of his life he gained some
credit in a military character ; distinguishing himself by
his bravery in an action where the I lorentines obtain¬
ed a signal victory over the citizens of Arezzo. He
became still more eminent by the acquisition of civil
honours; and at the age of 25 he rose to be one of
the chief magistrates of Florence, when that dignity
was conferred by the suffrages of the people. From
this exaltation the poet himself dated his principal
misfortunes, as appears from the fragment ot a letter
quoted by Leonardo Bruni, one of his early biogra¬
phers, where Dante speaks of his political failure with
that liberal frankness which integrity inspires. Italy
was at that time distracted by the contending factions
of the Ghibellins and the Guelphs: the latter, among
whom Dante took an active part, were again divided
ipto the Blacks and the Whites. Dante, says Gravi-
na, exerted all his influence to unite these inferior par¬
ties; but his efforts were ineffectual, and he had the
misfortune to be unjustly persecuted by those of his
own faction. A powerful citizen of Florence, named
Corso Donati, had taken measures to terminate these
intestine broils, by introducing Charles of Valois, bro¬
ther to Philip the Fair king of France. Dante, with
great vehemence, opposed this disgraceful project, and
obtained the banishment of Donati and his partizans.
The exiles applied to the pope (Boniface VIII.), and
by his assistance succeeded in their design. Charles of
Valois entered Florence in triumph, and those who ban
opposed his admission were banished in their turn,,
Dante had been dispatched to Rome as the arabassa-
DAN [ 83 1 DAN
Dante- ^or ^‘s Party > an^ was returning, when he received
intelligence of the revolution in his native city. His
enemies, availing themselves of his absence, had procu¬
red an iniquitous sentence against him, by which he
was condemned to banishment, and his possessions
were confiscated. His two enthusiastic biographers
Boccacio and Manetti, express the warmest indigna¬
tion against the injustice of his country. Dante, on
receiving this intelligence, took refuge in Sienna, and
afterwards in Arezzo, where many of his party were
assembled. An attempt was made to surprise the city
of Florence, by a small army which Dante is suppo¬
sed to have attended : the design miscarried, and our
poet is conjectured to have wandered to various parts
of Italy, till he found a patron in the great Candella
Scala, prince of Verona, whom he has celebrated in
his poem. The high spirit of Dante was ill suited to
courtly dependence ; and he is said to have lost the
favour of his Veronese patron by the rough frankness
of his behaviour. From Verona he retired to France,
according to Manetti •, and Boccacio affirms that he
disputed in the theological schools of Paris with great
reputation. Bayle questions his visiting Paris at this
period of his life $ and thinks it improbable, that a man,
who had been one of the chief magistates of Florence,
should condescend to engage in the public squabbles of
the Parisian theoiogists j hut the spirit both of Dante
and the times in which he lived sufficiently account
for this exercise of his talents ; and his residence in
France at this season is confirmed by Boccacio, in his
life of our poet, which Bayle seems to have had no
opportunity of consulting.
The election of Henry count of Luxemburgh to
the empire, in November 1308, afforded Dante a pro¬
spect of being restored to his native city, as he attached
himself to the interest of the new emperor, in whose
service he is supposed to have written his Latin trea¬
tise De Monat'chia, in which he asserted the rights of
the empire against the encroachments of the Papacy.
In the year 1311, he instigated Henry to lay siege to
Florence; in which enterprise, says one of his bio¬
graphers, he did not appear in person, from motives of
respect towards his native city. The emperor was re¬
pulsed by the Florentines j and his death, which hap¬
pened in the succeeding year, deprived Dante of all
hopes concerning re establishment in Florence. After
this disappointment, he is supposed to have passed some
years in roving about Italy in a state of poverty and
distress, till he found an honourable establishment at
Kavenna, under the protection of Guido Novello da
Polenta, the lord of that city, who received this illus¬
trious exile with the most endearing liberality, continu¬
ed to protect him through the few remaining years of
his life, and extended his munificence to the ashes of
the poet.
Eloquence was one of the many talents which Dante
possessed in an eminent degree. On this account he
is said to have been employed on fourteen different
embassies in the course of his life, and to have suc¬
ceeded in most of them. His patron Guido had occa¬
sion to try his abilities in a service of this nature, and
dispatched him as his ambassador to negotiate a peace
with the Venetians, who were preparing for hostilities
against Ravenna. Manetti asserts that he was unable
to procure a public audience at Venice, and returned
to Ravenna by land, from his apprehensions of the
Venetian fleet ; when the fatigue of his journey, and
the mortification of failing in his attempt to preserve
his generous patron from the impending danger, threw
him into a fever, which terminated in death on the
14th of September 1321. He died, however, in the
palace of his friend $ and the affectionate Gnido paid
the most tender regard to his memory. This muni¬
ficent patron (says Boccacio) commanded the body ta
be adorned with poetical ornaments, and, after being
carried on a bier through the streets of Ravenna by the
most illustrious citizens, to be deposited in a marble
coffin. He pronounced himself the funeral oration,
and expressed his design of erecting a splendid monu¬
ment in honour of the deceased : a design which his
subsequent misfortunes rendered him unable to accom¬
plish. At his request, many epitaphs were written on
the poet : the best of them (says Boccacio) by Giovan¬
ni del Virgilio of Bologna, a famous author of that
time, and the intimate friend of Dante. Boccacio then
cites a few Latin verses, not worth transcribing, six of
which are quoted by Bayle as the composition of Dante
himself, on the authority of Paul Jovius. In 1483
Bernardo Bembo, the father of the celebrated cardinal,
raised a handsome monument over the neglected ashes
of the poet, with the following inscription :
Exigua tumuli E ant lies hie sorte jacebas
Squalenti nulli cognita pcene situ ;
At nunc mannoreo subnixus conderis areu.
Omnibus et cultu splendidiore nites;
Nimirum Bcmbus, Musis incensus Etruscis,
Hoc tibi, quern in pi imis lice coluerc, dedit.
Before this period the Florentines had vainly endea¬
voured to obtain the hones of their great poet from
the city of Ravenna. In the age of Leo X. they
made a second attempt, by a solemn application to the
pope for that purpose; and the great Michael Angelo,
an enthusiastic admirer of Dante, very liberally oflered
to execute a magnificent monument to the poet. The
hopes of the Florentines were again unsuccessful. The
particulars of their singular petition may he found in
the notes of Codivi’s Life of Michael Angelo.
At what time, and in what place, he executed the
great and singular work which has rendered him im¬
mortal, his numerous commentators seem unable to
determine. Boccacio asserts, that he began it in his
35th year, and had finished seven cantos of his Infer¬
no before his exile ; that in the plunder of his house,
on that event, the beginning of his poem was fortu¬
nately preserved, but remained for some time neglect¬
ed, till its merit being accidentally discovered by an
intelligent poet named Dino, it was sent to the mav-
quis Marcello Malespina, an Italian nobleman, by whom
Dante was then protected. The marquis restored these
lost papers to the poet, and intreated him to proceed
in a work which opened in so promising a manner. To
this incident we are probably indebted for the poem of
Dante, which he must have continued under all the
disadvantages of an unfortunate and agitated life. It
does not appear at what time he completed it; per¬
haps before he quitted Verona, as he dedicated the Pa¬
radise to his Veronese patron. The critics have vari¬
ously accounted for his having called his poem Come¬
dia, He gave it the title (said one of his sons), be-
L a cause
DAN
[ 84 ]
DAN
Dante,
Dantzic.
cause it opens with distress and closes with felicity.
The very high estimation in which this production was
held hy his country, appears from a singular institution.
The republic of Florence, in the year 1373, assigned a
public stipend to a person appointed to read lectures
on the poem of Dante : Boccacio was the first person
engaged in this office ; but his death happening in two
years after his appointment, his comments extended
only to the seventeen first cantos of the Inferno. 1 he
critical dissertations that have been written on Dante
are almost as numerous as those to which Homer has
given birth ; the Italian, like the Grecian bard, has
been the subject of the highest panegyric, and of the
grossest invective. Voltaire has spoken of him with
that precipitate vivacity, which so frequently led that
lively Frenchman to insult the reputation of the noblest
writers. In one of his entertaining letters, lie says to
an Italian abbe, Se fens grand cas du courage, avec
lequelvozis ave% ose dire que Dante etoit iin foit, ct son
ouvrage un monstre.—Le Dante pourra entrer dans les
hibliotheques des curieux, ??iais il ne sera jamais hi.
But more temperate and candid critics have not been
wanting to display the merits of this original poet. Mr
Warton has introduced into his last volume on English
poetry, a judicious and spirited summary of Dante’s
performance.
Dante, John Baptist, a native of Perugia, an ex¬
cellent mathematician, called the newDcedalus, from the
wings he made himself, and with which he flew several
times over the lake Thrasymenus. He fell in one of
his enterprises, the iron work with which he managed
one of his wings having failed \ by which accident he
broke his thigh : but it was set by the surgeons, and he
was afterwards called to ^ enice to profess mathematics.
DANTZIC, the capital of Polish Prussia, situated
on a branch of the Vistula, about four miles above
where it falls into the Baltic 5 in E. Long. 18. 3^*
N. Lat. 54. 20. This city is famous in history on
many accounts, particularly that of its being formerly
at the head of the Hanseatic association, commonly
called the Hanse-towns. It is large, beautiful, po¬
pulous, and rich ; its houses generally are five stories
high j and many of its streets are planted with ches-
nut-trees. One of the suburbs is called Scotland;
and the Scots had great privileges, in consequence of
their gallant defence of tne town, under one of the fa¬
mily of Douglas, when it was besieged by the Poles.
It is said there were upwards of 30,000 pedlars of that
nation in Poland who travelled on foot, and some with
three, four, or five horses. In King Charles IL’s time
they were about 53'ot-Jt->: that reign Sir John Den¬
ham and Mr Killigrew were sent to take the number
of them, and to tax them by the poll, with the king of
Poland’s license 5 which having obtained, they brought
home !O,O00l. sterling, besides their charges in the
journey. Dantzic has a fine harbour ; and is still a
most eminent commercial city, although it seems <.0 be
somewhat past its meridian glory, which was probably
about the time that the president de Thou wrote his
much esteemed Jhstona sui Dempons, wherein, unoei
the year 1607, he so highly celebrates its commerce
and grandeur. It was a republic, claiming a small ad¬
jacent territory about 40 miles round it, which was
under the protection of the king of Poland 5 but its
privileges have been abridged^ if not entirely annihi¬
lated, by the king of Prussia. Its magistracy, and the Dantzic-.
majority of its inhabitants, are Lutherans 5 although ' '
the Romanists and Calvinists be equally tolerated in it.
It has 26 parishes, with many convents and hospitals.
The inhabitants were once very numerous ; but the cala¬
mities of war, and the oppressions of foreign powers, have
reduced the inhabitants at present to 44,500. Its own
shipping is numerous*, but the foreign ships constantly
resorting to it are more so, whereof 1014 ariived theie
in the year 1752; in which year also 1288 Polish
vessels came down the Vistula, chiefly laden with corn
for its matchless granaries; from whence that grain is
distributed to many foreign nations, Poland being just¬
ly deemed the greatest magazine of corn in all Europe,
and Dantzic the greatest port for distributing it every¬
where : besides which, Dantzic exports great quantities
of naval stores, and a vast variety of other articles.
In 1815, an unfavourable year for trade, there arrived
only 459 ships, and sailed 377 *, but in general the
number is twice or three times as great. Dr Busching
affirms, that it appears from ancient records, as eaily
as the year 997, that Dantzic was a large commercial
city, and not a village or inconsiderable town, as some
pretend. The inhabitants of Dantzic have often
changed their masters, and have sometimes been un¬
der the protection of the English and Dutch 5 but ge¬
nerally have shown a great predilection for the king¬
dom and republic of Poland, as being less likely to ri¬
val them in their trade, or abridge them of their im¬
munities, which reach even to the privilege of coining
money. In 1734, the inhabitants discovered a remark¬
able attachment and fidelity toward Stanislaus king
of Poland, not only when his enemies the Russians
were at their gates, but even in possession of the city.
This city was exempted by the late king of Prussia
from those claims which he made on the neighbouring
countries ; notwithstanding which, his Prussian ma¬
jesty soon after thought proper to seize on the terri¬
tories belonging to Dantzic, under pretence of their
having been formerly part of Polish Prussia.^ He then
proceeded to possess himself of the port-duties belong¬
ing to that city, and erected a customhouse in the
harbour, where he laid arbitrary and insupportable
duties upon goods exported or imported. To complete
the system of oppression, customhouses were erected
at the very gates of Dantzic, so that no persons
could go in or out of the town without being search¬
ed in the strictest manner. Such is the treatment
which the city of Dantzie has received from the king
of Prussia, though few cities have ever existed which
have been comprehended in so many general and par¬
ticular treaties, and whose rights and liberties have
been so frequently secured, and guaranteed by so many
great powers, and by such a long and regular succession
of public acts, as that of Dantzic has been. In the year
1784, it was blockaded by his troops on various pre¬
tences ; but by the interposition of the empress of Rus¬
sia and of the king of Poland, they were withdrawn :
and a compromise having taken place, the city was
restored to its former immunities. In May 1807, it
was taken by the French, after a long siege, attended
with the destruction of the suburbs. It was retaken
from them in 1814, after an able defence by General
Rapp, and came again into the possession of Prussia in
i8l4‘ DANUBE,
Dam
Daph
DAP [ 85 ] DAP
DANUBE, the largest and most considerable river
in Europe, rising in the Black Forest, near Zunberg ;
and running north-east through Swabia, by Ulm, the
capital of that country ; then running east through Ba¬
varia and Austria, passes by Ratisbon, Passau, Ens, and
Vienna. It then enters Hungary, and runs south-east
from Presburg to Buda, and so on to Belgrade ; after
which it divides Bulgaria from Wallachia and Molda¬
via, discharging itself by several channels into the
Black sea, in the province of Bessarabia. Towards
the mouth, it was called the Ister by the ancients’,
and it is now said, that four of the mouths are choked
up with sand, and that there are only two remaining.
It begins to be navigable for boats at Ulm, and re¬
ceives several large rivers as it passes along. It is so
deep between Buda and Belgrade, that the Turks
and Christians have had men of war upon it ; and yet
it is not navigable to the Black sea, on account of
the cataracts. The Danube was generally supposed
to be the northern boundary of the Roman empire
in Europe. It was worshipped as a deity by the Scy¬
thians.
DAPHNE, a daughter of the river Peneus by
the goddess Terra, of whom Apollo became enamour¬
ed. This passion had been raised by Cupid j with
whom Apollo, proud of his late conquest of the ser¬
pent Python, had disputed the power of his darts.
Daphne heard with horror the addresses of the god,
and endeavoured to remove herself from his importu¬
nities by flight. Apollo pursued her, and Daphne,
fearful of being caught, intreated the assistance of the
gods, who changed her into a laurel. Apollo crown¬
ed his head with the leaves of the laurel, and for
ever ordered that that tree should be sacred to his di¬
vinity. (Some say that Daphne was admired by Leu¬
cippus, son of Oenomaus king of Pisa, who to be in
Iter company disguised his sex, and attended her in the
woods in the habit of a huntress. Leucippus gained
Daphne’s esteem and love ; but Apollo, who was his
powerful rival, discovered his sex, and Leucippus was
killed by the companions of Diana. Daphne was also
the name of a daughter of Tiresias, priestess in the tem¬
ple of Delphi. She was consecrated to the service of
Apollo by the Epigoni, or according to others by the
goddess Tellus. She was called Sibyl, on account of
the wildness of her looks and expressions when she de¬
livered oracles. Her oracles were generally in verse •,
and Homer, according to some accounts, has introduced
much of her poetry in his compositions.
Daphne, in Ancient Geography, a small village
near to, or in the suburbs of, Antiochia of Seleucis in
Syria •, with a large grove, well watered with springs :
In the middle of the grove stood the temple of Apollo
and Diana. Its extent was 80 stadia or 10 miles; the
distance from the city five miles: A place pleasant and
agreeable, from the plenty of water and the tempera¬
ture of the air, and its soft-breathing breezes. The
grove was of bay-trees, intermixed with cypress : which
last multiplied so fast, as to occupy the whole of it.
Pompey gave some land for enlarging the grove. An-
tiochus Lpiphanes built a very large temple of Daph-
naeus Apollo. The place at length became so infa¬
mous, that people of modesty and character avoided
resorting thither ; so that Daphnici mores became pro¬
verbial.
Daphne, in Ancient Geography, a small district on Daphne
the lake Samachonites, in the Higher Galilee, very il
pleasant, and plentifully watered with springs, which *>ilill(er-
feed the Less Jordan; whence its name seems to arise,
probably in imitation of that near Antioch of Syria on
the river Orontes.
Daphne, Spurge-laurel; a genus of plants, belong¬
ing to the octandria class ; and in the natural method
ranking under the 31st order, VeprecuUe. See Bo¬
tany Index.
DAPHNEPHORIA, a festival in honour of A-
pollo, celebrated every ninth year by the Boeotians. It
was then usual to adorn an olive bough with garlands
of laurels and other flowers, and place on the top a
brazen globe, on which were suspended smaller ones. In
the middle was placed a number of crowns, and a globe
of inferior size, and the bottom was adorned with a
safl’ron-coloured garment. The globe on the top re¬
presented the sun or Apollo. That in the middle was
an emblem of the moon, and the others of the stars.
The crowns, which were 65 in number, represented the
sun’s annual revolution. This bough was carried in so¬
lemn procession by a beautiful youth of an illustrious fa¬
mily, and whose parents were both living. The youth
was dressed in rich garments which reached to the
ground, his hair hung loose and dishevelled, his head
was covered with a golden crown, and he wore on his
feet shoes called Jphicratidce, from Iphicrates an A-
thenian, who first invented them. He was called
Ax(pvYiQo£6s, laurel-bearer; and at that time he executed
the office of a priest of Apollo. He was preceded by
one of his nearest relations, bearing a rod adorned
with garlands, and behind him followed a train of vir¬
gins with branches in their hands. In this order the
procession advanced as far as the temple of Apollo,
surnamed Ismenius, where supplicatory hymns were
sung to the god. This festival owes its origin to the
following circumstance.—When an oracle advised the
./Etolians who inhabited Aine and the adjacent coun¬
try, to abandon their ancient possessions, and go in
quest of a settlement, they invaded the Theban terri¬
tories, which at that time were pillaged by an army of
Pelasgians. As the celebration of Apollo’s festival
was near, both nations, who religiously observed it,
laid aside all hostilities, and according to custom cut
down laurel boughs from Mount Helicon, and in the
neighbourhood of the river Melas, and walked in pro¬
cession in honour of the divinity. The day that this
solemnity was observed, Polematas the general of the *
Boeotian army saw a youth in a dream, that presented
him with a complete suit of armour, and commanded the
Boeotians to ofl'er solemn prayers to Apollo, and walk
in procession with laurel boughs in their hands every
ninth year. Three days after this dream, the Boeotian
general made a sally, and cut oft’ the greatest part of the
besiegers, who were compelled by this blow to relin¬
quish their enterprise. Polematas immediately instituted
a novennial festival to the god, who seemed to be the
patron of the Boeotians.
DAPIFER, the dignity or office of grand master
of a prince’s household. This title was given by the
emperor of Constantinople to the czar of Russia as a
testimony of favour. In France the like officer was in¬
stituted by Charlemagne, under the title of dapiferat i
and the dignity of dapifer is still subsisting in Germany*
* / the
Dai dan us
D A R [ 86
the elector of Bavaria assuming the title of arch~dapi-
fcr of the empire^ whose office is, at the coronation o
the emperor, to carry the first dish of meat to table on
h° DAPPLE-BAY, in the manege : When bay horses
have marks of a dark hay, they are called dapple-hays.
DAPPLE-Blacks ; When a black horse has got spots
or marks more black or shining than the rest ot his
skin, he is called a dapple-black.
DARANTASIA, \n Ancient Geography, called Ho-
rum Claudii by the Romans j a town of the Centrones m
Gallia Narbonensis, situated between Lemincum and
Augusta Pretoria. Now Moustiers, znA^Moustiers en
Tarantaise, in Savoy. .
DARAPTI, among logicians, one of the modes ot
syllogisms of the third figure, whose premises are uni¬
versal affirmatives, and the conclusion is a particular
affirmative : thus,
Dar-
AV-
TT.
Every body is divisible ',
Every body is a substance ;
Therefore, some substance is divisible.
DARDA, a town and fort of Lower Hungary, built
by the Turks in 1686, and taken by the Imperialists
the next year, in whose hands it remains. It is seated
on the river Drave, 10 miles from its confluence with
the Danube, and at the end of the bridge of Esseck.
E. Long. io. io. N. Lat. 45* 45* ,
DARDANELLES, two ancient and strong castles
of Turkey, one of which is in Romania, and the othel*
in Natolia, on each side of the channel formerly called
the Hellespont. This keeps up a communication with
the Archipelago, and the Propontis or sea of Marmora.
The mouth of the channel is four miles and a halt over ;
and the castles were built in 1659, to secure tlie lurk-
ish fleet from the insults of the Venetians. The ships
that come from Constantinople are searched at the
castle on the side of Natolia, to see what they have on
b0 DARDANIA, in Ancient Geography, a district of
Moesia Superior to the south. Now the south part of
Servia, towards the confines of Macedonia and Illyri-
aum.—JJardani was the name of the people, who
seem to have been descendants of the Dardam of
Troas. Also a small district of Troas, along the
Hellespont, (Mela, Virgil) j and the ancient name of
Samothracia, (Pliny), from Dardanus, who removed
t!l D ARD ANUM promontorium, (Pliny) *, Dardanis,
f Strabo) *, a promontory of Troas, near Abydos, run¬
ning out into the Hellespont j with a cognomina town
at it, called Dardanus, and Dardanum ; all which gave
name to the Dardanelles.
DARDANUS, a son of Jupiter and Electra, who,
after the death of his brother Jasion, left Samotbrace
his country, and passed into Asia Minor, where he mar¬
ried Batia, the daughter of Teucer king of Teucna*
After the death of his father-in-law he ascended the
throne, and reigned 62 years. He bu.lt the city of
Dardania, and was reckoned the founder of the king¬
dom of Troy. He was succeeded by Erichthomus.
According to some, Corybas, his nephew, accompani¬
ed him to Teucria, where be introduced the worship
of Cybele. Dardanus taught his subjects to worship
Minerva, and he gave them two statues of the goddess,
] BAR
one of which is well known by the name of Palla¬
dium. According to Virgil, Dardanus was an Italian
bv origin.
' DARE, the same with dace. See Dace, Ichthyo¬
logy Index.
DARES, a Phrygian, who lived during the Trojan
war, in which he was engaged, and of which he wrote
the history in Greek. rLlie history was extant in the
age of ./Elian $ the Latin translation, which is all that
is known of it, is generally allowed to be spurious,
though it is attributed by some to Cornelius Nepos. This
tra islati'.n first made its appearance A. D. 1477, at
Milan. Homer speaks of him, Iliad, v. 10. and 7.
DARFOOR, or Darfur, a country or kingdom
of Africa, which has been visited by no other European
traveller excepting Mr Browne. Jhis country is of
considerable extent, and in many places covered with
wood. During the dry feeason, the appearance of the
open country is sterile and barren, but when the jams
commence, the dry sandy soil is soon changed into
green fields covered with luxuriant vegetation. Con¬
siderable quantities of maize, sesame, beans, and legu-
mens, are raised by the inhabitants for food. There
are several species of trees in Darfoor 5 but the tama¬
rind alone is valuable for its fruit, or rises to a consi¬
derable size. The date, which is diminutive, does not
appear to he indigenous. Domestic animals are, the
camel, the sheep, the goat, and horned cattle, which
are numerous. Of the milk of the cow, some ot the
inhabitants make a kind of cheese, but the process is
not generally known. The camel is of an inferior
quality •, and the horse and the ass are imported from
Egypt and Nubia. Their wild animals are, the lion,
the leopard, the hyaena, the wolf, and the wild buf-
faloe. The termes, or white ant, abounds 5 and the
cochineal insect is frequently met with, though it ha* ne¬
ver been applied to any useful purpose in Darfoor. The
rocks are chiefly composed of gray granite, but in a few
places alabaster and marble are found. Nitre is produ¬
ced in considerable quantities, fossil salt is found in one
district, and sulphur is collected by the pastoral Araba
on the south and west.
The principal towns in Darfoor, are Cobbe, the chi«f
residence of the merchants, situated in N. Lat. 14. il.
Long. E. G. 28. 8. It is above two miles in length, but
extremely narrow, containing numerous trees and vacant
spaces within its boundaries. Sweini, which commands
the northern road to Darfoor, is situated above two jour¬
neys to the north of Cobbe. Kourma, a small town, lies
12 or 13 miles to the south-West of Cobbe, and Cubcubia,
two and a half journeys to the west. Cubcubm commands
the western roads, and has a market twice in the week.
Cours lies 14 or 15 miles to the north-west of Cobbe $
Ril, about 60 miles to the south-east of Cobbe, is situ¬
ated in a fertile plain, commands the southern and
eastern roads, and was formerly the residence of the
kin<rs of Darfoor. Gidid, Gelle, and Shoba, are the only
other remarkable towns. The villages are numerous, but
their population seldom exceeds a few hundred inhabi¬
tants. The population of Darfoor is estimated by
Browne at 200,000 persons. It consists of the native
tribes of Fur, of a deep black complexion, crisped
woolly hair, and features different from those of the
negroes j Arabs of the tribes of Mahmid, Mahrea,
Beni Fesara, Beni Gerar, &c. some of whom had set¬
tled
Dardanus
Darfoor.
[)sr
L—V
\
D A R [ 87 ] CAR
Darfoor. ^,e country, while others wander on the fron-
' 1 ' tiers, and are very numerous j and a number of emi¬
grants, from the neighbouring states, particularly Dun-
gola, Mahas, Senaar, and Cordofan. Besides these,
Darfoor comprehends the inhabitants of various subor¬
dinate districts, that are sometimes dependant on Dar¬
foor, and sometimes on the surrounding nations: as Dar
Kngda, which is generally subject to Bergoo ; Dar
Berti, Bego, or Dageou, between Darfoor and Bergoo,
the power of which formerly predominated over the
Furian tribes ; and Zegliawa, formerly an independent
kingdom, that was accustomed to raise a thousand ca¬
valry in war, the inhabitants of which are different in
their features from the Negroes.
The dialect of Arabic which is vernacular in Dar¬
foor, differs essentially from that spoken in Egypt.
The native Furians are more cheerful in their disposi¬
tions than the Egyptians ; but resemble the Moorish
tribes in the violence of their passions, their disregard
to truth, their inattention to cleanliness, and their in¬
accurate ideas of property. As the practice of poly¬
gamy is established, their intercourse with the other sex
is regulated by no attention to delicacy or decency 5
and the precepts of Islamism are often infringed, by
the relations of brother and sister being exchanged for
a closer connection. The sex are, however, subjected
to less restraint than in many Mahometan countries.
The women appear in public unveiled, make bargains
in the markets, and converse with the other sex, with¬
out offending their husbands or relations. The most
severe labours of the field, and the meanest domestic
offices, are performed by the women, who are often
seen walking after their husbands, under the pressure
of a heavy burden, while these ride before them on
their asses, without incumbrance and without concern.
Their houses are built of clay, commonly by the hands
of their women, and are covered with a flattish roof of
thin boards, coated with clay. Salt is the general
medium of exchange in Darfoor, but in some places,
small tin rings of arbitrary value, are employed. A
caravan passes from Darfoor to Egypt, to traffic in
slaves, ivory, gum, camels, &c. ; but this commercial
intercourse is not regular, and is frequently interrupted.
The Dongolese and Nubian settlers in Darfoor, who
had been accustomed to the Egyptian trade, originally
opened the route ; but merchants are frequently inter¬
rupted by the Cubba-besh and Bedeiat Arabs ; the last
of whom are not supposed to be of Arabic origin. The
king, or, as he is denominated, the sultan of Darfoor,
reigns with absolute authority, and confers the same
arbitrary power on his delegates in the provinces.
Though the precepts of the Koran are the ostensible
rules ot decision, in litigation, yet the verdict depends
on the will of the judge ; and, as none but ecclesiastics
dare express their sentiments of his conduct, their opi¬
nion is the only check upon his caprice. These judges,
however, display considerable ingenuity in developing
the most intricate cases that occur in a nation versed
in the arts of deceit.
The sultan’s revenues consist in the taxes upon
merchandise exported and imported ; the annua] tri¬
bute of live stock from the Arabs, and of corn from
the towns and villages, with the amount of fines, for¬
feitures, and presents. The armies of Darfoor are not
numerous, as 4000 troops are reckoned a formidable
number $ neither are these troops remarkable for skill,
courage, or perseverance, though they endure hunger,
thirst, and fatigue, with great resolution, and use no
other camp equipage, but a light mat adapted to the
size of the body. The troops of Darfoor, not actually
engaged in war, are reviewed at an annual military
festival, termed, 27ie leathering of the kettledrum, when
presents are ofi’ered to the sovereign by all the princi¬
pal people of the country, and various superstitious ce¬
remonies are performed, among which are the sacrifice
of a young boy and a girl.
Various superstitious opinions are blended with the
Mahometanism of the Furian tribes. The mountaineers
sacrifice to the deity of the mountains in order to procure
rain. Mahometanism began to prevail in Darfoor, in the
reign of Solyman, of the Dageou race, who is supposed
by Browne to have lived at some period between 130
and 150 years ago. The Dageou race are reported to
have been originally expelled from the vicinity of Tunis,
and to have resigned the sceptre to the race of Fur,
after being exhausted by intestine dissensions. At the
inauguration of every king, they are said to have
kindled a fire, which was preserved burning till his
death. At the accession of a sultan, the present Fu¬
rians spread before him various carpets, on which their
deceased monarchs used to sit, and from that which
obtains the preference, deduce an omen of his future
character, which they suppose will resemble its former
possessor.
DARIC, in antiquity, a famous piece of gold, first
coined by Darius the Mede about 538 years before
Christ, probably during his stay at Babylon, out of
the vast quantity of gold which had been accumulated
in the treasury". From thence it was dispersed over the
east, and also in Greece j so that the Persian daric,
which was also called stater, was the gold coin best
known in Athens in ancient times. According to Dr
Bernard, it weighed two grains more than one of our
guineas j but as it was very fine, and contained little
alloy, it may be reckoned worth about 25s. of our
money. Plutarch informs us, that the darics were
stamped on one side with an archer clothed in a long
robe, and crowned with a spiked crown, holding a
bow in his left hand and an arrow in his right; and
on the other side with the effigies of Darius. All the
other pieces of gold of the same weight and value that
were coined of the succeeding kings, both of the Per¬
sian and Macedonian race, were called darics, from Da¬
rius in whose reign this coin commenced. Of these
there were whole darics and half darics j and they are
called in those parts of Scripture written after the Ba¬
bylonish captivity cn/arfow/Vw ; and by the Talmudists
darkonoth. Greaves says that the daric is still found
in Persia ; but it is certainly very scarce, and perhaps
of doubtful antiquity.
DARIEN, or the Isthmus of Panama, is a pro¬
vince between South and North America, being a nar¬
row isthmus or neck of land, which joins them to¬
gether. It is bounded on the north by the North sea,
on the south by the South sea, on the east by the
gulf or river of Darien, and on the west by another
part of the South sea and the province of Veragua. It
lies in the form of a bow, or crescent, about the great
bay of Panama in the South sea; and is 300 miles
in length, and 60 in breadth. This province is not
2 the
7
nen.
-V——
D A R [88
the richest, but is of the greatest importance to Spain,
and has been the scene of more actions than any other
in America. The wealth of Peru is brought hither,
and from hence exported to Europe. This has indu¬
ced many enterprising people to make attempts on 1 a-
nama, Porto-Bello, and other towns of this province,
in hopes of obtaining a rich booty.
The Scotch got possession of part of this province in
1699, and attempted to form an establishment, which
would have proved one of the most useful and impoit-
ant that ever was projected. Ot the rise, progress, and
catastrophe, of this well-imagined, but ill-fated, under¬
taking, Sir John Dairymple, in the 2d volume ot his
Memoirs of Great Britain and Ireland, has given a
very interesting account, authenticated in every parti¬
cular by unquestionable documents. The projector
and leader of the Darien expedition was a clergyman
of the name of Paterson ; who having a violent pro¬
pensity to see foreign countries, he made his profession
the instrument of indulging it, by going to the new
western world, under pretence of converting the In¬
dians to the religion of the old. In his courses there,
he became acquainted with Captain Dampier and IN r
Wafer, who afterwards published, the one Ins Voyages,
and the other his Travels, in the region where the se¬
paration is narrowest between the Atlantic and the
South seas •, and both of whom, particularly the first,
appear by their books to have been men of consider¬
able observation. But he got much more knowledge
from men who could neither read nor write, by culti¬
vating the acquaintance of some of the old bucamers,
who, after surviving their glories and their crimes,
still, in the extremity of age and misfortune, recounted
with transport the ease with which they had passed and
repassed from the one sea to the other, sometimes in
]
D A R
feet deep, and producing spontaneously the fine tropi- Darien,
cal fruits and plants, and roots and herbs } that roads
could be made with ease along the ridge, by which
mules, and even carriages, might pass from the one
sea to the other in the space of a day } and consequent¬
ly this passage seemed to be pointed out by the linger
of nature, as a common centre to connect together the
trade and intercourse of the universe.
Paterson knew that ships which stretch in a straight
line from one point to another, and with one wind,
run less risks, and require fewer hands, than ships
which pass through many latitudes, turn with many
coasts, and require many winds } in evidence of which,
vessels of seven or eight hundred tons burden are often
to be found in the South seas, navigated by no more
than eight or ten hands, because these hands have little
else to do than set their sails when they begin their
voyage, and to lake them in when they end it } that
as soon as ships from Britain got so far south as to
reach the trade-wind, which seldom vanes, that wind
would carry them to Darien, and the same wind
would carry ships from the bay of Panama, on the op¬
posite side of the isthmus, to the East Indies j that as
soon as ships coming from the East Indies to the bay
Dari!
of Panama got so far north as the latitude of 4^
to
reach the westerly winds, which, about that latitude,
blow almost as regularly from the west as the trade-
winds do from the east, these winds would carry them,
in the track of the Spanish Acapulco ships, to the
coast of Mexico j from whence the land-wind, which
blows for ever from the north to the south, would car¬
ry them along the coast of Mexico into the bay of Pa¬
nama. So that in going from Britain, ships would
encounter no uncertain winds, except during their pas¬
sage south into the latitude of the trade-wind : in co-
P r __ Panama nn uncertain
them loaded with the plunder of friends and of foes,
Paterson having examined the places, satisfied himself,
that on the isthmus of Darien there was a tract of
country running across from the Atlantic to the 1
sea, which the Spaniards had never possessed, and in¬
habited by a people continually at war with them;
that along the coast, on the Atlantic side, there lay a
string of islands called the Sambaloes, uninhabited, and
full of natural strength and forests, from which last
circumstance one of them was called the island of the
Pines; that the seas there were filled with turtle and
the manatee or sea cow ; that mid-way between Porto-
Bello and Carthagena, but near 50 leagues distant from
either, at a place called Acta, in the mouth of the
Darien, there was a natural harbour, capable of recei¬
ving the greatest fleets, and defended from storms by
other islands which covered the mouth of it, and from
enemies by a promontory which commanded the pas¬
sage, and by hidden rocks in the passage itself ; that
■on the other side of the isthmus, and in the same tiact
of country, there were natural harbours, equally capa¬
cious and well defended ; that the two seas were con¬
nected by a ridge of hills, which, by their height,
created a temperate climate in the midst of the most
sultry latitudes, and were sheltered by forests, yet not
rendered damp by them, because the trees grew at a
distance from each other, having very little under¬
wood ; that, contrary to the barren nature of hilly
countries, the soil was of a black mould two or three
3
winds, except in their passage north to the latitude of
the westerly winds; and in going from the other side
of the isthmus to the east, no uncertain wind whatsoever.
 Gold was seen by Paterson in some places of the
isthmus; and hence an island on the Atlantic side was
called the Gold island, and a river on the side to the
South sea was called the Golden river ; but these were
objects which he regarded not at that time, because far
greater were in his eye; the removing of distances, the
drawing nations nearer to each other, the preservation
of the valuable lives of seamen, and the saving m
freight, so important to merchants, and in time so im-
portant to them, and to an animal whose life is of so
short duration as that of man.
By this obscure Scotsman, a project was formed to
settle, on this neglected spot, a great and powerful co¬
lony ; not as other colonies have for the most part
been settled, by chance, and unprotected by the coun¬
try from whence they went; but by system, upon fore¬
sight, and to receive the ample protection of those go¬
vernments to whom he was to offer his project. And
certainly no greater idea has been formed since the time
of Columbus.
Paterson’s original intention was to ofter his project
to England, as the country which had most interest in
it not only from the benefit common to all nations,
of shortening the length of voyages to the East Indies,
but by the effect which it would have had to connect
the interests of her European, West Indian, American,
African,
)aricn.
D A R L Bo ] D A R
African, and East Indian trade. But Paterson having
few acquaintance, and no protection in London, thought
of drawing the public eye upon him, and ingratiating
himself with moneyed men, and with great men, by
assisting them to model a project, which was at that
time in embryo, for erecting the Bank of England.
But that happened to him which has happened to
many in his situation : the persons to whom he applied
made use of his ideas, took the honour of them to
themselves, were civil to him for a while, and neglect¬
ed him afterwards. He therefore communicated his
project of a colony only to a few persons in London,
and these few discouraged him.
He next made offer of his project to the Dutch, the
Hamburghers, and the elector of Brandenburgh j be¬
cause, by means of the passage of the Rhine and Elbe
through their states, he thought, that the great addi¬
tional quantities of East Indian and American goods,
which his colony would bring into Europe, would be
distributed through Germany. The Dutch and Ham¬
burgh merchants, who had most interest in the subject
of his visit, heard him with indifference : The elector,
who had very little interest in it, received him with
honour and kindness. But court arts and false reports
lost him even that prince’s favour.
Paterson, on his return to London, formed a friend¬
ship with Mr Fletcher of Salton, whose mind was
inflamed with the love of public good, and all of
whose ideas to procure it had a sublimity in them.
Fletcher brought Paterson down to Scotland with him,
presented him to the marquis of Tweeddale, then mi¬
nister for Scotland ; and then, with that power, which
a vehement spirit always possesses over a diffident one,
persuaded the marquis, by arguments of public good
and the honour which would redound to his admini¬
stration, to adopt the project. Lord Stair and Mr
Johnston, the two secretaries of state, patronised those
abilities in Paterson which they possessed in them¬
selves : and the lord advocate, Sir James Stuart, the
same man who had adjusted the prince of Orange’s de¬
claration at the Revolution, whose son was married to a
niece of Lord Stair, went naturally along with his con¬
nexions. These persons, in June 1695, procured a
statute from parliament, and afterwards a charter from
the crown in terms of it, for creating a trading compa¬
ny to Africa and the new world, with power to plant
colonies and build forts, with consent of the inhabi¬
tants, in places not possessed by other European na¬
tions.
Paterson, now finding the ground firm under him,
and that he was supported by almost all the power and
talents of his country, the character of Fletcher, and
the sanction of an act of parliament and royal charter,
threw his project boldly upon the public, and opened
a subscription for a company. The frenzy of the Scots
nation to sign the solemn league and covenant, never
exceeded the rapidity with which they ran to subscribe
to the Darien company. The nobility, the gentry,
the merchants, the people, the royal burghs without
the exception of one, most of the other public bodies,
subscribed. Young women threw their little fortunes
into the stock j widows sold their jointures, to get the
command of money for the same purpose. Almost in an
instant 400,000!. were subscribed in Scotland, although
it be now known, that there was not at that time above
Vol. VII. Part I. t
800,000!. of cash in the kingdom. The famous Mr Darien.
Law, then a youth, afterwards confessed, that the fa- —v—
cility with which he saw the passion of speculation com¬
municate itself from all to all, satisfied him of the pos¬
sibility of producing the same effect from the same cause,
but upon a larger scale, when the duke of Orleans, in
the year of the Mississippi, engaged him against his will
to turn his bank into a bubble. Paterson’s project,
which had been received by strangers with fears when
opened to them in private, filled them with hopes when
it came to them upon the wings of public fame : For
Colonel Erskine, son to Lord Cardross, and Mr Hal¬
dane of Gleneagles, the one a generous branch of a
generous stem, and the other a country gentleman of
fortune and character, having been deputed to receive
subscriptions in England and on the continent, the
English subscribed 300,000]. and the Dutch and Ham¬
burghers 200,000!. more.
In the mean time the jealousy of trade (continues our
author), which has done more mischief to the trade of
England than all other causes put together, created an
alarm in England ; and the houses of lords and com¬
mons, without previous inquiry or reflection, on the
13th of December 1695, concurred in a joint address to
the king, against the establishment of the Darien com¬
pany as detrimental to the interest of the East India
Company. Soon alter, the commons impeached some
of th eir own countrymen for being instrumental in
erecting the company j and also some of the Scots na¬
tion, one of whom was a peer, Lord Belhaven ; that is
to say, they arraigned the subjects of another country,
for making use of the laws of their own. Among 600
legislators, not one had the happy ray of genius to pro¬
pose a committee of both parliaments, to inquire into
the principles and consequences of the establishment j
and if these should, upon inquiry, be found, that the
benefit of it should be communicated, by a participa¬
tion of rights, to both nations. The king’s answer was,
“ That he had been ill advised in Scotland.” He
soon after changed his Scottish ministers, and sent or¬
ders to his resident at Hamburgh to present a memo¬
rial to the senate, in which he disowned the company,
and warned them against all connexions with it. The
senate sent the memorial to the assembly of merchants,
who returned it with the following spirited answer.
“ We look upon it as a very strange thing, that the
king of Britain should offer to hinder us, who are a free
people, to trade with whom we please j but are amaz—
ed to think that he would hinder us from joining with
his own subjects in Scotland, to whom he had lately
given such large privileges, by so solemn an act of
parliament.” But the merchants, seeing the scheme
discouraged by their governments, were soon intimi¬
dated c The Dutch, Hamburgh, and London mer¬
chants withdrew their subscriptions.
The Scots, not discouraged, were rather animated
by this oppression ; for they converted it into a proof
'of the envy of the English, and of their consciousness
of the great advantages which were to flow' to Scotland
from the colony. The company proceeded to build
six ships in Holland, from 36 to 60 guns, and they en¬
gaged 1200 men for the colony; among whom were
younger sons of many of the noble and most ancient
families of Scotland, and 60 officers who had been dis¬
banded at the peace, who carried with them such of
M their
D A R [go
Darien, their private men, generally raised on their own, or the
 v—estates of their relations, as they knew to be faithful
and brave j and most of those were Highlanders. The
Scots parliament, on the 5th August 1698, unani¬
mously addressed the king to support the company.
The lord president Sir Hugh Dalrymple, brother to
Lord Stair, and head of the bench, and the lord ad¬
vocate Sir James Stuart, head of the bar, jointly drew
memorials to the king, able in point of argument, in¬
formation, and arrangement ; in which they defended
the rights of the company upon the principles of con¬
stitutional and of public law. And neighbouring na¬
tions, with a mixture of surprise and respect, saw the
poorest kingdom of Europe sending forth the most gal¬
lant and the most numerous colony that had ever gone
from the old to the new world.
On the 26th day of July of the year 1698, the whole
city of Edinburgh poured down upon Leith, to see die
colony depart, amidst the tears and prayers and praises
of relations and friends, and of their countrymen.
Many seamen and soldiers, whose services had been re¬
fused, because more had offered themselves than were
needed, were found hid in tne ships, and, when order¬
ed ashore, clung to the ropes and timbers, imploring
to go without reward with their companions. Twelve
hundred men sailed in five stout ships, and arrived at
Darien in two months, with the loss of only 15 of
their people. At that time it was in their power, most
of whom were well born, and all of them hardily bred
and inured to the fatigues and dangers of the late war,
to have gone from the northmost part of Mexico to the
southmost of Chili, and to have overturned the whole
empire of Spain in the South seas : But modest, re¬
specting their own and their country’s character, and
afraid of being accused that they had plunder, and not
a settlement in view, they began with purchasing lands
from the natives, and sending messages of amity to
the Spanish governors within their reach : and then
fixed their station at Acta, calling it Neiu St Andrew,
from the name of the tutelar saint of Scotland, and the
country itself JSfeiv Caledonia. One of the sides of the
harbour being formed by a long narrow neck of land
which ran into the sea, they cut it across so as to join
the ocean and the harbour. Within this defence they
erected their fort, planting upon it 50 pieces of cannon.
On the other side of the harbour there was a moun¬
tain a mile high, on which they placed a watch-house,
which, in the rarefied air within the tropics, so favour¬
able for vision, gave them an immense range of pro¬
spect to prevent all surprise. To this place, it was
observed that the Highlanders often repaired, to en¬
joy a cool air, and to talk of their friends they had left
behind in their hills ; friends whose minds were as high
as their mountains. The first public act of the colony
was to publish a declaration of freedom of trade and
religion to all nations. This luminous idea originated
with Paterson. ,
But the Dutch East India Company having pressed
the king, in concurrence with his English subjects,
to prevent the settlement at Darien, orders had been
sent from England to the governors of the VVest In¬
dian and American colonies, to issue proclamations
against giving assistance, or even to hold correspond-
ence with the colony and these were more or less harsh-
ly expressed, according to the tempers of the different
] DAB,
governors. The Scots trusting to far different treat- Darien,
ment, and to the supplies which they expected from" J
those colonies, had not brought provisions enough with
them ; they fell into diseases from bad food and from
want of food. But the more generous savages, by
hunting and fishing for them, gave them that relief
which fellow Britons refused. They lingered eight
months, awaiting, but in vain, for assistance from Scot¬
land 5 and almost all of them either died out or quitted
the settlement. Paterson, who had been the first that
entered the ship at Leith, was the last who went on
board at Darien.
During the space of two years, while the establish¬
ment of his colony had been in agitation, Spain had
made no complaint to England or Scotland against it.
The Darien council even averred in their papers (which
are in the advocates library), that the right of the
company was debated before the king, in presence of
the Spanish ambassador, before the colony left Scot¬
land. But now, on the 3d of May 1698, the Spanish
ambassador at London presented a memorial to the
king, which complained of the settlement at Darien as
an encroachment on the rights of his master.
The Scots, ignorant of the misfortunes of their co¬
lony, hut provoked at this memorial, sent out another
colony soon after of ^oomen, to support an establish¬
ment which was now no more. But this last expedi¬
tion having been more hastily prepared than the first,
was unlucky in its passage. One of the ships was lost
at sea, many nien died on ship board, and the rest ar¬
rived at different times, broken in their health and
dispirited, when they heard the fate of those who had
gone before them.—Added to the misfortunes of the
first colony, the second had a misfortune peculiar to
itself: The general assembly of the church of Scot¬
land sent out four ministers, with orders “ to take
charge of the souls of the colony, and to erect a pres¬
bytery, with a moderator, clerk, and record ot pro¬
ceedings ; to appoint ruling elders, deacons, overseers
of the manners of the people, and assistants in the
exercise of church discipline and government, and to
hold regular kirk-sessions.” When they arrived, the
officers and gentlemen were occupied in building houses
for themselves with their own hands, because there
was no help to he got from others \ yet the four mini¬
sters complained grievously that the couneil did not or¬
der houses to be immediately built for their accommo¬
dation. They had not had the precaution to bring
with them letters of recommendation from the direc¬
tors at home to the council abroad. On these accounts,
not meeting with all the attention they expected from
the higher, they paid court to the inferior ranks of
the colonists, and by that means threw divisions into
the colony. They exhausted the spirits of the people,
by requiring their attendance at sermon four or five
hours at a stretch, relieving each other by. preaching
alternately, but allowing no relief to their hearers;
The employment of one of the days set aside for re¬
ligious exercise, which was a Wednesday, they divided
into three parts, thanksgiving, humiliation, and sup¬
plication, in which three ministers followed each other.
And as the service of the church of Scotland consists
of a lecture with a comment, a sermon, two prayers,
three psalms, and a blessing, the work of that day,
upon an average ol the length oi the service of that
age>
DAK [91
ape, could not take up less than twelve hours : during
which space of time the colony was collected, and kept
close together in the guard-room, which was used as
a church, in a tropical climate, and in a sickly season.
They presented a paper to the council, and made it
public, requiring them to set aside a day for a solemn
fasting and humiliation, and containing their reasons
for their requisition ; in which, under pretence of enu¬
merating the sins of the people, they poured abuse on
their rulers. They damped the courage of the people,
by continually presenting hell to them as the termina¬
tion of life to most men, because most men are sinners.
Carrying the presbyterian doctrine of predestination
to extremes, they stopped all exertions, by showing that
the consequence of them depended not on those by
whom they were made. They converted the number¬
less accidents to which soldiers and seamen are exposed
into immediate judgments of God against their sins.
And having resolved to quit the settlement, they, in
excuse for their doing so, wrote bitter letters to the
general assembly against the characters of the colonists,
and the advantages of the colony itself.
One of them, in a kind of history of the colony
which he published, with a savage triumph exulted
over the misfortunes of his countrymen in the follow¬
ing words;—“They were such a rude company, that
I believe Sodom never declared such impudence in sin¬
ning as they. An observant eye might see, that they
were running the way they went ; hell and judgment
was to be seen upon them, and in them, before the
time : Their cup was full ; it could hold no more :
They were ripe ; they must be cut down with the
sickle of the wrath of God.”
The last party that joined the second colony at Da¬
rien, after it had been three months settled, was Cap¬
tain Campbell of Finab with a company of the people of
his own estate, whom he had commanded in Flanders,
and whom he carried to Darien in his own ship. On
their arrival at New St Andrew, they found intelligence
had been lately received, that a Spanish force of 1600
men, which had been brought from the coast of the
South sea, lay encamped at Tubucantee, waiting
there till a Spanish squadron of eleven ships which
was expected should arrive, when they were jointly to
attack the fort. The military command was ofl’ered
to Captain Campbell, in compliment to his reputation
and to his birth, who was descended from the families
of Breadalbane and Athole. In order to prevent a
joint attack, he resolved to attack first ; and therefore
on the second day after his arrival, he marched with
200 men to Tubucantee, before his arrival was known
to the enemy, stormed the camp in the night-time,
dissipated the Spanish force with much slaughter, and
returned to the fort the fifth day : But he found the
Spanish ships before the harbour, their troops landed,
and almost all hope of help or provision cut off; yet he
stood a siege near six weeks, till almost all the officers
were dead, the enemy by their approaches had cut off
his wells, and his balls were so far expended, that he
was obliged to melt the pewter dishes of the garrison
into balls. The garrison then capitulated, and obtained
not only the common honours of war and security
for the property of the company, but, as if they had
been conquerors, exacted hostages for performance of
the conditions. Captain Campbell alone desired to be
BAR
excepted from the capitulation, saying he was sure
the Spaniards could not forgive him the mischiet which
he so lately had done them. The brave, by their cou¬
rage, often escape that death which they seem to pro¬
voke : Captain Campbell made his escape in his vessel,
and, stopping nowhere, arrived safely at New York,
and from thenee to Scotland, where the company pre¬
sented him with a gold medal, in which his virtue was
commemorated, to inflame his family with the love of
heroic actions. And the Lord Lyon King at Arms,
whose office it is in Scotland (and such offices should
he everywhere) to confer badges of distinction accord¬
ing to the rules of heraldry upon honourable actions,
gave him a Highlander and an Indian for supporters
to his coat of arms.
A harder fate attended those whom Captain Camp-
hell left at Darien. They were so weak in their health
as not to be able to weigh up the anchors of the Rising
Sun, one of their ships, which carried 60 guns : But
the generous Spaniards assisted them. In going out of
the harbour sbe ran aground : The prey was tempting,
and to obtain it, the Spaniards had only to stand by
and look on : but showed that mercy to the Scots in
distress, which one of the countrymen of those Scots,
General Elliot, returned to the posterity of the
Spaniards at the end ol the late conflagration at the
siege of Gibraltar. The Darien ships being leaky and
weakly manned, were obliged in their voyage to take
shelter in different ports belonging to Spain and Eng¬
land. The Spaniards in the new world showed them
kindness; the English governments showed them none ;
and in one place one of their ships was seized and de¬
tained, Of these only Captain Campbell’s ship and
another small one were saved : 'Hie Royal Sun was lost
on the bar of Charlestown ; and of the colony, not
more than 30, saved from war, shipwreck, or disease,
ever saw their country again.
Paterson, who had stood the blow, could not stand
the reflection of misfortune. He was seized with :t
lunacy in his passage home after the ruin of the first
colony : But he recovered in his own country, where
his spirit, still ardent and unbroken, presented a new
plan to the company, founded on the idea of King
William, that England should have the joint dominion
of the settlement with Scotland.
He survived many years in Scotland, pitied, respect¬
ed, but neglected. After the union of the two king¬
doms, he claimed reparation of his losses from the equi¬
valent-money given by England to the Darien Com¬
pany, but got nothing : because a grant to him from
a public fund would have been only an act of humani¬
ty, not a political job.
Thus ended the colony of Darien. Men look into
the works of poets for subjects of satire ; but they are
more often to be found in the records of history." The
application of the Dutch to King William against the
Darien Company, affords the surest of all proofs, that
it was the interest of the British islands to support it.
England, by the imprudence of ruining that settle¬
ment, lost the opportunity of gaining and continuing
to herself the greatest commercial empire that proba¬
bly ever will be upon earth. Had she treated with
Scotland, in the hour of the distress of the company,
for a joint possession of the settlement, or adopted the
union of the kingdoms, which the sovereign of both
M 2 proposed
Darien.
DAB, . £ 9
Darien; proposed to them, that possession could certainly have
v~—. (>een obtained. Had she treated with Spain to relin¬
quish an imaginary right, or at least to give a passage
across the isthmus, upon receiving duties so high as to
overbalance all the chance ot'loss by a contraband trade,
she had probably obtained either the one or the other.
Had she broke with Spain for the sake of gaining by
force one of those favours, she would have lost far less
than she afterwards did by carrying a war into that
country for many years, to force a king upon the Spa¬
niards against their will. Even a rupture with bpain
for Darien, if it had proved successful, would have
knit the two nations together by the most solid of ties,
their mutual interest : for the English must then have
depended upon Spain for the safety of the.r caravans
bv land, and the Spaniards upon England for the safety
of their fleets by sea. Spain and England would have
been bound together as Portugal and England have
long been*, and the Spanish treasures have sailed, un¬
der the wings of English navies, from the Spanish main
to Cadiz, in the same manner as the treasures of Por¬
tugal have sailed under the same protection, sacred and
untouched, from the lirazils to Lisbon.
It has been made a question, whether King Wil¬
liam behaved with his ordinary sincerity and steadiness,
in the assurances of favour which he gave more than
opce to the company during their distresses. 1 he fol¬
lowing anecdote makes it probable, that there was a
struggle in his breast between the part which he was
obliged to act to please his English and Dutch, at the
expence of his Scots subjects, and h.s own feelings.
A provision ship of the first colony, in which were 30
gentlemen passengers, and some of them of noble birth,
having been shipwrecked at Carthagena, the Spaniards,
believing or pretending to believe that they were
smugglers, cast them into a dungeon, and threatened
them with death. The company deputed Lord Basil
Hamilton from Scotland to implore King William s
protection for the prisoners. The king at first refused
^0 see him, because he had not appeared at court when
he was last in London. But when this difficulty was
removed by explanation, an expression fell from the
king, which showed his sense of the generous conduct
of another, although, influenced by the English and
Dutch East India Companies, he could not resolve to
imitate it in his own. For Lord Basil’s audience
Laving been put off from time to time, but at last fixed
to be in the council chamber after a council was over,
the king, who had forgotten the appointment, was pas¬
sing into another room, when Lord Basil placed him¬
self in the passage, and said, “ That he came commis¬
sioned by a great body of his majesty’s subjects to lay
their misfortunes at his feet -, that he had a right to
be heard, and would be heard The king returned,
listened with patience, gave instant orders to apply to
Snain for redress; and then turning to those near him,
said “ This young man is too bold, if any man can
he too bold in his country’s cause.’’ I had this anec¬
dote from the present earl of Selkirk, grandsop to Loid
Basil. „ . i
King William’s desertion of a company, erected
upqn the faith of his own charter, and,the English
oppressions of it, were the reasons why so many of the
Scots, during four successive reigns, disliked the cause
qf the, Bevolutipa. apd of the Ubion, And, that, dtMike.,
RI-
1,
2 ] D A R
joined to English discontents, brought upon both coun¬
tries two rebellions, the expenditure of many millions
of money, and (which is a far greater loss) the down-  
fall of many of their noblest and most ancient families.
__&> John Dairym-ple's Memoirs of Great Britain and
Ireland, vol. ii. . r . r
DA11II, in Logic, one of the modes ot syllogism ot
the first figure, wherein the major proposition is an
universal affirmative, and the minor and conclusion
particular affirmatives : thus,
Da- Every thing that is moved, is moved by
another;
Some body is moved ;
Therefore, some body is moved by ano¬
ther.
DARIORIGUM, in Ancient Geography, a town of
the Veneti in Gallia Celtica ; called in the Notitia
Lugdunensis, Civitas Venetum, after the manner of the
lower age. Now Vannes, or Vennes, in Britanny. >v.
Long. 2. 37. Lat. 47. 4°- . o
DARIUS, the name of several kings of Fersia. bee
(History of) Persia. . _ , j
DARKING, a market-tow» of Surrey in England,
situated ten miles east of Guilford. Ihe market is
noted for corn and provisions. Population 32,59 in
1811. W. Long. o. 15. N. Lat. 51. 18.
DARKNESS, the absence, privation, or want of
natural light. “ Darkness was upon the face of the
deep.” (Gen. i. 2.) *, that is to say, the chaos was
plunged in thick darkness, because hitherto the light
was not created. One of the most terrible sorts of
darkness was that which Moses brought upon Egypt as
a plague to the inhabitants of it. The Septuagint,
our translation of the Bible, and indeed most others,
in explaining Moses’s account of this darkness, render
it “ a darkness which may be feltand the Vulgate
has it “ palpable darknessthat is, a darkness
consisting of black vapours and exhalations, so con¬
densed that they might be perceived by the organs of
feeling or seeing: but some commentators think that
this i^carrying the sense too far, since in such a me¬
dium as this mankind could not live an hour, much less
for the space of three days, as the Egyptians are said
to have done, during the time this darkness lasted ; and
therefore they imagine, that instead of a darkness that
may be felt, the Hebrew phrase may signify a darkness
wherein men went groping and feeling about for every
thing they wanted. Le Clerc is of this opinion, and
thinks that Philo, in his life of Moses, understood the
passage in its right sense. “ For in this darkness (says
he), whoever were in bed, durst not get up and such
as their natural occasions compelled to get up, went
feeling about by the walls, or any thing they could lay
hold on, as if they had been blind.” What it was
that occasioned this darkness, whether it was in the
air or in the eyes; whether it was a suspension of light
from the sun in that country, or a black thick vapour
which totally intercepted it, there is reason to think
that the description which the author of the book ot
Wisdom (xvi. I, 2, 3, &c.) gives us of their inward
terrors and consternation, is not altogether conjectural,
viz. that they .were not only prisoners of darkness, and
fettered, with the bonds of a long night, but were hor¬
ribly astonished likewise, ond troubled with strange ap-
' l paritions j
Darien
it
Darkness,
met
kiiti|
'V'N
BAR
Darkness pavilions $ for while over them was spread an heavy
|| night, they were to themselves more grievous than
Darios.
darkness.
During the last three hours that our Saviour hanged
upon the cross, a darkness covered the face of the earth,
to the great terror and amazement of the people pre¬
sent at the execution. This extraordinary alteration in
the face of nature (says Dr Macknight, in his Har¬
mony of the Gospels'), was peculiarly proper, whilst the
Sun of righteousness was vvithrawing his beams from
the land of Israel and from the world j not only because
it rvas a miraculous testimony borne by God himself
to his innocence : but also because it W'as a fit emblem
of his departure and its effects, at least till his light
shone out anew with additional splendour in the mini¬
stry of his apostles. The darkness which now covered
Judea and the neighbouring countries, beginning about
noon, and continuing till Jesus expired, was not the
effect of an ordinary eclipse of the sun: for that can
never happen but at the new moon 5 whereas now it
was full moon •, not to mention, that the total dark¬
ness occasioned by eclipses of the sun never continues
above twelve or fifteen minutes } wherefore it must
have been produced by the divine power, in a man¬
ner we are not able to explain. Accordingly, Luke
(xxiii. 44, 45-)» after relating that there was darkness
over all the earth, adds, “ and the sun was darkened 5”
which perhaps may imply, that the darkness of the
sun did not occasion, but proceeded from, the dark¬
ness that was over all the land. Farther, the Christian
writers, in their most ancient apologies to the Hea¬
thens, affirm, that as it was full moon at the passover
when Christ was crucified, no such eclipse could hap¬
pen by the course of nature. They observed also, that
it was taken notice of as a prodigy by the Heathens
themselves.
DARLINGTON, a town of the county of Dur¬
ham, situated on a flat on the river Skerne, which falls
into the Tees. It is a pretty large place, has several
streets, and a spacious market-place. It gives title of
earl to the Vane family. W. Long. 1. 15. N. Lat.
54. 30.
DARMSTADT, a town of Germany, in the circle
of the Upper Rhine, and capital of the grand duchy
of Hesse, with a handsome castle, where its own
prince generally resides. It is seated on a river
of the
5°
same name, in E. Long. 8. 40. N. Lat. 49.
DARNEL. See Lolium, Botany Index.
DARNLEY, Lord. See (History of) Scot¬
land.
DARTFORD, a town of the county of Kent in
England, seated on the river Darent, not far -from its
influx into the Thames. Population 317? r*
E. Long. o. 16. N. Lat. 51. 25.
DARTMOUTH, a sea-port town in Devonshire,
seated on the river Dart, near its fall into the sea. It
is a well frequented and populous place, having a com¬
modious harbour, and a considerable trade by sea.
The town is large and well built •, but the streets are
narrow and bad, though all paved. It sends two mem¬
bers to parliament. Population 3595 in 1811. W.
Long. 4. o. N. Lat. 50. 25.
DARTOS, in Anatomy, one of the coats which
93 ] D A R
form the scrotum. It is called the dartos muscle ; but
Dr Hunter says, that no such muscle can be found, and
Albinus takes no notice of it in his tables.
DARWIN, Erasmus, a physician, a poet, and
medical writer, was born at Elston, near Newark, in
Nottinghamshire, on the 12th December 1731. He
was the fourth son of Robert Darwin, Esq. He recei¬
ved the early part of his education at Chesterfield
school, under the reverend Mr Burrows, of whom he
always spoke with great respect. He was entered,
with two of his elder brothers, at St John’s college,
Cambridge 5 and, being intended for the practice of
medicine, took the degree of M. B. in 1755, defending
in his thesis an opinion, that the motion of the heart
and arteries is produced by tbe immediate stimulus of
the blood. During his residence in Cambridge, Mr
Darwin w’as elected to one of Lord Exeter’s scholar¬
ships, worth about j61. per annum, which, from the
meagreness of his father’s income at that time, was es¬
teemed a desirable acquisition. After having prepared
himself for his future profession, by an attendance on
the lectures of Dr Hunter, in London, and by a severe
course of study at Edinburgh, he contemplated the me¬
tropolis as the proper theatre for his exertions. . De¬
terred, however, by the want of an immediate intro¬
duction, and the improbability of obtaining immediate
patronage, Dr Darwin thought ifaltogether more ad-
viseable to settle in the country. The first place to
which he went, in the capacity of a physician, was Not¬
tingham, where he was entirely disappointed in his
hopes of practice *, he removed, therefore, to Litchfield,
with letters of introduction to Lady Gresley and the
reverend Mr Seward. Here his great capacity and
various acquirements were most justly appreciated : he
resided at Litchfield during a great number of years,
in the enjoyment of a very extensive reputation, and a
vsry profitable practice, the foundation of which is
supposed to have been laid by his success in restoring
to health a gentleman of fortune in the neighbourhood,
whose recovery was despaired of by a numerous circle
of friends and acquaintances.
In the year 1757 Dr Darwin married Miss Mary
Howard, daughter of Charles Howard, Esq. by his
wife, Elizabeth Foley : she died in 1770. By this
lady he had five children, two of whom died in their
infancy : the eldest son, Charles, he educated to his
own profession, but he died in the 20th year of his age,
very soon after he had finished his course of studies at
Edinburgh, where he gained considerable reputation,
by endeavouring to furnish a criterion for distinguish¬
ing pws from mucus.
Soon after the decease of his wife, Dr Darwin com¬
menced his laborious work, the TLoonomia, which, how¬
ever, he did not think proper to publish till about eight
years since.
In 1778 he obtained a lease of a picturesque spot of
ground, about a mile from Litchfield, where a cold
bath was erected by Sir John Flayer, an eminent phy¬
sician in the beginning of the last century : there is a
grotto, surrounded by projecting rocks, from the edges
of which trickles a perpetual shower of water. This
place became his favourite retreat and amusement :
here he formed a botanic garden, and began his poem
on the “ Loves of the Plants,” the scenery of which,
“ as
Darios,
Darwin.
DAE
[ 94 ]
DAE
Darwin.
<£ as adapted to love-scenes, and being thence a proper
residence for the modern goddess of Botany, ’ is taken
from these sequestered shades -
And if with thee some hapless maid should stray,
Disastrous Love companion ot her way,
Qh lead her timid steps to yonder glade,
Whose arching cliffs depending alders shade :
There as meek Evening wakes her temperate breeze,
And moonbeams glimmer through the trembling
trees,
The rills, that guggle round, shall soothe her ear 5
The weeping rocks shall number tear for tear, &c. &c.
Canto l. line 2J.
In 1780, Dr Darwin was called to attend Colonel
Sacheveral Pole, of Radbourne-hall, four miles from
Derby ; and a few months after the decease of the co¬
lonel, he married his relict, Mrs Pole, with a jointure
of 600I. per annum. The marriage of Dr Darwin occa¬
sioned his immediate removal from Litchfield to Rad-
bourne, where he resided two years, till he got accom¬
modated with a house in Derby. In this last situation
he remained till about two months before his death,
when he removed to Breadwall Priory about three
miles from Derby, which was a commodious and peace- •
ful retirement lor his old age.
During the last few years, Dr Darwin was much
subject to inflammation in his breast and lungs ; and
had a very serious attack of this disease in the course
of the spring of 1801, from which, after repeated
bleedings, he with difficulty recovered. On the 10th
of April 1802, he was attacked with a severe shivering
fit, followed by a correspondent hot one, and accom¬
panied with symptoms of inflammation in his lungs:
his surgeon, Mr Hadley, took from him, in the course
of the day, 25 ounces of blood. The fever was re¬
moved, and in two or three days he became, to all
appearance, quite well. On the 17th as he was walk-
in" in his garden with Mrs Darwin, and a lady oi
about his own age, the latter remarked, that he would
have sufficient employment lor ten years in bringing
all his plans about the place to perfection. “ You ma¬
dam (he replied) have as good a prospect as any body
1 know, ot your age, of living ten years j I have not.”
Mrs Darwin remarked his good looks, spirits, and
strength. He said, “ I always appear particularly well
immediately before I become ill.” He sat with his la-
mily in the evening, conversing with his usual cheer¬
fulness j went to bed, and rose at six on the following
morning; wrote some letters till after seven, when he
was seized with a chilly fit, which increased, and was
attended with thirst. He then sat down by the kitchen
fire and drank a considerable quantity ol butter-milk ;
hut feeling himself much indisposed, he lay down on a
sofa, when becoming more cold and torpid, he was
raised up, and placed in an arm-chair, where, without
pain or any emotion, he expired a little before nine, in
the 71st year of his age.
Dr Darwin left a widow and six children^ three
boys and three girls, by his last marriage. There was
also another child, who died an infant. Besides these,
he left two natural daughters, whom he had establish¬
ed in a school at Ashbourne, and for whose instruction
and assistance he composed and published his “ Treatise
on Female Education.” -
During the whole of his life, Dr Darwin was re¬
markable for great benevolence of disposition, and it
was particularly conspicuous in the care he took even
of the lowest animals. The keenness of his feelings on
this subject has been attributed to the strong impression
made upon his mind by a representation of the tortures
of the inquisition, which was^shewn to him at an early
age. He had frequently expressed a strong desire, that
the termination of his existence might be without pain,
having always looked upon death as the less evil of the
two. He was of a middle stature, in person gross and
corpulent; his features were coarse, and his countenance
heavy; if not wholly void of animation, it. certainly
was "by no means expressive. In his gait and dress he
was rather clumsy and slovenly, and frequently walked
with his tongue hanging out of his mouth.
His conversation abounded with very unequal sallies
of wit: when he found himself engaged with a power¬
ful antagonist in argument, he had sometimes recourse
to ridicule, a weapon which he did not always handle
with dexterity, for he was affected with an impediment
in his speech which rendered his enunciation scarcely
intelligible.
About the age of twenty-one, Dr Darwin was sei¬
zed with a fit of the gout; in consequence of which he
totally abstained from all fermented liquors, not even
tasting small beer, or a drop of any kind of wine; but
he ate plentifully of flesh-meat, and all kinds of vege¬
tables and fruit, using for his drink, at meals, chiefly
water alone, or cream and water, with tea and coffee
between them, as usual. By this abstinence from fer¬
mented liquors, he kept quite free from gout for 15
years, and from some other complaints to which he had
been subject. He then indulged himself occasionally
with a little wine and water ; cyder and water, &c.
but was speedily admonished into his former temper¬
ance, by a paroxysm of the gout. He was in the ha¬
bit of eating a large quantity of food, and his stomach
possessed a strong power of digestion. His advice fre¬
quently was, “ Eat, or be eaten ;” but he took every
opportunity to impress a dread of all fermented liquors
on the minds of his patients, whose diseases he was too
ready to represent as originating in the frequent use of
them. In the “ Botanic Garden,” he has also taken
an opportunity to express his strong antipathy against
fermented and spirituous liquors, by comparing their
effects to that of the Promethean fire : “ The ancient
story of Prometheus, who concealed in his bosom the
fire he had stolen, and afterwards had a vulture perpe¬
tually gnawing his liver, affoid so apt an allegory for
the effects of drinking spirituous liquors, that one should
be induced to think the art of distillation, as well as
some other chemical processes (such as-calcining gold)
had been known in times of great antiquity, and lost
again. The swallowing drams cannot he better repre¬
sented in hieroglyphic language, than by taking fire
into one’s bosom ; and certain it is, that the general
effect of drinking fermented or spirituous liquors is an
inflamed, schirrous, or paralytic liver, with its vari¬
ous critical or consequential diseases, as leprous erup¬
tions on the face, gout, dropsy, epilepsy, and insa-
nit5” Tb.
Darwin, par
—-v—w-v
D A R [ 95 ] BAR
The various productions of Dr Darwin’s fanciful and
philosophical pen, have long since been exposed to pub¬
lic criticism, and received an ample share, as well of
obloquy as applause. Still, however, he has claims to
celebrity from the literary lustre which adorns his cha¬
racter, as a medical philosopher, a philosophical agri-
cultor, and a poet.
The pretensions of Dr Darwin to high rank as a
medical philosopher will, of course, substantiate them¬
selves in the merits, numerous and solid as they are, of
the “ Zoonomia.” In whichever point of view this
work shall be considered, whether as a mere repository
of curious natural and medical facts, or as a scheme
and system of pathological and physiological disquisi¬
tion, is probably matter of trifling import, so far as the
reputation of its author is concerned. By either mode
of appreciation, it is, unquestionably, a noble effort of
human labour or of human wit ; and though its illus¬
trious author may have sometimes erred from excess of
ingenuity, and been occasionally blinded by too great
a love of system, the Zoonomia will ever be considered
as a production of transcendent merit.
As a philosophical agricultor Dr Darwin must ever
be entitled to the highest consideration. In order to
profit by the multitudinous experiments of Hales,
Grew, Malpighi, Bonnet, Du Hamel, Buffon, Spal¬
lanzani, Priestley, &c. collected in the “ Phytologia,”
it is not necessary to take possession of the air-built
theory of vegetation which is there constructed, and se¬
curely inhabit it as an edifice whose solidity is equal to
its elegance. Whether the analogy is in fact so close
between the parts and functions of animal and vegeta¬
ble beings j—whether the anatomy of the one so strict¬
ly corresponds with that of the other, as to induce a
belief that the latter a*e in reality an inferior order of
the former, possessed of a brain, uterus, muscles, and
complete nervous system, is an inquiry, which, how¬
ever curious, must surely be subordinate in comparison
with those grand and indisputable discoveries which the
application of chemistry to agriculture has brought to
light. A small portion only of the Phytologia is devo¬
ted to this fanciful system of vegetable physiology :
the second part, divided into three sections, treats on
the economy of vegetation *, and the third, on agricul¬
ture and horticulture, is divided into six sections.
Dr Darwin, in his character as a poet, does not
stand very high in the estimation of some. The ear is
fascinated and seduced by the mellifluence of his num¬
bers, but there is a harlotry in his embellishments
which is unchaste. His cadences are not sufficiently
varied for a poem of such length as the “ Botanic
Garden indeed there is an evident mechanism in the
construction of his lines which it is by no means plea¬
sant to detect. But an imagination of unrivalled rich¬
ness •, a felicity of allusion to whatever can throw lustre
on his subject, to ancient mythology and modern dis¬
coveries, to the works of nature and of art; if these
are some of the essentials of poetry, Dr Darwin may
certainly claim them as his own. No man, perhaps,
was ever happier in the selection and composition of
his epithets, had a more imperial command of words,
or could elucidate with such accuracy and elegance the
most complex and intricate machinery. Who but Dr
Darwin would have thought of describing a porcelain
manufactory in verse ; the powers and construction of Darwin.
a steam engine j the mechanism of a watch ; and the  v'—
complexity of a cotton-mill ? These, and many similar
descriptions, to be found in the Botanic Garden, are
inimitable in their way. In some of his minor effusions
he is particularly happy: the beautiful little song “ to
May,” is exquisitely finished ; and it would be difficult
to find thirty lines in the Botanic Garden to rival in
dignity and pathos the “ Address to Swilcar’s Oak,”
introduced in the Phytologia.
As a prose writer, Dr Darwin was incorrect ; his
grammatical errors are numerous, and he was even de¬
ficient in orthography. In the year 1758, he publish¬
ed, in the Philosophical Transactions, “ An attempt to
confute the opinion of Henry Earl, concerning the as¬
cent of vapour and “ An account of the cure of a
periodical hsemoptoe, by keeping the patient awake.”
This was followed by “ Experiments on animal fluids
in the exhausted receiver.” He inserted in the Derby
Mercury, an elegy writen at Matlock, and addressed
to Mrs Darwin ; another piece occasioned by the ap¬
pearance of a most fatal distemper among horned cat¬
tle, at Calke, near Derby j and a third article on oc¬
casion of the earthquake, which several years ago was
felt at Derby, and in the surrounding country. In
1782, the Botanical Society of Litchfield published a
translation of Linnaeus’s Systema Vegetabilium, the exe¬
cution of which was principally confided to Dr Dar¬
win. His other works have already been mentioned in
the course of this biographical sketch. He left a poem
entitled “ The Temple of Nature,” which was publish¬
ed after his death.
Next to medicine, mechanics, and almost every
branch of natural history, engaged his attention. He
not only pursued these studies with great ardour and
diligence himself, but also embraced every opportunity
of cultivating and encouraging them among his nume¬
rous connexions and acquaintance. Very soon after he
settled in Derby, he instituted and established a philo¬
sophical society and library, both of which were in a
flourishing state at the time of his decease. He also
took pleasure in encouraging works in natural his¬
tory.
But though the learning, taste, and genius of Dr
Darwin, were eminently displayed in these pursuits,
yet there was one great end, to the attainment of
which all his talents and views were directed. He did
not hesitate openly and repeatedly to declare, that the
acquisition of wealth was the leading object of all his
literary undertakings.
However, he was by no means insensible to the va¬
lue of reputation. During the last years of his life,
the love of fame was a passion which had a great power-
over his mind ; and the incense of praise was so plea¬
sant to him, that flattery was found to be the most suc¬
cessful means of gaining his notice and favour.
There are reasons for suspecting that Dr Darwin was
not a believer in Divine Revelation. A few days be¬
fore his death, a gentleman endeavoured to discover
whether he entertained a belief and expectation of a
future state of existence ; the doctor was observed to
speak with a considerable degree of sedateness on the
subject, and remarked, that it was natural to extend
our wishes and views beyond the present scene, and
that
DAT
[ 96 ]
D A U
that it was right to pursue such measures as are likely
to secure our happiness in another world ; “ hut, he
added, “ let us not hear any thing about hell.”
DASYPUS, Lthe Armadillo or Tatov, a genus of
quadrupeds belonging to the order of Bruta. See
Mammalia Index.
DATA, among mathematicians, a term for such
things or quantities as are given or known, in order to
hud other things thereby that are unknown. The data
of Euclid is the first in order of the books that have
been written by the ancient geometricians, to facili¬
tate and promote the method of resolution or analysis.
In general, a thing is said to be given which is either
actually exhibited, or can he found out, that is, which
is either known by hypothesis, or that can be demon¬
strated to be known ; and the propositions in the hook
of Euclid’s data shew what things can he found out or
known, from those that by hypothesis are already
known : so that in the analysis or investigation of a
problem, from the things that are laid down as given
or known, by the help of these propositions, it is de¬
monstrated that other things are given, and from these
last that others again are given, and so on, till it is de¬
monstrated that that which was proposed to be found
out in the problem is given ; and when this is done,
the problem is solved, and its composition is made and
derived from the compositions of the data which were
employed in the analysis. And thus the data 01 Eu¬
clid are of the most general and necessary use m the
solution of problems of every kind.
Marinus, at the end of his preface to the data, is
mistaken in asserting that Euclid has not used the syn¬
thetical, but the analytical method in delivering them :
for though in the analysis of a theorem, the thing to
be demonstrated is assumed in the analysis; yet in the
demonstrations of the data, the thing to be demonstra¬
ted, which is, that something is given, is never once
assumed in the demonstration ; from which it is mani¬
fest, that every one ef them is demonstrated syntheti¬
cally *, though indeed if a proposition of the data he
turned into a problem, the demonstration of the pro¬
position becomes the analysis of the problem. Simpson's
Preface to fus edition of the Data.
From the primary use of the word data m mathe¬
matics, it has been transplanted into other arts; as
philosophy, medicine, &c. where it expresses any quan¬
tity, which, for the sake of a present calculation, is
taken for granted to be such, without requiring an
immediate proof for its certainty ; called also the given
quantity, number, or power. And hence also such
things as are known, from whence, either in natural
philosophy, the animal mechanism, or the operation
of medicine, we come to the knowledge of others un¬
known, are now frequently in physical writers called
data. .... ,
DATE, an addition or appendage in writings, acts,
instruments, letters, &c. expressing the day and month
®f the year when the act or letter was passed or signed ;
together with the place where the same was done. The
wd is formed from the Latin datum, “ given, the
participle of do, “ I give*” , t
Our ancient deeds had no dates, but only the month
and year, to signify that they were not made m haste,
or in the space of a day, but upon longer and more
H»ature deliberation. The king’s grants began with
3
these words, Preesentibus et futuvis, &cc. but the grants
of private persons with Omnibus, prevsentes Uterus m-
T)ale
specturis, See.
Daubenibn,
A deed is good, though it mentions no date or hath
a false date ; or even if it hath an impossible date, as
the 30th of February : provided the real day of its be¬
ing dated or given, that is, delivered, can be proved.
Blackst. Com. vol. ii. p. 304.
Date, the fruit of the great palm-tree, bee Fhoe-
nix, Botany Index. # .
DATI, Carlo, professor of polite learning at I lo-
rence. His native country became very famous, as
well on account of his works, as of the eulogies which
have been bestowed on him by learned men. The chief
work to which Dati applied himself, was Della Pittu*
ra Antica, on which he published an essay in the year
1667. lie died in 1675, much lamented, as well for
his humanity and amiable manners as for his parts and
learning. . ,
DATTSCA, a genus of plants belonging to the di-
cecia class; and in the natural method ranking under
the 54th order, Miscellunece.
DATISI, in Logic, a mode of syllogisms in the
third figure, wherein the major is an universal affirma¬
tive, and the minor and conclusion particular affirma¬
tive propositions. For example,
Da- All who serve God are kings;
Tl- Some who serve God are poor ;
si. Therefore some who are poor are kings.
DATIVE, in Grammar, the third case in the de¬
clension of nouns : expressing the state or relation of a
thing to whose profit or loss some other thing is refei-
red. See Grammar.
It is called dative, because .usually governed by a
verb, implying something to be given to some person.
As, commodore Socrati, “ to lend to Socrates •” utihs
reipublicce, “ useful to the commonwealth perniciosus
ecclesice, “ pernicious to the church.”
In English, where we have properly no cases, this
relation is expressed by the sign to or for.
DATUM, or Datus, in Ancient Geography, a town
of Thrace, situated between Neapolis and the river Nes-
tus : A colony of Thracians, according to Eustathius ;
who places it on the sea-coast, near the Strymon, in a
rich and fruitful soil, famous for ship-building and
mines of gold ; hence the proverb Ay*0<», deno¬
ting property and plenty (Strabo.) Apian describes
it as seated on a steep eminence, the whole of which it
covered. It was taken by Philip of Macedon, who
changed its name to Philippi, being originally called
CrenTdes on -account «f its springs. It was afterwards
famous for the defeat of Brutus and Cassius, by Augus¬
tus and Antony.
DATURA, the Thorn-apple ; a genus of plants
belonging to the pentandria class ; and in the natuial
methed ranking under the 28th order, Luridee. See
Botany Index. v
DAUBENTON, Lbuis Jean Marie, a distin¬
guished naturalist, was born at Montbar, in the depart¬
ment of the Cote d’Or, in France, on the 29th of May
1716. His father, Jean Daubenton, was a notary m
that place, and his mother’s name was Marie Piche-
not. In his youth he distinguished himself by the
sweetness of his temper, and by his diligent applica¬
tion
pililtC
D A U L 97 ] D A U
lubenton. tlon lo his studie?. The Jesuits of Dijon, under whose
——v--" ■1 tuition he was first placed, noticed, him in a peculiar
manner. Having gone through a course of what was
called philosophy, under the Dominicans of Dijon, his
father, Avho destined him for the church, and who had
made him assume the ecclesiastical dress at the age of
twelve, sent him to Paris to study theology. But
his predilection for natural history induced him pri¬
vately to study medicine. Accordingly he attended
the lectures of Baron, Martinenq, and Col de V illars,
and likewise those of Winslow, Hunault, and An¬
toine de Jussieu in the botanic garden. The death
of his father in 1736 enabled him to follow his in¬
clination without constraint. Accordingly he took a
degree at Rheims in 1741, and returned to his own
country with the intention of following the practice of
medicine. But fortune destined him for a more brilli¬
ant career.
Montbar had given birth, about the same time, to
another man of a very different character, who, though
possessed of an independent fortune, a robust consti¬
tution, and actuated by a violent passion for plea¬
sure, had determined notwithstanding to devote him¬
self to the cultivation of the sciences. This man was
Buffon. Hesitating for some time what branch of
physics he should make his peculiar study, he tried
by turns geometry, mechanical philosophy, and agri¬
culture. At last his friend Dufay, who during his short
superintendence had raised the botanic garden from
that state of neglect in which former naturalists had
left it, and who had procured for Buffon the reversion
of his office, dying, and leaving him his place, Buffon’s
choice was fixed on natural history, and he saw before
him that wide field which he afterwards traversed with
so much reputation.
Natural history was at that time little else than a
dry catalogue of names, destitute of that methodical
arrangement, of that precision, of those interesting
details which have since distinguished it. It occupied
a very low station among the sciences, and instead of
being a fashionable study, was degraded into the drudge
of medicine and surgery. Buflfon formed the bold
plan of giving life to this dry and apparently steril
mass, of painting nature as she is, always young,
always active $ of pointing out the harmony of all
her parts, and the laws by which they are combined
into one system, and of giving his picture all the glow,
all the freshness, all the charms of nature herself.
But to secure success it was necessary to make truth
the basis of his system. Every thing must be collected,
revised, and examined. The forms and dimensions of
animals must be compared, and their internal structure
ascertained. The ardent and impatient spirit of Buf¬
fon could ill brook a task so tedious and painful, and
the imperfection of his sight rendered him unqualified
for it. He looked about, therefore, for a man posses¬
sed of sufficient judgment, patience, and neatness of
hand for his purpose, and at the same time modest
enough to submit willingly to act a secondary part. He
found such a man in Daubenton, the companion of his
infancy.
The character of these two philosophers was almost
opposite in every respect. Butfon was violent, impa¬
tient, rash j Daubenton was all gentleness, patience,
and caution: Buffon wished to divine the truth rather
Vol. VII. Part I. f
than to discover it: Daubenton believed nothing which Ouuber.ton.
he had not himself seen and ascertained. Buflon suf- —-v
iered his imagination to lead him from nature j Dau¬
benton, on the contrary, discarded from his writings
every expression which was calculated to mislead. They
were thus happily fitted to correct each others’s faults.
Accordingly the history of quadrupeds, which appeared
while they laboured together, is the most exempt from
error of any of the divisions which constitute Bullon’s
natural history.
Bulfon drew Daubenton to Paris about 1742: pro¬
cured for him the place of demonstrator of the cabinet
of natural history, at first with a salary of only 50O
francs, hut which was gradually increased to 2000,
He furnished him likewise with a lodging, and ne¬
glected nothing to secure his comfort and convenience.
Daubenton on his side devoted himself to second the
views of his benefactor. The cabinet of natural histo¬
ry, which was arranged, and in a great measure col¬
lected by his means, was of immense service. In the
history of quadrupeds, he gave the description and dis¬
section of J82 species of quadrupeds. These details
contained a vast number of new facts, and arranged
in such a manner that the most curious results are often
obtained merely by comparing them together. This
work procured for Daubenton a very high reputation,
and drew upon him the envy of Reaumur, who at that
time considered himself at the head of natural history.
But the credit and reputation of Buffon was sufficient
to prevent his friend from falling a victim to the attack
of this formidable antagonist.
In the subsequent parts of his natural history, Buffon
was persuaded to separate himself from Daubenton.
This injured the precision and value of these parts ex¬
cessively j while it deprived Daubenton of 12,000
francs a year. Afterwards the intimacy between them
revived, and continued till the death of Buffon.
The number of dissertations on natural history which
Daubenton published in the Memoirs of the French
Academy, is so great, that even a list of them would
be too long for this place. Descriptions of different
animals, dissections, comparisons between the forms of
different animals, anatomical examinations of fossil
hones, to determine the animals to which they had
belonged, the physiology of vegetables, and different
parts of mineralogy, successively occupied him ; not
to mention his experiments on agriculture and rural
economy, which, however, were of more service to
him afterwards than all the rest of his labours, on ac¬
count of the reputation among the populace which they
had procured him.
In the year 1794, when the dregs of the people were
masters of France, Dauhenton was under the neces¬
sity of applying to the section of Sans-culottes tor a
certificate of civism, to enable him to retain his place
in the garden of plants, which he had filled with ho¬
nour for 52 years. A professor and academician would
scarcely have obtained it $ but it was readily granted
to Shepherd Daubentcu, under which title it had been
fortunately presented. The tollowing is a translation
of this certificate 5
SECTION OF THE SANS-CULOTTES.
Copt/ of the extract of the deliberations of the General
Assembly of the sitting 0/' the fifth of the first decade^
DAY
[ 98 ]
DAY
T)anl>enton
II
Pavenar.t,
of the 3fZ month of the 2cl ijear of the Trench Re¬
public one and indivisible.
It appears, that after the report made to the frater¬
nal society of the section of the sans-culottes concern¬
ing the good civism and acts of humanity which the
Shepherd Daubenton has always testified, the General
Assembly unanimously decree to give him a certificate
of civism, and the president followed by several mem¬
bers of the said assembly give him the fraternal hug,
with all the acclamations due to a true model of hu¬
manity, which has been testified by several renewals of
the hug. ^ .,
(Signed) R. G. Dardel, President.
Besides his publications, Daubenton was of great
service to science as a lecturer. Irom 1775 ^ie ?ave
lectures on natural history in the college of medicine.
In 1783 he lectured on rural economy. He was ap¬
pointed professor of mineralogy by the convention at
the garden of plants, and he gave lectures during the
ephemeral existence of the Normal school. He was
likewise one of the editors of the Journal des S5avans,
and contributed to both the Encyclopedias. As a
lecturer he was extremely popular, and what is un¬
common, he retained his popularity to the last.
Notwithstanding the feebleness of his constitution, he
arrived at a very advanced age without much disease
or loss of his faculties. This may he, in some measure,
ascribed to the gentleness of his temper, and his re¬
markable resignation. He was temperate and mode*
rate even in his studies. Part of his time was spent in
reading romances with his wife.
In the year 1799 he was appointed one of the mem¬
bers of the conservative senate, and he resolved to at¬
tend the meeting of it. This obliged him to alter his
regimen. The season w'as severe. At the first meet¬
ing that he attended he fell from his seat in an apoplec¬
tic fit. The most speedy assistance was procured, and
by its means he was restored to his senses. With fbe
utmost calmness he pointed out with his fingers the
progress of the paralysis in different parts of his body,
and died, on the first of January 1800, without a
struggle. '
DAUCUS, the Carrot, a genus of plants belong¬
ing to the pentandria class 5 and in the natural method
ranking under the 45th order, umbellatce. See Bo¬
tany and Agriculture Index.
DAVENANT, Sir William, an eminent poet of
the 17th century, was born at Oxford in 1606. After
some stay at the university, he entered into the service
of Frances first duchess of Richmond, and afterwards of
Fulke Grevil, Lord Brooke-, who having an excellent
taste for poetry, was much charmed with him. He
got great esteem by writing poems and plays-, and up¬
on the death of Ben Johnson was created poet-laureat.
He wrote his poem Gondibert at Paris. He formed
a design for carrying over a considerable number of
artificers, especially weavers, to Virginia, by the en¬
couragement of Henrietta Maria, the queen-mothei of
England, who obtained leave for him of the king of
France. But he and his company were seized by some
parliament ships, and he carried prisoner first to the isle
of Wight, and then to the tower of London j but, by
the mediation of Milton and others, he got his liberty
as a prisoner at large. At this time tragedies and co¬
medies being prohibited, he contrived to set up an 0- Davenant
pera, to be performed by declamations and music. I his II
Italian opera began in Rutland-house in Charter-house- ,DaY'( lsU;
yard, 1656 ; hut was afterwards removed to the Cock¬
pit in Drury-Lane, and was much frequented for many
years. In 1648, his Madagascar, with other poems,
was printed. He died in 1668.
Davenant, Dr Charlesf an eminent civilian and
writer, eldest son of the preceding, and educated
at Cambridge : he wrote several political tracts, and
likewise plays. He was (1685) empowered, with
the master of the revels, to inspect the plays designed
for the stage, that no immoralities might be presented.
His Essays on Trade are in high esteem, and were re¬
printed in 5 vols 8vo, in I771- Davenant was
inspector-general of exports and imports j and died in
I7i2.
DAVENTRY, or Daintry, a handsome town of
Northamptonshire in England, situated on the side of
a hill, on the great road to Chester and Carlisle. W.
Long. 1. 15. N. Lat. 52. 12.
DAUGHTER, (flia), a female child. See the
article CHILDREN.
Daughters, among the ancients, were more ''fre¬
quently exposed than sons, as requiring greater charge
to educate and settle them in the world. See Expo¬
sing of Children. Those who had no legitimate sons
were obliged, by the Athenian laws, to leave their
estates to their daughters, who were confined to marry
their nearest relations, otherwise to forfeit their inheri¬
tance -, as we find to have been practised likewise a-
mong the Jews, many of whose laws seem to have been
transcribed by Solon.
If an heiress happened to be married before her
father’s death, this did not hinder the nearest relation
to claim the inheritance, and even to take the woman
from her husband j which is said to have been a com¬
mon case.
DAVID, king of Israel, and Hebrew poet, was
horn at Bethlehem 1085, and died 1014 years B. C,
His history is particularly recorded in the sacred wri¬
tings.
St David’s, an episcopal town in Pembrokeshire,
in S. Wales ; but has neither market nor fair. It is
seated in a barren soil on the river Hen, not a mile
from the sea-shore. It was once a considerable place,
and had walls, which are now demolished ; but it is
small at present, and thinly inhabited : the cathedral is
a pretty good structure. From the cape, near this
place, there is a prospect of Ireland. Population 1816,
in 1811. W. Long. 5. 20. N. Lat. 52. o.
St David’s, a town and fort of Asia, in the penin¬
sula on this side the Ganges, and on the coast of Coro¬
mandel, 80 miles south of Fort St George. E. Long.
79- 55- N* 11 * 3°- t*ie tak*ng Madras by
the French in 1746, the presidency of all the English
settlements on the Coromandel coast was removed to
Fort St David, and continued there till about the year
1752, when it was removed back to Madras. In June
1758, the fort was taken and demolished by the French,
and has never been rebuilt since.
DAV1DISTS, Davidici, or David-Georgians,
a sect of heretics, the adherents of David George, a
native of Delft, who, in 1525, began to preach a new
doctrine \ publishing himself to be the true Messiah \
and
BAY [ 99 ] BAY
and that he was sent thither to fill heaven, which was
quite empty for want of people to deserve it. He is
likewise said to have denied the existence of angels,
good and evil, of heaven and hell, and to have rejected
the doctrine of a future judgment. He rejected mar¬
riage, with the Adamites ; held, with Manes, that the
soul was not defiled by sin ; and laughed at the self-
denial so much recommended by Jesus Christ. Such
were his principal errors. He made his e=cape from
Delft, and retired first to Friesland, and then to Ba¬
sil, where he changed his name, assuming that of John
Bruck, and died in 1556.
He left some disciples behind him, to whom he pro¬
mised, that he would rise again at the end of three
-years. Nor was he altogether a false prophet herein $
for the magistrates of that city, being informed, at the
three years end, of what he had taught, ordered him
to be dug up and burnt, together with his writings, by
the common hangman.
There are still some remains of this ridiculous sect
in Holstein, Friesland, and other countries, whose
temper and conduct seem to discredit the exagge¬
rated accounts which some writers have given of their
founder. He was probably a deluded fanatic and
mystic.
DAVILA, Henry Catharine, a celebrated his¬
torian, was the youngest son of Antonio Davila, grand
constable of Cyprus, who on the taking of that island
by the Turks in 1570, had been obliged to retire into
Spain, whence this family supposed they had derived
their name and origin. From Spain Antonio re¬
paired to the court of France, and settled his son Louis
and two daughters under the patronage of Catharine
of Medicis j whose name he afterwards gave to the
young historian, horn 1576, at an ancient castle in the
territories of Padua, though generally called a native
of Cyprus. The little Davila was brought early into
France 5 and at the age of 18 he signalized himself
in the military scenes of that country. His last ex¬
ploit there was at the siege of Amiens, where he
fought under Henry IV. and received a wound in the
knee, as he relates himself in his history. After peace
was established in France, he withdrew into Italy, and
entered into the service of the Venetians. Davila,
while he was at Venice, wrote his admirable history of
the civil wars in France, which contains every thing
worth notice that passed from the death of Henry II.
in 1539, *° ^ie Peace of Vervins in 1598. He conti¬
nued to serve the republic of Venice with great repu¬
tation, till a most unfortunate adventure put an end to
his life in 1631. Passing through Verona with his wife
and family on his way to Crema, which he was ap¬
pointed to defend, and demanding, according to the
usual custom of persons in his station, a supply of
horses and carriages for his retinue, a brutal Veronese,
called II '1'urco, entered the room where he and his fa¬
mily were at supper, and being mildly reprimanded for
his intrusion by Davila, discharged a pistol at the hi¬
storian, and shot him dead on the instant. His accom¬
plices also killed the chaplain of Davila, and wounded
most of his attendants. But his eldest son Antonio,
a youth of 18, revenged the death of his father, by
killing the murderer on the spot. All the confede¬
rates were secured next morning, and publicly execu¬
ted at Verona. It is very remarkable, that Davila
passed no censure on the massacre of St Bartholomew. Davila
His character of the queen-mother has that partiality, 1!
which it was natural for him to show to the patroness
of his family ; but his general veracity is confirmed by v
the great authority of the first duke of Epernon, who
(to use the words of Lord Bolingbroke) “ had been an
actor, and a principal actor too, in many of the scenes
that Davila recites.” Girard, secretary to the duke,
and no contemptible biographer, relates that this his¬
tory came down to the place where the old man re¬
sided in Gascony, a little before his death ; that he
read it to him ; that the duke confirmed the truth of
the narration of it $ and seemed only surprised by what
means the author could be so well informed of the most
secret councils and measures of those times.
DAVIS, Sir John, an eminent lawyer and poet,
born about the year 1570. He first distinguished him¬
self by his poem Nosce Te/psum, on the Immortality of
the Soul. He became attorney-general, and speaker
of the house of commons in Ireland j and afterwards
was appointed lord chief justice of the court of King’s
Bench in England, but died before his installation,
in 1626. He published many law tracts 5 but was
esteemed more as a scholar and a wit than as a lawyer.
Davis, John, a famous navigator in the 16th cen¬
tury, was born at Sandridge, near Dartmouth in De¬
vonshire ; and distinguished himself by making three
voyages to the most northern parts of America, in or¬
der to discover a north-west passage to the East Indiesj
in which he discovered the straits which bear his name.
He afterwards performed five voyages to the East
Indies ; in the last of which he was slain in a despe¬
rate fight with some Javanese, near the coast of Malac¬
ca, on the 27th of December 1605. He wrote an ac¬
count of his second voyage for the discovery of the
north-west passage j a voyage to the East Indies; and
other tracts.
Davis's Straits. See New Britain.
DAVIT, in a ship, a long beam of timber, repre¬
sented by a, a, Plate CLX1X. and used as a crane
whereby to hoist the flukes of the anchor to the top
of the bow, without injuring the sides of the ship as
it ascends; an operation which, by mariners, is called
fishing the anchor. The anchors being situated on
both the bows, the davit may be occasionally shifted
so as to project over either side of the ship, according
to the position of that anchor on which it is employed.
The inner end of the davit is secured by being thrust
into a square ring of iron which is bolted to the
deck, and forelocked under the beams. This ring,
which is called the span-shackle, exhibited at large by
fig. 9. is fixed exactly in the middle of the deck, and
close behind the foremast. Upon the outer end of the
davit is hung a large block c, through which a strong
rope traverses, called the fish-pendant, d; to whose
foremost end is fitted a large iron hook e, and to its
after-end a tackle or complication of pulleys, /y the
former of which is called the fish-hook, and the latter
the fish-tackle.
The davit, therefore, according to the sea phrase, is
employed to fish the anchor ; which being previously
catted, the fish hook is fastened upon its flukes; and
the efforts of the tackle being transmitted to the hook,
by means of the fish-pendant, draws up that part of
the anchor sufficiently high upon the bow to fasten it,
N 2 which
D A U [ I
nliicli Is done by the s/iank-painter. See that article.
—There is also a davit of a smaller kind, occasionally
fixed in the long-boat, and employed to weigh the an-
chor therein. . i i i
DAUPHIN, is a title which was given to the eld¬
est son of the royal family of France, and presumptive
heir of the crown ; on account of the province ot
Dauphine, which in 1343 was given to Philip de Va-
Jbi«, on this condition, by Humbert dauphin 01 the
Viennois. The dauphin, in his letters patent, styled
himself, By the grace of God, eldest son of France, and
dauphin oj Viennois. _ . . f
Dauphin svas anciently the title or appellation 0
the prince of Viennois in France. # .
Most authors who have sought the origin ot the
name Dauphin and Dauphine, seem to have given too
much loose to conjecture. Du Chesne is of opinion,
that it was the grandson of Guy the Fat who first bore
the dame of dauphin. Chorier observes, that William,
canon of Notre Dame at Grenoble, who has written
the life of Margaret, daughter of Stephen earl ot Lur-
gundy, married with Guy, son ot Guy the tat, calls
the latter simply Guy the Old, and the former always
Count Dauphin; and adds, that no record or monu¬
ment ever attributes the title of dauphin to Guy the
Fat, or any of his predecessors : so that it must neces¬
sarily have taken its rise in his son, all whose successois
so constantly assumed it, that it became the proper
name of the family. He died in 1142, in the flower
of his youth so that it must be about the year 1120
that the title commenced and without doubt, adds
he, on some illustrious occasion. He observes farther,
that this prince was of a military disposition, and de¬
lighted in nothing but war: and again, that it was the
custom of the cavaliers to deck their casques, coats of
arms, and the housing of their horses, with some figuie
or device peculiar to themselves, whereby they were
distinguished from all others engaged in the same com¬
bat or tournament. From all these circumstances he
conjectures that this Guy chose the dolphin for Ins
signature ; that this was the crest of his helmet ; and
that he bore it on his coat in some notable tournament
or battle, wherein he distinguished himself. And this,
Chorier makes no doubt, is the real origin ot the ap¬
pellation. Nothing was more common in those times
than to make proper names become the names of fa¬
milies or dignities. Witness the Ademars, Arthands,
Aynards, Atlemans, Berengers, and many others j
who all owe their names to some one ot their ancestors,
from whom it has been transmitted throughout the
family. - . ... .
The seigneurs or lords of Auvergne have likewise
born the appellation of dauphin ; but the dauphins ot
Auvergne had it not till a good while after those of
the Viennois, and even received it from them. 1 he
manner was this: Guy VHI. dauphin of Viennois had
by his wife Margaret, daughter of Stephen earl ot
Burgundy, a son and two daughters. The son was
Guy IX, his successor. Beatrix, one ot the daughters,
was married to the count d’Auvergne, who according
to Blonde!, was William V. or rather, as Chor.er and
others hold, Robert VI. father of William V. I h.s
prince lost the greatest part of the county of Auvergne,
w hich was taken from him by his uncle A imam, as-
00 ] DAY
sisted by Louis the Young : and was only left master Dauphin
of the little canton whereof Vodable is the capital. SI
He had a son whom he called Dauphin, on account t
of Guy, or Guignes, his uncle by the mother’s side. ^
From his time his successors, holding the same petty
canton of Auvergne, styled themselves dauphins oj
Auvergne, and bore a dolphin tor their arms.
Dauphins, or Delphins, in literary history, a name
given to the commentators on the ancient Latiii^
authors, who were employed by Louis XIV. ot
France for the benefit of tlie prince, under the care
and direction of M. de Montausier his governoi, and
Bossuet and Huet his preceptors. They were 39 in
number.
DAUPHINY, a 1 ate province of France, bounded
on the west by the Rhone, on the north by the Rhone
and Savoy, on the south by Provence, and on the east,
by the Alps ; and now forming the departments of
Drome, Isere, and Upper Alps. In some places it is
very fertile and produces corn, wine, olives, woad,
copperas, silk, iron, crystal, and copper. But the
greatest part of the province is barren, and the inha¬
bitants are obliged to go into other countries for sub¬
sistence. Tlie mountains abound in game of all sorts :
and here are fir-trees proper for masts. Hie principal
rivers are, the Rhone, the Durance, the Isere, and the
Drome. There is a great number of mineral springs j
and Grenoble is the capital town.
DAURAT, John, an eminent French poet, born
in 1507. In the reign of Henry H. he was preceptor
to the king’s pages, and Charles IX. who took great
delight in his conversation, honoured him with the
title& of his poet; but his generosity and want of ma¬
nagement placed him in that class ot learned men who
have been very near starving. Conformable to the taste
of the age, he had so much skill in making anagrams,
that several illustrious persons gave him their names to
anagrammatize : he also undeitook to explain the Cen¬
turies of Nostradamus. Making verses was a disease
in him : for no book was printed, nor did any person
of consequence die, but Daurat made some veises on
the occasion ; as if he had been poet ordinary, or his
muse had been a hired mourner to the whole kingdom.
Scaliger tells us, that he spent the latter part of his
life in endeavouring to find all the bible in Homer.
He died in 1588. .
DAY, according to the most natural and obvious
sense of ’tlie word, signifies that space of time during
which it continues to be light in contradistinction to
night, which is that portion of time wherein it is dark :
but the space of time in which it is light, being some-
wbat vague and indeterminate, the time between the
rising and the setting of the sun is usually looked on as
the day ; and the time which lapses from its setting to
its risimr again, the night.
The word day is often taken in a large sense, so as
to include the night also; or to denote the time of a
whole apparent revolution of the sun round the earth ;
in which sense it is called by some a natural day, and
by others an artificial one: but, to avoid confusion, it
i-i usual to call it in the former sense simply the day,
and in the latter a nychthemeron: by which term that
acceptation of it is'aptly denoted, as it implies both
day and night..
Thf
DAY [ i<
The nychthemeron Is divided into twenty-four parts,
called hours; which are of two sorts, equal, and un¬
equal or temporary See the article Hour.
Different nations begin their day at a different hour.
Thus the Egyptians begin their day at midnight •, from
whom Hippocrates introduced that way of reckoning
into astronomy, and Copernicus and others have fol¬
lowed him : but the greatest part of astronomers rec¬
kon the day to begin at noon, and so count twenty-
four hours, till the nogn of the next day j and not
twice twelve, according to the vulgar computa¬
tion. The method of beginning the day at midnight
prevails in Britain, France, Spain, and most parts of
Europe.
The Babylonians began their day at sunrising:
reckoning the hour immediately before its rising again,
the twenty-fourth hour of the day ; from whence the
hours reckoned in this way are called the. TiabyIonic. In
Several parts of Germany, they begin their day at sun¬
setting, and reckon on till it sets next day, calling that
the twenty-fourth hour: these are generally termed
Italian hours. The Jews also began their nychtheme¬
ron at sunsetting : but then they divided it into twice
twelve hours as we do ; reckoning twelve for the day,
be it long or short, and twelve for the night j so that
their hours continually varying with the day and night,
the hours of the day were longer than those of the
night for one half year, and the contrary the other j
from whence their hours are called temporary : those at
the time of the equinoxes became equal, because then
those of the day and night are so. The Romans also
reckoned their hours after this manner, as do the Turks
at this day.
This kind of hours is called planetary, because the
seven planets were anciently looked upon as presiding
over the affairs of the world, and to take it by turns
each of these hours, according to the following order ;
Saturn first, then Jupiter, Mars, the Sun, Venus, Mer¬
cury, and last of all the Moon : hence they denomina¬
ted each day of the week from that planet whose turn
it was to preside the first hour of the nychthemeron.
Thus, assigning the first hour of Saturday to Saturn,
the second will fall to Jupiter, the third to Mars, and
so the twenty-second of the same nychthemeron will
fall to Saturn again, and therefore the twenty-third to
Jupiter, and the last to Mars: so that on the first hour
of the next day, it will fall to the sun to preside 5 and
by the like manner of reckoning, the first hour of the
next will fall to the Moon 5 of the next to Mars ; of
the next to Mercury ; of the next to Jupiter j and of
the next to Venus : hence the days of the week came
to be distinguished by the Latin names of Hies Satitr-
m\ Solis, Lit nee, Martis, Mercurii, Jovis, and Veneris ;
and among us, by the names of Saturday, Sunday, Mon¬
day, &c.
DAY-Coal, in Natural History, a name given .by the
miners of England, and the common people who live
in coal countries, to that seam or stratum of the coal
which lies uppermost in the earth. The same vein or
stratum of coal usually runs a yreat wav through the
country, and dips and rises in the earth at different
places ; so that this upper stratum, or dav-coal, is in
the various parts of the same stratum, sometimes near
the surface, and sometimes many fathoms deep. The
subterranean fires found in some of our coal countries
i ] D E A
feed principally on this coal; and are nearer to or far- Day
ther from the surface as it rises or sinks. ||
D.iY-Fly. See Ephp:meris, Entomology Index. L Deacon'
DAY-Net, among fowlers. See Net.
Hays of Grace, are those granted by the court at the
prayer of the defendant or plaintiff, in whose delay it is.
Hays of Grace, in commerce, are a customary num¬
ber of days allowed for the payment of a bill of ex¬
change, &c. after the same becomes due.
Three days of grace are allowed in Britain ; ten in
France and Dantzuc ; eight at Naples ; six at Venice,
Amsterdam, Rotterdam, and Antwerp four at Franc-
fort ; five at Leipsic ; twelve at Hamburgh 5 six in Por¬
tugal ; 14 in Spain •, 30 in Genoa, &c.
In Britain the days of grace are given and taken as
a matter of course, the bill being only paid on the last
day : but in other countries, where the time is much
longer, it would be reckoned dishonourable for a mer¬
chant to take advantage of it ; bills are therefore paid
on the very day they fall due.
Hay's-Matt, in the north of England, an arbitrator
or person chosen to determine an affair in dispute.
Intercalary Days. See Intercalary Days.
Day's-JVork, among seamen, the reckoning or ac¬
count ol the ship’s course during 24 hours, or between
noon and noon, according to the rules of trigonome¬
try. See Dead- Reckoning.
DAZE, in Natural History, a name given by our
miners to a glittering sort of stone, which often occurs
in their works and, as it is an unprofitable substance,
is one of those things they call weeds. The word daze
takes in, with them, every stone that is hard and glit¬
tering : and therefore it comprehends the whole genus
of the telangia or stony nodules, which have the flakes
of talc in their substance: these according to the co¬
lour of the stony matter they are bedded in, and their
own colour, give the names of black daze, white, red)
and yellow'daze, to these stones.
DEACON, {Diaconus), a person in the lowest de¬
gree of holy orders, whose business is to baptize, read in
the church, and assist at the celebration of the eucharist.
The word is formed from the Latin Hiaeonus, of the
Greek minister, servant. Deacons were in¬
stituted seven in number, by the apostles, Acts chap. vi.
which number was retained a long time in several
churches. Their office was to serve in the Agapae,
and to distribute the bread and wine to the communi¬
cants. Another part of the office of deacons was to
be a sort of monitors and directors to the people in the
exercise of their public devotions in the church ; for
which purpose they made use of cei'tain known forms
of words, to give notice when each part of the service
began. Whence they are sometimes called eirokervkes,
“ the h >ly cryers of the church.”
Deacons had, by license and authority from the bi¬
shop, a power to preach, to reconcile penitents and
grant them absolution, and to represent their bishops
in general councils. Their office out of the church was
to take care of the necessitous, such as orphans, wi¬
dows, prisoners, and all the poor and sick who had any
title to be maintained out of the revenues of the church *,
to inquire into the morals and conversation of the peo¬
ple, and to make their report thereof to the bishop.
Whence, on account of the variety of business, it was
usual to have several deacons in the same church. .
la 1
i;
D E A [ ic
Deacon, In the Romish church it is the deacon’s office to in-
Deaconess. cense the officiating priest or prelate ; to lay the cor-
'' poral on the altar j to receive the patten or cup from
the subdeacon, and present them to the person officia¬
ting $ to incense the choir j to receive the pix from the
officiating prelate, and carry it to the suhdeacon j and
at the pontifical mass, when the bishop gives the bles¬
sing, to put the mitre on his head, and to take oft the
archbishop’s pall and lay it on the altar. In England,
the form of ordaining deacons, declares that it is
their office to assist the priest in the distribution of
the holy communion : in which, agreeably to the practice
of the ancient church, they are confined to the admi¬
nistering the wine to the communicants. A deacon in
England is not capable of any ecclesiastical promotion j
vet he may be a chaplain to a family, curate to a bene-
iiced clergyman, or lecturer to a parish-church. He
may be ordained at 23 years of age, anno ourrente ;
but it is expressly provided, that the bishop shall not
ordain the same person a priest and deacon in the same
day. Deacons, according to St Paul, should be chaste,
sincere, and blameless j neither great drinkers, nor gi¬
ven to filthy lucre : they should hold the mystery of
the faith in a pure conscience *, and should be well ap¬
proved before they are admitted to the ministry. In
the church of Scotland, the deacon’s office is only to
take care of the poor. •
DEACONESS, a female deacon ; an order of wo¬
men who had their distinct offices and services in the
primitive church. This office appears as ancient as the
apostolical ng® • f0'* Paul calls Phebe a servant
of the church of Cenchrea. The original word is
$ixK»tof, answerable to the Latin word mmistra, Ter-
tullian calls them viduce, “ widows,” because they were
commonly chosen out of the widows of the chuich j
and, for the same reason, Epiphanius, and the coun¬
cil of Laodicea, call them elderly women,
because none but such were ordinarily taken into this
office. For, indeed, by some ancient laws, these four
qualifications are required in every one that was to be
admitted into this order. I. That she should be a
widow. 2. That she should be a widow that had born
children. 3. A widow that was but once married.
4. One of a considerable age, 40, 50, or 60 years old.
Though all these rules admitted of exceptions. Con¬
cerning their ordination, whether it was always per¬
formed by imposition of hands, the learned are much
divided in their sentiments. Baronius and Valesius
think they were not, and made no other account ol
them than as mere lay persons. But the author of the
constitutions, speaking of their ordination, requires
the bishop to use imposition of hands, with the form of
prayer which is there recited. We are not, however,
to imagine, that this ordination gave them any power
to execute any part of the sacerdotal office. They
were only to perform some inferior services of the church,
and those chiefly relating to the women for whose sakes
they were ordained. One part of their office was to
assist the minister at the baptizing of women, to undress
them for immei’sion, and to dress them again, that the
whole ceremony might be performed with all the de¬
cency becoming so sacred an action. Another part of
their office was to be private catechists to the women-
catechumens who were preparing for baptism. Ihey
were likewise to attend the women that were sick and
2 ] D E A
in distress j to minister to martyrs and confessors inDeacone
prison j to attend the women’s gate in the church : and D
lastly, to assign all women their places in the church,
regulate their behaviour, and preside over the rest of ’r"'
the widows 3 whence in some canons they are styled
Treaxa'JfojWnw, “ governesses.” TL his order, which since
the 10th or 12th century has been wholly laid aside,
was not abolished everywhere at once, but conti¬
nued in the Greek church longer than in the Latin,
and in some of the Latin churches longer than in
others. . .
DEACONRY, Diaconate, the order or ministry
of a deacon or deaconess. See Deacon and Dea¬
coness.
Deaconry, (Diaconia,') is also a name still reserved
to the chapels and oratories in Rome, under the di¬
rection of the several deacons, in their respective re¬
gions or quarters. .
To the deaconries were annexed a sort of hospital
or boards for the distribution of alms, governed by the
regionary deacons, called cardinal deacons^ of whom
there were seven, answering to the seven regions, their
chief being called the archdeacon.
The hospital adjoining to the church of the dea¬
conry had an administrator for the temporal concerns,
called the father of the deaconry, who was sometimes a
priest and sometimes a layman.
At present there are fourteen of these deaconries
or hospitals at Rome, which are reserved to the car¬
dinals. Du Cange gives us their names: as, the dea¬
conry of St Maria in the Broad-way, the deaconry of
St Eustachio near the Pantheon, &c.
DEAD languages. See Philology, chap. ii.
Preservation of Dead Bodies. See Embalming.
Feast of the Dead. See Feast of the Dead.
DEAD-Lights, certain wooden ports which are made
to fasten into the cabin windows, to prevent the waves
from gushing into the ship in a high sea. As they
are made exactly to fit the windows, and are stiong
enough to resist the waves, they are always fixed in on
the approach of a storm, and the glass lights taken
out, which must otherwise be shattered to pieces by
the surges, and sufler great quantities of water to enter
the vessel.
DEAD-Metis-Eyes, in the sea-language, a kind of
blocks, with many holes in them, but no sheevers,
whereby the shrouds are fastened to the chains . the
crow-feet reeve also through these holes 3 and, in some
ships, the main-stays are set tight in them : but then
they have only one hole, through which the lanyards are
passed several times. See Plate CLXIX.
Dead's Part. See Law Index.
Dead Reckoning, in Navigation, the judgment or
estimation which is made of the place where a ship is
situated, without any observation of the heavenly bo¬
dies. It is discovered by keeping an account oi the di¬
stance she has run by the log, and of her course steered
by the compass 3 and by rectifying these data by the
usual allowance for drift, lee-way, &c. according to
the ship’s known trim. This reckoning, however, is
always to be corrected, as often as any good observa¬
tion of the sun can be obtained.
Dead-Sea, in Geography, a lake of Judea, into which
the river Jordan discharges itself 3 being about "JO
miles long and 20 broad. See Asphaltites.
Dead-Tops,
D E A , [ i
Dead Dead-Tops, a disease incident to young trees, and
H cured by cutting oft* the dead parts close to the next
Deafness, good twig or shoot, and claying them ever as in graft-
'-—v ing.
DsAD-Water, at sea, the eddy-water just astern of
a ship ; so called because it does not pass away so swift
as the water running by her sides does. They say that
a ship makes much dead-water when she has a great
eddy following her stern.
DEADLY-carrot. See Thapsia.
DeadlY-Feud, in English law-books, a profession of
irreconcileable enmity, till a person is revenged by the
death of his enemy. The word feud is derived from
the German Feud ; which, as Hottoman observes, sig-
♦SeefVuis.nifies modo helium, modo capitales inimicitias*. Such
enmity and revenge were allowed by law in the time
of the Saxons, viz.. If any man was killed, and a
pecuniary satisfaction was not made to the kindred,
it was lawful for them to take up arms and revenge
themselves on the murderer 5 which was called dead¬
ly feud. And this probably was the original of an
Appeal.
DEAFNESS, the state of a person who wants the
sense of hearing •, or the disease of the ear, which pre¬
vents its due reception of sounds. See Medicine
Index.
Deafness generally arises either from an obstruction
or a compression of the auditory nerve j or from some
collection of matter in the cavities of the inner ear; or
from the auditory passage being stopped up by some
hardened excrement; or, lastly, from some excrescence,
a swelling of the glands, or some foreign body intro¬
duced within it.
Those born deaf are also dumb, as not being able
to learn any language, at least in the common way.
However, as the eyes, in some measure serve them for
ears, they may understand what is said by the motion
of the lips, tongue, &c. of the speaker ; and even
accustom themselves to move their own, as they see
other people do, and by this means learn to speak.—
Thus it was that Dr Wallis taught two young gentle¬
men born deaf to know what was said to them, and to
return pertinent answers. Digby gives us another in¬
stance of the same within his own knowledge; and
there was a Swiss physician in Amsterdam, one John
Conrad Amman, who reduced the thing to a fixed art
or method, which he published in bis Surdus Loquens,
Amstelod. 1692, and de Loquela, ibid. 1700. See an
account of methods employed in the education of this
class of persons, in the article Deaf and Dumb, in
the Supplement.
In the Phil. Trans. N° 312. we have an account by
Mr Waller, R. S. Seer, of a man and his sister, each
about 50 years old, born in the same town with Mr
Waller, who had neither of them the least sense of
hearing ; yet both of them knew, by the motion of the
lips only, whatever was said to them, and would answer
pertinently to the question proposed. It seems they
could both hear and speak when children, but lost their
hearing afterwards : whence they retained their speech,
which, though uncouth, was yet intelligible.
Such another instance is that of Mr Goddy’s daugh¬
ter, minister of St Gervais in Geneva, related by Bi¬
shop Burnet. “ At two years old they perceived she
had lost her hearing ; and. ever since, though she hears
03 ] D E A
great noises, yet hears nothing of what is said to her. Deafness,
But by observing the motions of the mouth and lips of Dean,
others, she acquired so many words, that out of these ' " »
she has formed a sort of jargon, in which she can hold
conversation whole days with those that can speak her
language. She knows nothing that is said to her, un¬
less she see the motion of their mouths that speak to
her, so that in the night they are obliged to light
candles to speak to her. One thing will appear the
strangest part of the whole narration : she has a sister,
with whom she has practised her language more than
with any body else ; and in the night, by laying her
hand on her sister’s mouth, she can perceive by that
what she says, and so can discourse with her in the
dark.” Burnet. Let. IV. p. 248 f. f See far-
It is observable, that deaf persons, and several others t*le.r t^le
thick of hearing, hear better and more easily if a loud
noise be raised at the time when you speak to them ;
which is owing, no doubt, to the greater tension of the
ear-drum on that occasion. Dr Wallis mentions a deaf
woman, who if a drum were beat in the room could
hear any thing very clearly ; so that her husband hired
a drummer for a servant, that by this means he might
hold conversation with his wife. The same author
mentions another, who, living near a steeple, could
always hear very well if there was a ringing of three
or four bells, but never else.
DEALS, a thin kind of fir-planks, of great use in
carpentry. They are formed by sawing the trunk of
a tree into a great many longitudinal divisions, of more
or less thickness according to the purposes they are in¬
tended to serve.
A very good method of seasoning planks of deal
and fir is to throw them into salt water as soon as they
are sawed, and keep them there three or four days, fre¬
quently turning them : in this case they will be ren¬
dered much harder, by drying afterwards in the air
and sun : but neither this, nor any other method yet
known, will prevent them from shrinking.
Rods of deal expand gradually, or cross the grain,
in moist weather, and contract again in dry; and
thence have been found to make an useful hygrometer.
Deal, a town of Kent in England, lying between
Dover and Sandwich, in E. Long. 1. 20. N. Lat. 51.
16. is supposed to be the Dola of Nennius, and is si¬
tuated on a flat and level coast. This town, according
to Dr Campbell, justifies an observation he had made
in favour of situations of this kind, viz. that they are
less liable than others to be injured by the sea. The
town of Deal, as far as we are able to judge, except
it may be the sea’s sinking a little from it, is in much
the same condition in which it ever was, even from the
earliest accounts. The learned Dr Halley has proved,
Miscellanea Curiosa, vol. iii. p. 426. that Julius Caesar
landed here, August 26th, the year before the coming
of Christ 55.—The great convenience of landing has
been of infinite service to the place : so that it is large
and populous, divided into the upper and lower towns,
and is in effect the principal place in the Downs. Po¬
pulation 3420 in 1811.
DEAN, an ecclesiastical dignitary in cathedral and
collegiate churches, and head ot the chapter^
Rural-DEAN, called also Arch-Presbyter, originally
exercised jurisdiction over ten churches in the country,
and afterwards became only the bishop’s substitute, to
grant
D E A [x
grant letters of administration, probate of wills, &c. ;
to convocate the clergy •, and to signify to them some¬
times by letter the bishop’s will, and to give induction
to the archdeacon. Their office is not lost in that ot
the archdeacons and chancellors.
Dean of a Monastery, was a superior established un¬
der the abbot, to ease him in taking care of ten monks j
whence he was called decumis.
Dean and Chapter, are the council of the bishop, to
assist him with their advice in affairs of religion, and
also in the temporal concerns of his see. When the rest
of the clergy were settled in the several parishes of
each diocese, these were reserved for the celebration of
divine service in the bishop’s own cathedral ; and the
chief of them, who presided over the rest, obtained the
name of decanus or dean, being probably at first ap¬
pointed to superintend ten canons or prebendaries.
All ancient deans are elected by the chapter by
conge d'elirc from the king, and letters missive of re¬
commendation, in the same manner as bishops: but in
those chapters that were founded by Henry VIII. out
of the spoils of the dissolved monasteries, the deanery
is donative, and the installation merely by the king’s
letters patent. The chapter, consisting of canons or
prebendaries, are sometimes appointed by the king,
sometimes by the bishop, and sometimes elected by
each other.
The dean and chapter are the nominal electors of a
bishop. The bishop is their ordinary and immediate
superior j and has, generally speaking, the power of
visiting them, and correcting their excesses and enor¬
mities. They had also a check on the bishop at com¬
mon lawT; for till the statute 32 Hen. VIII. c. 28. his
grant or lease would not have bound his succesors, un¬
less confirmed by the dean and chapter.
Dean of Guild. See Law Index.
DEANERY, the office of a dean.—Deaneries and
prebends may become void like a bishopric, by death,
by deprivation, or by resignation either to the king or
bishop. If a dean, prebendary, or other spiritual per¬
son, be made a bishop, all the preferments of which he
was before possessed are void : and the king may pre¬
sent to them in right of his prerogative royal. But
they are not void by the election, but only by the con¬
secration.
DEATH, is generally considered as the separation
of the soul from the body ; in which sense it stands op¬
posed to life, which consists in the union thereof.
Physicians usually define death by a total stoppage
of the circulation of the blood, and a cessation of the
animal and vital functions consequent thereon $ as re¬
spiration, sensation, &c.
An animal body, by the actions inseparable from
life, undergoes a continual change. Its smallest fibres
become rigid j its minute vessels grow into solid fibres
no longer pervious to the fluids j its greater vessels
grow hard and narrow *, and every thing becomes con¬
tracted, closed, and bound up j whence the dryness,
immobility, and extenuation, observed in old age. By
such means the offices of the minuter vessels are de¬
stroyed the humours stagnate, harden, and at length
coalesce with the solids. Thus are the subtilest fluids
in the body intercepted and lost, the concoction weak¬
ened, and the reparation prevented only the coarser
juices continue to run slowly through the greater ves-
3
04 ] D E A
sels, to the preservation of life, after the animal func¬
tions are destroyed. At length, in the process of these
changes, death itself becomes inevitable, as the neces¬
sary consequence of life. But it is rare that hie is thus
long protracted, or that death succeeds merely fiom the
decays and impairments of old age. Diseases, a long
and horrid train, cut the work short.
The. signs of death are in many cases very uncertain.
If we consult what Winslow or Bruchier have said on
this subject, we shall be convinced, that between life
and death the shade is so very undistinguishable, that
even all the powers of art can scarcely determine where
the one ends and the other begins. The colour of the
visage, the warmth of the body, and suppleness of the
joints, are but uncertain signs of life still subsisting ;
while, on the contrary, the paleness of the complexion,
the coldness of the body, the stiffness of the extremi¬
ties, the cessation of all motion, and the total insensi¬
bility of the parts, are but uncertain marks of death
begun. In the same manner also, with regard to the
pulse and breathing 5 these motions are so often kept
under, that it is impossible to perceive them. By
bringing a looking-glass near to the mouth of the per¬
son supposed to be dead, people often expect to fine
whether he breathes or not. But this is a very uncer¬
tain experiment j the glass is frequently sullied by the
vapour of the dead man’s body j and often the person
is still alive, though the glass is no way tarnished. In
the same manner, neither burning nor scarifying, nei¬
ther noises in tfie ears nor pungent spirits applied to
the nostrils, give certain signs of the discontinuance
of life ; and there are many instances of persons who
have endured them all, and afterwards recovered
without any external assistance, to the astonishment
of the spectators. This ought to be a caution against
hasty burials, especially in cases of sudden death,
drowning, &c.
Death, in Law. In law, there is a natural death
and civil death : natural, where nature itself expires j
civil, where a person is not actually dead, but adjudged
so by law. Thus, if any person, for whose life an estate
is granted, remains beyond sea, or is otherwise absent,
seven years, and no proof made of his being alive, he
shall be accounted naturally dead.
Brothers of Death, a denomination usually given to
the religious of the order of St Paul, the first hermit.
They are called brothers of death, fratres a morte, on
account of the figure of a death’s head which they
were always to have with them, in order to keep
perpetually before them the thoughts of death. This
order, by its constitutions made in 1620, does not
seem to have been established long before Pope Paul \ .
Louis XIII. in 1621, permitted them to settle in
France. The order was probably suppressed by Pope
Urban ^ III.
Lair of DEATH-Bed. See Law Index.
Death-JFatch, in Natural History, a little insect
famous for a ticking noise, like the beat of a watch,
which the vulgar have long taken for a presage of death
in the family where it is heard : whence it is also call¬
ed pediculus fatidicus, mortisaga, pulsatorius, &c.
There are two kinds of death-watches. Of the first
we have a good account in the Phil. Trans, by Mr
Allen. It is a small beetle, j-ifiths of an inch long,
of a dark brown colour, spotted ; having pellucid wings
under
Lea tli.
D E A L 105 ] DEB
Death- the vagina, a large cap or helmet on the head,
watch, and two antennae proceeding from beneath the eyes,
—v——' and doing the office of proboscides. The part it beats
withal, he observed, was the extreme edge of the face,
which he chooses to call the upper-lip, the mouth be¬
ing protracted by this bony part, and lying underneath
out of view.
This account is confirmed by Dr Derham ; with
this difference, that instead of ticking with the upper
lip, he observed the insect to draw back its mouth, and
beat with its forehead. That author had two death-
watches, a male and a female, which he kept alive in
a box several months ; and could bring one of them
to beat whenever he pleased, by imitating its beating.
Bv this ticking noise he could frequently invite the
male to get up upon the other in the way of coition.
When the male found he got up in vain, he would get
off again, beat very eagerly, and then up again :
Whence the ingenious author concludes those pul¬
sations to he the way whereby these insects woo one
another, and find out and invite each other to copula¬
tion.
The second kind of death-watch is an insect in ap¬
pearance quite different from the first. The former
only beats seven or eight strokes at a time, and
quicker : the latter will beat some hours together with¬
out intermission ; and his strokes are more leisurely,
and like the beat of a watch. This latter is a small
grayish insect, much like a louse when viewed with the
naked eye.
It is very common in all parts of the house in the
summer months : it is very nimble in running to shel¬
ter, and shy of beating when disturbed ; but will beat
very freely before you, and also answer the beating, if
vou can view it without giving it disturbance, or sha¬
king the place where it lies, &c. The author cannot
say whether they beat in any other thing, but be never
heard their noise except in or near paper. As to their
noise, the same person is in doubt whether it be made
by their heads, or rather snouts, against the paper j or
whether it be not made after some such manner as
grashoppers and crickets make their noise. He in¬
clines to the former opinion. The reason of his doubt
is, that he observed the animal’s body to shake and
give a jerk at every beat, but could scarce perceive any
part of its body to touch the paper. But its body is
so small and near the paper, and its motion in ticking
so quick, that he thinks it might be, yet he not per¬
ceive it. The ticking, as in the other, he judges to be
a wooing act $ as having observed another, after much
beating, come and make offers to the beating insect,
who, after some offers, left off beating, and got upon
the back of the other. When they were joined, he left
off again 5 and they continued some hours joined tail to
tail, like dog and hitch in coition. Whether this in¬
sect changes its shape, and becomes another animal or
not, he cannot say *, though he has some cause to su¬
spect that it becomes a sort of fly. It is at first a mi¬
nute white egg, much smaller than the nits of lice ;
though the insect is near as big as a louse. In March
it is hatched, and creeps about with its shell on. When
it first leaves its shell, it is even smaller than its egg j
though lhat be scarcely discernible without a micro¬
scope. In this state it is perfectly like the mites in
cheese. From the mite state they grow gradually to
Vol. VII. Part I. t
their mature perfect state. When they become like Death-
the old ones, they are at first very small, but run about watch
much more swiftly than before. i’
DEBENTURE, a term of trade used at the cu.Dcb,1»*^
stomhouse for a kind of certificate signed by the officers
of the customs, which entitles a merchant exporting
goods to the receipt of a bounty or draw-back. All
merchandises that are designed to he taken on board
for that voyage being entered and shipped, and the ship
being regularly cleared out, and sailed out of port on
her intended voyage, debentures may be made out from
the exporter’s entries, in order to obtain the draw-backs,
allowances, bounties, or premiums j which debentures
for foreign goods are to be paid within one month after
demand. And in making out these debentures, it must
be observed, that every piece of vellum, parchment, or
paper, containing any debenture for drawing back cus¬
toms or duties, must, before writing, be stamped, and
pay a duty of 8d.
The forms of debentures vary according to the mer¬
chandise exported. In the execution of debentures
for tobacco, it must be particularly observed, 1. That
debentures for the same quantity may be made on one
or more parchments. 2. That the exporter’s oath must
be printed, specifying whether he acts for himself or on
commission. 3. If exported to any other foreign ports
than Ireland, the word Ireland must be added to the
oath after Great Britain. 4. That as no tobacco may
be consumed on board of ships of war in Europe but
what has paid full duties, and been manufactured in
Great Britain, no drawback is to be allowed for to¬
bacco exported in any man of war. 5. That the eight
pounds per hogshead of 350 pounds, or more, allowed
for draught at importation, must not be deducted on
exportation. 6. That debentures for tobacco exported
to Ireland must not be paid till a certificate be pro¬
duced, testifying the landing thereof. 7. That no
persons may swear to the exportation but such as are
permitted to swear to debentures for other goods. In
debentures for all other foreign goods, no person may
be admitted to swear to the exportation but the true
exporter, either as a proprietor, or who, being em¬
ployer by commission, is concerned in the direction of
the voyage. All kinds of debentures, before delivered
or paid to the exporters, are entered into a separate
book kept for that purpose by the collector and comp¬
troller of the customs.
DEBITA fundi. See Law Index.
Debita Fructuum. See Law Index.
DEBILITY, among physicians, a relaxation of
the solids, occasioning oftentimes weaknesses and faint-
ings.
DEBIR, in Ancient Geography, a sacerdotal city
of Palestine, near Hebron ; but neither distance, nor
point of the compass on which it lies, can be determi¬
ned. It was anciently called Kariath-sepher or Kir-
jatk-sepher, and Kirjath-sanna (Joshua).—Another
Dehir in the tribe of Gad, beyond Jordan.
DEBRECHEN, a town of Upper Hungary, about
77 miles east of Buda. E. Long. 21. 10. N. Lat.
47- 45-
DEBRUIZED, in Heraldry, a term peculiar to the
English, by which is intimated the grievous restraint of
any animal, debarred of its natural fxeedom, by any of
the ordinaries being laid over it.
O DEBT,
DEBT, in Latu, any thing clue to another, whether
it be monev, goods, or services j or the action brought
for recovering the same*
National Debt. See Funds and National Debt.
DEBTOR, a person who owes any thing to another *,
in contradistinction to creditor, which is he to whom
the debt is owing.
Debtor, in merchants accounts. See Book-keep-
ING. , , . c
DECADE, a word used by some old writers tor
the number ten, and decades for an enumeration by
tens. The word is formed from the Latin decas, which
is derived from a Qreek word of the same import.
The word has been more peculiarly appropriated to the
number of books, q. d. decades, into which the Roman
History of Titus Livius is divided. Hence also came
decadal arithmetic, the Decameron of Boccacio, &c.
DECAGON, in Geometry, a plain figure with ten
sides and ten angles.
DECAGYNfA (from 'll**, ten, and yym, a wo¬
man), the name of an order, or secondary division, in
the class decandria, of the sexual method, consisting
of plants whose flowers are furnished with ten stamina
and the same number of styles j which last are consi¬
dered by Linnaeus and the sexualists as the female or¬
gans of generation in plants. Neurada and American
nightshade furnish examples.
DECALOGUE, the ten precepts or command¬
ments delivered by God to Moses, after engraving
them on two tables of stone.
The Jews, by way of excellence, call these com¬
mandments the ten words, from whence they had af¬
terwards the name of decalogue: but it is to be obser¬
ved, that they joined the first and second into one, and
divided the last into two. They understand that a-
gainst stealing to relate to the stealing of men, or kid¬
napping ; alleging, that the stealing one another’s
goods or property is forbidden in the last command-
meThe emperor Julian objected to the decalogue, that
the precepts it contained (those only excepted which
concern the worship of false gods, and the observation
of the sabbath) were already so familiar to all nations,
and so universally received, that they were unworthy,
for that very reason, to be delivered by so great a le¬
gislator, to so peculiar a people. The church of Rome
has struck the second commandment quite out of the
decalogue j and to make their number complete, hath
split the tenth into two : the reason of which may be
easily conceived.
DECAN, a kingdom of Asia, in the peninsula on
this side the Ganges, bounded on the south by the
kingdom of Bisnagar, on the west by the ocean, on the
north by Mogulistan, and on the east by the mountains
which separate it from Golconda. > >
DECANDRIA, (Si**, ten, and *V»!$, a husband),
Linnseus’s tenth class, comprehending those hermaphro¬
dite plants which bear flowers with ten stamina. See
Botany Index. .
DECANTATION, among chemists, &c. the gent¬
ly pouring off a liquor from its faeces, by inclining the
lip or canthus of the vessel, whence the name.
DECANUS, in Roman antiquity, an officer who
presided over the other ten officers, and was head of
the contubernium, or Serjeant of a file of soldiers*
DECAPOLIS, in Ancient Geography, a district Decapolti
beyond Jordan, almost all of it belonging to the half (1
tribe of Manasseh j before the captivity, called Beth- Decemni'
san ; but after occupied by the heathen, who could not 'rm“
be driven out. It comprised, as the name denotes, ten
principal cities on the other side the Jordan, if we ex¬
cept Scythopolis, which stood on this side, but its ter¬
ritory on the other.
DECAPROTI, Decemprimi, in Roman antiquity,
officers for gathering the tributes and taxes.
The decaproti were also obliged to pay for the dead,
or to answer to the emperor for the quota parts of such
as died, out of their own estates.
DECASPERMUM, a genus of plants belonging to
the icosandria class. See Botany Index.
DECASTYLE, in the ancient architecture, a build¬
ing with an ordnance of ten columns in front, as the
temple of Jupiter Olympius was.
DECEIT, in Law, a subtile trick or device, to
which may be added all manner of cralt and collusion,,
or underhand practice, used to defraud another, by any
means whatever.
DECEMBER, the last month of the year, wherein
the sun enters the tropic of Capricorn, and makes the
winter solstice.
In Romulus’s year, December was the loth month,
whence the name, viz. from decern, “ ten for the
Romans began their year in March.
The month of December was under the protection cf
Vesta. Romulus assigned it 30 days, Numa reduced
it to 29, which Julius Caesar increased to 31.
Under the reign of Commodus, this month was
called, by way of flattery, Amazonius, in honour of a
courtesan whom that prince passionately loved, ami
had got painted like an Amazon : but it only kept the
name during that emperor’s life.
At the latter end of this month they had \Aie juve¬
niles ludii and the country people kept the feast of
the goddess Vacuna in the fields, having then gather¬
ed in their fruits and sown their corn •, whence seems
to be derived our popular festival called harvest-home^
DECEMPAGI, in Ancient Geography, a town of
Belgica : Now Dieuse, in Lorrain, on the rivulet Seille
or Belna, near the lake Lindre, about seven German
miles to the north-east of Nancy.
DECEMPEDA, Ai**?r«t>f, ten-feet rod, an instru¬
ment used by the ancients in measuring.
The decempeda was a rule or rod divided into ten
feet •, whence its name, from decern, “ ten,” and pesy
pedis, “ foot.” The foot was subdivided into twelve
inches, and each inch into ten digits. The decempe¬
da was used both in measuring of land, like the chain
among us 5 and by architects to give the proper dimen¬
sions and proportions to the parts of their buildings,
which use it still retains. Horace, lib. ii. od. 15. bla¬
ming the magnificence and delicacy of the buildings of
his time, observes, that it was otherwise in the times of
Romulus and Cato ; that in the houses of private per¬
sons there were not then known any porticoes measured
out with the decempeda, nor turned to the north to
take the cool air.
DECEMVIRI, ten magistrates of absolute autho¬
rity among the Romans. The privileges of the patri¬
cians raised dissatisfaction among the plebeians j who,
though freed from the power of the Tarquins, still saw
that
trin
I)
wscennaiia
DEC [ 107 ] DEC
that the administration of justice depended upon the
will and caprice of their superiors, without any writ¬
ten statute to direct them, and convince them that
they were governed with equity and impartiality. The
tribunes complained to the senate, and demanded that
a code of laws might be framed for the use and bene¬
fit of the Roman people. The petition was complied
with ; and three ambassadors were sent to Athens and
all the other Grecian states, to collect the laws of So¬
lon and of all the other celebrated legislators of Greece.
Upon the return of the commissioners it was univer¬
sally agreed, that ten new magistrates called Decemviri
should be elected from the senate to put the project
into execution. Their power was absolute, all other
offices ceased after their election, and they presided
over the city with regal authority. They were invest¬
ed with the badges of the consul, in the enjoyment of
which they succeeded by turns, and only one was
preceded by the fasces, and had the power of assem¬
bling the senate and confirming decrees. The first de¬
cemvirs were Appius Claudius, T. Genutius, P. Sex¬
tus, Sp. Veturius, C. Julius, A. Manlius, Ser. Sulpi-
tius, Pluriatius, T. Romulus, Sp. Posthumius, in the
vear of Rome 302. Under them the laws, which had
been exposed to public view, that every citizen might
speak his sentiments, were publicly approved of as con¬
stitutional, and ratified by the priests and augurs in the
most solemn and religious manner. They were ten in
number, and were engraved on tables of brass; two were
afterwards added, and they were called the laws of the
twelve tables, leges duodecim tabularum, and leges de-
cemvirales. The decemviral power, which was beheld
by all ranks of people with the greatest satisfaction,
was continued: but in the third year after their crea¬
tion the decemvirs became odious on account of their
tyranny ; and the attempt of Ap. Claudius to ravish
Virginia totally abolished that office. The people were
so exasperated against them, that they demanded them
from the senate to burn them alive. Consuls were
again appointed, and tranquillity re established in the
state. There were other officers in Rome called de¬
cemvirs, who were originally appointed in the absence
of the praetor to administer justice. Their appointment
became afterwards necessary, and they generally assist¬
ed at sales, called subhastationes, because a spear, hasta,
was fixed at the door of the place where the goods
were exposed to sale. They were called decemviri li-
tibus judicandis. The officers whom Tarquin appoint¬
ed to guard the Sibylline books were also called rttccwz-
virir They were originally two in number, called
duumviri, till the year of Rome 388, when their num¬
ber was increased to ten, five of which were chosen
from the plebeians and five from the patricians. Sylla
increased their number to fifteen, called quindeccm-
virs.
DECENNALIA, ancient Roman festivals, cele¬
brated by the emperors every tenth year of their reign,
with sacrifices, games, and largesses for the people.
The emperor Augustus first instituted these solemnities,
in which he was imitated by his successors. At the
same time the people offered up vows for the emperor,
and for the perpetuity of the empire; which were there¬
fore called vota decennalia. Augustus’s view in esta¬
blishing the decennalia was to preserve the empire and
the sovereign power without offence or restraint to the
people. For during the celebration of this feast, that iJeccnnaK*
prince used to surrender up ail his authority into the 11
hands of the people ; who filled with joy, and charmed Dgcnnais.
with the goodness of Augustus, immediately delivered 'r*’W
it him back again.
DECHALES, Claudius Frances Milliet, an
excellent mathematician, mechanic, and astronomer, de¬
scended from a noble family, and born at Chamberry
in 1611. His principal performances are an edition of
Euclid’s Elements of Geometry, in which the unsex--
viceable propositions are rejected, and the uses of those
retained annexed; a discourse on fortification; and ano¬
ther on navigation. These with others have been col¬
lected, first in 3 vols folio, and afterwards in 4, under
the title of Mundus Mat/iematicus; being indeed a com¬
plete course of mathematics. He died in 1678, pro¬
fessor of mathematics in the university of Turin.
DECIATES, or Deciatii, in Ancient Geography, a
people of Gallia Narbonensis, next the borders of Italy,
on the Mediterranean. Now the diocese of Grace and
Antibes. Deciatum oppidum, was a town situated be¬
tween Antibes and Nice.
DECIDUOUS, an appellation chiefly used in re¬
spect of plants : thus, the calyx or cup of a flower is
said to be deciduous, when it falls along with the flower-
petals ; and, on the contrary, it is called permanent,
when it remains after they are fallen. Again, decidu¬
ous leaves are those which fall in autumn ; in contra¬
distinction to those of the evergreens, which remain all
the winter. See Defoliation.
DECIE, in Astronomy, an aspect or position of two
planets, when they are distant from each other a tenth
part of the zodiac.
DECIMAL ARITHMETIC, the art of computing by
decimal fractions. See Arithmetic.
Circulating DECIMALS, called also recurring
or repeating decimals, are those in which a figure or se¬
veral figures are continually repeated. They are di¬
stinguished into single and multiple, and these again
into pure and mixed.
A pure single circulate is that in which one figure
only is repeated ; as *222, &c. and is marked thus *2.
A pure multiple circulate is that in which sevex-al fi-
gui’es are continually repeated; as *232323, &c. mark¬
ed *23 ; and *524524, &c. marked *524.
A mixed single circulate is that which consists of a
terminate part, and a single repeating figure; as 4*222,
&c. or4.2. And
A mixed multiple circulate is that which contains a
terminate part with several repeating figures; as
That part of the circulate which repeats is called
the repetend; and the whole repetend, supposed infi¬
nitely continued, is equal to a vulgar fraction, whose
numerator is the repeating number or figures, and its
denominator the same number of nines: so*2is=:4;
and *23 is=|-y; and *524 is=4||.
Dr Wallis, it appears, was the first who distinctly
considered or treated of infinite circulating decimals,
as he himself informs us in his Treatise of Infinites.
Since his time many other authors have treated on this
part of arithmetic; the principal of those, however, to
whom the art is mostly indebted, are Messrs Brown,
O 2 Cunn,
DEC [ K
Cunn, Martin, Emerson, Malcom, Bonn, ami Henry
Clarke ; in whose writings the nature ami practice of
this art may be fully seen, especially in the last-men-
tinned ingenious author. Hutton's Math. Diet.
DECIMATION, a punishment inflicted by the
Romans, on such soldiers as quitted their posts, or be¬
haved themselves cowardly in the field. The names of
the guilty were put into an urn or helmet, and as many
were drawn out as made the tenth part of the whole
number, and those were put to the sword, and the
others saved. This was called decimare; a word of
the ancient Roman militia, who, to punish whole legions
when they had failed in their duty, made every tenth
soldier draw lots, and put him to death for an example
to the others.
As the Romans had their decimatio, they had also
the vicesimatio, and even centesimatio, when only the
20th or loodth man suffered by lot.
DECIPHERING, the art of finding the alphabet
of a cipher. Eor the art both of Ciphering and Deci¬
phering, see the article Cipher.
DECIUS Mus, a celebrated Roman consul, who,
after many glorious exploits, devoted himself to the
gods manes for the safety of his country in a battle
against the Latins, about 340 years before the Augus¬
tan age. His son Decius imitated his example, and
devoted himself in like manner in his fourth consulship,
when fighting against the Gauls and Samnites. His
grandson also did the same in the war against Pyrrhus
and the Tarentines. This action of devoting one’s self
was of infinite service to the state. Hie soldiers were
animated by the example, and induced to follow with
intrepidity a commander who, arrayed in an unusual
dress, and addressing himself to the gods with solemn
invocation, rushed into the thickest part of the enemy
to meet his fate.
Decius, Cn. Metius, Q. Trajanus, a native of Pan-
nonia, sent by the emperor Philip to appease a sedi¬
tion in Moesia. Instead of obeying his master’s com¬
mand, he assumed the imperial purple, and soon after
marched against him, and at his death became the only
emperor. He signalized himself against the Persians ^
and, when he marched against the Goths, he pushed
his horse into a deep marsh, from which he could not
extricate himself, and he perished with all his army by
the darts of the barbarians, A. D. 251, after a reign
of two years. \
DECK of a Ship (from decken, Dan. to cover) *,
the planked floors of a ship, which connect the sides
together, and serve as different platforms to support
the artillery and lodge the men, as also to preserve the
cargo from the sea in merchant vessels. As all ships
are broader on the lower deck than on the next above
it, and as the cannon thereof are always heaviest, it is
necessary that the frame of it should be much stronger
than that of the others ; and for the same reason the se¬
cond or middle deck ought to be stronger than the upper
deck or forecastle.
Ships of the first and second rates are furnished with
three whole decks, reaching from the stem to the stern,
besides a forecastle and a quarter-deck, which ex¬
tends from the stern to the mainmast} between which
and the forecastle a vacancy is left in the middle, open¬
ing to the upper deck, and forming what is called the
3 ] DEC
waist. There is yet another deck above the hinder
or aftmost part of the quarter-deck, called the poop, v—
which also serves as a roof for the captain’s cabin or
couch.
The inferior ships of the line of battle are equipped
with two decks and a half; and frigates, sloops, &c.
with one gun-deck and a half, with a spar-deck below
to lodge the crew.
The decks are formed and sustained by the beams,
the clamps, the water-ways, the carlings, the ledges,
the knees, and two rows of small pillars called stanchions,
&.c. See those articles.
That the figure of the deck, with its correspond¬
ing parts, may be more clearly understood, we have
exhibited a plan of the lower-deck of a 74 gun ship
in Plate CLXIX. And as both sides of the deck are
exactly similar, the pieces by which it is supported ap¬
pear on one side, and on the other side the planks of
the floor of which it is composed, as laid upon those
upper pieces.
A, the principal or main hatch-way.
B, the stern-post.
C, the stern.
D, the beams, composed of three pieces, as exhi¬
bited by D, in one of which the dotted lines show the
arrangement of one of the beams under the other side
of the deck.
E, part of the vertical or hanging knees.
F, the horizontal or lodging knees, which fasten the
beams to the sides.
G, the carlings, ranging fore and aft from one beam
to another.
H, the gun-ports.
I, the pump-dales, being large wooden tubes, which
return the water from the pumps into the sea.
K, the spurs of the beams, being curved pieces of
timber serving as half-beams to support the decks,
where a whole beam cannot be placed on account of
the hatchways.
L, the wing-transom, which is bolted by the middle
to the stern-post, and whose ends rest upon the fashion-
pieces.
M, the hulk-head or partition which incloses the
manger, and prevents the water which enters at the
hawse-holes from running aft between decks.
NN, the fore hatchway.
00, the after hatchway.
P, the drum-head of the great capstern.
P/j, the drum-head of the main capstern.
Q, the wing-transom knee.
R, one of the breast-hooks under the gun-deck.
S, the breast-hook of the gun-deck.
TT, the station of the chain-pumps.
V, the breadth and thickness of the timbers at the
height of the gun-deck.
UU, scuttles leading to the gunner’s store-room, and
the bread-room.
W, the station of the fore-mast.
X, the station of the main-mast.
Y, the station of the mizen-mast.
Z, the ring-bolts of the decks, used to retain the can¬
non whilst charging.
a a, The ring-bolts of the sides whereon the tackles
are hooked that secure the cannon at sea.
c a ad.
DEC [ 109 ] DEC
Deck c a a d, The water-ways, through which the scupper
|j holes are pierced, to carry the water oil' from the deck
Declama- hlto the Sea.
tlon‘ b b, Plan of the foremost and aftmost cable hits, with
'_“ their cross-pieces gg, and their standards e e.
Thus we have represented on one side all the pieces
which sustain the deck with its cannon ; and on the
other side the deck itself, with a tier of 32 pounders
planted in battery thereon. In order also to show the
use of the breeching and train-tackle, one of the guns
is drawn in as ready for charging.
The number of beams by which the decks of ships
are supported, is often very different, according to the
practice of different countries, the strength of the tim¬
ber of which the beams are framed, and the services
for which the ship is calculated.
As the deck which contains the train of a fire-ship
is furnished with an equipage peculiar to itself, the
whole apparatus is particularly described in the article
Fire-Ship.
F/j/s/i-Deck, implies a continued floor laid from
stem to stern, upon one line, without any stops or in¬
tervals.
Half-F)ECK, a space under the quarter-deck of a
ship of war, contained between the foremost bulk-head
of the steerage and the fore-part of the quarter-deck.
In the colliers of Northumberland the steerage itself is
called the ha/f deck, and is usually the habitation of the
crew.
DECLAMATION, a speech made in public, in
the tone and manner of an oration, uniting the expres¬
sion of action to the propriety of pronunciation, in or ¬
der to give the sentiment its full impression upon the
mind. According to the manners and customs of the
present age, public harangues are made only, 1. In
the pulpit. 2. In the senate, in council, or other
public assembly. 3. By public professors. 4. On the
theatre.
I. With regard to the declamation of the pulpit, the
dignity and sanctity of the place, and the importance
of the subject, require the preacher to exert the utmost
powers of his voice to produce a pronunciation that is
perfectly distinct and harmonious, and that he observe
a deportment and action which is expressive and grace¬
ful. No man, therefore, who is destitute of a voice,
should ascend the pulpit, and there act the part of a
pantomime before his audience. The preacher should
not, however, roar like a common crier, and rend the
ear with a voice of thunder; for such kind of decla¬
mation is not only without meaning and without per¬
suasion, but highly incongruous with the meek and
gentle expressions of the gospel. He should likewise
take particular care to avoid a monotony ; his voice
should rise from the beginning, as it were bv degrees,
and its greatest strength should be exerted in the appli¬
cation. Each inflection of the voice should be adapted
to the phrase, and to the meaning of the words; and
each remarkable expression should have its peculiar in¬
flexion. The dogmatic requires a plain, uniform tone
of voice only ; and the menaces of the gospel demand a
greater force than do its promises and rewards ; but the
latter should not be pronounced in the soft tone of a
flute, nor the former with the loud sound of a trum¬
pet. The voice should still retain its natural tone in
all its various inflexions. Happy is that preacher, ta
whom nature has given a voice that is at once strong, Deck
flexible, and harmonious. tk
An air of complacency and benevolence, as well as Y
devotion, should be constantly visible in the counte¬
nance of the preacher. But every appearance of aftec-
tation must be carefully avoided ; for nothing is so dis¬
gustful to an audience as even the semblance of dis¬
simulation. Eyes constantly rolling, turned towards
heaven, and streaming with tears, rather denote a hy¬
pocrite, than a man possessed of the real spirit of reli¬
gion, and that feels the true import of what he preaches.
An air of affected devotion infallibly destroys the effi¬
cacy of all that the preacher can say, however just and
important it may be. On the other hand, he must
avoid every appearance of mirth or raillery, or of that
cold unfeeling manner which is so apt to freeze the
hearts of his hearers.
The body should be in general erect, and in a natu¬
ral and easy attitude. The perpetual movement or
contortion of the body has a ridiculous effect in the
pulpit, and makes the figure of a preacher and a har¬
lequin much too similar, But, on the other hand, he
ought not to remain constantly upright and motionless
like a speaking statue.
The motions of the hands give a strong expression
to a discourse ; but they should be constantly decent,
grave, noble, and expressive. The preacher who is
incessantly in action, who is perpetually clasping his
hands, or who menaces with a clenched fist, or counts
his arguments on his fingers, will only excite mirth
among his auditory. In a word, declamation is an art
that the sacred orator should study with the utmost as¬
siduity. The design of a sermon is to convince, to de¬
fect, and to persuade. The voice, the countenance,
and the action, which are to produce this triple effect,
are therefore the objects to which the preacher should
particularly apply himself.
II. The declamation of a minister or statesman in
the senate, in council, or other public assembly, is of
a more unconfined nature. To persuade, to move the
passions, and gain an ascendency in a publit assembly,
the orator should himself feel the force of what he says,
and the declamation should only express that internal
sensation. But nothing should be carried to excess. A
suavity in the tone of voice, a dignity of deportment,
a graceful action, and a certain tranquillity of counte¬
nance, should constantly accompany the statesman when
he speaks in public, even when he is most earnestly en¬
gaged in debate, or when he is addressing his sovereign
in person. A pleasing tone of voice and a distinct
pronunciation, prejudice the hearers greatly in the
speaker’s favour. A young man may improve these
to a surprising degree. Demosthenes, who had a na¬
tural impediment in his speech, was accustomed to go
to the sea shore, and partly filling his mouth with peb¬
bles, he declaimed with a loud voice. The stones by
degrees gave a volubility to his tongue, and the roar¬
ing of the waves reconciled him insensibly to the noise
of the multitude.
III. The principal object of a public professor is the
instruction of the studious youth ; for which purpose
he is to convince and persuade. Every tone of voice,
every expression of the countenance, or action of the
body, which can produce this effect by enforcing the
words, should therefore be employed by those who are
to *
DEC [ii
D«e1am&- to teach the science. There is, moreover, one very
tioa. essential reflection which every professor ought to
      make, and which is, that the chair from which he ha¬
rangues is surrounded by,young students, naturally pos¬
sessed with vivacity, not unfrequently ludicrous ; and
for the most part previously instructed in the prepara¬
tory sciences. They are therefore constantly inclined
to criticise, to jest, and to ridicule ; for which reason,
the professor should endeavour to inspire them with re¬
spect and attention, by a grave, commanding, and ve¬
nerable countenance, and carefully avoid all appearance
of grimace in his action, and every kind of affectation
in his discourse, that he may not afford the least oppor¬
tunity of pleasantry. ,
IV. We now come to theatric declamation. I. ihis
was very different among the ancients from what it is,
and ought to be, with us, from the nature of the thing
itself, and from the difference of circumstances. _ Num¬
berless passages in Quintilian, and other ancient hi¬
storians, critics, grammarians, and commentators, evi¬
dently prove, that the ancient dramatic declamation
was subservient to the rules of the musical rhyth-
* De Mu- mus . and by this, according to Aristides *, their ac-
sica, lib i. tjon>’ as wen as recital, was regulated. But to ex¬
plain this seeming paradox, it will be necessary to make
here some preliminary remarks. The ancients gave a
much more extensive signification than we do to the
word music (musica), which they derived^ from the
muses, or at least from some of them. It is for this
reason that the same Aristides and Quintilian defined it
to he “ An art that teaches all that relates to the use
of the voice, and the manner of performing all the mo¬
tions of the body with grace:” Ars decoris in vocibus
et motibus. Therefore poetry, declamation, dancing,
pantomimes, and many other gestures and exercises,
were subservient to this art.
2. That part of general music which taught the art
of declamation and gesture according to the rules of
aft established method (and which we perform by in¬
stinct, or at most by the aid of common sense), was
distinguished by the name hypocritic music; and this
musical art was called by the Greeks orchesis, and by
the Romans saltatio. It was, however, so far from be¬
ing an advantage to the ancients to have had this art,
which we have not, that it was, on the contrary, a mark
of great imperfection. For, in the first place, it was an
instance of high absurdity to represent a tragedy, or
comedy, before an audience of twenty thousand people,
the far greatest part of whom could neither hear nor
see what passed to any good purpose, unless they were
possessed of organs which we have not. Ihe theatres
of Rondon and Paris may conveniently contain about
a thousand persons j and that is found sufficient in the
most populous cities, where there are several places of
entertainment on the same day, and where the people
are reasonable enough to succeed each other in their
diversions. As the features of the face could not be
distinguished at so great a distance, and still less the
alteration of countenance; in order to represent the
different passions, they were obliged to have recourse
to masks, a wretched childish invention, that destroy¬
ed all the strength and variety of expression. 1 heir
action became extravagant, and at the same time
subservient to a regular mechanism j which prevented
all tb« refinement, and all the pleasure of surprise, m
) ] DEC
the performance, and must have had an effect horribly Declama-
disagreeable to those who were placed near the stage. . tlou\ ,
3. The egregious imperfection of their language *
likewise, which consisted of syllables long and short,
whose duration was determined by a set measure ol
time, and their manner of tuning these syllables, after
the method of the orchesis of the Greeks, was another
disadvantage. For by this means they determined by
notes or characters placed after the long and short syl¬
lables, not only the nature, hut the duration, of each
action. Now, nothing could be more affected, more
constrained and disgustful, than such a method of de¬
claiming. How far superior in this respect are the
moderns, who consult nature alone in their theatric de¬
clamation j who can make the audience hear each sigh j
who can accompany it with a proper attitude ) who
can incessantly vary their action j who can seize the
lucky moment, and make the countenance fully ex¬
press the sensations of the mind ! Nature does all here ,
and art, infinitely inferior to nature, did all among the
ancients. Modern declamation cannot be subservient
to a musical rhythmus, seeing we speak rapidly, and
without aflectation. Our actors learn their art without
art, from nature itself, assisted by reflection } and they
arrive at a degree of excellence infinitely greater than
that of the ancients, by a method far more simple, and
by efforts incomparably more easy.
4. We do not, moreover, precisely know what the
theatric declamation of the ancients was ^ nor what
were the musical instruments which accompanied that
declamation. The title to the Eunuch of Terence
says, for example, “ that Flaccus, the freedman of
Claudius, made the music of that piece, in which he
employed the two flutes, the right and the left.” These
flutes, it is likely, gave the tone to the actor, which
must have had a very odd effect on the audience. Most
of the ancient pieces have similar titles. They who
would be particularly informed of the art of declaim¬
ing anions the Greeks and Romans, may read to ad¬
vantage the Critical Reflections on Poetry and Paint¬
ing by the Abbe du Bos. The third part of that
work consists entirely of learned researches and inge¬
nious reflections on this silly practice of the ancients.
But as this art has happily no place in modern decla¬
mation, and can at best serve only to make a parade
of erudition, we shall say no more of it, but pass to
matters of real utility,
5. We think there is good reason to believe, more¬
over, that the most polished nations of modern Europe
do not accompany their discourses in general with so
many gesticulations, as did the Greeks, the Romans,
and other inhabitants of warm climates. They ap¬
pear to have found the method of animating a discourse,
and giving it an expression, by the simple inflections of
the voice, and by the features of the countenance j
which is far more decent, more just and rational, than
all those contortions which perpetually derange the na¬
tural attitude of the body and its numbers, and give
the speaker the air of a harlequin.
6. Expression, therefore, forms at once the essence
and the end of declamation : and the means of produ¬
cing- it consists, in a pronunciation that is sonorous, di¬
stinct, and pleasing, supported by an action that is de¬
cent and proper to the subject. If the best dramatic
poet has need of a good declaimer or actor to make
DEC [ in ] DEC
©eeJama- ^*8 writings produce their proper effect, the actor has
tion. likewise need of a good poet to enable him to please
and affect by the action ; for it is to little purpose
that he endeavours to charm his auditory by uniting,
with nature, all the powers of art, if the poet has not
furnished him with sentiments that are rational and
affecting.
7. The actor, in studying his part before a large
mirror, where he can see his whole figure, in order to
determine the most proper expressions for every thought,
should consult nature, and endeavour to imitate her.
But in this imitation, he should take care not to make
too servile a copy. He has this to observe, in common
with his colleagues, the masters in all the polite arts:
The theatre is intended to exhibit an imitation of na¬
ture, and not nature itself. Tragedy and comedy
form pictures of human life ; but these pictures are also
pieces of perspective, which require strokes somewhat
stronger than nature, that they may be discerned at a
distance. The actor is elevated to a considerable
height from the ground ; he is surrounded by scenery,
he is separated from the audience by the orchestra, and
he speaks in verse $ all this is not natural j but the
spectator is to accede to this necessary illusion, in order
to promote his own pleasure, which would not be so
great as it is were all these matters otherwise disposed.
Declamation, therefore, should somewhat exceed, but
never lose sight of,„nature.
8. The tone of the actor’s voice should be natural,
but regulated by the extent of the theatre ; sufficiently
loud to be heard by all the audience, but not so vio¬
lent as to rend their ears. A pure and graceful pro¬
nunciation, without any provincial accent, is likewise a
great merit in an actor ; and he should also habituate
himself to speak in a manner perfectly distinct. It is
a capital point in the pronouncing of verse, not to se¬
parate the two hemistichs, by resting too long on the
ccesura in the middle, or dwelling on the end of each
hemistich : for, by so doing, the actor falls into a mo¬
notony, an insufferable uniformity of cadence, in a
piece that consists of some thousand verses. The gra¬
dations of the voice demand also a very judicious ob¬
servance. The speaker, who begins in a high tone,
will find it very difficult to sustain it through the whole
piece j and he, who clamours incessantly, will find his
lungs fail him in those parts where the vehemence of
passion requires the strongest efforts. If we may be
allowed the expression, the strongest touches, the bold¬
est figures, will not there stand out from the picture in
a striking manner.
9. The deportment of an actor should be constantly
graceful, decent, and proper to the character he repre¬
sents. An old man has a different position of body
from a young petit-maitre ; an aged queen from a
young princess', a noble gallant frorfi a valet de chambre.
A rational observance of nature, and an imitation of
the best actors, are here the surest guides. The same
may be said of the action of the hands, the theatric
step, &c. An inanimated figure, a body in the position
of a statue, and hands immoveable, are as displeasing
in the 'scene, as a player whose incessant gesticula¬
tion resembles the action of a puppet.
10. Every actor who aspires to make his art some¬
thing^ more than merely mechanical, will begin by
enabling himself readily to repeat his part, that the
defect of his memory may not embarrass Ins action. Declama-
When he is so far a master of it, he will make it the lion
subject of serious reflection in his closet; endeavour to 8 .
seize the true sense of the author; and to find out that ^ccc^Uon,j
expression of each sentiment and passion, which is the
most natural, the most striking, and best adapted to the
stage ; and which he will cultivate by repeated essays,
till he is able to render it in its full force.
DECLARATORY action. See Law Index.
DECLINATION, in Grammar, an inflection of
nouns, according to their divers cases; as nominative,
genitive, dative, &c. See Grammar.
DECLINATION, in Astronomy, the distance of
any celestial object from the equinoctial, either north¬
ward or southward. It is either true or apparent, ac¬
cording as the real or apparent place of the object is
considered. See Astronomy Index.
Declination of the Sea Compass or Needle, is its
variation from the true meridian of any place.
Declination of a Plane or IF all, in Dialing, is the
horizontal arch contained between the plane and the
prime vertical circle, if you reckon from east to west ;
or between the meridian and the plane, reckoning
from north to south. Many ways are used for finding
this declination : but the most easy and practicable is
by a declinator. See Declinator.
DECLINATOR, or Declinatory, an instru¬
ment chiefly used in practical dialing, for taking the
declinations, inclinations, or reciinations of the planes
on which the dials are to be delineated. See Dial¬
ing, N° 24, 25.
DECLINATURE of Judges. See Law Index'.
DECLIVITY denotes the reverse of Acclivi¬
ty.
DECOCTION, usually signifies either the action
of boiling a substance in water, or the water itself in
which the substance has been boiled. It is only appli¬
cable to matters containing some principles soluble in
water : such particularly are animal and vegetable
matters. Decoction ought not to be used with such
substances as contain any volatile principles, as they
would be dissipated in the air during the process. But
it may be safely used, nay even becomes necessary, when
the matters to be treated are solid, and of a close and
compact texture ; because then the water could not
extract its principles without a boiling heat. Most soft
animal matters, as flesh, skin, tendons, may be conve¬
niently boiled in water; because they contain no prin¬
ciple volatile with a boiling heat. Water extracts from
them nothing but a gelatinous substance, and some
oily parts which float on the surface of the water. All
vegetable matters which are inodorous, and particular¬
ly those which are hard, as roots, barks, &c. are ge¬
nerally boiled, when an extraction of their principles
by water is required.—To this rule, however, there
are some exceptions. Peruvian bark, for instance, gives
its strength to cold water better than to such as is boil¬
ing hot. Many other vegetables also have the same
property of yielding less to boiling than to cold water. v
And therefore a general rule may be established, that
decoction ought not to be employed but when abso¬
lutely necessary ; that is, when the same principles, or
the same quantities of those principles, cannot be ob¬
tained by an infusion, and that without heat, if it can
be so done, considering that the proximate principles
DEC [ ii:
of vegetables are generally so delicate, and so suscep¬
tible of change and decomposition, that frequently the
most gentle heat changes much their nature and pro¬
perties. ,
DECOLLATION, Beheading, a term seldom
used but in the phrase decollation of St John Baptist,
which denotes a painting, wherein is represented the
Baptist’s head struck off from his trunk; or the feast
held in honour of that martyr. . .
DECOMPOSITION, in Chemistry, usually signi¬
fies the disunion or separation of the constituent parts
of bodies.—It differs from mere mechanical division *,
for when a body is chemically decomposed, the parts
into which it is resolved are essentially difl'erent from
the body itself: and though a mechanical force be ap¬
plied to it ever so long, or with ever so much violence,
the minutest particles into which the body may be re¬
duced still retain their original nature.—Ihus, for ex¬
ample, though we suppose nitre, or any other salt, to
be reduced to ever so fine powder, each particle retains
the nature of nitre, as much as the largest impounded
mass; but if sulphuric acid be applied, a decomposition
takes place, and one of the component parts of the
nitre, namely the nitric acid, rises in the form of
fumes, which lay hid in the mild neutral salt. See DE¬
COMPOSITION, Chemical, Supplement. #
DECORATION, in Architecture, any thing that
adorns and enriches a building, church, triumphal arch,
or the like, either without side or within.
The orders of architecture contribute greatly to the
decoration ; but then the several parts of those orders
must have their just proportions, characters, and orna¬
ments •, otherwise the finest order will bring confusion
rather than richness. See Architecture.
Decorations in churches are paintings, vases, fes¬
toons, See. occasionally applied to the walls *, and with
so much conduct and discretion, as not to take on any
thing from the form of the architecture: as is mucli
practised in Italy at the solemn feasts.
Decoration is more particularly applied to the
scenes of theatres.
In operas, and other theatrical performances, the
decorations must be frequently changed conformably
to the subject. . , „ , . -. . .
The ancients had two kinds of decorations tor their
theatres; the first, calledversatiles, having three sides,
or faces, which were turned successively to the specta¬
tors : the other called dvetiles, showing a new decora¬
tion by drawing or sliding another before it. a his
latter sort is still used, and apparently with much
greater success than among the ancients, who were
obliged to draw a curtain whenever they made a
change in the decorations j whereas on our stage the
change is made in a moment, and almost without be-
ingDECORUM, in Architecture, is the suitableness of
a building, and the several parts and ornaments there¬
of, to the station and occasion.
DECOUPLE, in Heraldry, the same as uncoupled ;
thus a chevron decouple is a chevron wanting so
much of it towards the point, that the two ends stand
at a distance from one another, being parted and un-
xoupled.
DECOY, in naval affairs, a stratagem employed
by a ship of war to betray a vessel of inferior force into
*3
] DEC
an uncautious pursuit, till she has drawn her within the Decoy,
range of her cannon, or ivhat is called within gun-shot.
It is usually performed by painting the stern and sides
in such a manner as to disguise the ship, and represent
her either much smaller and of inferior foice, or as a
friend to the hostile vessel, which she endeavours to
ensnare, by assuming the emblems and ornaments of
the nation to which the stranger is supposed to belong.
When she has thus provoked the adversary to chase, in
hopes of acquiring a priz.e, she continues the decoy,
by spreading a great sail, as endeavouring to escape j
at the same time that her course is considerably retard¬
ed by an artful alteration of her trim till the enemy
approaches. Decoying is also performed to elude the
chase of a ship of a superior force in a dark night, by
throwing out a lighted cask of pitch into the sea, which
will burn for a considerable time and misguide the
enemy. Immediately after the cask is thrown out, tne
ship changes her course, and may easily escape, if at
any tolerable distance from the foe.
Decoy, among fowlers, a place made for catching
wild-fowl. A decoy is generally made where there is
a large pond surrounded by a wood, and beyond that
a marshy and uncultivated country: if the piece of wa¬
ter is not thus surrounded, it will be attended with the
noise and other accidents which may be expected to
frighten the wild-fowl from a quiet haunt, where they
mean to sleep, during the day-time, in security. It
these noises or disturbances are wilful, it hath been
held that an action will lie against the disturber.—As
soon as the evening sets in, the decoy rises (as they
term it), and the wild fowl feed during the night. . If
the evening is still, the noise of their wings, duiing
their flight, is heard at a very great distance, and is a
pleasing though rather melancholy sound. This rising
of the decoy in the evening, is in Somersetshire called
radding. _ .
The decoy-ducks are fed with hempseed, which is
thrown over the skreens in small quantities, to bi ing
them forwards into the pipes or canals, and to allure
the wild fowl to follow, as this seed is so light as to
float.
There are several pipes, as they are called, which
lead up a narrow ditch that closes at last with a funnel-
net. Over these pipes (which grow narrower from
their first entrance) is a continued arch of netting
suspended on hoops. It is necessary to have a pipe or
ditch for almost every wind that can blow, as upon
this circumstance it depends which pipe the fowl wilt
take to j and the decoy-man always keeps on the lee¬
ward side of the ducks, to prevent his effluvia reaching
their sagacious nostrils. All along each pipe, at certain
intervals, are placed skreens made of reeds, which are
so situated, that it is impossible the wild fowl should
see the decoy-man, before they have passed on towaids
the end of‘the pipe, where the purse-net is placed.
The inducement to the wild-fowl to go up one of these
pipes is, because the decoy-ducks trained to this lead
the way, either after hearing the whistle of the decoy-
man, or enticed by the hemp-seed ; the latter will di .e
under water whilst the wild-fowl fly on, and are taken
in the purse.
It often happens, however, that the wild-fowl are
in such a state of sleepiness and dozing, that they will
not follow the decoy-ducks. Use is then generally
made
DEC [ i
made of a dog, who is taught his lesson ; he passes
II backwards and forwards between the reed skreens (in
jpccrcet- which are little holes, both for the decoy-man to see,
Arbitral an(j tlle little dog to pass through) ; this attracts the
eye of the wild-fowl, who, not choosing to be inter¬
rupted, advance towards the small and contemptible
animal, that they may drive him away. The dog all
the time, by the direction of the decoy-man, plays
among the skreens of reeds, nearer and nearer the
purse-net : till at last, perhaps the decoy-man appears
behind a skreen, and the wild-fowl not daring to pass
by him in return, nor being able to escape upwards on
account of the net-covering, rush on into the purse-net.
Sometimes the dog will not attract their attention, if
a red handkerchief or something very singular, is not
put about him.
The general season for catching fowls in decoy, is
from the latter end of October till February : the ta¬
king of them earlier is prohibited by an act 10 Geo. II.
c. 32. which forbids it from June 1st to October 1st,
under the penalty of five shillings for each bird de¬
stroyed within that space.
The Lincolnshire decoys are commonly set at a cer¬
tain annual rent, from 5 to 20 pounds a-year : and
there is one in Somersetshire that pays 30k The for¬
mer contribute principally to supply the markets in
London. Amazing number of ducks, widgeons, and
Pennants teal, are taken : by an account sent us* of the number
,rit. Zool, fought a few winters past, in one season, and in only
5P;:‘ ten decoys, in the neighbourhood of Wainfleet, it ap¬
peared to amount to 31,200, in which are included se¬
veral other species of ducks j it is also to be observed,
that, in the above particular, widgeon and teal are rec¬
koned but as one, and consequently sell but at half price
of the ducks. This quantity makes them so cheap on
the spot, that we have been assured, several decoy-men
would be content to contract for years to deliver their
ducks at Boston, for lod. per couple. The account of
the numbers here mentioned, relates only to those that
were sent to the capital.
It was customary formerly to have in the fens an
annual driving of the young ducks before they took
wing. Numbers of people assembled, who beat a vast
tract, and forced the birds into a net placed at the spot
where the sport was to terminate. A hundred and fifty
dozens have been taken at once : but this practice be¬
ing supposed to be detrimental, has been abolished by
act of parliament.
DECREE, an order made by a superior power for
the regulation of an inferior.
Decree, in the civil law, is a determination which
the emperor pronounces upon hearing a particular cause
between the plaintiff and defendant.
Decrees of Councils, are the laws made by them, to
regulate the doctrine and policy of the church.
Decrees in Chancery, are the determination, of the
lord-chancellor, upon a full hearing of the merits of a
cause.
DECREET, in the Law of Scotland, a final decreet
of judgment of the lords of session, from which an ap¬
peal only lies to parliament.
Decreet-Arbitral, in Scots Law, the sentence or
judgment of one to whom parties voluntarily submit
the determination of any question betwixt them. See
Law Index.
Vol. VII. Part I.
13 ] DEC
DECREMENT, in Heraldry, signifies the wane of Decrement
the moon from the full to the new. The moon in this II
state is called moon decrescent or in decours ; and when ^L'c'!11')-
borne in coat armour, faces to the left side of the
escutcheon, as she does to the right side when in the
increment.
DECREPITATION, in Chemistry, signifies the
quick separation of the parts of a body, occasioned by a
strong heat, and accompanied with a crackling noise.
This effect is most frequently produced by water con¬
tained betwixt the parts of the decrepitating body,
when these parts have a certain degree of adhesion to¬
gether. This water being quickly reduced into vapour
by the heat suddenly applied to it, rarefies and bursts
with noise the parts which compress it. The bodies
most subject to decrepitation are certain salts, such as
common salt, sulphate of potash, nitrate of lead, &c.
the decrepitation of all which proceeds from the water
of their crystallization. Clays which are not perfectly
dry, and flints, are also subject to decrepitation.
DECREPITUDE, in Medicine, the consequence of
the infirmities of old age ; which by degrees leads to
death. See Death.
DECRETAL, in the canon law, a letter of a pope,
determining some point or question in the ecclesiasti¬
cal law. The decretals compose the second part of
the canon law. The first genuine one, acknowledged
by all the learned as such, is a letter of Pope Siricius,
written in the year 385, to Himerus bishop of Tarra¬
gona, in Spain, concerning some disorders which had
crept into the churches of Spain. Gratian published
a collection of decretals, containing all the ordinances
made by the popes till the year 1150. Gregory IX.
in 1227, following the example of Theodosius and Jus¬
tinian, formed a constitution of his own, collecting into
one body all the decisions and all the causes which
served to advance the papal power 5 which collection
of decretals was called the pentateuch, because it con¬
tains five books.
DECUMARIA, a genus of plants belonging to the
dodecandria class, and in the natural method ranking
under those of which the order is doubtful.
DECUMATES agri, tithed fields, or granted on
a tithe, as appears from Tacitus, to that rabble of Gauls
who succeeded the Marcomanni, that had till then
proved a check to the Roman conquests up the Rhine;
and hence probably their name, people living on the
marches or limits of the empire. In Cicero we have
Ager Decumans, which is of the same import with the
Ager Decumas of Tacitus.
DECUPLE proportion', that of ten to one.
DECURIO, a subaltern officer in the Roman ar¬
mies. He commanded a decuria, which consisted of
ten men, and was the third part of a turma, or the
30th part of a legio of horse, which was composed of
580 men. There were certain magistrates in the pro¬
vinces, called decurionesmunicipales, who formed a body
to represent the Roman senate in free and corporate
towns. They consisted of ten, whence the name ; and
their duty extended to watch over the interests oJ their
fellow citizens, and to increase the revenues of the com¬
monwealth. Their court was called curia dccurionum
and minoi' senatus; and their decrees, called decrcta
dccurionum, were marked with two D. D. at the top.
They generally styled themselves civitatumpatres curia-
P les>,
f
r> e d £ 11
JDecmio anti Jiomrati municipiorum senatorum. Tney were
(| elected with the same ceremonies as the Homan sena-
Pedication. f-yj-g j they were to be at least 25 years aSe»
be possessed ol a certain sum of money. T-he election
happened in the kalends of March.
DECURRENT leaf. See Botany Index.
DECURY, ten persons ranged under one chief or
leader, called the decurio.
The Roman cavalry was divided into decuries, which
were subdivisions of a century, each century containing
ten decuries.
DECUSSATION, a term in geometry, optics, and
anatomy, signifying the crossing of two lines, rays, or
nerves, when they meet in a point, and then go on se¬
parately from one another.
DECUSSORIUM, a surgeon's instrument, which,
bv pressing gently on the dura mater, causes an eva¬
cuation of the pus collected between the cranium and
the before-mentioned membrane, through the perlora-
tion made by the trepan.
DEDHAM, a town of Essex in England, contain¬
ing 1432 inhabitants in 1811. The streets are not
paved, but very clean, occasioned by their lying pretty
high. It has one large old church, remarkable lor a
fine Gothic steeple, with a great deal of carved work
about it, but much injured by time. E. Long. 1. 10.
N. Lat. 52. 5.
DEDICATION, the act of consecrating a tem¬
ple, altar, statue, palace, &c. to the honour of some
deity.
The use of dedications is very ancient both among
the worshippers of the true God and among the. hea¬
thens \ the Hebrews call it nsnn hhanuchuh^ imita¬
tion which the Greek translators render
and Zyuxiurfcts, “ renewing.”
In the Scripture we meet with dedications of the ta¬
bernacle, of altars, of the first and second temple, and
even of the houses of private persons. There are also
dedications of vessels, and garments of the priests and
Levites, and even of the men themselves.
The heathens had also dedications of temples, altars,
and images of their gods, &c. Nebuchadnezzar held a
solemn dedication ol his statue, Han. iii. 2. Pilate
dedicated gilt bucklers at Jerusalem to Tiberius, Philo
de legal. Petronius would have dedicated a statue to
the emperor in the same city, ibid. p. 791. Tacitus,
Hist. lib. iv. c. 53. mentions the dedication of the Ca¬
pitol, upon rebuilding it by Vespasian, &c.
The Jews celebrated the anniversary of the dedica¬
tion of their temple every year for eight days. This
w’as first enjoined by Judas Maccabeus, and the whole
synagogue, in the year of the Syro-Macedoman era 14®*
i. e. °i 64 years before Christ. The heathens had the
like anniversaries, as that of the dedication of the tem¬
ple of Parthenope, mentioned by Lycophron. Under
Christianity, dedication is only applied to a church :
and is properly the consecration thereof, perlormed by
a bishop, with a number of ceremonies prescribed by
the church.
The Christians finding themselves at liberty under
Constantine, in lieu of their ruinous churches built
new ones in every place, and dedicated them with
much solemnity. The dedication was usually per¬
formed in a synod ; at least they assembled a number
of bishops to assist at the service. We have the descrip-
4 ] DEE
tion of those of the churches at Jerusalem and 1 yre j)e^;catja
in Eusebius, and many others in later writers. Dee.
Dedication, in literature, is an address prefixed to '
a book, soliciting patronage, or testifying respect for
the person to whom it is made. I he dedication ol the
fourth part of Mr Edwards’s History of Birds, is cu¬
rious : To God ! the one eternal! the incomprehensibley
the omnipresent^ omniscient) and almighty Creator ojad
things that exist ! from orbs immeasurably great) to the
minutest points of matter !—this Atom is dedicated and
devoted,with all possible gratitude, humiliation ,and wor¬
ship, and the highest adoration both of body and mindy
by his most resigned, low, and humble creature, G. E.
DEE, John, a famous mathematician and astro¬
loger, was born (July 1527) in London, where his fa¬
ther was a wealthy vintner. In I542» ^ie 'vas sen^ to
St John’s college, Cambridge. Alter five years close
application to mathematical studies, particularly astro¬
nomy, he went to Holland, in order to visit several
eminent mathematicians on the continent. Having con¬
tinued abroad near a year, he returned to Cambridge,
and was there elected one ot the fellows of Trinity
college, then first erected by King Henry VIII. In
1548, he took the degree of master of arts j and, iiL
the same year, left England a second time j his stay at
home being rendered uneasy to him, by the suspicions
that were entertained of his being a conjuror 5 arising
partly from his application to astronomy, but especially
on account of a piece of machinery in the E/ftim of A-
ristophanes, which he exhibited to the university, and
in which he represented the scarabeus flying up to
Jupiter, with a man and a basket of victuals on its
back. These suspicions he could never after shake off 5
nor did his subsequent conduct, as we shall see, tend to
clear him of the imputation 5 for if he was not actually
a conjuror, it was not for want of endeavours.
Upon leaving England, he went to the university of
Louvain ^ where he was much esteemed, and visited by
several persons of high rank. Here he resided about
two years, and then set out for France ; where, in the
college of Rheims, he read lectures of Euclid’s elements
with vast applause. In 1551, he returned to England,
and was introduced by the secretary Cecil to King Ed¬
ward, who assigned him a pension of 100 crowns, which
he afterwards relinquished for the rectory of Upton upon
Severn: but soon after the accession of Queen Mary,
having some correspondence with the lady Elizabeth’s
servants, he was accused of practising against the
queen’s life by enchantment. On this account he suf¬
fered a tedious confinement, and was several times
examined 5 till, in the year 1555, he obtained his li¬
berty by an order of council.
When Queen Elizabeth ascended the throne, our
astrological Dee was consulted by Lord Dudley, con¬
cerning a propitious day for her majesty’s coronation..
He was on this occasion introduced to the queen, who
made him great promises, which were never performed,
though she condescended to receive his instructions re¬
lative to the mystical interpretation of some of his un¬
intelligible writings, which he published about this time.
In 1564, he made another voyage to the continent j
in order to present a book which he had dedicated to<
the emperor Maximilian. He returned to England in
the same year: but in 1571, we find him in Lorrain
where, being dangerously ill, the queen sent over two
physicians:1
DEE [ US ] DEE
physicians to his relief. Having once more returned
to his native country, he settled at Mortlake in Surrey,
where he continued his studies with unremitting ar¬
dour, and collected a considerable library of curious
books and manuscripts, and a variety of instruments ;
most of which were afterwards destroyed by the mob, as
belonging to one who dealt with the devil. In 1578,
the queen being much indisposed, Mr Dee was sent
abroad to consult with German physicians and philoso¬
phers (astrologers no doubt) on the occasion. We
now behold him again in England, where he was soon
after employed in a more rational service. Her ma¬
jesty, desirous to be informed concerning her title to
those countries which had been discovered by her sub¬
jects, commanded Mr Dee to consult the ancient re¬
cords, and furnish her with proper geographical de¬
scriptions. Accordingly, in a short time he presented
to the queen, in the gardens at Richmond, tw’O large
rolls, in which the discovered countries were geogra¬
phically described and historically illustrated. These
rolls are preserved in the Cotton library, Augvstus I.
His next employment was the reformation of the ka-
lendar, on which subject he wrote a rational and learn¬
ed treatise, preserved in the Ashmolean library at Ox¬
ford.
Hitherto the extravagancies of our eccentrical phi¬
losopher seem to have been counterpoised by a tolerable
proportion of reason and science •, but henceforward we
consider him as a mere necromancer and credulous al-
chymist. In the year 1581, he became acquainted
with one Edward Kelly, by whose assistance he per¬
formed diverse incantations, and maintained a frequent
imaginary intercourse with spirits. He was particu¬
larly intimate, it seems, with the angels Raphael and
Gabriel. One of them made him a present of a black
speculum, in which his angels and demons appeared
as often as he had occasion for them $ they answered
his questions, and Kelly’s business was to record their
dictates :
Kelly did all his feats upon
The devil’s looking-glass, a stone.
IIuDIB. Part II. Canto iii. 631*
In 1583, they were both introduced to a certain Po¬
lish nobleman, then in England, named Albert Laski,
palatine of Siradia, a person equally addicted to the
same ridiculous pursuits. He was so charmed with
Dee and his companion, that he persuaded them to ac¬
company him to Ids native country. They embarked
for Holland in Sept. 1583 $ and travelling over land,
arrived at the town of Laski in February following.
Their patron, however, finding himself abused by their
idle pretensions, persuaded them to pay a visit to Ro-
dolph king of Bohemia ; who, though a credulous man,
was soon disgusted with their nonsense. They were
afterwards introduced to the king of Poland, but with
no better success. Soon after this, they were invited
by a rich Bohemian nobleman to his castle of Trebona,
where they continued for some time in great affluence :
owing, as they asserted, to their art of transmutation
by means of a certain powder in the possession of
Kelly.
Dee, now quarrelling with his companion in iniqui¬
ty, quitted Bohemia, and returned to England, where
he was once more graciously received by the queen ;
who, in 1595, made him warden of Manchester col¬
lege, in which town he resided several years. In 1604,
he returned to his house at Mortlake, where lie died
in the year 1608, aged 81 ; leaving a large family,
and many works behind him.—The black stone into
which Dee used to call his spirits, was in the collec¬
tion ol the earls of Peterborough, whence it came to
Lady Elizabeth Germaine. It was next the property
ot the late duke of Argyle, and is now Mr Walpole’s.
It appears upon examination to be nothing but a po¬
lished piece of cannel coal.—That Dee was a man of
considerable acquirements, is beyond a doubt; his
mathematical knowledge is generally allowed: but,
unless we suppose him a wicked impostor, which is by
no means improbable, we must transmit him to pos¬
terity as one of the most foolish superstitious necro¬
mancers of his time. Nevertheless, the celebrated Dr
Hook, many years after Dee’s death, took it into his
head to prove that his journal, published by Casaubon,
was entirely cryptographical, concealing his political
transactions, and that he was employed by Queen Eli¬
zabeth as a spy.
Dee, the name of several rivers in Scotland and
England $ as those whereon the cities of Chester in
England, and New Aberdeen in Scotland, are situa¬
ted. The river Dee in Aberdeenshire rises in the
mountains of Mar forest, and falls into the German
ocean at Aberdeen. It abounds with salmon, so as to
form a considerable salmon fishing. Over this river
there is a fine bridge of seven arches, built by a bishop
of Aberdeen, who left a revenue for its support.
DEED, an instrument written on paper or parch¬
ment, comprehending some contract, bargain, or a-
greement between the parties thereto, in relation to
the matter therein contained.
DEEMSTERS, or Demsters (from the Saxon
dema, judge or umpire). All controversies in the isle
of Man are decided without process, writings, or any
charges, by certain judges, chosen yearly from among
themselves, called deemsters ; there being two of them
for each division of the island : they sit judges in all
courts, either for life or property j and with the advice
of 24 keys, declare what is law in uncommon emer¬
gencies.
DEEPING, a town of Lincolnshire in England,
seated in a fenny ground, on the river Weland, six
miles east from Stamford. W. Long. o. 20. N. Lat.
Dee
Deer.
J2- 35-
DEER, in Zoology. See Cervus.— J he method
of hunting deer in the island of Ceylon is very particu¬
lar. The huntsmen go out in the night, and only two
usually go together $ the one of these carries upon his
head an earthen vessel, in which there is some fire
burning and flaming ; the ingredients are generally
small sticks cut into pieces, and common rosin. Of
this the other man carries a supply about him to re¬
plenish the pot when it grows low. The person who
has the fire upon his head, carries in one hand a staff,
on which there are fixed eight hells } and the larger
these are, the better. This man goes first into the
woods, and the other follows close behind with a spear
in his hand. As soon as the deer hears the noise of
the bells, he turns towards the place whence the sound
comes 5 and seeing the fire, he eagerly runs op to it,
and stands gazing at a small distance : the second man
P 2 has
D E F [ii
has then nothing to do but to kill him with the spear ;
for he sees neither of them. Not only deer, but even
elks and hares, are thus taken 5 for they gaze at the
fire, and never see the men. rIhe profits of this sort
of hunting are very large,- and the danger nothing •,
for though there are numbers of tygers, elephants, and
wild boars, in these woods, the huntsmen are in no
danger from them while the fire burns, for they all run
away from it. > ,
I)e Facto, something actually in fact, or existing *,
in contradistinction to de jure, where a thing is only so
in justice, but not m fact : as a king de facto, is a per¬
son who is actually in possession of a crown, but has
no legal right to the same j and a king de jut e, is the
person who has a just x’ight to the crown, though he is
out of possession thereof.
DEFAMATION, the speaking slanderous words
of another j for which the slanderer is punishable, ac¬
cording to the nature of his offence, either by action
upon the case at common law, or by statute in the ec¬
clesiastical court.
DEFAULT, in Law, is generally taken for non-
appearance in court, at a day assigned •, but imports
any omission of that which we ought to do, for which
judgment may be given against the defaulter.
DEFEASANCE, or Defeisance, in Law, a con¬
dition relating to some certain deed, which being per¬
formed, the deed is defeated and rendered void, as if
it had never been made. The difference between a
common condition and a defeasance is, that the condi¬
tion is annexed to, or inserted in, the deed ; and a
defeasance is a deed by itself concluded and agreed 011
between the parties, and having relation to another
deed.
DEFECATE, in Chemistry, a term applied to a
body freed and purged from faeces and impurities.
DEFECTION, the act of abandoning or relin¬
quishing a party or interest a person had been enga¬
ged in. The word is formed of the Latin dejicio, to
fall off.
DEFECTIVE, in general, an appellation given to
things which want some of the properties that naturally
they ought to have. Thus,
Defective or Dejicient Nouns, in Grammar, are
such as want either a whole number, a particular case,
qr are totally indeclinable. See Noun.
The term defective is also applied to a verb that has
not all its moods arid tenses. See Verb, Mood, &c.
DEFENCE, in Fortijicatioti, all sorts of works
that cover and defend the opposite posts, as flanks,
casements, parapets, and faussebrays. See Fortifi¬
cation.
Line of Defence, a supposed line drawn from the
angle of the curtain, or from any other part in the cur¬
tain, to the flanked angle of the opposite bastion.
DEFEND, in general, signifies much the same with
protecting or keeping off injuries offered to any person
either by enemies or otherwise.
DEFEND, in our ancient law's and statutes, signifies
to prohibit or forbid ; as Usuarios defendit quoque rex
jfcdwardus ne rcmanerent in regno. L. L. Edw. Conf.
c. 38. A 5 Rich. If,, c. 7. In which sense Chaucer al-
s.q uses it in the following passage:
“ Where can vou say in any manner age,
That ever God defended marriage.”
6 ] D E F
In 7 Edw. I. there is a statute entitled, “ Statutum de
defensione portanch armaf &c. And “ it is defended
by law to distrain on the highway.” Coke on LittL ^
fob 161.
DEFENDANT, in Law, the person sued in an ac¬
tion personal j as tenant is he who is sued in an action
real. See Action.
DEFENDER of the Faith {Fidei Defensor), a pe¬
culiar title belonging to the king of England •, as C«-
tholicus to the king of Spain, and Chnstiamssimus to
the king of France, &c. These titles were given by the
popes of Rome. That of Fidei Defensor was first con¬
ferred by Leo X. on King Henry VIII. for writing
against Martin Luther ; and the bull for it bears date
quinto idus Octob. 1521. It was afterwards confirmed
by Clement VII, But the pope, on Henry’s suppres¬
sing the houses of religion at the time of the Refor¬
mation, not only deprived him of his title, but depo¬
sed him from his crown also: though in the 35th year
of his reign, his title, &c. was confirmed by parlia¬
ment ; and hath continued to be used by all succeed¬
ing kings to this day. Chamberlayne says, the title
belonged to the king of England before that time ;
and for proof hereof appeals to several charters grant¬
ed to the university of Oxford. So that Pope Leo’s
bull was only a renovation of an ancient right.
DEFENDERS, W'ere anciently notable dignita¬
ries both in church and state, whose business was to
look t® the preservation of the public, weal, to pro¬
tect the poor and helpless, and to maintain the inte¬
rests and causes of churches and religious houses. See
Protector. The council of Chalcedon, can. 2. calls
the defender of a church Codin, de ojfciis
aulce Const, makes mention of delenders of the palace.
There were also a defender of the kingdom, defensor
regni; defenders of cities, defensores civitatis, defen¬
ders of the people, defensores plebis ; of the poor, fa¬
therless, widows, &c.
About the year 420, each patriarchal church began
to have its defender ; which custom was afterwards in¬
troduced into other churches, and continued to later
days under other names ; as those of Advocate and
Advowee.
In the year 407, we find the council of Carthage
asked the emperor, for defenders, of the number of
Scholastici, i. e. advocates who were in office •, and that
it might be allowed them to enter and search the cabi¬
nets and papers of the judges and other civil magis¬
trates, whenever it should be found necessary for the
interest of the church.
DEFERENS, or Deferent, in the ancient astro¬
nomy, an imaginary circle, which, as it were, carries
about the body of a planet, and is the same with the
eccentric being invented to account for the eccentri¬
city, perigee, and apogee of the planets.
DEF LLE, in Fortification, a straight narrow passage,
through which a company of horse or foot can pass
only in file, by making a small front.
DEFINITE, in Grammar, is applied to an article
that has a precise determinate signification ^ such as the
article the in English, le and la in French, &c. which
fix and ascertain the noun they belong to, to some par¬
ticular *, as the king, le roy : whereas, in the quality of
king, de roy, the articles of and,f/c mark nothing pre¬
cise, and are therefore indefinite.
Dt-fensi
n.
Definite
Definition
D E F [ i
DEFINITION, in general, a short description of
a thing by its properties ; or, in logic, the explica-
peflonvtion.tion of the essence of a thing by its kind and dif-
4-—"V—'-'1 ference.
DEFINITIVE, a term applied to whatever termi¬
nates a process, question, &.c. in opposition to provi¬
sional and interlocutory.
DEFLAGRATION, in Chemistry, the kindling
or setting fire to a salt or mineral, &c. either alone, or
mixed for that purpose with a sulphureous one, in order
to purify it.
This short process has been often recommended to
the world as of great use in trying the strength of
brandies and other vinous spirits, and has been greatly
improved in this respect bv Mr GeoffYoy.
The common way of trying spirits by deflagration,
is to measure out any quantity of it, then to heat it,
and set it on fire. If, after it will no longer burn, the
remainder is half as much as the quantity measured out
for the trial was, then the spirit tried is found to con¬
sist of half water, and half totally inflammable spirit ;
that is, it is somewhat below what we understand by
the term perfect proof.—This method is much more
certain than that by the crown of bubbles which arises
upon shaking the spirit in a phial. Mons. Geoflroy’s
method is this : Take a cylindric vessel two inches
high, and as much in diameter, consisting of thin plate
silver, that metal being much less liable to rust than
copper j this vessel must be fitted with a little rectan¬
gular gage exactly graduated into lines, half lines, &c.
then the vessel being set level upon a copper case made
to contain it, a parcel of the brandy to be examined is
poured in, to the height of 16 lines. This height is
to be exactly hit by pouring in more than enough at
first, and then sucking out the overplus with a very
small tube. Then the vessel being heated a little, so
as just to make the liquor fume, it is to be set on fire
and left to go out of itself; at the instant when the
flame expires, the gage is plunged perpendicularly into
the vessel, and the lines and quarters exactly noted
which the liquor wants of its former height : this dif¬
ference gives the precise quantity of alcohol or pure
spirit contained in the liquor. Thus, if eight lines of
phlegm are found remaining, this being the half of the
16 lines of the original filling, it is plain that the li¬
quor contained one half spirit, or was something below
proof. If only four lines remained, it was nearly
double proof, or of a middle nature betwixt alcohol
and common proof-spirit.
DEFLECTION, the turning any thing aside from
its former course by some adventitious or external cause.
The word is often applied to the tendency of a ship
from her true course by reason of currents, &c. which
turn her out of her right way. It is likewise applied
by astronomers to the tendency of the planets from the
line of their projection, or the tangent of their orbit.
Deflection of the Rays of Light, a property
which Dr Hook observed in 1675, and read an ac¬
count ot before the Royal Society, March 18th the
same year. He says he found it diflerent both from
reflection and refraction, and that it was made towards
the surface ot the opaque body, perpendicularly. This
is the same property which Sir Isaac Newton calls
inflection.
DEFLORATION, or Deflowering, the act of.
17 ]
D E F
violating or taking away a woman’s virginitv. See
Virginity.—Death or marriage are decreed by the
civil law in case of defloration.
The ancients had so much respect for virgins, that
they would not put thenr to death till they had first
procured them to be deflowered. It is said, the na¬
tives of the coast of Malabar pay strangers to come
and deflower their brides.
In Scotland and the northern parts of England, it
was a privilege ol the lords of the manor, granted them
by King Evven, that they should have the first night’s
lodging with their tenants wives. King Malcolm III.
allowed the tenants to redeem this service at a certain
rate, called marcheta, consisting of a certain number
of cows: Buchanan says it was redeemed with half a
mark of silver. The same custom had place in Wales,
I landers, Friesland, and some parts of Germany.
DEFLUXION, in Medicine', the fall of the
humours from a superior to an inferior part of the
body.
DEI OE, Daniel, a writer famous for politics
and poetry, was bred a hosier ; which profession how¬
ever he soon forsook, and became one of the most en¬
terprising authors that any age produced. When dis¬
contents ran high at the Revolution, and King William
was obliged to dismiss his Dutch guards, Defoe, who
had true notions of civil liberty, ridiculed the enemies
ot government in his well-known poem, called the
True-Born Englishman, which had a prodigious sale.
The next satire he wrote was entitled Reformation of
Manners ; aimed at some persons of high rank, who
rendered themselves a disgrace to their country. When
the ecclesiastics in power breathed too much of a spirit
of persecution, Defoe wrote a tract called the Short¬
est Way with the Dissenters: for which he was called
to account, and explained himself with great firmness.
He was afterwards sentenced to the pillory for attack¬
ing some public measures j which so little intimidated
him, that, in defiance of their usage, he wrote a Hymn
to the Pillory. It would be endless to enumerate all
his publications', but the following are the. principal :
the History of the Plague in 1665 ; a novel entitled
the History of Colonel Jack 5 a new Voyage round the
World by a Company of Merchants, printed for Bet-
tesworth, 1725 j the History of Roxana ; Memoirs of
a Cavalier ; the History of Moll Flanders j a book
entitled Religious Courtship, which has undergone up¬
wards of 20 editions ; and the Life and Adventures of
Robinson Crusoe, an admirable performance of which
there have been editions without number, but concern¬
ing which there is an anecdote that does the author of
it no credit as to the better part of a writer’s charac¬
ter, honesty. When Captain Woodes Rogers touched
at the island of Juan Fernandez, in the South sea, he
brought away Alexander Selkirk, a Scotch sailor, who
had been left ashore there, and had lived on that deso¬
late place above four years. When Selkirk came back
to England, he wrote a narrative of his adventures,
and put the papers into the hands of Defoe, to
digest for publication ; who ungenerously converted
the materials into the History of Robinson Crusoe,
and returned Selkirk his papers again ! A fraud for
which, in a humane view, the distinguished merit of-
that romance can never atone. Daniel Defoe died at
Islington, in 1731. All his productions of the ro¬
mantic,
Defloration
11
Defoe.
D E F [u
Ucfoe. mantle species, but especially tbe- two last mentioned,
Defoliation, ure much in vogue among country readers $ and on
' -^v account of their moral and religious tendency, may
very probably in some measure counteract the perni--
cious effects produced by the-too general circulation of
modern novels, those occasional vehicles of impiety and
infidelity. .
DEFOLIATION, (from de, and folium “ a leal ) ;
the fall of the leaves. A term opposed to fronde-
sceiitiu, the annual renovation of the leaves, produced
by the unfolding of the buds in spring. See 1 RONDE-
SCENTIA. . .
Most plants In cold and temperate climates shed their
leaves every year: this happens in autumn, and is ge¬
nerally announced by the flowering ot the common
meadow saffron. The term is only applied to trees
and shrubs •, for herbs perish down to the roots every
year, losing stem, leaves, and all.
All plants do not drop their leaves at the same time.
Among large trees, the ash and walnut, although latest
in unfolding, are soonest divested of them: the latter
seldom carries its leaves above five months. _ ,
On the oak and hornbeam, the leaves die and wi¬
ther as soon as the colds commence j but remain at¬
tached to the branches till they are pushed off by the
new ones, which unfold themselves the following
spring. These trees are doubtless a kind of ever¬
greens: the leaves are probably destroyed only by
cold j and perhaps would continue longer on the
plant, but for the force of the spring sap, joined to
the moisture. .
In mild and dry seasons, the lilach, privet, yellow jes¬
samine of the woods, and maple of Crete, preserve their
leaves green until spring, and do not drop them till the
new leaves are beginning to appear. The fig-tree, and
many other trees that grow between the tropics, are ot
this particular class of evergreens. The trees in Egypt,
says Doctor Hasselquist, cast their leaves in the latter-
end of December and beginning of January, having
young leaves ready before all the old ones are fallen
off $ and, to forward this operation of nature, few- of the
trees have buds ; the sycamore and willow, indeed, have
some, but with few and quite loose stipula or scales.
Nature did not imagine buds so necessary in the south¬
ern as in the northern countries : this occasions a great
difference between them.
Lastly, some trees and shrubs preserve their leaves
constantly through the whole year 5 and are not in the
least influenced by the clemency or inclemency of sea¬
sons. Such are the firs, juniper, yew, cedar, cypress,
and many other trees, hence denominated evergreens.
These preserve their old leaves a long time alter the
formation of the new, and do not drop them at
any determinate time. In general, the leaves of
evergreens are harder, and less succulent, than those
which are renewed annually. The trees are gene¬
rally natives of warm climates •, as the alaternuses of
France and Italy, the evergreen oak of Portugal and
Some herbaceous perennials, as the house-leeks and
navel-worts, enjoy the same privilege with the ever¬
green trees, and resist the severities of winter: some
even can dispense with the earth for some time} being
replete with juices, which the leaves imbibe from t le
humidity of the: atmosphere, and which, in such plants,
B ] D E F
are of themselves sufficient for effecting the purposes Defoliation,
of vegetation. It is for this reason, that, unless in ex- * 1 J
cessive hot weather, gardeners are seldom wont to wa¬
ter fat succulent plants, as the aloes, vtliich lot when
they are moistened, if the sun does not quickly diy
them up.
The leaves of all the evergreen shrubs and trees
have a thin compact skin or cover over their surface ;
as is easily discovered by macerating them in watei, in
order to separate the parenchyma, or pulp, from the
vessels of the leaves j which cannot be effected in any
of these evergreens till a thin parchment-like coloui is
taken off. These trees and shrubs are found by ex¬
periment to perspire but little, when compared with
others which shed their leaves j and it is, peihaps,
principally owing to this close covering, as also to the
small proportion of moisture contained in theii \es-
sels, that they retain their verdure, and continue
through the winter on the trees. I he nutritive juices
of these plants always abound, more or less, with an
oily quality, which secures them from being injured
by severe frosts j so that many of these evergreen trees
are adapted to grow in the coldest parts of the habi¬
table world.
With respect to deciduous trees, the tailing oil ot
the leaves seems principally to depend on the tempeia-
ture of the atmosphere, which likewise serves to hasten
or retard the appearance in question. An ardent sun
contributes to hasten the dropping of the leaves.
Hence in hot and dry summers the leaves of the lime-
tree and horse-chesnut turn yellow about the fiist of
September j whilst in other years, the yellowness does
not appear till the beginning of October. Nothing,
however, contributes more to hasten the fall of the
leaves than immoderate cold or moist weather in au¬
tumn ; moderate droughts, on the other hand, serve to
retard it. As a proof of this position, Mr Adanson
relates, that in the year 1759, the leaves of the elm-
tree, which generally fall off about the 2Jth of No¬
vember, continued in verdure and vigour at Paris,
where the autumn was remarkably dry, till the 10th of
the following month.
The following table, respecting the mean times in
which different trees shed their leaves is founded upon
observation.
Gooseberry-tree andbladder-
sena,
Walnut and ash,
Almond-tree, horse-chesnut,
and lime-tree,
Maple, hazel-nut, black pop¬
lar, and tispen-tree,
Birch, plane-tree, mountain-
osier, false acacia, pear,
and apple-tree,
Vine, mulberry, fig, sumach,
and angelica-tree,
Elm-tree and willow,
Apricot and elder-trees,
O
October 1st.
  15th.
20th.
25th.
2* ! November 1st.
^ 1
10th.
15th.
20 th.
It deserves to be remarked, that an evergreen tree
grafted upon a deciduous, determines the latter to re¬
tain its leaves. This observation is confirmed by re¬
peated experiments, particularly by grafting the laurel
or
D E F [
Defoliation 0f cherry-bay, an evergreen, on the common cherry;
|| and the ilex, or evergreen oak, on the oak.
Deformity. DEFORCEMENT, in Law, the casting any one
u sr~~^ out of his land, or withholding of lands and tene¬
ments by force from the right owner.
Deforcemf.NT, in Scots Law, the opposing or re¬
sisting of the officers of the law in the execution of
their office. See Law Index.
DEFORMITY, the want of that uniformity ne¬
cessary to constitute the beauty of an object. See
Beauty.
Deformity is either natural or moral. These are
both referred by Mr Hutcheson to an internal sense;
and our perceptions, of them as he supposes, arise from
an original arbitrary structure of our own minds, by
which certain objects, when observed, are rendered the
occasions of certain sensations and affections.
That many objects give no pleasure to our sense is
obvious. Many are certainly void of beauty ; but then,
says this author, there is no form which seems neces¬
sarily disagreeable of itself, when we dread no other
evil from it, and compare it with nothing better of the
kind. Many objects are naturally displeasing and dis¬
tasteful to our external senses, as well as others pleas¬
ing and agreeable ; as smells, tastes, and some separate
sounds j but with regard to our sense of beauty, no
composition of objects which give not unpleasant sim¬
ple ideas, seems positively unpleasant or painful of it¬
self, had we never observed any thing better of the
same kind.
Had there been a species of the form which we now
denominate ugly or deformed, and had we never seen or
expected greater beauty, we should have received no
disgust from it j though the pleasure would not have
been so great in this form as in those we now admire.
Our sense of beauty seems designed to give us positive
pleasure ; but not positive pain or disgust, any farther
than what arises from disappointment.
There are indeed many faces which at first view
are apt to raise dislike. But this is generally not from
any positive deformity ; but either from want of expect¬
ed beauty, or from the carrying some natural indica¬
tions of morally bad dispositions, which we all acquire
a faculty of discerning in countenances, airs, and ges¬
tures. That this is not occasioned by any form posi¬
tively disgusting, appears hence, that if, upon long ac¬
quaintance, we are sure of finding sweetness of temper,
humanity, and cheerfulness, though the bodily form
continues, it shall give us no disgust. There are hor¬
rors raised by some objects, which are only the efiects
of fear for ourselves, or compassion towards others, when
either reason, or some foolish association of ideas, makes
us apprehend danger j and not the effect of any thing in
the form itself. For we find, that most of these ob¬
jects which excite horror at first, when experience or
reason has removed the fear, may become the occasion
of pleasure.
The casual conjunction of ideas gives us disgust,
when there is nothing disagreeable in the form itself.
And this, in effect, is the cause of most of our fanta¬
stic aversions to the figures of divers animals, &c.
Thus serpents of all kinds, and Tmany insects, really
beautiful enough, are beheld with aversion by many
people, who have got some accidental ideas of mis¬
chief associated to them.. A similar reasoning is ap-
119 ] D E F '
plied to our perception of moral beauty and deformity. Deformity.
Inquiry into the Original of our Ideas of Beauty and y—>
Virtue, passim.
But it is more just to distinguish between the senti¬
ments of delight or disgust, excited in us by beautiful
or deformed objects, which are effects of some causes,
and the natural and real qualities of the perceived ob¬
jects by which they are produced. There are objects,
says an excellent writer, which have a natural aptitude
to please or offend, or between which and the contem¬
plating mind there is a necessary congruity or incon¬
gruity ; and though the actual perception of the un¬
derstanding, and consequent feeling of the heart, in
contemplating the actions and affections of moral agents,
may exist in very different degrees, on account of the
incidental obstructions arising from bodily indisposition,
mental prejudices and biasses, and the association of
ideas $ yet, in every rational mind properly disposed,
morally good actions must for ever be acceptable,
and can never of themselves offend ; and morally evil
actions must for ever be disagreeable, and can never of
themselves please. What is right in actions and cha¬
racters is beautiful and amiable, and gives pleasure j
what is wrong is deformed and odious, and excites dis¬
gust : right and pleasure, wrong and pain, are as distinct
as cause and effect. It is no less absurd to maintain, „
that the perception of virtue is nothing distinct from
the perception of the pleasure resulting from it, than to
infer, with some metaphysicians, that solidity, exter*
sion, and figure, are only particular modes of sensation,
because attended, whenever they are perceived, with
some sensations of sight or touch. Thus does the au¬
thor show, that moral beauty and deformity are real
qualities of certain actions ; in which consists their ap¬
titude to please or disgust. With respect to natural
beauty, he observes, that uniformity amidst variety
pleases, because of the natures of variety and unifor¬
mity, which are such, that whenever united, they are
adapted to please every unbiassed mind that discerns
them. He accounts for the pleasure they afford, with¬
out referring them to an arbitary internal sense, by the
following circumstances that attend them. They are
more easily comprehended by the mind : order and sym¬
metry give things their stability and strength, and sub¬
serviency to any valuable purpose j regularity and order
evidence art and design. Disorder and confusion,
whence deformity arises, denote only the negation
of regularity and order 5 or any arrangement and dispo¬
sition of things, which are not according to a law, rule,
or plan, and prove not design. These are not posi¬
tively displeasing j except where we previously expect¬
ed order, or where impotence or want of skill appear, -
and the contriver has either failed of his design or exe¬
cuted it ill.
In a work entitled Fugitive Pieces, is preserved an
essay on Bodily Deformity, by William Hay, Esq.
who was himself what he describes, and who, while
he rallies his own figure with great pleasantry, discus¬
ses the general subject in a manner equally instructive
and agreeable- He considers, 1. Fbe natural conse¬
quences of bodily deformity ; 2. How it affects the out¬
ward circumstances j and, 3. What turn it gives to the
mind.
x. It is certain, that the human frame, being warp¬
ed and disproportioned,.is lessened in strength and ac¬
tivity,
Deformilv
D E F
ami rendered less fit for its functions.
[ I
tivity, and rendered less tit ror us nmyuuua. Bcar-
ron had invented an engine to take oft his hat “ and
I wish (says, our author) I could invent one to buckle
my shoe, or to take up a thing from the ground, which
I can scarce do without kneeling, for I can bend my
body no farther than it is bent by nature. For this
reason, when ladies drop a fan or glove, I am not the
first to take it up ; and often restrain my inclination
to perform those little services, rather than expose my
spiderlike shape. And I hope it will not be construed
as pride, if I do not always rise from my seat when 1
ought : for if it is low, I find some trouble in it 5
and my centre of gravity is so ill placed, that I am
often like to fall back. ' Things hanging within the
reach of others are out of mine *, and what they can
execute with ease, I want strength to perform. I
am in danger of being trampled upon or stifled in a
crowd, where my back is a convenient lodgment for
the elbow of any tall person that is near. 1 can see
nothing, and my whole employment is to guard my
persom I have forborne to attend his majesty in the
house of peers since I was like to be squeezed to death
there against the wall, f would willingly come thither
when his majesty commands, but he is too gracious to
expect impossibilities. Besides, when I get in, I can
never have the pleasure of seeing on the throne one of
the best princes who ever sat on it. These, and many
others, are the inconveniences continually attending a
figure like mine. They may appear grievous to per¬
sons not used to them, but they grow easier by habit ;
and though they may a little disturb, they are not suf¬
ficient to destroy the happiness of life ; of which, at
an average, I have enjoyed as great a share as most
men. And perhaps one proof of it may be my writing
this essay ; not intended as a complaint against Provi¬
dence for my lot, but as an innocent amusement to my¬
self and others. 1111
As to what effect deformity may have on the health,
it appears natural to imagine, that as the inward parts
of the body must in some measure comply with the
outward mould, so the form of the latter being iiegu-
lar, the first cannot be so well placed and disposed to
perform their functions ; and that generally deformed
persons would not he healthy or long lived.. But this
is a question best determined by facts ; and in this case
the instances are too few or unobserved, to draw a ge¬
neral conclusion from them : and health is more than
is commonly thought in a man’s own power, and the
reward of temperance more than the effect of constitu¬
tion ; which makes it more difficult to pass a judg¬
ment. AEsop could not be young when he died ; and
might have lived longer if he had not been murdered
at Delphi. The prince of Orange scarce passed the
meridian of life, and the duke of Luxemburg died
about the age of 67. The lord treasurer Burleigh
lived to 78 ; but his son the earl of Salisbury, who
died about 15 years after him, could not reach near that
age. It is said that Mr Pope’s father was deformed,
arid be lived to 75: whereas the son died in middle
age, if he may be said to die whose works are immortal.
“ My father (adds our author) was not deformed, but
active, and my mother a celebrated beauty ; and I, that
am so unlike them, have lived to a greater age, and
daily see my acquaintance of a stronger frame quitting
the stage before me.”
3
20 ] D E F
But whether deformity, abstractedly considered, be DeformUr
really prejudicial to health, in its consequences it ap- ' J
pears to be most commonly an advantage. Deformed
persons have a less share of strength than others, and
therefore should naturally be more careful to preserve
it ; and as temperance is the great preservative of
health, it may incline them to he more temperate.
Another great preservative of health is moderate ex¬
ercise, which few deformed persons can want strength
to perform. As a deformed person is not termed for
violent exercise, he is less liable to such disorders as
are the natural consequences of it. He will also escape
many accidents, to which men ot athletic make, and
who glory in their strength, are always exposing them¬
selves to make trial and proof of it. It he cannot carry
an ox, like Milo, he will not like Milo he hand¬
cuffed in the oak by attempting to rend it. He will
not be the man that shall ride from London to A ork
in a day, or to Windsor in an hour, for a wager ; or
that shall be perpetually performing surprising long
journeys in a surprising short time, tor no earthly bu¬
siness but the pleasure of relating them. Conscious of
his own weakness, he will be cautious of running into
places or occasions of danger. Nature, too, warns de¬
formed persons to be careful not to offer such affronts
as may call them forth into the field of lalse honour,
where they cannot acquit themselves well for want of
strength and agility ; and they are securer from such
affronts themselves, since others will consider the little
credit they will gain by compelling them to appear on
that scene. On the whole, therefore, it may be con¬
cluded, that deformity is a protection to a man’s health
and person ; which (strange as it may appear) are bet¬
ter defended by feebleness than strength.
2. The influence of bodily deformity on a man’s
fortune may next be considered. Among the lower-
class, he is cut off from many professions and employ¬
ments. He cannot be a soldier, he is under standard ;
he cannot be a sailor, he wants activity to climb the
rigging ; he cannot be a chairman or porter, he wants
strength to bear the burden. In higher liie, he is ill
qualified for a lawyer, he can scarce be seen over the
bar: for a divine, he may drop from his hassock out
of sight in his pulpit. The improvement of his mind
is his proper province, and his business only such as
depends on ingenuity. If he cannot be a dancing-
master to adjust the heels, he may be a schoolmaster to
instruct the head : he cannot be a graceful actor on
the stage; but he may produce a good play : he would
appear ill as a herald in a procession; but may pass as
a merchant on the change : he cannot undergo the
fatigue of the campaign ; but he may advise the ope¬
rations of it: he is designed by nature rather to sleep
on Parnassus, than to descend on the plains of Eolis :
he cannot be crowned at the Olympic games ; but may
be the Pindar to celebrate them : he can acquire no
glory by the sword ; but he may by the pen, and may
(rrow famous by only relating those exploits which are
beyond his power to imitate.
Lord Bacon (that extensive and penetrating genius
who pointed out every part of nature for examination),
in his Essay on Deformity, says, “ that in their supe¬
riors it quencheth jealousy towards them, as persons
that they think they may at pleasure despise; and it
layeth their competitors and emulators asleep, as never
believing
D E F
Deformity. Relieving tliey should be in a possibility of advancement
u—y—till they see them in possession.” But it is much to
be doubted whether this is not more than counterba¬
lanced by the contempt of the world, which it requires
no mean parts to conquer ; for if (as has been said) a
good person is a letter of recommendation, deformity
must be an obstruction in the way to favour. In this
respect, therefore, deformed persons set out in the world
to a disadvantage ; and they must first surmount the
prejudices of mankind before they can be upon a par
with others, and must obtain by a course of behaviour
that regard which is paid to beauty at first sight. When
this point is once gained, the tables are turned, and
then the game goes in their favour : for others, sensi¬
ble of their injustice to them, no sooner find them bet¬
ter than they expected, than they believe them better
than they are ; whereas in the beautiful person they
sometimes find themselves imposed upon, and are angry
that they have worshipped only a painted idol. For
(again take Lord Bacon’s words) “ neither is it almost
seen, that very beautiful persons are otherwise of great
virtue : they prove accomplished, but not of great spi¬
rit j and study rather behaviour than virtue. Where¬
as deformed persons, if they be of spirit, will free them¬
selves from scorn, which must be either by virtue or
malice ; and therefore let it not be marvelled if they
sometimes prove excellent persons, as was Agesilaus,
Zanger the son of Solomon, iF.sop, Gasca president of
Peru ; and Socrates may likewise go amongst them,
with others.” Nay, he says, “ in a great wit defor¬
mity is an advantage to rising 5” and in another part
of his works, “ that they who by accident have some
inevitable and indelible mark on their persons or for¬
tunes, as deformed people, bastards, &c. if they want
not virtue, generally prove fortunate.”
Osborn, in his Historical Memoirs of Queen Eliza¬
beth, informs us, that “ she chose the goodliest per¬
sons for her household servants : but in her counsel¬
lors did not put by sufficiency, though accompanied
with a crooked person ; as it chanced in a father and
a son of the Cecils, both incomparable for prudence.”
It is well known the queen would make the father
(Burleigh) sit in her presence ; telling him that she
did not use him for his legs but his head. But the son
(afterwards lord treasurer and earl of Salisbury) was
not so civilly treated by the populace $ and is an in¬
stance, not only that envy pursues a great man, but
that the highest post cannot redeem a deformed one
from contempt: it attends him like his shadow, and
like that too is ever reminding him of his ill figure,
which is often objected for want of real crimes. For
the same writer says of the same great man, “ that the
misfortunes accompanying him from his birth, did not
a little add to that cloud of detraction that fell upon
all that he said or did ; a mulct in nature, like an optic
spectacle, multiplying much in the sight of the people
the apparitions of ill.” Nor was this contempt buried
with him : it trampled on his ashes, aud insulted his
grave j as appears by an epitaph, which Osborn cites,
D E F
as void of wit as it is full of scurrility ; in one line of
which there is an epithet, not so elegant as descrip¬
tive of bis person, viz. “ Little Bossive liobin that
was so great.”
Such contempt in general, joined with the ridicule
of the vulgar, is another certain consequence of bodily
deformity j for men naturally despise what appears less
beautiful or useful, and their pride is gratified when
they see such foils to their own persons. It is this
sense of superiority which is testified by laughter in the
lower sort; while their betters, who know how little
any man whatsoever hath to boast of, are restrained by
good sense and good breeding from such an insult.
But it is not easy to say why one species of deformity
should be more ridiculous than another, or why the
mob should he more merry with a crooked man, than
with one that is deaf, lame, squinting, or purblind. It is
a back in alto relievo that bears all the ridicule j though
one would think a prominent belly a more reasonable
object of it, since the last is generally the effect of in¬
temperance, and of a man’s own creation. Socrates
rvas ugly, hut not contemned ; and Philopoemen (a) of
very mean appearance, and though contemned on that
account not ridiculed : for Montaigne says, “ 111 fea¬
tures are but a superficial ugliness, and of little cer¬
tainty in the opinion of men ; but a deformity of
limbs is more substantial, and strikes deeper in.” As
it is more uncommon, it is more remarkable ; and that
perhaps is the true reason why it is more ridiculed by
the vulgar.
5. The last consideration on this subject relates to
those passions and affectations which most naturally re¬
sult from deformity. Lord Bacon observes, that “ de¬
formed persons are commonly even with nature ; for
as nature hath done ill by them, so do they by nature,
being for the most part (as the scripture saith) void of
naturalajfection?', But (says Mr Hay) “ I can neither
find out this passage in scripture, nor the reason of it j
nor can I give my assent or negative to a proposition,
till I am well acquainted with the terms of it. If by
natural affection is here meant universal benevolence,
and deformity necessarily implies a want of it, a de¬
formed person must then be a complete monster. But
however common the case may be, my own sensations
inform me that it is not universally true. If by natu¬
ral affection is meant a partial regard for individuals,
I believe the remark is judicious, and founded in hu¬
man nature. Deformed persons are despised, ridiculed,
and ill-treated by others ; are seldom favourites, and
commonly most neglected by parents, guardians, and
relations ; and therefore, as they are not indebted for
much fondness, it is no wonder if they repay but little.
It is the command of scripture, Not to set our affections
on things below ; and it is the voice of reason not to
overvalue what we must seon part with ; therefore, to
be so fond of others as not to be able to bear their ab¬
sence, or to survive them, is neither a religious nor mo¬
ral duty, but a childish and womanish weakness ^ and
I must congratulate deformed persons, who, by ex¬
ample,
[ 121 ]
(a) Coming to an inn, where he was expected, before his attendants, the mistress of the house seeing a plain
person of very mean aspect, ordered him to assist in getting things ready for Philoposmen. His attendants find¬
ing him so employed, he told them he was then paying the tribute of his ugliness. Plutarch.
Vol. VII. Fait I. + Q
D E F [12
Dofoimity. ample, are early taught another lesson. And I will
   y—.i.,' now lay open my own heart to the reader, that he may
judge if Lord Bacon’s position is verified in me.
“ I hope it proceeds not from a malignity of heart j
but I never am much affected with the common ac¬
cidents of life, whether they hefal myself or others.
I am little moved when I hear ot death, loss, or mis¬
fortune *, I think the case is common.
Tritus, et e medio fortunes ductus acervo ;
Juv. Sat. xiii.
And as it is always likely to happen, I am not sur¬
prised when it does. If I see a person cry or beat his
breast on any such occasion, I cannot bear him com¬
pany j but am not a Democritus to laugh at his folly*
I read of battles and fields covered with slain •, of cities
destroyed by sword, famine, pestilence, and earthquake j
I do not shed a tear : I suppose it is because they are
the usual storms, to which the human species are ex¬
posed, proceeding from the just judgments of God, or
the mistaken and false principles of rulers. I read of
persecutions, tortures, murders, massacres *, my com¬
passion for the sufferers is great, hut my tears are
stopped by resentment and indignation against the con¬
trivers and perpetrators of such horrid actions. But
there are many things that bring tears into my eyes
whether I will or no j and when I reflect, I am olten
at a loss in searching out the secret source from whence
they flow. What makes me weep (for weep I do)
when I read of virtue or innocence in distress *, of a
good man helpless and forsaken, unmoved by the great¬
est insults and cruelties, or courageously supporting
himself against oppression in the article of death ? I
suppose it is to see vice triumphant, and virtue so ill
rewarded in this life. May I judge by myself, I
should imagine that few sincere Christians could read
the sufferings of their Saviour, or Englbhmen those of
a Cranmer, Ridley, or Latimer, without tears ; the first
dying to establish his religion, the last to rescue it from
corruption. When I read of Regulus returning to tor¬
ment, and John of France to imprisonment, against the
persuasion of friends, to keep faith with their enemies,
I weep to think there is scarce another instance of such
exalted virtue. Those who often hear me read, know
that my voice changes, and my eyes are full, when I
meet with a generous and heroic saying, action, or cha¬
racter, especially of persons whose example or command
may influence mankind. I weep when I hear a Tfitus
say, that he had lost the day in which he did no good ;
when Adrian tells his enemy, that he had escaped by
his being emperor ; or Louis XII. that he is not to
revenge the affront of the duke of Orleans. These are
the first instances that happen to occur to me : I might
recollect many, too many to insert in this essay, yet
all are but few, compared to instances of cruelty and
revenge : perhaps I am concerned that they are so
rare ; perhaps too I inwardly grieve that I am not in
a situation to do the like. I am entertained, but not
moved, when I read Voltaire’s History of Charles XII.
but I melt into tears on reading Hanway’s character
of his antagonist Peter the Great. The first is a story
of a madman } the other of a father, friend, and bene¬
factor of his people } whose character (as the author
observes in the conclusion of it) will command the ad¬
miration of all succeeding generations j and I suppose
2 ] D E F
I lament, that God is pleased to advance to royalty so Peformit-j
few such instruments of good to mankind. •r~~~
Again : “ I am uneasy when I see a dog, a horse,
or any other animal, ill treated : for I consider them
as endued with quick sense, and no contemptible share
of reason j and that God gave man dominion over
them, not to play the tyrant, but to be a good prince,
and promote the happiness of his subjects. But I am
much more uneasy at any cruelty to my own species 5
and heartily wish Procrustes disciplined in his own
bed, and Phalaris in his bull. A man bruized all
over in a boxing match, or cut to pieces in fighting a
prize, is a shocking spectacle ; and I think I could
with less horror see a thousand fall in battle, than hu¬
man nature thus depreciated and disgraced. Violence,
when exerted in wantonness or passion, is brutality ;
and can be termed bravery only when it is sanctioned
by justice and necessity.
“ I have been in a situation to see not a little of the
pomp and vanity, as well as of the necessity and misery,
of mankind : but the last only affect me; and if, as a
magistrate, I am ever guilty of partiality, it is in fa¬
vour of the poor. When I am at church among my
poor but honest neighbours in the country, and see
them serious in performing the ceremonies prescribed,
tears sometimes steal down my cheek, on reflecting,
that they are doing and hearing many things they do
not understand, while those who understand them
better neglect them -j that they, who labour and live
hard, are more thankful to heaven than those who fare
luxuriously on the fruits of their labour j and are keep¬
ing and repeating the fourth commandment at the very
instant the others are breaking it..
“ These are some of the sensations I feel j which I
have freely and fairly disclosed, that the reader may
judge how far I am an instance of a deformed person
wanting natural affection. And I am a good subject of
speculation ; because all in me is nature : for to own
the truth, I have taken but little pains (though I
ought to have taken a great deal) to correct my natu¬
ral defects.
“ Lord Bacon’s next position is, ‘ That deformed
persons are extremely bold : first in their own defence,
as being exposed to scorn ; but in process of time by a
central habit;’ This probably is so among the infe¬
rior sort, who are in the way of continual insults ; for
a return of abuse is a natural weapon of self-defence,
and in some measure justified by the law of retaliation :
To upbraid a man with a personal defect, which he
cannot help, is also an immoral act; and he who does
it, has reason to expect no better quarter than to hear
of faults, which it was in his own power not to com¬
mit. But I find this observation far from being veri¬
fied in myself: an unbecoming bashfulness has been the
consequence of iny ill figure, and of the worse manage¬
ment of me in my childhood. I am always uneasy
when any one looks stediastly on so had a picture;
and cannot look with a proper confidence in the face
of another. I have ever reproached myself with this
weakness, but am not able to correct it. And it may
he a disadvantage to a man in the opinion of those he
converses with ; for though true modesty is amiable,
the false is liable to misconstruction : and when a man
is out of countenance for no reason, it may be ima¬
gined that he has some bad reason for being so. In
point
D E F [ 123 ] D E F
point of assurance, I am indeed a perfect riddle to my¬
self*, for I, who feel a reluctance in crossing a draw¬
ing-room, or in opening my mouth in private company
before persons with whom I am not well acquainted,
find little in delivering my sentiments in public, and
exposing my discourse, often as trifling as my person,
to the ears of a thousand. From what cause this pro¬
ceeds, I know not: it may be partly from hopes of
wiping off any ill impression from my person by my
discourse, partly from a sense of doing my duty, and
partly from a security in public assemblies from any
gross personal reflection.
“ Lord Bacon compares the case of deformed per¬
sons to that of eunuchs j ’* in whom kings were wont
to put great trust as good spies and whisperers ; for
they that are envious towards all, are more obsequious
and officious towards one.1 But, with submission to
so good a judge of human nature, I own I can discover
no uncommon qualification in them for spies ; and very
few motives to envy peculiar to themselves. Spies
submit to that base and ungenerous office, either for
the sake of interest or power : if for interest, it is to
gratify their covetousness; if for power, their ambi¬
tion or revenge ; which passions are not confined to
the eunuch or deformed, but indiscriminately seize all
classes of men. Envy too may prompt a man to mean
actions, in order to bring down the person envied to
his own level 5 but if it is on account of superiority of
fortune it will operate alike on men of all shapes.
Eunuchs have but one peculiar motive to envy : but
that (as Lord Bacon expresses it) makes them envious
towards all $ because it is for a pleasure which all but
themselves may enjoy. Deformed persons are de¬
prived only of beauty and strength, and therefore
those alone are to be deemed the extraordinary mo¬
tives to their envy j for they can no more be beautiful
or strong than eunuchs be successful lovers. As to
myself, whatever sparks of envy might be in my con¬
stitution, they are now entirely extinguished *, for, by
frequent and serious reflections, I have long been con¬
vinced of the small value of most things which men va¬
lue the most.
“ There is another passion to which deformed per¬
sons seem to be more exposed than to envy; which is
jealousy : for being conscious that they are less amia¬
ble than others, they may naturally suspect that they
are less beloved. I have the happiness to speak this
from conjecture, and not from experience 5 for it was
my lot, many years ago, to marry a young lady, very
piously educated, and of a very distinguished family,
and whose virtues are an honour to her family and her
sex: so that I had never any trial of my temper, and
can only guess at it by emotions I have felt in my
younger days j when ladies have been more liberal of
their smiles to those whom I thought, in every respect Defoi
but person, mv inferiors.” —v
The most useful inference from all this to a deform¬
ed person is, to be upon his guard against those frail¬
ties to which he is more particularly exposed ; and to
be careful, that the outward frame do not distort the
soul. Orandum est (says Juvenal), ut iit mens Sana
in corpore sano, “ Let us pray for a sound mind in a
healthy body:” and every deformed person should add
this petition, vt sit mens recta in corpore curvo, for “ an
upright mind in a crooked one.” And let him fre¬
quently apply to himself this article of self-examina¬
tion, Lenior et melior Jis, accedente senecta $ “As age
approaches, do your temper and morals improve ?” It
is a duty peculiarly incumbent ; for if beauty adds
grace to virtue itself, vice must be doubly hideous in
deformity.
Ridicule and contempt are a certain consequence of
deformity j and therefore what a person cannot avoid,
he should learn not to regard. He should bear it like
a man ; forgive it as a Christian j and consider it as a
philosopher. And his triumph will be complete, if he
can exceed others in pleasantry on himself. Wit will
give over when it sees itself outdone : and so will ma¬
lice when it finds it has no effect: and if a man’s be¬
haviour afford no cause of contempt, it will fall upon
those who condemn him without cause.
Instead of repining, therefore, a deformed person
ought to be thankful to Providence for giving him
such a guard to his virtue and repose. Thousands are
daily ruined by a handsome person ; for beauty is a
flower that every one wants to gather in its bloom,
and spares no pains or stratagem to reach it. All the
poetical stories concerning it have their moi'al. A
Helen occasions war and confusion } the Hyacinths
and Ganymedes are seized on for catamites $ the En-
dymions and Adonises for gallants ; Narcissus can ad¬
mire nobody but himself, and grows old before he is
cured of that passion. Who is a stranger to the story
of Lucretia killing herself for her violated chastity ?
or of Virginia killed by her father to preserve it ? In
those circumstances says Juvenal, she might wish to
change persons with Rutila, the only lady we know
among the ancients celebrated for a hump-back. The
handsomest men are chosen for eunuchs and gallants j
and when they are catched in exercising the last func¬
tion, both (b) Horace and Juvenal inform you of the
penalties and indignities they undergo. Silius (c)
was converted by the insatiable Messalina into a hus¬
band ; and Sporus, by the monster Nero, into a wife.
The last-mentioned poet shows that praying for beau¬
ty is praying for a curse \ and (d) Persius refuses to
join in such a prayer : and has not the deformed per¬
son reason to thank his stars, which have placed him
Q 2 more
(b) Hie se praecipitem tecto dedit: ille ftagellis
Ad mortem csesus : fugiens hie decidit acrem
Praedonum in turbam : dedit hie pro corpore nummos :
Hunc perminxerunt calones : quin etiam illud
Accidit, ut cuidam testes caudamque salacem
Demeteret ferrum. — —    ifor. Sat. ii. lib. i.
——Quosdam moechos et mugilis intrat. Juv. ib.
(c) ^ Optimus hie et formosissimus idem
Gentis Patriciee rapitur miser extinguendus
Messaliuae oculis..   Juv. Sat. x.
(d) Hunc optent generum Rex et Regina : puellae
Hunc rapiant: quiequid calcaverit hie, rosa fiat:
Ast ego nutrici non mando vota ; negate.
Jupiter haec illi ■ ■'   Pers. Sat. ii.
D E F [ 124 ] DEG
Deformity, more out of clanger than even virtue could ? for that
could not guard a Joseph, an (e) Hippolytus, a Bel-
lerophon, and others, against the revenge of slighted
love.
Another great advantage of deformity is, that it
tends to the improvement of the miud. A man that
cannot shine in his person, will have recourse to his un¬
derstanding ; and attempt to adorn that part of him,
which alone is capable of ornament. When his am¬
bition prompts him to begin, with Cowley, to ask him¬
self this question,
"What shall I do to be for ever known,
And make the age to come my own ?—
on looking about him, he will find many avenues to
the temple of fame barred against him j but some are
still open through that of virtue ; and those, if he has
a right ambition, he will most probably attempt to
pass. The more a man is inactive in his person, the
more his mind will be at work ; and the time which
others spend in action, he will pass in study and con¬
templation : by these he may acquire wisdom ; and by
wisdom, fame. The name of Socrates is as much
sounded as those of Alexander and Caesar } and is re¬
corded in much fairer characters. He gained renown
by wisdom and goodness j they by tyranny and op¬
pression ; he by instructing, they by destroying, man¬
kind: and happy it is, that their evil deeds were con¬
fined to their lives; while he continues to instruct us
to ibis day. A deformed person will naturally con¬
sider where his strength and his foible lie : and as he
is well acquainted with the last, he will easily find out
the first j and must know, that (if it is anywhere) it is
not like Samson’s, in the hair*, but must be in the
lining of the head. He will say to himself, “ I am
weak in person ; unable to serve my country in the
field, I can acquire no military glory j but I may,
like Socrates, acquire reputation by wisdom and pro¬
bity : let me therefore be wise and honest. My figure
is very bad ^ and X should appear but ill as an oiator
either in the pulpit or at the bar: let me therefore
pass my time in my study, either in reading what may
improve myself, or in writing what may entertain or
instruct others. I have not the strength of Hercules,
nor can X rid the world of so many monsters : but per¬
haps I may get rid of some that infest myself. If 1
cannot draw out Cacus from his den, I may pluck the
villain from my own breast. I cannot cleanse the sta¬
ble of Augeas: but I may cleanse my own heart from
filth and impurity : I may demolish the hydra of vices
within me j and should be careful too, that while
I lop off one, 1 do not suffer more to grow up in its
stead. Let me be serviceable in any way that I can :
and if I am so, it may, in some measure, be owing to
my deformity *, which at least should be a restraint on
mv conduct, lest my conduct make me more deform¬
ed.” . , , . . ,
Few persons have a house entirely to their mind ;
or the apartments in it disposed as they could wish.
And there is no deformed person, who does not wish Deformity
that his soul had a better habitation j which is some- H
times not lodged according to its quality. Lord Det^da'
Clarendon says of Sir Charles Cavendish (brother to : * u
the marquis of Newcastle), that he was a man of the
noblest and largest mind, though of the least and most
inconvenient body that lived. And every body knows,
that the late prince of Orange had many amiable qua¬
lities. Therefore, in justice to such persons, we must
suppose that they did not repine that their tenemenls
were not in a more regular style of architecture. And
let every deformed person comfort himself with re¬
flecting, that though his soul hath not the most conve¬
nient and beautiful apartment, yet that it is habitable ;
that the accommodation will serve as an inn upon the
road; that he is but tenant for life, or (more properly)
at will $ and that, while he remains in it, he is in a
state to be envied by the deaf, the dumb, the lame,
and the blind.
DEFOSSION (Defossio), the punishment of bury¬
ing alive, inflicted among the Romans on vestal vir¬
gins guilty of incontinency. It is also a custom among
the Hungarians to inflict this punishment on women
convicted of adultery. Heretics were also punished in
this manner. See BuRYiKG-Alive.
DEGENERATION, or Degenerating, in ge¬
neral, denotes the growing worse, or losing some valu¬
able qualities whereof a thing was formerly possessed.
Some naturalists have been of opinion, that things are
capable of degenerating into quite a distinct species j
but this is a mere chimera. All that happens in the
degeneration of a plant, for instance, is the losing its
usual beauty, colour, smell, &.c. a circumstance entire¬
ly owing to its being planted in an improper soil, cli-
DEGLUTITION, the action of swallowing. See
Anatomy Index.
DEGRADATION, in our law-books called de¬
gradation and deposition, the act of depriving or strip¬
ping a person for ever of a dignity or degree of ho¬
nour, and taking away the title, badge, and privileges
thereof.
The degradation of a peer, a priest, a knight, a
gentleman, an officer, &c. are performed with divers
ceremonies. That which anciently obtained in degra¬
ding a person from his nobility is very curious. It
was practised in the time of Francis I. upon Captain
Fan gel, who had in a cowardly manner given up Fon-
tarabia, whereof he was governor. On this occasion,
20 or 30 cavaliers, without blemish or reproach, were
assembled ; before whom the gentleman was accused,
of treason and breach of faith by a king-at-arms. Two
scaffolds were erected ; the one for the judges, he¬
ralds, and pursuivants ; and the other for the guilty
cavalier, who was armed at all points, and his shield
placed on a stake before him, reversed with the point
upwards. On one side assisted 12 priests in surplices,
who sung the vigils of the dead. At the close of each
psalm they made a pause, during which the officers of
arms
Quid pi'ofuit olim
Hippolyto grave propositum ?- Quid Bellerophonti
Erubuit neinpe hsec, seu fastidia repulsa :
Nec Sthenobcea minus quam Cressa excanduit, et se
Concussere ambse.  1 Juv. Sat. x.
DEG r 125 ] D E J
arms stripped the condemned of some piece of his ar¬
mour, beginning with the helmet, and proceeding thus
till he was quite disarmed 5 which done, they broke
his shield in three pieces with a hammer. 'I hen the
king-at-arms emptied a bason of hot water on the crimi¬
nal’s head ; and the judges, putting on mourning ha¬
bits, went to the church. This done, the degraded was
drawn from off the scaffold with a rope tied under his
arm pits, laid on a bier, and covered with mortuary
clothes; the priest singing some of the prayers tor the
dead j and then he was delivered to the civil judge and
the executioner of justice.
For a more domestic instance : Sir Andrew Harcla,
earl of Carlisle, being attainted and convicted of trea¬
son, 18 Edw. II. coram rcge ; after judgment was pro¬
nounced on him, his sword was broken over his head,
and his spurs hewn off his heels; Sir Anthony Lucy
the judge, saying to him, “ Andrew, now thou art no
knight but a knave.” By stat. 13 Car. II. William
Lord Monson, Sir Henry Mildmay, and others, were
degraded from all titles of honour, dignities, and pre¬
eminences, and prohibited to bear or use the title of
lord, knight, esquire, or gentleman, or any coat of
arms, for ever afterwards. It has been maintained
that the king may degrade a peer but it appears from
late authorities, that he cannot be degraded but by
act of parliament.
As to ecclesiastics, we have an instance of degrada¬
tion before condemnation to death, in the eighth cen¬
tury, at Constantinople. It is in the person of the
patriarch Constantine, whom Constantine Copronymus
caused to be executed. He wras made to ascend the
ambo j and the patriarch Nicetas sent some of his bi¬
shops to strip him of the pallium, and anathematized
him : then they made him go out of the church back¬
wards.
But we have a much later instance in our own hi¬
story : When Cranmer, archbishop of Canterbury, was
degraded by order of Queen Mary, they dressed him
in episcopal robes, made only of canvas, put the mitre
on his head, and the pastoral staff in his hand ; and in
this attire showed him to the people. Which done,
they stripped him again piece by piece. At present
they do not stand so much on the ceremony of degra¬
dation in order to the putting a priest to death ; by
reason of the delays and difficulties that it would oc¬
casion. Pope Boniface pronounced that six bishops
were required to degrade a priest; but the difficulty
of assembling so many bishops rendered the punishment
frequently impracticable. In England, a priest, after
having been delivered to his ordinary, if he cannot
purge himself of the crime with which he is charged,
his gown and other robes are stripped over his ears by
the common hangman •, by which he is declared divest¬
ed of his orders.
It is decided, however, that degradation does not
efface the priestly character. Degradation only seems
to differ from deposition in a few ignominious ceremo¬
nies which custom has added thereto. Accordingly,
in the business of Arnoul archbishop of Rheims, sen¬
tenced in the council of Orleans in 991, it was deli¬
berated what form they should follow in the deposition 5
whether that of the canons, that is, simple deposition j
or that of custom, viz. degradation. And it was decla¬
red, that he should surrender thp ring, pastoral staff,
and pallium, hut that his robes should not be torn off.
In effect, the canons prescribe no more than a mere
reading of the sentence. It is the rest, therefore, ad¬
ded thereto by custom, viz. the stripping off the orna¬
ments, and the tearing the pontifical vestments, that
properly constitute degradation.
Degradation, in Painting, expresses the lessening
the appearance of distant objects in a landscape, in the
same manner as they would appear to an eye placed
at that distance from them.
DEGREE, in Geometry, a division of a circle, in¬
cluding a three hundred and sixtieth part of its circum¬
ference.
Degree of Latitude. See Latitude.
Degree of Longitude. See Longitude.
A degree of the meridian on the surface of the globe
is variously determined by various observers. Mr Pi-
cart measured a degree in the latitude of 490 21', and
found it equal to 57,060 French toises. But the French
mathematicians, who have lately examined MrPicart’s
operations, assure us, that the degree in that latitude
is 57,183 toises. Our countryman, Mr Norwood, mea¬
sured the distance between London and York, and found
it 905,751 English feet j and finding the difference of
latitudes 2° 28', determined the quantity of one de¬
gree to be 367,196 English feet, or 69 English miles
and 288 yards. Mr Maupertuis measured a degree in
Lapland, in the latitude of 66° 20', and found it
57,438 toises. A degree was likewise measured at the
equator by other French mathematicians, and found
to contain 56,767.8 toises. Whence it appears, that
the earth is not a sphere, but an oblate spheroid.
Degree, in the civil and canon law, denotes an
interval in kinship, by which proximity and remoteness
of blood are computed. See Consanguinity and
Descent.
Degrees, in Music, are the little intervals whereof
the concords or harmonical intervals are composed.
Degree, in universities, denotes a qpality conferred
on the students or members thereof, as a testimony of
their proficiency in the arts or sciences, and entitling
them to certain privileges.
DEJANIRA, in fabulous history, daughter of
Oeneus king of ilEtolia, and wife to Hercules. The
centaur Nessus endeavouring to ravish her, was slain
by Hercules with a poisoned arrow. Nessus, when
dying, gave his bloody shirt to Dejanira ; assuring her,
that it was a sovereign remedy to cure her husband if
ever he proved unfaithful. Some time after Dejanira
thinking she had reason to suspect his fidelity, sent him
the shirt ; which he had no sooner put on, than he
was seized with the most excruciating torments. Be¬
ing unable to support his pains, he retired to Mount
Oeta, and erecting a pile of wood, set fire to it, and
threw himself into he flames j upon which Dejanira
killed herself in despair.
DEJECTION, in Medicine, the act of voiding the
excrements by the anus. See Anatomy, N° 93.
Dejection, in Astrology, is applied to the planets
when in their detriment, as astrologers speak, i. e.
when they have lost their force or influence, as is pre¬
tended, by reason of their being in opposition to some
others which check and counteract them. Or it is
used when a planet is in a sign opposite to that in which
it has its greatest effect or influence which is called
Degrada¬
tion
Dejection.
DEI [12-
Dejection its exaltation. Thus, the sign Aries being the exaltation
{] of the sun, the opposite sign Libra is its dejection.
Deism. DEIFICATION, in antiquity. See Apotheosis.
'' v DEIPHON, in fabulous history, a brother of Trip-
tolemus, son of Celeus and Metanira. When Ceres
travelled over the world, she stopped at his lather’s
court, and undertook to nurse him and bring him up.
To reward the hospitality of Celeus, the goddess be¬
gan to make his son immortal, and every evening she
placed him on burning coals to purify him from what¬
ever mortal particles he still possessed. The uncom¬
mon growth of Deiphon astonished Metanira, who wish¬
ed to see what Ceres'did to make him so vigorous. She
was frightened to see her son on burning coals j and
the shrieks that she uttered disturbed the mysterious
operations of the goddess, and Deiphon perished in the
flames.
DETSCAL, in the ancient British customs, the
name of a ceremony originally used in the druidical
worship, and retained in many places down to a very
late period, as a civil ceremony towards persons ot par¬
ticular distinction. The temples of the ancient Bri¬
tons were all circular ; and the druids, in performing
the public offices of their religion, never neglected to
make three turns round the altar, accompanied by all
the worshippers. This practice was so habitual to the
ancient Britons, that it continued in some places many
ages after the druids and their religion were both de¬
stroyed. In the Scottish isles, the vulgar never come
to the ancient sacrificing and fire-hallowing cairns,
but they walk three times round them, from east to
west, according to the course of the sun. This sancti¬
fied tour, or round by the south, is called deiscal, from
deas or dess, “ the right hand,” and soil or sul, “ the
sun 5” the right hand being ever next the heap or
cairn. In the same isles it is the custom and fashion
of the people to testify their respect for their chief¬
tains, the proprietors of their several isles, and other
persons of distinction, by performing the deiscal round
them in the same manner. A gentleman giving an
account of his reception in one of the Western islands,
of which he was proprietor, describes the ceremony
of the deiscal in this manner : “ One of the natives
would needs express his high esteem for my person,
by making a turn round about me, sun-ways, and at
the same time blessing me, and wishing me all happi¬
ness. But I bid him let alone that piece of homage,
telling him I was sensible of his good meaning towards
me. But this poor man was very much disappointed,
as were also his neighbours 5 for they doubted not but
this ancient ceremony would have been very acceptable
to me } and one of them told me, that this was a thing
due to my character from them, as to their chief and
patron ; and that they could not, and would not, fail
to perform it.”
DEISM, the doctrine or belief of the deists. De¬
ism, from ©saj God, may properly be used to denote
natural religion, as comprehending those truths which
have a real foundation in reason and nature •, and in
this sense it is so far from being opposite to Christiani¬
ty, that it is one great design of the gospel to illu¬
strate and enforce it. Thus some of the deistical writ¬
ers have affected to use it. But deism more precisely
signifies that system of religion, relating both to doc¬
trine and practice, which every man is to discover for
3
> ] DEI
himself by the mere force of natural reason, indepen- Deism,
dent of all revelation, and exclusive of it; and this re- 1——
ligion Dr Tindal and others pretend is so perfect, as
to be incapable of receiving any addition or improve¬
ment even from divine revelation.
DEISTS, a class of people known also under the de¬
nomination of Free-thinkers, whose distinguishing cha¬
racter it is, not to profess any particular form or system
of religion; but only to acknowledge the existence of a
god, and to follow the light and law of nature, reject¬
ing revelation, and opposing Christianity.
This name seems to have been first assumed as the
denomination of a party about the middle of the
16th century, by some gentlemen in France and Italy,
who were desirous of thus disguising their opposition
to Christianity by a more honourable appellation than
that of atheists. Virot, an eminent reformer, men¬
tions certain persons, in his epistle dedicatory prefixed
to the second tome of his Instruction Chretienne, publish¬
ed in 1563, who called themselves by a new name,
that of Deists. These, he tells us, professed to believe
in God, but showed no regard to Jesus Christ, and
considered the doctrine of the apostles and evangelists
as fables and dreams. He adds, that they laughed at
all religion, though they outwardly conformed to the
religion of those with whom they lived, or whom they
wished to please, or feared to offend. Some, he ob¬
serves, professed to believe the immortality of the soul *,
others denied both this doctrine and that of provi¬
dence. Many of them were considered as persons of
acute and subtile genius, and took pains in dissemina¬
ting their notions.
The deists hold, that, considering the multiplicity
of religions, the numerous pretences to revelation,
and the precarious arguments generally advanced in
proof thereof, the best and surest way is to return to
the simplicity of nature and the belief of one God ;
which is the only truth agreed to by all nations. They
complain, that the freedom of thinking and reasoning
is oppressed under the yoke of religion ; and that the
minds of men are ridden and tyrannized by the neces*
sity imposed on them of believing inconceivable my*
steries ; and contend that nothing should be required
to be assented to or believed but what their reason
clearly conceives.
The distinguishing character of modern deists is, that
they reject all revealed religion, and discard all-pre¬
tences to it as the effects of imposture or enthusiasm.
They profess a regard for natural religion, though they
are far from being agreed in their notions concerning
it. They are classed by some of their own writers in¬
to mortal and immortal deists : the latter acknowledg¬
ing a future state ; and the former denying it, or re¬
presenting it as very uncertain.
Dr Clarke distinguishes four sorts of deists. I. Those
who pretend to believe the existence of an eternal, in¬
finite, independent, intelligible Being, who made the
world, without concerning himself in the government
of it. 2. Those who believe the being and natural
providence of God, but deny the difference of actions,
as morally good or evil, resolving it into the arbitrary
constitution of human laws ; and therefore they sup¬
pose that God takes no notice of them. With respect
to both these classes, he observes that their opinions
can consistently terminate in nothing but downright
atheism.
del [ 127 ] DEL
Deists atheism. 3. Those who have right apprehensions
|| concerning the nature, attributes, and all-governing
3elaware. providence of God, seem also to have some notion of
 *   his moral perfections ; though they consider them as
transcendent, and such in nature and degree, that we
can form no true judgment, nor argue with any cer¬
tainty concerning them: but they deny the immorta¬
lity of human souls j alleging that men perish at
death, and that the present life is the whole of human
existence. 4. Those who believe the existence, perfec¬
tions, and providence of God, the obligation of na¬
tural religion, and a state of future retribution, on
the evidence of the light of nature, without a divine
revelation: such as these, he says, are the only true
deists j but their principles, he apprehends, should lead
them to embrace Christianity j and therefore he con¬
cludes that there is now no consistent scheme of deism
in the world.
The lirst deistical writer of any note that appeared
in this country was Herbert, baron of Cherbury. He
lived and wrote in the 17th century. His book De Ve-
ritate was lirst published at Paris in 1624. This, to¬
gether with his book De Causis Errorum, and his trea¬
tise De Religionc Laid, were afterwards published in
London. His celebrated work De lleligione Gentilium
was published at Amsterdam in 1663 in 410, and in
1700 in 8vo, and an English translation of it was pub¬
lished at London in 1705. As he was one of the hrst
that formed deism into a system, and asserted the suf¬
ficiency, universality, and absolute perfection of na¬
tural religion, with a view to discard ail extraordinary
revelation as useless and needless, we shall subjoin the
five fundamental articles of this universal religion.—
They are these: I. That there is one supreme God.
2. That he is chiefly to be worshipped. 3. That piety
and virtue are the principal part of his worship. 4.
That we must repent of our sins ; and if we do so,
God will pardon them. 5. That there are rewards for
good men, and punishments for bad men, both here
and hereafter. Our own age has produced a number
of advocates in the same cause j and however they
may have ditfered among themselves, they have been
agreed in their attempts of invalidating the evidence
and authority of divine revelation. We might men¬
tion Hobbes, Blount, Toland, Collins, Woolston,
Tindal, Morgan, Chubb, Lord Bolingbroke, Hume,
&c. Some have also added Lord Shaftesbury to the
number.
But the friends of Christianity have no reason to re¬
gret the free and unreserved discussion which their re¬
ligion has undergone. Objections have been stated
and urged in their full force, and as fully answered ;
argument and raillery have been repelled ; and the
controversy between Christians and deists has called
forth a great number of excellent writers, who have
illustrated both the doctrines and evidence o! Christia¬
nity in a manner that will ever reflect honour on their
names, and be of lasting service to the cause of genuine
religion and the best interests of mankind.
DEITY, Godhead; a common appellation given to
God ; and also by the poets to the heathen gods and
goddesses.
DELAWARE, a state of North America, situ¬
ated on a river of the same name.
The Dutch, under the pretended purchase made by
Henry Hudson, took possession of the lands on both Delaw
sides the river Delaware j and as early as the year
1623 built a fort at the place, which has since been
called Gloucester. In 1627, by the influence of William
Useling, a respectable merchant in Sweden, a colony
of Swedes and Finns came over, furnished with all the
necessaries for beginning a new settlement, and landed
at Cape Henlopen *, at which time the Dutch had
wholly quitted the country. The Dutch, however,
returned in 1630, and built a fort at Lewistown, by
them named Hoarkill. The following year the Swedes
built a fort near Wilmington, which they called Chris-
tein or Christiana. Here also they laid out a small
town, which was afterwards demolished by the Dutch.
The same year they erected a fort higher up the ri¬
ver, upon Tenecum island, which they called ±Seu)
Gottenburgh : they also about the same time built forts
at Chester, Elsinburgh, and other places. John Prinz
then governed the Swedes, who, in 1654, deputed
his son-in-law, John Papgoia, and returned to Sweden.
Papgoia soon followed his father-in-law to his native
country, and John Rvsing succeeded to the govern¬
ment. In 1655, the Dutch, under the command of
Peter Stuyvesant, arrived in Delaware river, from
New Amsterdam (New York), in seven vessels, with 6
or 700 men. They dispossessed the Swedes of their
forts on the river, and carried the officers and princi¬
pal inhabitants prisoners to New Amsterdam, and from
thence to Holland. The common people submitted
to the conquerors, and remained in the country. On
the first of October 1664, Sir Robert Carr obtained
the submission of the Swedes on Delaware river. Four
years after, Col. Nicolls, governor of New York, with
his council, on the 2ist of April, appointed a scout
and five other persons to assist Capt. Carr in the go¬
vernment of the country. In 1672, the town of New¬
castle was incorporated by the government of New
York, to be governed by a bailiff and six assistants;
after the first year, the four oldest were to leave their
office, and four others to be chosen. The bailiff was
president, with a double vote; the constable was cho¬
sen by the bench. They had power to try causes not
exceeding 10I. without appeal. The office of scout
was converted into that of sheriff, who had jurisdic¬
tion in the corporation and along the river, and was
annually chosen. They were to have a free trade,
without being obliged to make entry at New York,
as had formerly been the practice. Wampum was at
this time the principal currency of the country. Go¬
vernor Lovelace of New York, by proclamation, or¬
dered that four white grains and three black ones
should pass for the value of a stiver or penny. This
proclamation was published at Albany, Esopus, De¬
laware, Long-island, and the parts adjacent. In 1674
Charles II. by a second patent, dated June 29th, grant¬
ed to his brother duke of York all that country called
by the Dutch New Netherlands, of which the three
counties of Newcastle, Kent, and Sussex, were a part.
In 1683, the duke of York, by deed dated Aug. 24th,
sold to William Penn the town of Newcastle, with the
district of 12 miles round the same; and by another
deed of the same date, granted to him the remainder
of the territory, which till the revolution was called
the Three Lower Counties. These three counties were
considered as a part of Pennsylvania in matters of go¬
vernment.
DEL [ 128 ] DEL
vernment. The same governor presided over both ; but
the assembly and courts ot judicature were different 5
different as to their constituent members, but in form
nearly the same. At the late revolution they became a
distinct territory, called
The Delaware State. This state is bounded on the
north by Pennsylvania ; on the east by Delaware river
and bay on the south, by a due east and west line,
from Cape Henlopen, in lat. 38. 30. to the middle of
the peninsula j and on the west by Maryland. It is
the smallest state in the Union except Rhode, its area
being only 2200 square miles. The land is generally
low and flat, which occasions the waters to stagnate, and
subjects the inhabitants to intermittent fevers.
The Delaware state is divided into three counties,
viz. Newcastle, Kent, Sussex: the chief towns of which
are, Wilmington and Newcastle, Dover, Milford, and
Lewiston. The population of the whole state in 1810
was 72,674, including 4177 s^aves* num^er
free blacks was 13,136.
Three rivers, the Ohopt&nlc, -N&nticolv, find 1. oko*
moke, having their sources in this state, and are na¬
vigable for vessels of 50 or 60 tons, 20 or 30 miles into
the country. They all run a westerly course into
Chesapeak bay. Tl he fourth part ot the state is a low
flat country, and a considerable portion of it lies in fo¬
rest. What is under cultivation is chiefly barren, ex¬
cept in Indian corn, of which it produces fine crops.
In some places rye and flax may be raised, but wheat
is a foreigner in these parts. Where nature is deficient
in one resource, she is generally bountiful in another.
This is verified in the tall thick forests of pines which
are manufactured into boards, and exported in large
quantities into every sea-port in the three adjoining
states. As you proceed north, the soil is more fertile,
and produces wheat in large quantities, which is the
staple commodity of the state. They raise all the
other kinds of grain common to Pennsylvania. The
state has no mountain in it, except Thunder Hill, in
the western part of Newcastle county, and is general¬
ly level, except some small parts, which are stony and
uneven. The trade of this state is carried on almost
entirely in the chief town, Wilmington, which had 9591
tons of shipping in 1815, and contained about 5000 in¬
habitants. The articles exported are principally wheat,
corn, and lumber.
No preference is given by law to any mode of wor¬
ship. In 1814 the Presbyterians had 24 churches j
the Episcopalians 14; the Quakers 8; the Baptists 7',
the Methodists several. A considerable fund is appro¬
priated by the state for the support of schools. The
expence of instruction varies from 10 to 32 dollars per
annum. . ,.
The value of lands and houses in this state in 1799,
was 6,233,4x3 dollars, and in 1814 it was 13,449,37°
dollars. The value of manufactures in this state in
1810 was 970,701 dollars; and the exports in 1817
amounted to 44,854 dollars. The state taxes in 1811
were stated to be 72,163 dollars.
Under the present constitution, the legislature is
divided into two distinct branches, which together are
styled The General Assembly of Delaware. One branch,
called the House of Assembly, consists of seven repre¬
sentatives from each of the three counties, chosen annu¬
ally by the freeholders. I he other branch, called the
3
Council^ consists or nine members, tnree lor a county, D?lAw*r<t
who must be more than 25 years of age, chosen like-
wise by the freeholders. A rotation of members is
established by displacing one member for a county at
the end of every year. All money bills must originate
in the house of "assembly, but they may be altered,
amended, or rejected by the legislative council.^ A pre¬
sident or chief magistrate is chosen by the joint bal¬
lot of both houses, and continues in office three years ;
at the expiration of which period, he is ineligible the
three succeeding years. If this office becomes vacant
during the recess of the legislature, or he is unable to
attend to business, the speaker of the legislative coun¬
cil is vice-president for the time ; and in his absence
the powers of the president devolve upon the speaker
of the assembly. A privy council, consisting of four
members, two from each house, chosen by ballot, is
constituted to assist the chief magistrate in the admini¬
stration of the government. The three justices of
the supreme court, a judge of admiralty, and four
justices of the common pleas and orphans courts, are
appointed by the joint ballot of the president and ge¬
neral assembly, and commissioned by the president to
hold their offices during good behaviour. The presi¬
dent and privy council appoint the secretary, the at¬
torney-general, registers for the produce of wills, regi¬
sters in chancery, clerks of the common pleas and or¬
phans courts, and the clerks of the peace, who hold
their offices during five years, unless sooner removed
for mal-conduct. The house of assembly name 24 per¬
sons in each county for justices of peace, from which
number the president, with the advice of his council,
appoints and commissions twelve, who serve for seven
years, unless sooner dismissed for mal-administration.
The members of the legislative and privy councils are
justices of the peace for the whole state.—-The courts
of common pleas and orphans courts have power to
hold chancery courts in certain cases. The clerk of
the supreme court is appointed by the chief justice,
and the recorders of deeds by the justices of the com¬
mon pleas, for five years, unless sooner dismissed. All
the military and marine officers are appointed by the
general assembly. The court of appeals consists of
seven persons : the president, who is a member, and pre¬
sides by virtue of his office, and six others, three to
be chosen by the legislative council, and three by the
house of assembly. To this court appeals lie from
the supreme court, in all matters of law and equi¬
ty. The judges hold their office during good behavi¬
our.
The justices of the several courts, the members of
the pnvv council, secretary, trustees of the loan of¬
fice, clerks of the common pleas, and all persons con¬
cerned in army or navy contracts, aie ineligible to ei¬
ther house of assembly. Every member, before taking
his seat, must take the oath of allegiance, and sub¬
scribe a religious test, declaring his belief in God the
Father, in Jesus Christ, and the Holy Ghost; and in
the inspiration of the Scriptures.
The house of assembly have the privilege of im¬
peaching delinquent officers of government; and im¬
peachments are to be prosecuted by the attorney-ge¬
neral, or other persons appointed by the assembly, and
tried before the legislative council. The punishment
may extend to temporal or perpetual disability U
1 * hold
DEL [ 129 ] DEL
I>eiaware hold offices under government, or to such other penal¬
ty ties as the laws shall direct.
Delcn. Though slavery exists in this state, the number of
slaves was found to have diminished greatly between
1800 and 1810. The habits and character of the peo¬
ple greatly resemble those of the Pennsylvanians,
DELEGATE, in a general sense, a deputy or com¬
missioner.
Delegates, commissioners appointed by the king
under the great seal, to hear and determine appeals
from the ecclesiastical court.
Court of Delegates, the great court of appeal in
all ecclesiastical causes. These delegates are appoint¬
ed by the king’s commission under his great seal, and
issuing out of chancery, to represent his royal person,
and hear all appeals to him made by virtue of the sta¬
tute 25 Henry VIII. c. 19. This commission is usual¬
ly filled with lords spiritual and temporal, judges of
the courts at Westminster, and doctors of the civil
law. Appeals to Rome were always looked upon by
the English nation, even in the times of Popery, with
an evil eye, as being contrary to the liberty of the sub¬
ject, the honour of the crown, and the independence of
the whole realm j and were first introduced, in very
turbulent times, in the 16th year of King Stephen
(A. D. 1151,) at the same period (Sir Henry Spel-
man observes) that the civil and canon laws were first
imported into England. But in a few years after, to
obviate this growing practice, the constitutions made
at Clarendon, 11 Hen. II. on account of the disturb¬
ances raised by Archbishop Becket and other zealots
of the holy see, expressly declare, that appeals in causes
ecclesiastical ought to lie from the archdeacon to the
diocesan } from the diocesan to the archbishop of the
province j and from the archbishop to the king j and
are not to proceed any farther without special license
from the crown. But the unhappy advantage that was
given in the reign of King John, and his son Hen. HI.
to the encroaching power of the Pope, who was ever
vigilant to improve all opportunities of extending his
jurisdiction to Britain, at length rivetted the custom
of appealing to Rome in causes ecclesiastical so strong¬
ly, that it never could be thoroughly broken oft till
the grand rupture happened in the reign of Hen. VfH.
when all the jurisdiction usurped by the pope in matters
ecclesiastical was restored to the crown, to which it ori¬
ginally belonged 5 so that the statute 25 Hen. VIII.
was but declaratory of the ancient lawT of the realm.
But in case the king himself be party in any of these
suits, the appeal does not then lie to him in chancery,
which would be absurd ; but, by the 24 Henry VIII.
c. 12. to all the bishops of the realm, assembled in the
upper house of convocation.
DELEGATION, a commission extraordinary given
by a judge to take cognisance of, and determine, some
cause which ordinarily does not come before him.
Delegation, in Scots Law. See Law Index.
DELEN, Dirk Van, an eminent painter of ar¬
chitecture and perspective, was born at Heusden,
but in what year is not known. He was a disciple of
Francis Hals, in whose school he practised to paint
those particular subjects which were most esteemed by
that master, such as portraits and conversations ; and
\>y that means he acquired the skill to design figures
with a great deal of spirit and correctness. But his
Vol. VII. Part I. f
predominant inclination directed him to paint archi- Delco.
lecture and perspective j and these he studied with so h
much care, as to make his works admired and coveted IX-Ift-ware.
through the Low Countries. His subjects were the in¬
sides of churches, filled with figures $ grand temples *,
magnificent saloons and galleries, with people assembled
at concerts of music, feasting, or dancing. Those sub¬
jects he finished highly ; his architecture was in a noble
taste ; and the figures were well designed, as well as
grouped with a great deal of judgment. Several au¬
thors mention the performances of this master with large
commendation, for the goodness of his invention, and
neatness of his handling.
DELETERIOUS, an appellation given to things of
a destructive or poisonous nature. See Poison.
DELFT, a town of the United Provinces, and capi¬
tal of Delftland in Holland. It is a pretty large place,
very clean and well built, with canals in the streets,
planted on each side with trees. The public buildings,
especially the town-house, are very magnificent. Here
are two churches j in one is the tomb of the prince of
Orange, who was assassinated ; and in the other, that
of Admiral Tromp. It has a fine arsenal, well furnish¬
ed ; is about two miles in circumference, and is defend¬
ed against inundations by three dams or dikes. Here
is made a prodigious quantity of fine earthen-ware call¬
ed delft-ware ; but the trade is on the decline since ex¬
tensive potteries were established in England and Ger¬
many. It is pleasantly situated among the meadows on
the river Shie, in E. Long. 4. 13. N. Lat. 52. 6.
DELFT-Ware, a kind of pottery of baked earth, co¬
vered with an enamel or white glazing, which gives it
the appearance and neatness of porcelain. Some kinds
of this enamelled pottery differ much from others, ei¬
ther in their sustaining sudden heat without breaking,
or in the beauty and regularity of their forms, of their
enamel, and of the painting with which they are or¬
namented. In general, the fine and beautiful enamel¬
led potteries, which approach the nearest to porcelain
in external appearance, are, at the same time, those
which least resist a brisk fire. Again, those which sus¬
tain a sudden heat, are coarse, and resemble common
pottery.
The basis of this pottery is clay, which is to be mix¬
ed, when too fat, with such a quantity of sand, that the
earth shall preserve enough of its ductility to be work¬
ed, moulded, and turned easily; and yet that its fat¬
ness shall be sufficiently taken from it, that it may not
crack or shrink too much in drying or in baking. Ves¬
sels formed of this earth must be dried very gently to
avoid cracking. They are then to be placed in a fur¬
nace to receive a slight baking, which is only meant to
give them a certain consistence or hardness. And,
lastly, they are to be covered with an enamel or glaz¬
ing, which is done, by putting upon the vessels thus pre¬
pared the enamel, which has been ground very fine, and
diluted with water.
As vessels on which the enamel is applied are but
slightly baked, they readily imbibe the water in which
the enamel is suspended, and a layer of the enamel ad¬
heres to their surface j these vessels may then be paint¬
ed with colours composed of metallic calces, mixed and
ground with a fusible glass. When they are become
perfectly dry, they are to be placed in the furnace, in¬
cluded in cases of baked earth called seggars, and ex-
R posed
DEL
[ 130 ]
DEL
Chem
Diet.
Dulft-ware. posed to a heat capable of fusing uniformly the enamel
  , ' which covers them. This heat given to fuse the ena¬
mel being much stronger than that which was applied
at first to give some consistence to the ware, is also the
heat necessary to complete the baking of it. The tur-
nace and colours used for painting this ware, are the
same as those employed for porcelain. The glazing,
which is nothing but white enamel, ought ^to be so
opaque as not to show the ware under it. I here are
many receipts for making these enamels ; but all ot
them are composed of sand or flints, vitrifying salts,
calx of lead, and calx of tin 5 and the sand must be
perfectly vitrified, so as to form a glass considerably tu-
sible. Somewhat less than an equal part of alkaline
salt, or twice its weight of calx ot lead, is requisite to
effect such vitrifications of sand. The calx of tin is
not intended to be vitrified, but to give a white opaque
colour to the mass j and one part of it is to be added to
three or four parts of all the other ingredients taken
together. From these general principles various en¬
amels may be made to suit the different kinds ot
earths. To make the enamel, lead and tin are cal¬
cined together with a strong fire 5 and the sand is also
to be made into a fritt with the salt or ashes, ihe
■whole is then to be well mixed and ground together.
The matter is then to be placed under the furnace,
where it is melted and vitrified during the baking ot
the ware. It is next to be ground in a mill, and ap¬
plied as above directed.
The preparation of the white enamel is a very essen¬
tial article in making delft-ware, and one in which many
artists fail. M. Bose, d’Antic, in a memoir concern¬
ing this kind of ware, published in the -Mew*, aes
Scavons Etran. tom. vi. recommends the following
proportions. A hundred pounds of calx of lead are
to be mixed with about a seventh part of that quantity
of calx of tin for common delft-ware, or a fourth part
of calx of tin for the finest kind j a hundred, or a
hundred and ten pounds of fine sand; and about twen¬
ty or thirty pounds of sea-salt. Concerning the earth
qf which the ware is made, he observes, that pure clay
*s not a proper material when used alone. ITilerent
kinds of earth mixed together are found to succeed
better. Pieces of ware made of clay alone are found to
require too much time to dry and they cracK, and
lose their form, unless they are made exceedingly thick.
An addition of marie diminishes the. contraction of the
clay •, renders its less compact; and allows the water to
escape, without altering the form of the ware in dry¬
ing. It affords also a better ground for the enamel 5
which appears more glossy and white than when laid
on clay alone. The kinds of clay which are chiefly
used in the composition of delft-ware, are the blue ant
green. A mixture of blue clay and marie would not
sufficiently solid, and would be apt to scale, unless
it were exposed to a fire more intense than what is
commonly used for the burning of delft-ware. Io
give a greater solidity, some red clay is adoed *, which,
on account of its ferruginous matter,, possesses the re¬
quisite binding quality. The proportions of these in¬
gredients vary in different works, according to the dif¬
ferent qualities of the earths employed. Three parts
of blue clay, two parts of red clay, and five parts ot
marie, form the composition used in several manufac*
lories., M, d’Antic thinks that the best delft-ware
might be made of equal parts of pure clay and pure Delft-wai?
calcareous earth ; but this composition would require |(
that the fire should be continued twice as long as it ge- Uetjvbem-
nerally is. . * —-y—*
DELIA, in antiquity, a festival celebrated every
fifth year in the island of Delos, in honour of Apollo.
It was first instituted by Theseus, who at his return
from Crete placed a statue there, which he had recei¬
ved from Ariadne. At the celebration they crowned
the statue of the gods with garlands, appointed a choir
of music, and exhibited horse-races. I hey afterwards
led a dance, in which they imitated by their motions
the various windings of the Cretan labyrinth, from
which Theseus had extricated himself by Ariadne’s
assistance.-“ i here was another festival of the same
name yearly celebrated by the Athenians in Delos.
It also was instituted by Theseus, who, when he was
going to Crete, made a vow, that if he returned vic¬
torious, he would yearly visit in a solemn mqnner the
temple of Delos. The persons employed in this an¬
nual procession were called Deliustcn and Theon, Ihe
ship, the same which carried Theseus, and had been
carefully preserved by the Athenians, was called Theo-
ria and Delias. When the ship was ready for the
voyage, the priest of Apollo solemnly adorned the stern
with garlands, and an universal lustration was made all
over the city. The Theori were crowned with laurels,
and before them proceeded men armed with axes, in
commemoration of Theseus, who had cleared the way
from Trcezen to Athens, and delivered the country
from robbers. When the ship arrived at Delos, they,
offered solemn sacrifices to the god of the island, and
celebrated a festival to his honour. After this they ic-
tired to their ship, and sailed back to Athens, where
all the people of the city ran in crowds to meet them.
Every appearance of festivity prevailed at their ap¬
proach, and the citizens opened their doors, and pros¬
trated themselves before the Deliastse as they walked
in procession. During this festival it was unlawful to
put to death any malefactor, and on that account the
life of Socrates was prolonged for 30 days.
Delia, a surname of Diana, because she was boiri
in Delos. .
DELIAC, (Deliaciis), among the ancients, deno¬
ted a poulterer, or a person who sold fowls, fatted ca¬
pons, &c. The traders in this way were called Deliacii
the people of the isle of Delos first practised this oc¬
cupation. They also sold eggs, as appears from Ci¬
cero, in his Academic Questions, lib. iv. Pliny, lib. x.
cap. 30. and Columella, lib. vfii. cap. 8. likewise men¬
tion the Deliaci.
DELIACAL problem, a celebrated problem a-
mong the ancients, concerning the duplication of the
cube. . . .... ,
DELIBAMENTA, in antiquity, a libation to the
infernal gods, always offered by pouring downwards.
See Libation.
Jus DELIBERANDI. See Law Index.
DELIBERATIVE, an appellation given to a kind
or branch of rhetoric, employed in proving a thing, or
convincing an assembly thereof, in order to persuade-
them to put it in execution.
To have a deliberative voice in the assembly, is
when a person has a right to give his advice and his
vote therein. In councils, the bishops have delibera¬
tive
DEL [ 131 ] DEL
Oelibera- ^ve voices $ those beneath them have only consultative
live voices.
1! . DELICT, in Scots Law, signifies such small offen-
T'"n’ ( ces or breaches of the peace as are punishable only by
fine or short imprisonment.
DELILLE, Jacques, an eminent French poet.
See Supplement.
DELINQUENT, a guilty person, or one who has
committed some fault or offence for which he is punish¬
able. See Britain, N° 97.
DELIQUESCENCE, in Chemistry, signifies the
property which certain bodies have of attracting moi¬
sture from the air, and becoming liquid thereby. This
property is never found but in saline substances, or
matters containing them. It is caused by the great
affinity which these substances have for water. The
more simple they are, according to Mr Macquer, the
more they incline to deliquescence. Hence acids, and
certain alkalies, which are the most simple, are also the
most deliquescent salts. Mineral acids are so deliques¬
cent, that they strongly imbibe moisture from the air,
even though they are already mixed with a sufficient
quantity of water to be fluid. For this purpose, it is
sufficient that they be concentrated only to a certain
degree.—Many neutral salts are deliquescent, chiefly
those whose bases are not saline substances. Salts
formed by the vitriolic acid, with fixed or volatile al¬
kalies, earths, or most metallic substances, are not de¬
liquescent ; although this acid is the strongest of all,
and, when disengaged, attracts the moisture of the air
most powerfully.
Though the immediate cause of deliquescence is the
attraction of the moisture of the air, as we have already
observed; yet it remains to be shown why some salts
attract this moisture powerfully, and others, though
seemingly equally simple, do not attract it at all. The
vegetable alkali, for instance, attracts moisture power¬
fully } the mineral alkali, though to appearance equal¬
ly simple, does not attract it at all. The acid of tartar
by itself does not attract the moisture of the air 5 but
if mixed with borax, which has a little attraction for
moisture, the mixture is exceedingly deliquescent.—
Some theories have been suggested, in order to account
for these and other similar facts j but we are as yet too
little acquainted with the nature of the atmosphere
to form certain conclusions on the subject.
DELIQUIUM, or Deliquium Animi (from delin-
quo, “ I swoon”), a swooning or fainting away : call¬
ed also syncope, lipothymia, lipopsychia, eciysis, and as¬
phyxia.
Deliciuium (from dcliquesco, “ to be dissolved”),
in Chemistry, is the dissolution or melting of a salt by
suspending it in a moist cellar.
Salt of tartar, or any fixed alkali, set in a cellar or
ether cool moist place, and in an open vessel, resolves
or runs into a kind of liquor called by the older che¬
mists oil of tartar per deliquium.
DELIRIUM (from deliro, “ to rave or talk idly”).
When the ideas excited in the mind do not correspond
to the external objects, but are produced by the change
induced on the common sensory, the patient is said to
be delirious. See Medicine Index.
DELIVERY, or Child-Birth. See Midwifery.
DELLI, or Delhi, a city and province in Hin-
dostan. The city was once the capital of the em¬
pire. The road between it and Agra, the other capi- pem
tal, is that famous alley or walk planted with trees ||
by Jehin Ghir, and 150 leagues in length. Each Delos,
half league is marked with a kind of turret; and at .
every stage there are little sarays or caravanseras for
the benefit of travellers. The road, though pretty
good, has many inconveniences. It is not only fre¬
quented by wild beasts, but by robbers. The latter
are so dexterous at casting a noose about a man’s neck,
that they never fail, if within reach, to seize and strangle
him. They gain their point likevvise by means of
handsome women; who, feigning great distress, and
being taken up behind the unwary traveller, choke him
with the same snare.—The capital consists of three ci¬
ties, built near one another. The first, now quite de¬
stroyed, is said to have had 52 gates 5 and to have been
the residence of King Porus, conquered by Alexander
the Great, The second, which is also in ruins, was
demolished by Shah Jehan, to build Jehan-abad with
the materials. This makes the third city, and joins
the ruins of the second. This city stands in an open
plain country, on the river Jumna, which rises in this
province. It is encompassed with walls, except to¬
wards the river. These are of brick, flanked with
round towers j but without a ditch, and terraced be¬
hind, four or five feet thick. The circumference of
the walls may be about nine miles. The fortress, which
is a mile and a half in circuit, has good walls and
round towers, and ditches full of water, faced with
stone. It is surrounded with fine gardens, and in it
is the Mogul’s palace. See INDOSTAN. E. Long. 77.
25. N. Lat. 28. 20.
DELMENHORST, a strong town of Germany,
in Westphalia, and now united to the grand duchy of
Osnaburg, seated on the river Delm, near the Weser.
E. Long. 8. 37. N. Lat. 53. 10.
DELOS, an island of the Archipelago, very famous
in ancient history. Originally it is said to have been
a floating island, but afterwards it became fixed and
immoveable. It was held sacred on account of its be¬
ing the birth-place of Apollo and Diana.—Anciently
this island was governed by its own kings. Virgil
mentions one Anius reigning here in the time of the
Trojan war. He was, according to that poet, both
king and high-priest of Apollo, and entertained zEneas
with great kindness. The Persians allowed the De¬
lians to enjoy their ancient liberties, after they had re¬
duced the rest of the Grecian islands. In after ages,
the Athenians made themselves masters of it; and held
it till they were driven out by Mithridates the Great,
who plundered the rich temple of Apollo, and obliged
the Delians to side with him. Mithridates was in his
turn driven out by the Romans,Twho granted the inha¬
bitants many privileges, and exempted them from all
sorts of taxes. At present it is quite abandoned ; the
lands being covered with ruins and rubbish in such a
manner as to be quite incapable of cultivation. The
inhabitants of Mycone hold it now, and pay but ten
crowns land tax to the Grand Signior for an island
which was once one of the richest in the world.—Strabo
and Callimachus tells us that the island of Delos was
watered by the river Inapus : but Pliny calls it only a
spring : and adds, that its waters swelled and abated
at the same time with those of the Nile. At present
there is no river in the island, but one of the noblest
R 2 springs
DEL
[ >32 ]
DEL
springs in the world j being twelve paces in diameter,
and inclosed partly by rocks, and partly by a wall.
Mount Cynthus, whence Apollo had the surname ot
Cijnthius, is by Strabo placed near the city, and said to
be so high, that the whole island was covered by its
shadow •, but our modern travellers speak of it as a
hill of a very moderate height. It is hut one block
of granite of the ordinary sort, cut on that side which
faced the city into regular steps, and inclosed on both
sides by a wall. On the top of the mountain are still
to he seen the remains of a stately building, with a
mosaic pavement, many broken pillars, and other va¬
luable monuments of antiquity. From an inscription
discovered there some time ago, and which mention a
vow made to Serapis, Isis, and Anuhis, some have con¬
jectured, that on this hill stood a temple dedicated to
these Egyptian deities, though nowhere mentioned in
history.—-The city of Delos, as is manifest from the
magnificent ruins still extant, took up that spacious
plain reaching from one coast to the other. It was
well peopled, and the richest city in the Aichipelago,
especially after the destruction of Corinth ; merchants
flocking thither from all parts, both in regard of the
immunity they enjoyed there, and ol the convenient si¬
tuation of the place between Europe and Asia. Strabo
calls it one of the most frequented empories in the
world ; and Pliny tells us, that all the commodities ot
Europe and Asia were sold, purchased, or exchanged,
there. It contained many noble and stately buildings •,
as the temples of Apollo, Diana, and Latona *, the
porticoes of Philip ot Macedon, and Dionysius Euty-
ches $ a gymnasium 5 an oval bason made at an im¬
mense expence, for the representation of sea-fights j
and a most magnificent theatre. The temple of Apollo
was, according to Plutarch, begun by Erysichthoti the
son of Cecrops •, hut afterwards enlarged and embellish¬
ed at the common charge of all the states of Greece.
Plutarch tells us, that it was one of the most stately
buildings in the universe j and speaks of an altar in
it, which, in his opinion, deserved a place among the
wonders of the world. It was built with the hoi ns of
various animals, so artificially adapted to one another
that they hanged together without any cement. This
altar is said to have been a perfect cube; and the dou¬
bling it was a famous mathematical problem among the
ancients. This went under the name of Problema
Deliacum ; and is said to have been proposed by the
oracle, for the purpose ot freeing the country from a
plague. The distemper was to cease when the pro¬
blem was solved.—The trunk of the famous statue of
Apollo, mentioned by Strabo and Pliny, is still an ob¬
ject of great admiration to travellers. It is without
head, feet, arms, or legs-, but from the parts that are
vet remaining, it plainly appears, that the ancients did
not exaggerate when they commended it as a wondei
of art. It was of gigantic size, though cut out of a
single block of marble the shoulders being six feet
broad, and the thighs nine feet round. At a small
distance from this statue lies, amongst confused heaps
of broken columns, architraves, bases, chapiters, &c.
a square piece of marble 154' ^ee*- njne
inches broad, and two feet three inches thick . which
undoubtedly served as a pedestal for this colossus. It
bears in very fair characters this inscription in Greek,
w The Naxians to Apollo.” Plutarch tells us, in the
life of Nicias, that he caused to be set up, near the
temple of Delos, an huge palm-tree of brass, which he
consecrated to Apollo j and adds, that a violent storm
of wind threw down this tree on a colossal statue raised
by the inhabitants of Naxos. Round the temple were
magnificent porticoes built at the charge of various
princes, as appears from inscriptions which are still ve¬
ry plain. The names of Philip king of Macedon, Di¬
onysius Eutyches, Mithridates Euergetes, Mithridates
Eupator, kings of Pontus, and Nicomedes king of Bi-
thynia, are found on several pedestals.—To this temple
the inhabitants of the neighbouring islands sent yearly
a company of virgins to celebrate, with dancing, the
festival of Apollo and his sister Diana, and to make
offerings in the name of their respective cities.
So very sacred was the island of Delos held by the
ancients, that no hostilities were practised here, even
by the nations that were at war with one another,
when they happened to meet in this place. Of this
Livy gives an instance. Fie tells us, that some Ro¬
man deputies being obliged to put in at Delos, in their
voyage to Syria and Egypt, found the galleys of Per¬
seus king of Macedon, and those of Eumenes king of
Pergamus, anchored in the same harbour, though these
two princes were then making war upon one another.
—Hence this island was a general asylum, and the pro¬
tection extended to all kinds of living creatures ; for
this reason it abounded with hares, no dogs being suf¬
fered to enter it. No dead body was suffered to be
buried in it, nor was any woman suffered to lie in
there j all dying persons, and women ready to be de¬
livered, were carried over to the neighbouring island
of Rhencea.
DELPHI, in Ancient Geography, a town of Phocis,
situated on the south-west extremity of Mount Parnassus.
It was famous for a temple and oracle of that god, of
which the following was said to be the origin : A num¬
ber of goats that were feeding on Mount Parnassus,
came near a place which had a deep and long perfora¬
tion. The steam which issued from the hole seemed to
inspire the goats, and they played and frisked about in
such an uncommon manner, that the goat-herd was
tempted to lean on the hole, and see what mysteries the
place contained. He was immediately seized with a
fit of enthusiasm, his expressions were wild and extra¬
vagant, and passed for prophecies. I his circumstance
was soon known about the country, and many experi¬
enced the same enthusiastic inspiration. The place was
revered ; a temple was soon after erected in honour of
Apollo and a city built, which became the chief and
most illustrious in Phocis. Ibe influence of its god
has controuled the councils of states, directed the course
of armies, and decided the fate of kingdoms. The an¬
cient history of Greece is full of his energy, and an
early register of bis authority. The circumjacent cities
were the stewards and guardians of the god. T-heir
deputies composed the famous Amphictyonic assembly,
which once guided Greece.
The temple of Apollo, it is related, was at first a
kind of cottage covered with boughs of laurel j but he
was early provided with a better habitation. An edi¬
fice of stone was erected by Trophonius and Agame-
des, which subsisted about 700 years, and was burned
in the year 636 after the taking of Troy, and 548 be¬
fore Christ. It is mentioned in the hymn to Apollo
Delos,
Delphi.
del [ 133 ] DEL
ascribed to Homer. An opulent and illustrious fa¬
mily, called Alcmceonidce, which fled from Athens
and the tyrant Hippias, contracted with the deputies
for the building of a new temple, and exceeded their
agreement. The front was raised with Parian marble,
instead of the stone called Porus; which resembled it
in whiteness, but was not so heavy. A Corinthian
was the architect. The pediments were adorned with
Diana, and Latona, and Apollo, and the Muses j the
setting of Phoebus or the sun ; with Bacchus, and the
women called Thyades. The architraves were deco¬
rated with golden armour ; bucklers suspended by the
Athenians after the battle of Marathon, and shields
taken from the Gauls under Brennius. In the portico
were inscribed the celebrated maxims of the seven sages
of Greece. There was an image of Homer, and in
the cell was an altar of Neptune, with statues of the
Fates, and of Jupiter and Apollo, who were surnamed
Leaders of the Fates. Near the heal th, before the al¬
tar at which Neoptolemus the son of Achilles was
slain by a priest, stood the iron chair of Pindar. In
the sanctuary was an image of Apollo gilded. The
inclosure was of great extent, and filled with treasures,
in which many cities had consecrated tenths of spoil
taken in war, and with the public donations of renown¬
ed states in various ages. It was the grand repository
of ancient Greece, in which the labours of the sculptor
and statuary, gods, heroes, and illustrious persons, were
seen collected and arranged j the inequalities of the
area of acclivity contributing to a full display of the
noble assemblage.
The oracles were delivered by a priestess called Py-
thia, who received the prophetic influence in the fol¬
lowing manner. A lofty tripod, decked with laurel,
was placed over the aperture, whence the sacred va¬
pour issued. The priestess, after washing her body
and especially her hair, in the cold water of Castalia,
mounted on it, to receive the divine effluvia. She
wore a crown of laurel, and shook a sacred tree, which
grew by. Sometimes she chewed the leaves ; and the
frenzy which followed may with probability be attri¬
buted to this usage, and the gentler or more violent
symptoms to the quantity taken. In one instance the
paroxysm was so terrible, that the priests and sup¬
pliants ran away, and left her alone to expire, it was
believed, of the god. Her part was unpleasant; but,
if she declined acting, they dragged her by force to the
tripod. The habit of her order was that of virgins.
The rules enjoined temperance and chastity, and pro¬
hibited luxury in apparel. The season of inquiry was
in the spring, during the month called Bulsius ; after
which Apollo was supposed to visit the altars of the
Hyperboreans.
The city of Delphi arose in the form of a theatre,
upon the winding declivity of Parnassus, whose fanta¬
stic tops overshadowed it, like a canopy, on the north,
while two immense rocks rendered it inaccessible on the
east and west, and the rugged and shapeless Mount
Cirphis defended it on the south. The foot of the
last named mountain was washed by the rapid Plistus,
which discharged itself into the sea at the distance of
only a few leagues from the sacred city. This inacces¬
sible and romantic situation, from which the place
derived the name of Delphi (signifying, as explained
in the glossaries, solitary} alone) ,was rendered still more
striking, by the innumerable echoes which multiplied Delphi,
every sound, and increased the ignorant veneration of —
visitants for the god of the oracle. The artful mini¬
sters of Apollo gradually collected such objects in the
groves and temple as were fitted to astonish the senses
of the admiring multitude. The splendour of marble,
the magic of painting, the invaluable statues of gold
and silver, represented (to use the language of antiqui¬
ty) not the resemblance of an earthly habitation, but
rather expressed the image of Olympus, adorned and
enlightened by the actual presence of the gods.
The protection and superintendence of this precious
depository of riches and superstition belonged to the
Amphictyons, as already noticed. But the inhabi¬
tants of Delphi, who, if we may use the expression,
were the original proprietors of the oracles, always con¬
tinued to direct the religious ceremonies, and to con¬
duct the important business of prophecy. It was their
province alone to determine at what time, and on what
occasion, the Pythia should mount the sacred tripod,
to receive the prophetic steams by which she commu¬
nicated with Apollo. When overflowing with the
heavenly inspiration, she uttered the confused words,
or rather frantic sounds, irregularly suggested by (he
impulse of the god; the Delphians collected these
sounds, reduced them into order, animated them with
sense, and adorned them with harmony. The Pythia,
appointed and dismissed at pleasure, was a mere instru¬
ment in the hands of those artful ministers, whose cha¬
racter became so venerable and sacred, that they were
finally regarded, not merely as attendants and wor¬
shippers, but as the peculiar family of the god. Their
number was considerable, and never exactly ascertain¬
ed, since all the principal inhabitants of Delphi,
claiming an immediate relation to Apollo, were enti¬
tled to officiate in the rites of his sanctuary $ and
even the inferior ranks belonging to that sacred city
were continually employed in dances, festivals, proces¬
sions, and in displaying all the gay pageantry of an airy
and elegant superstition.
Delphi rvas conveniently situated for the con¬
flux of votaries, lying in the centre of Greece, and,
as was then imagined, of the universe. It was cu¬
stomary for those who consulted the oracle to make
rich presents to the god : his servants and priests feast¬
ed on the numerous victims which were sacrificed to
him ; and the rich magnificence of his temple had be¬
come proverbial even in the age of Homer. In after
times, Croesus, the wealthiest of monarchs, was par¬
ticularly munificent in his donations. This sacred
repository of opulence was therefore often the ob¬
ject of plunder. Neoptolemus was slain, while sacri¬
ficing, on suspicion of a design of that kind. Xer¬
xes divided his army at Panopeus and proceeded
with the main body through Boeotia into Attica,
while a party keeping Parnassus on the right, ad¬
vanced along Schiste to Delphi 5 but was taken with
a panic when near Ilium, and fled. This monarch, it
is related, was as well apprised of the contents of the
temple, and the sumptuous offerings of Halyattes and
Croesus, as of the effects which he had left behind in,
his own palace. The divine hoard was seized by the
Phocensians under Philomelas, and dissipated in a long,
war with the Amphictyons. The Gauls experien¬
ced a reception like that of the Persians* and mans-.,
fested
Delphi
I! .
Delphi¬
nium.
DEL [ i
fested similar dismay and superstition. Sylla, wanting
money to pay his army, sent to borrow from the holy
treasury, and when his messenger would have fright^
ened him, by reporting a prodigy, that the sound ot
H harp had been heard from within the sanctuary, re¬
plied, it was a sign that the god was happy to oblige
him.
The trade of Apollo, after it had flourished for a
long period, was affected by the mal practices of some
concerned in the partnership, who were convicted of
bribery and corruption, and ruined the character of
their principal. The temple in the time of Strabo was
reduced to extreme poverty j but the offerings which
remained were very numerous. Apollo was silent, ex¬
cept some efforts at intervals to regain his lost credit.
Nero attempted to drive him, as it were, by violence,
from the cavern ; killing men at the mouth, and pol-
luting it with blood $ but he lingered on, and would
not entirely forsake it. Answers were reported as
given by him afterwards, but not without suspicion of
forgery. An oracle of Apollo at another place inform¬
ed ^he consultors, that he should no more recover ut¬
terance at Delphi, but enjoined the continuance of the
accustomed offerings.
The city of Delphi was free under the Romans. In
the time of Pausanias, who has particularly described
it, there still remained an invaluable treasure of the of¬
ferings within the court of the temple. The number,
variety, and beauty of these were prodigious. The store
appeared inexhaustible*, and the robbery of Nero, who
removed five hundred brazen images, was rather re¬
gretted than perceived. The holy treasuries, though
empty, served as memorials of the piety and glory of
the cities which erected them. The Athenian portico
preserved the beaks of ships and the brazen shields -,
trophies won in the Peloponnesian war. And a multi¬
tude of curiosities remained untouched.
Constantine the Great, however, proved a more fatal
enemy to Apollo and Delphi than either Sylla or Ne¬
ro. He removed the sacred tripods to adorn the hip¬
podrome of his new city *, where these, with the A-
pollo, the statues of the Heliconian muses, and the ce¬
lebrated Pan, dedicated by the Greek cities, after the
war with the Medes, were extant when Sozomen
wrote his history. Afterwards Julian sent Oribasius
to restore the temple : but he was admonished by an ora¬
cle to represent to the emperor the deplorable condi¬
tion of the place. ‘ Tell him the well-built court is fal¬
len to the ground. Phoebus has not a cottage, noi
the prophetic laurel, nor the speaking fountain Cas-
Hotis *, and even the beautiful water is extinct.’ See
Delphos, .. , i .
DELPHINIA, in Antiquity, feasts which the in¬
habitants of Egina celebrated in honour of Apollo,
surnamed Delphinius, so called, as it is pretended, be¬
cause he assumed the form of a dolphin to conduct ,Ca-
stilius and his colony from the isle ot Crete to the
Sinus Crissarus Delphinium, one ef the courts ot judi¬
cature of the Athenians 3 so called from the proximity
of the place, where they held their assemblies, to the
temple of Apollo Delphinius.
DELPHINIUM, Dolphin-flower, or Lark¬
spur *, a genus of plants belonging to the polyandria
class *, and in the natural method ranking under the
26th order, Mvltisiliquee. See Botany Index.
34 ] DEL
DELPHINUS, or Dolphin, a genus of [fishes Delphiaus,
belonging to the order of Cete. See CETOLOGY Delphos.
Index.
Delphinus, in Astronomy, a constellation of the
northern hemisphere 3 whose stars in Ptolemy’s cata¬
logue are 10 3 in Tycho’s the same number 3 in Heve-
lius’s 143 and in Flamstead’s 18.
DELPHOS, a town, or rather village, of Tur¬
key in Asia, in the province of Libadia 3 occupying
part of the site of the ancient Delphi. See Delphi.
A late traveller * informs us, that Aome vestiges of * Chand-
temples are visible 3 and above them in the mountain &**’« Tra-
side, are sepulchres, niches, and horizontal cavities for^J*^”
the body, some covered with slabs. Farther on is a '
niche cut in the rock with a seat, intended, it seems,
for the accommodation of travellers wearied with the
rueged track and the long ascent. Ihe monastery is
onC the site of the gymnasium. Strong terrace walls
and other traces of a large edifice remain. The village
is at a distance. Castalia is on the right hand as you
ascend to it, the water coming from on high and cros¬
sing the road 3 a steep precipice, above which the
mountain still rises immensely, continuing on in that
direction. The village consists of a few poor cottages
of Albanians covering the site of the temple and oracle.
Beneath it to the south is a church of St Elias, vyith
areas, terrace-walls, arches, and vestiges of the build¬
ings once within the court. The concavity of the
rock in this part gave to the site the resemblance of a
theatre. Turning to the left hand, as it were toward
the extremity of one of the wings, you come again to
sepulchres hewn in the rock, and to a semicircular re¬
cess or niche with a seat as on the other side. Higher
up than the village, is the hollow of the stadium, in
which were some seats and scattered fragments.
Higher up, within the village, is a piece of ancient
wall, concealed from view by a shed, which it sup¬
ports. The stone is brown, rough, and ordinary,
probably that of Parnassus. On the south side are
many inscriptions, with wide gaps between the letters,
which are negligently and faintly cut 3 all nearly of the
same tenor, and very difficult to copy. They jegister
the purchase of slaves who had entrusted the price of
their freedom to the god ; containing the contract be¬
tween Apollo and their owners, witnessed by his
priests and by some of the archons. This remnant
seems to be part of the wall before Cassotis 3 as above
it is still a fountain, which supplies the village with ex¬
cellent water.
The water ef Castalia in the neighbourhood, from
which the Pythia, and the poets who versified her an¬
swers, were believed to deprive a large share of their
inspiration, descends through a cleft of Parnassus 3 the
rock on each side high and steep, ending in two sum¬
mits 5 of which one was called Hyampeia, and had be¬
neath it the sacred portion of Autonous, a local hero
as distinguished as Ph) Incus. From this precipice the
Delphians threw down the famous iEsop. By the
stream within the cleft, are seen small broken stairs
leading to a cavity in which is water, and once per¬
haps up to the top. Grooves have been cut, and the
marks of tools are visible on the rock 3 but the cur¬
rent, instead of supplying a fountain, now passes over
its native bed, and hastens down a course.4 deep-worn
to join the Plistus. Close by, at the foot of the eastern
precipice,
DEL [ 135 ] DEL
* IDelphos precipice, is a bason with steps on the margin, once,
^ II it is likely, the bath used by the Pythia. Above, in
!l)c “ge* . the side of the mountain, is a pretty church dedicated
to St John, within which are excavations resembling
niches, partly concealed from view by a tree.
DELTA, is a part of Lower Egypt, which takes
up a considerable space of ground between tbe branches
of the Nile and the Mediterranean sea : the ancients
called it the isle of Delta, because it is in the shape of
a triangle, like the Greek letter of that name. It is
id., about 130 miles along the coast from Damietta to A-
lexandria, and 70 on the sides from the place where
the Nile begins to divide itself. It is the most plenti¬
ful country in all Egypt, and it rains more thei'e than
in other parts, but the fertility is chiefly owing to the
inundation of the river Nile. The principal towns
on the coast are Damietta, Rosetta, and Alexandria $
but, within land, Menousia, and Maala or Elmala.
DELTOIDES, in Anatomy. See Anatomy, Table
of the Muscles.
DELUGE, an inundation or overflowing of the
earth, either wholly or in part, by water.
We have several deluges recorded in history ; as that
of Ogyges, which overflowed almost all Attica; and
that of Deucalion, which drowned all Thessaly in
Greece; but the most memorable was that called the
Universal Deluge, or Noah's Flood, which overflowed
and destroyed the whole earth ; and from which only
Noah, and those with him in the ark, escaped.
f This flood makes one of the most considerable
a of the^pochas in chronology. Its history is given by Moses,
uge. Gen. ch. vi. and vii. Its time is fixed, by the best
chronologers, to the year from the creation 1656, an¬
swering to the year before Christ 2293. From this
flood, the state of the world is divided into diluvian
and antediluvian. See Antediluvians.
Among the many testimonies of the truth of this
part of the Mosaic history, we may account the ge¬
neral voice of mankind at all times, and in all parts of
* the world. The objections of the free-thinkers have
jeotions indeed principally turned upon three points, viz. l.The
the fact. want of any direct history of that event by the profane
writers of antiquity ; 2. The apparent impossibility of
accounting for the quantity of water necessary to over¬
flow the whole earth to such a depth as it is said to
have been : and, 3. There appearing no necessity for
an universal deluge, as the same might have been ac¬
complished by a partial one.
I. The former of these objections has given rise to
several very elaborate treatises, though all that has yet
been done in this way has scarcely been able to silence
the objectors. Mr Bryant, in his system of Mythology,
has with great learning and considerable success endea¬
voured to show, that the deluge was one of the prin¬
cipal, if not the only foundation of the Gentile wor¬
ship ; that the first of their deities was Noah ; that all
nations of the world look up to him as their founder;
and that he, his sons, and the first patriarchs, are al¬
luded to in most if not all of the religious ceremonies,
not only of the ancient but of the modern heathens. In
short, according to this author, the deluge, so far from
being forgot, or obscurely mentioned by the heathen
world, is in reality conspicuous throughout every one
of their acts of religious worship.
The Egyptian Osiris, according to him, was the same
with Ham the son of Noah, though the name was some- 'bciU2C
times bestowed on Noah himself. That this is the case, v——-J
is evident, he thinks, from its being said that he was 3
exposed in the ark, and afterwards restored to day : ^ryant’s
that he planted the vine, taught mankind agriculture, ^hc^ancient
and inculcated upon them the maxims of religion and heroes,
justice. Something of the same kind is related of
Perseus. He is represented by some ancient historians
as a great astronomer, and well versed in other sciences.
After being conceived in a shower of gold, he was ex¬
posed in an ark upon the waters, and is said to have
had a renewal of life.—The history of Myrina the A-
mazon aftords a kind of abridgement and mixture of
the histories of Osiris and Perseus. Similar to these
is the history of Hercules himself. But our author ob¬
serves, that under the titles of Osiris, Perseus, Myrina,
&c. the ancients spoke of the exploits of a whole na¬
tion, who were no other than the Cuthites or Cush¬
ites, the descendants of Cush the son of Ham and
father of Nimrod. These people spread themselves
into the most remote corners of the globe ; and hence
the heroes whom they represented are always set forth
as conquering the whole world.—According to Dio¬
dorus Siculus, the Egyptian Osiris was the same with
the Dionusus of the Greeks. He is said to have been
twice born, and to have had two fathers and two mo¬
thers ; to have been wonderfully preserved in an ark ;
to have travelled all over the earth ; taught the use
of the vine, to build, plant, &c. The Indians claim
him as a native of their country, though some allow
that he came from the west. Of Cronus and Astarte,
it is said that they went over the whole earth, dis¬
posing of the countries as they pleased, and doing good
wherever they came. The same is related of Oura-
nus, Themis, Apollo, &c. though all their exploits
are said to have been the effects of conquest, and
their benevolence enforced by the sword. In a si¬
milar manner he explains the histories of other heroes
of antiquity; and having thus, in the characters and
history of the most celebrated personages, found
traces of the history of Noah and his family, our
author proceeds to inquire into the memorials of
the deluge itself, to be met with in the history or
religious rites of the difl’erent nations of antiquity.
“ We may reasonably suppose (says he), that the par- Tettimo-
ticulars of this extraordinary event would be grate- nies of the
fully commemorated by the patriarch himself, and deluge to
transmitted to every branch of his family ; that they
were made the subject of domestic converse, where
the history was often renewed, and ever attended withauthors.
a reverential awe and horror, especially in those who
had been witnesses to the calamity, and had experien¬
ced the hand of Providence in their favour. In pro¬
cess of time, when there was a falling oil’ from the
truth, we might farther expect, that a person of so.
high a character as Noah, so particularly distinguished
by the Deity, could not fail of being reverenced by
his posterity ; and when idolatry prevailed, that he would
be one of the first among the sons of men to whom di¬
vine honours would be paid. Lastly, we might con¬
clude, that these memorials would be interwoven in
the mythology of the Gentile world ; and that there
would be continual allusions to these ancient occur-
rences in the rites and mysteries as they were prac¬
tised by the nations of the earth. In conformity to-
these-
Delude.
DEL [ 136 ]
these suppositions, I shall endeavour to shew that these many tears.
.S
Various
title* by
which
Noah was
dktinguisl
ed.
things did happen 5 that the history of the deluge was
religiously preserved in the first ages j that every cir¬
cumstance of it is to be met with among the historians
and mythologists of different countries : and traces of
it are to be found, particularly in the sacred rites of
Egypt and of Greece.
“ It will appear from many circumstances in the
more ancient writers, that the great patriarch was
highly reverenced by his posterity. They looked up
-to him as a person highly favoured by heaven •, and
honoured him with many titles, each of which had a
reference to some particular part of his history. 'Ihey
styled him Prometheus,Deucalion, Atlas, Theuth, Zuth,
Xuthus, Inachus, Osiris. When there began to be a
tendency towards idolatry, and the adoration of the
sun was introduced by the posterity of Ham, the title
of Helius, among others, Was conferred upon him.
They called him also M>iv and M«», which is the moon.
When colonies went abroad, many took to themselves
the title of Minyadee and Minyte from him 5 just as
other's were denominated , Auritce, Hehadce,
from the sun. People of the former name are to be
found in Arabia and in other parts of the world. The
natives at Orchomenos were styled Minyce, as were
some of the inhabitants of Thessaly. Noah was the
original Zeus and Dios. He was the planter of the
vine, and inventor of fermented liquors : whence he
was denominated Zeuth, which signifies ferment, ren¬
dered Zeus by the Greeks. He was also called Z)fo-
nusos, interpreted by the Latins Bacchus, but very
improperly. Bacchus was Chus, the grandson of Noah;
as Ammon may in general be esteemed Ham, so much
reverenced by the Egyptians.
“ Among the people of the east, the true name of
the patriarch was preserved ; they called him Noas,
Naus, and sometimes contracted Nous ; and many pla¬
ces of sanctity, as well as rivers, were denominated
from him. Anaxagoras of Clazomene had obtained
some knowledge of him in Egypt. By him the pa¬
triarch was denominated Noas or Nous / and both he
and his disciples were sensible that this was a foreign
appellation ; notwithstanding which, he has acted as if
it had been a term of the Greek language. Eusebius
informs us, that the disciples of Anaxagoras say, ‘ that
Nous is, by interpretation, the deity Dis or Dios ;
and they likewise esteem Nous the same as Prome¬
theus, because he was the renewer of mankind, and
was said to have fashioned them again,1 after they
had been in a manner extinct. After this, however,
he gives a solution of the story, upon the supposition
that Nous is the same with the Greek word the
mind : that ‘ the mind was Prometheia; and Prome¬
theus w:as said to renew mankind, from new foiming
their minds, and leading them, by cultivation, f.om
ignorance.1
' "Vidas has preserved, from some ancient author,
a curious memorial of this Wonderful personage, whom
he affects to distinguish from Deucalion, and styles
Nannacus. According to him, this Nannacus was
a person of great antiquity, and prior to the time of
Deucalion. He is said to have been a king, who
foreseeing the approaching deluge, collected every
body together, and led them to a temple, where he
offered up his prayers for them, accompanied with
3
DEL
   There is likewise a proverbial expres¬
sion about Nannacus applied to people of great anti- v.
quity.
“ Stephanus gives great light to this history, and sup¬
plies many deficiencies. ‘The tradition is (says he), that
there was one formerly named Annaeus, the extent of
whose life was above 300 years. The people who were
of his neighbourhood and acquaintance had inquired of
an oracle how long he was to live ; and there was an
answer given, that when Annaeus died, all mankind
would be destroyed. The Phrygians, upon this ac¬
count, made great lamentations, from whence arose
the proverb r* t^ri Atuxx.is xAxvtnu, the lamentation of
Annaeus, made use ot for people in circumstances
highly calamitous. When the flood of Deucalion
came, all mankind were destroyed, according as the
oracle had foretold. Afterwards, when the surface of
the earth began to be again dry, Zeus ordered Prome¬
theus and Minerva to make images of clay in the form
of men ; and, when they were finished, he called the
winds, and made them breathe into each, and render
them vital.11
From these histories Mr Bryant concludes as fol¬
lows : “ However the story may have been varied,
the principal outlines plainly point out the person who
is alluded to in these histories. It is, I think, mani¬
fest, that Annaeus, and Nannacus, and even Inachus,
Deluge,
relate to Noachus or Noah. And not only these, ^“hus
but the histories of Deucalion and Prometheus bavean(jpro
alike reference to the patriarch; in the 600th year,^euS)
and not the 300th, of whose life the waters pre-same^
vailed upon the earth. He was the father of man-^oai.
kind, who were renewed in him. Hence he is repre¬
sented by another author, under the character of
Prometheus, as a great artist, by whom men were
formed anew, and were instructed in all that was
good.
“ Noah was the original Cronus and Zeus ; though
the latter is a title conferred sometimes upon his son
Ham. There is a very particular expression recorded
by Clemens of Alexandria, and attributed to Pytha¬
goras, who is said to have called the sea the tear of
Cronus ; and there was a farther tradition concerning
this person, that he drank, or swallowed up all his
children. The tears of Isis are represented as very
mysterious. They are said to have flowed whenever
the Nile began to rise, and to flood the country.—The
overflowing of that river was the great source of af¬
fluence to the people, and they looked upon it as their
chief blessing; yet it was ever attended with mystical
tears and lamentations. This was particularly ob¬
served at Coptos, where the principal deitj was Isis.
An ancient writer imagines that the tears and lamen¬
tations of the people were to implore an inundation ;
and the tears of Isis were supposed to make the river
swell. But all this was certainly said and done in me¬
morial of a former flood, of which they made the over¬
flowing of the Nile a type.
“ As the patriarch was by some represented as a
king called Naachus or Nauchus ; so by others he was
styled EnacAws, and supposed to have reigned at Argos.
Hence Inachus was made a king of Greece ; and
Phoroneus and Apis brought in succession after him.
But Inachus was not a name of Grecian original; it
is mentioned by Eusebius, in his account of the first
ages,
DEL C 137 ] DEL
ages, that there reigned in Egypt Telegonus a prince
of foreign extraction, who was the son of Ones the
shepherd, and the seventh in descent from Inachus.
And in the same author we read, that a colony went
forth from that country into Syria, where they found¬
ed the ancient city of Antioch j and that they were
conducted by Casus and Belus, who were sons of Ina¬
chus. By Inachus is certainly meant Noah j and the
history relates to some of the more early descendants
of the patriarch. His name has been rendered very
unlike itself, by having been lengthened with termina¬
tions, and likewise fashioned according to the idiom of
different languages. But the circumstances of the his¬
tory are so precise and particular, that we cannot miss
of the truth.
“ He seems in the east to have been called Noas,
Roasts, Nusus, and N^i/s •, and by the Greeks his name
was compounded Dionusus. The Ammonians, wherever
they came, founded cities to his honour ; hence places
called Ni/sa, will often occur j and indeed a great many
of them are mentioned by ancient authors. These,
though widely distant, being situated in countries far
removed, yet retained the same original histories •, and
were generally famous for the plantation of the vine.
Misled by this similarity of traditions, people in after
times imagined that Dionusus must necessarily have
been where his history occurred ; and as it was the
turn of the Greeks to place every thing to the account
of conquest, they made him a great conqueror, who
went over the face of the whole earth, and taught
mankind the plantation of the vine. We are informed,
that Dionusus went with an army over the face of the
whole earth, and taught mankind, as he passed along,
the method of planting the vine, and how to press
out the juice, and receive it in proper vessels. Though
the patriarch is represented under various titles, and
even these not always uniformly appropriated ; yet
there will continually occur such peculiar circumstances
of his history as will plainly point out the person re¬
ferred to. The person preserved is always mentioned
as preserved in an ark. He is described as being in a
state of darkness, which is represented allegorically as
a state of death. He then obtained a new life, which
is called a second birth ; and is said to have his youth
renewed. He is, on this account, looked upon as the
first-born of mankind ; and both his antediluvian
and postdiluvian states are commemorated, and some¬
times the intermediate state is also spoken of. Diodo¬
rus calls him Z)ewc«/w7z; but describes the deluge as
in a manner universal. ‘ In the deluge which hap¬
pened in the time of Deucalion, almost all flesh died.’
Apollodorus having mentioned Deucalion e? Xct^xKi,
cotisigned to the ark, takes notice upon his quitting
it, of his offering up an immediate sacrifice to the
God who delivered him. As he was the father of all
mankind, the ancients have made him a person of
very extensive rule ; and supposed him to have been a
king. Sometimes he is described as a monarch of
the whole earth ; at other times he is reduced to a
petty king of Thessaly. He is mentioned by Hella-
dias in this latter capacity; who speaks of the deluge
in his time, and of his building altars to the gods.
Apollonius Rhodius supposes him to have been a na¬
tive of Greece, according to the common notions ;
but notwithstanding his prejudices he gives so parti-
Yol. VII. Part I. t
cular a character of him, that the true history cannot Deij,,.,.
be mistaken. He make,s him indeed the son of Pro- <—y-L—>
metheus, the son of Japetus; but in these ancient my¬
thological accounts all genealogy must be entirely dis¬
regarded. Though this character be not precisely
true, yet we may learn that the person represented was
the first of men, through whom religious rites were
renewed, cities built, and civil polity established in the
world ; none of which circumstances are applicable to
any king of Greece. We are assured by Philo, that
Deucalion was Noah ; and the Chaldeans likewise men¬
tioned him by the name of Xisuthrus, as we are inform¬
ed by Cedrenus. ^
“ That Deucalion was unduly adjudged by the Deucalion
people of Thessaly to their country solely, may be proved not
proved from his name occurring in different parts oft() *mve ,,e~
the world, and always accompanied with some history
of the deluge. The natives of Syria laid the same
claim to him. He was supposed to have founded the
temple at Hierapolis, where was a chasm through
which the waters after the deluge were said to have
retreated. He was likewise reported to have built
the temple of Jupiter at Athens; where there was a
cavity of the same nature, and a like tradition, that the
waters of the flood passed off through this aperture.
However groundless the notions may be of the waters
having retreated through these passages, yet they show
what impressions of this event were retained by the
Ammonians, who introduced some history of it where-
ever they came. As different nations succeeded one
another in these parts, and time produced a mixture of
generations, they varied the history, and modelled it
according to their notions and traditions; yet the
ground-work was always true, and the event for a long¬
time universally commemorated. Josephus, who seems
to have been a person of extensive knowledge, and
versed in the histories of nations, says, that this great
occurrence was to be met with in the writings of all
persons who treated of the first ages. He mentions
Berosus of Chaldea, Hieronymus of Egypt, who wrote
concerning the antiquities of Phoenicia ; also Alnaseas,
Abydenus, Melon, and Nicholaus Damascenus, as wri¬
ters, by whom it was recorded, and adds, that it was
taken notice of by many others. g
“ Among the eastern nations, the traces of this Accounts of
event are more vivid and determinate than those ofthe flood
Greece, and more conformable to the accounts of Mo-arnon8 ^
ses. Eusebius has preserved a most valuable extract to^^'”1 na*
this purpose from Abydenus; which was taken from
the archives of the Medes and Babylonians. This
writer speaks of Noah, whom he names Seisithrus, as a
king; and says, that the flood began upon the 15th
day of the month Desius ; that during the prevalence
of the waters, Seisithrus sent out birds, that he might
judge if the flood had remained ; but that the birds,
not finding any resting place, returned to him again.
This was repeated three times; when the birds were
found to return with their feet stained with soil ; by
which he knew the flood was abated. Upon this
he quitted the ark, and was never more seen of men,
being taken away by the gods from the earth. Aby¬
denus concludes with a particular, in which the eastern
writers are unanimous ; that the place of descent from
the ark was in Armenia, and speaks of its remains be¬
ing preserved for a long time. Plutarch mentions the
S Noachic
Deluge.
DEL [
Noachic dove, and its being sent out of the ark. But
' the most particular history of the deluge, and the near¬
est of any to the account given by Moses, is to be
found in Lucian. He was a native of Samosata, a
city of Comagene, upon the Euphrates, a part of the
world where memorials of the deluge were particu¬
larly preserved, and where a reference to that history
was continually kept up in the rites and worship of the
country. His knowledge, therefore, was obtained from
the Asiatic nations among whom he was born, and
not from his kinsmen the Helladians, who were far in¬
ferior in the knowledge of ancient times. He de¬
scribes Noah under the name of Deucalion ; and says,
4 that the present race of mankind are different from
those who first existed $ for those of the antediluvian
world were all destroyed. The present world is peopled
from the sons of Deucalion ; having increased to so
great a number from one person. In respect to the
former brood, they were men of violence, and lawless
in their dealings. They regarded not oaths, nor ob¬
served the rights of hospitality, nor showed mercy to
those who sued for it. On this account they were
doomed to destruction ; and for this purpose there was
a mighty eruption of waters from the earfh, attended
with heavy showers from above ; so that the rivers
swelled, and the sea overflowed, till the whole earth
was covered with a flood, and all flesh drowned. Deu¬
calion alone was preserved to repeople the world.
This mercy was shown to him on account of his piety
and justice. His preservation was effected in this man¬
ner: He put all his family, both his sons and their
wives, into a vast ark which he had provided, and he
went into it himself. At the same time animals of
every species, boars, horses, lions, serpents, whatever
lived upon the face of the earth, followed him by pairs *,
all which he received into the ark, and experienced
no evil from them ; for there prevailed a wonderful
harmony throughout, by the immediate influence of
the Deity. Thus were they wafted with him as long
as the flood endured.’ After this he proceeds to
mention, that upon the disappearing of the waters,
Deucalion went lorth from the ark, and raised an altar
to God ; but he transposes the scene to Hierapolis in
Syria, where the natives pretended, as has been al¬
ready mentioned, to have very particular memorials of
the deluge.
DEL
Remains of “ Most of the authors who have transmitted to us
the ark
said to
have been
long vi¬
sible.
these accounts, at the same time informs us, that the
remains of the ark were to be seen in their days on one
of the mountains of Armenia. Abydenus particular¬
ly says, in confirmation of this opinion, that the people
of the country used to get small pieces of the wood,
which they carried about by way of amulet. And Be-
rosus mentions, that they scraped off the asphaltus with
which it was covered, and used it as a charm. Some
of the fathers seem to insist on the certainty of the ark
being still remaining in their time. Theophilus says
expressly, that the remains were to be seen upon the
mountains of Aram, or Armenia. And Chrysostom
appeals to it as to a thing well known. ‘ Do not (says
be) those mountains of Armenia bear witness to the
truth ? those mountains where the ark first rested ?
And are not the remains of it preserved there even un¬
to this day.’
“ There was a custom among the priests of Ammon,
2
138 1
of carrying a boat in procession at particular seasons, Deluge,
in which was an oracular shrine held in great venera- ■/—* *■
tion. They were said to have been 80 in number, ^1°
and to have carried the sacred vessel about just as they
were directed by the impulse ol the Deity. Ibis cu-rjecj ;n pr(l
stom was likewise in use among the Egyptians 5 and cession by
Bishop Pocock has preserved three specimens of ancient the Amu*
sculpture, wherein this ceremony is displayed. Tliey^"®^'
are of wonderful antiquity, aud were found by him in
Upper Egypt.
44 Part of the ceremony in most of the ancient my¬
steries consisted in carrying about a ship or boatwhich
custom, upon due examination, will be found to relate
to nothing else but Noah and the deluge. I he ship of
Isis is well known, and the festivity among the ^Egyp¬
tians whenever it was carried in public. The name oi
this, and of all the navicular shrines, was Baris j which
is remarkable, for it was the very name of the moun¬
tain, according to Nicolaus Damascenus, on which the
ark of Noah rested, the same as Ararat in Armenia.
He mentions, that there is a large mountain in Arme¬
nia, which stands above the country of the Minyser
called Baris ; to this it was said that many people be¬
took themselves in the time of the deluge, and were
saved ; and there is a tradition of one person in parti¬
cular floating in an ark, and arriving at the summit of
the mountain. We may be assured then, that the
ship of Isis was a sacred emblem ; in honour of which
there was among the Egyptians an annual festival. It
was in after times admitted among the Homans, and
set down in their kalemlar for the month of March.
The former, in their description of the primary deities,
have continually some reference to a ship or float.
Hence we frequently read of ©ea; yaasmAAoms (sailing
gods). They oftentimes, says Porphyry, describe tire
sun in the character of a man sailing upon a float. And
Plutarch observes to the same purpose, that they did
not represent the sun and moon in chariots, but waft¬
ed about upon floating machines. In doing which they
did not refer to the luminaries, but to a person repre¬
sented under those titles. The sun, or Orus, is like¬
wise described by Jamblichus as sitting upon the lotus,
and sailing in a vessel. „ . n
“ It is said of Sesostris, that he constructed a ship
which was 280 cubits in length. It was of cedar, ship of S
plated without with gold, and inlaid with silver; aiul so‘‘ris e:
it was, when finished, dedicated to Osiris at Thebes.l?!ain€
It is not credible that there should have been a ship of
this size, especially in an inland district, the most re¬
mote of any in Egypt. It was certainly a temple and
a shrine. The former was framed upon this large
scale ; and it was the latter on which tjie gold and sil¬
ver were so lavishly expended. There is a remarkable
circumstance relating to the Argonautic expedition ;
that the dragon slain by Jason was of the size of a
trireme ; by which must be meant, that it was of the
shape of a ship in general, for there were no triremes
at the time alluded to. And I have moreover shown,
that all these dragons, as they have been represented by
the poets, were in reality temples, Dracontia ; where,
among other rites, the worship of the serpent was in¬
stituted. There is another reason to think, that this
temple, as well as that of Sesostris, was fashioned, in
respect to its superficial contents, alter the model of
a ship ; and as to the latter, it was probably intended
in,
\
DEL [ 139 ] DEL
Deluge, in its outlines, to be the exact repi'esentation of the
«—v—"—'ark, in commemoration of which it was certainly built.
It was a temple sacred to Osiris at Tbeba : or, to say
the truth, it was itself called Theba; and both the
city, said to be one of the most ancient in Egypt, as
well as the province, were undoubtedly denominated
from it. Now Theba was the name of the ark. It is
the very word made use of by the sacred writer ; so
that we may, I think, be assured of the prototype
after which this temple was fashioned. It is said in¬
deed to have been only 280 cubits in length ; whereas
the ark of Noah was 300. But this is a variation of
only one-fifteenth in the whole: and as the ancient
cubit was not in all countries the same, we may sup¬
pose that this disparity arose rather from the manner of
measuring, than from any real difference in the extent
of the building. It was an idolatrous temple, said to
have been built by Sesostris in honour of Osiris. I
have been repeatedly obliged to take notice of tbe ig¬
norance of the Greeks in respect to ancient titles,
and have shown their misapplication of terms in many
instances ; especially in their supposing temples to have
been erected by persons to whom they were in reality
sacred. Sesostris was Osiris ; the same as Dionusus,
Menes, and Noah. He is called Seisithrus by Abyde-
nus ; Xixouthros by Berosus and Apollodorus j and is
represented by them as a prince in whose time the de¬
luge happened. He was called Zuth, Xuth, and Zem;
n and bad certainly divine honours paid to him.
Hher em- Pausanias gives a remarkable account of a temple
epresenta Hercules at Eruthra in Ionia; which he mentions
ions ex- as highest antiquity, and very like those of
ilained, Egypt. The deity was represented upon a float, and
was supposed to have come thither in this manner from
Phamicia. Aristides mentions, that at Smyrna, upon
the feast called Dionysia, a ship used to be carried in
procession. Tbe same custom prevailed among the
Athenians at tbe Panathensea ; when what was termed
the sacred ship was borne with great reverence through
the city to the temple of Dameter at Eleusis. At
Phalerus, near Athens, there were honours paid to an
unknown hero, who was represented in the stern of a
ship. At Olympia, the most sacred place in Greece,
was a representation of the like nature. It was a
building like the fore-part of a ship, which stood facing
the end of the hippodromus ; and towards the middle
of it was an altar, upon which, at the renewal of each
olympiad, certain rites were performed.
“ I think it is pretty plain that all these emblemati¬
cal representations, of which I have given so many in¬
stances, related to the history of the deluge, and the
conservation of one family in the ark. This history
was pretty recent when these works were executed
in Egypt, and when the rites were first established :
and there is reason to think, that in early times most
shrines of the Mizraim were formed under the resem¬
blance of a ship, in memory of this great event. Nay,
farther, both ships and temples received their names
from thence, being styled by the Greeks, who bor¬
rowed largely from Egypt, Navj, and N«ej, and mari¬
ners Ncivtx, Nautce, in reference to the patriarch, who
was variously styled Noas, Nous, and Noah.
“ However the Greeks may in their mysteries have
sometimes introduced a ship as a symbol, yet in their
reference to the deluge itself, and to the persons pre¬
served, they always speak of an ark. And though Delude,
they were apt to mention the same person under va-
rious titles, and by these means different people seem
to be made principals in the same history ; yet they
were so far uniform in their account of this particular
event, that they made each of them to be exposed in
an ark. Thus it is said of Deucalion, Perseus, and
Dionusus, that they were exposed upon the waters in
a machine of this fabric. Adonis was bid in an ark
by \enus, and was supposed to have been in a state of
death for a year. Theocritus introduces a pastoral
personage named Comates, who was exposed in an ark
for the same term, and wonderfully preserved. Of
Osiris being exposed in an ark we have a very remark¬
able account in Plutarch; who mentions, that it was
on account of Typhon, and that it happened on the
17th ol the month Athyr, when the sun was in Scor¬
pio. This, in my judgment, was the precise time
when Noah entered the ark, and when the flood came,
which, in the Egyptian mythology, was called Ty¬
phon.
“ Typhon is one of those whose character has been Explana-
greatly confounded. This has arisen from two differ- tion of the
ent personages being included under one name, whoword "Ty
undoubtedly were distinguished in tbe language of E-^0”'
gypt. Typhon was a compound of Tnph or Tupha-
On ; and signified a high altar of the Deity. There
were several such in Egypt, upon which they offered
human sacrifices ; and the cities which had these al¬
tars were styled Typhonban. But there was another
Typhon, who was very different from the former, how¬
ever by mistake blended with that character. By this
was signified a mighty whirlwind and inundation ; and
it oftentimes denoted the ocean ; and particularly the
ocean in a ferment. Bor, as Plutarch observes, by
Typbon was understood any thing violent and unruly.
It was a derivative from Tuph, like the formei* name ;
which Tuph seems here to have been the same as the
Suph of tire Hebrews. By this they denoted a whirl¬
wind ; but among the Egyptians it was taken in a
greater latitude, and signified any thing boisterous,
particularly the sea. Plutarch speaks of it as denoting
the sea ; jand says likewise, that the salt of the sea
was called the foam of Typhon. It signified also a
whirlwind, as we learn from Euripides, who expresses
it Tuphos ; and the like is to be found in Hesychius,
who calls it a violent wind.
“ The history of Typhon was taken from hiero-
glyphical descriptions. In these the dove, oinas, was
represented as hovering over the mundane egg, which
was exposed to the fury of Typhon : For an egg,
containing in it the elements of life, was thought no
improper emblem of the ark, in which were preserved
the rndiments of the future world. Hence, in the
Dionusiaca, and in other mysteries, one part of the
nocturnal ceremony consisted in the consecration of an
egg. By this, we are informed by Porphyry, was
signified the world. This world was Noah and his fa¬
mily ; even all mankind, inclosed and preserved in the
ark.
“ In respect to Typhon, it must be confessed that
the history given of him is attended with some obscu¬
rity. The Grecians have comprehended several cha¬
racters under one term, which the Egyptians undoubt¬
edly distinguished. The term was used for a title as
S 2 well
Pelti're.
DEL [ 140 ]
well as a name; and several of those personages which Noah in
had a relation to the deluge were styled lyphonian or
Diluvian. All these the Grecians have included un¬
der one and the same name, Typhon. The real deity
by whom the deluge was brought upon the earth had
the appellation of Typhonian, by which was meant
Diluvii Dews (a). It is well known that the ark was
constructed by a divine commission : in which, when
it was completed, God inclosed the patriarch and his
family. Hence it is said, that Typhon made an ark
of curious workmanship, that he might dispose ol the
body of Osiris. Into this Osiris entered, and was shut
up by Typhon. All this relates to the Typhonian
deity who inclosed Noah, together with his family,
within the limits of an ark. The patriarch also, who
was thus interested in the event, had the title of ly¬
phonian. I have shown that the ark by the mytho-
logists was spoken of as the mother of mankind. I he
stav in the ark was looked upon as a state of death
and of regeneration. The passage to life was through
the door of the ark, which was formed in its side.
Through this the patriarch made his descent: and at
this point was the commencement of time. This hi¬
story is obscurely alluded to in the account of Typhon ;
of whom it is said, that without any regard to time
or place, he forced a passage and burst into light ob¬
liquely through the side of his mother. Ibis return
to light was described as a revival from the grave ; and
Plutarch accordingly mentions the return of Osins
from Hades, after he had been for a long season in¬
closed in an ark and in a state of death. Ibis re¬
newal of life was by the Egyptians esteemed a second
state of childhood. They accordingly, in their hiero¬
glyphics, described him as a boy, whom they placed
upon the lotus or water-lily, and called him Orus. He
was the supposed son of Isis ; but it has been shown
that Isis, Rhea, Atargatis, were all emblems of the
ark, that receptacle which was styled the mother of
mankind. Orus is represented as undergoing from
the Titans all that Osiris suffered from Typhon ; and
the history at bottom is the same. Hence it is said
of Isis, that she had the power of making people im¬
mortal ; and that when she found her son Orus, in the
midst of the waters, dead through the malice of the
Titans, she not only gave him a renewal of life, but
also conferred upon him immortality.
V In this manner does our author decipher almost all
the ancient fables, of which no satisfactory solution was
ever given before. He shows that the primitive gods of
E<rypt, who were in number eight, were no other than
the eight persons saved in the ark ; that almost all the
heathen deities had one way or other a reference to
Noah. He shows that he was characterised under the
titles of Janus, Nereus, Proteus, Cannes, Dagon, &c.
&c and in short, that the deluge, so far from being
unknown to the heathens, or forgot by them, was m
a manner the basis of the whole of their worship. He
traces the history of the rayen and dove sent forth by
Deluge.
DEL
the customs of various nations, not only in
the east but the west also. Of the numberless testi¬
monies of the truth of this part of sacred history to
be met with among the western nations, however, we
shall select one more, which is an ancient coin usually ^
known by the name of the Apamean medal. “ The Account ol
learned Falconerius (says Mr Bryant) has a curious the Apa-
dissertation upon a coin of Philip the Elder, which ^ me‘
was struck at Apamea (b), and contained on its re¬
verse an epitome of this history. The reverse of most
Asiatic coins relates to the religion and mythology of
the places where they were struck. On the reverse of
this coin is delineated a kind of square machine float¬
ing upon the water. Through an opening in it are
seen two persons, a man and a woman, as low as the
breast ; and upon the head of the woman is a veil.
Over this ark is a triangular kind of pediment, on
which there sits a dove ; and below it another, which
seems to flutter its uungs, and hold in its mouth a small
branch of a tree. Before the machine is a man fol-
lowinp a woman, who by their attitude seem to have
just quitted it, and to have got upon dry land. Upon
the ark itself, underneath the persons there inclosed,
is to be read in distinct characters, NflE. The learn¬
ed editor of this account says, that it had fallen to his
lot to meet with three of these coins. They were of
brass, and of the medallion size. One of them be
mentions to have seen in the collection of the duke
of Tuscany ; the second in that of the cardinal Otto-
boni; and the third was the property of Augustino
Chigi, nephew to Pope Alexander VII.” _ 15
Not content with these testimonies, however, which Accwints
are to be met with in the western regions, or at least vf the fcw
in those not very far to the eastward, our author shows °
that “the same mythology (of the Egyptians), and ant]
the same hieroglyphics, were carried as far as China Japan,
and Japan; where they are to be found at this day.”
The Indians have a person whom they call Buto or
Budo. This is the same as Boutus of Egypt, Battus
of Cyrene, and Boeotus of Greece : the account gi¬
ven of him is similar to that of Typhon ; for it is said
that he did not come to life in the usual way, but
made himself a passage through the side of his mother ;
which mother is represented as a virgin. This history,
though now current among the Indians, is of great
antiquity, as we may learn from the account given of
this personage by Clemens Alexandrinus. “ There is
a cast of Indians (says he) who are disciples of Bou-
tas. This person, on account of his extraordinary
sanctity, they look up to as a god.” The name of
Boutas, Battus, and Boeotus, though apparently con¬
ferred upon the patriarch, yet originally related to the
machine in which he was preserved. Of this some
traces may be found among the Greeks. One of the
Ammonian names for the ark was Aren or Arene ;
and Boeotus is said by Diodorus Siculus to have been
the son of Neptune and Arne, which is a contraction
of arene the ark. The chief city, Boutus in Egypt,
where
(a) “ Plutarch owns that the Egyptians in some instances esteemed Typhon to be no other than Helms the
^^^Tpamea was one of the names of th,
»rk,.
DEL. [ mi 1 DEL
Deluo-e. wliere was; ^ie floating temple, signified properly the
—VA—' city of the float or ark. The Boeotians, who in the
Dionusiaca so particularly commemorated the ark, were
supposed to be descended from an imaginary personage
Btzotus •, and from him likewise their country was
thought to have received its name. But Boeotus was
merely a variation from Boutus, and Butus, the ark ;
which in ancient times was indifferently styled Theba,
Argus, Aren, Butus, and Boeotus. The term Cibo-
tus is a compound of the same purport, and signifies
both the temple of the ark and also a place for ship-
ping.
“ All the mysteries of the Gentile world seem to
have been memorials of the deluge, and of the event
which immediately succeeded. They consisted for the
most part of a melancholy process ; and were celebra¬
ted by night, in commemoration of the state of darkness
in which the patriarch and his family had been invol¬
ved. ilie first thing at those awful meetings was to
ofi'e ran oath of secrecy to all who were to be initiated :
i(j alter which they proceeded to the ceremonies : these
plana- began with a description of chaos ; by which was sig-
on of the nified some memorial of the deluge. Chaos was certain-
ordChaos.]y the same as /3</0a5, the great abyss. Who, says Epi-
phanius, is so ignorant as not to know, that Chaos and
Buthos, the abyss, are of the same purport ?
“ The names of the deities in Japan and China, and
the form of them, as well as the mythology with which
they are attended, point out the country from whence
they originally came. In China the deity upon the
lotus in the midst of waters, has been long a favourite
emblem, and was imported from the west : the in-
signe of the dragon was from the same quarter. The
Cuthites worshipped Cham, the sun j whose name they
variously compounded. In China, most things which
have any reference to splendour and magnificence, seem
to be denominated from the same object. Cham is
said, in the language of that country, to signify any
thing supreme. Cum is a fine building or palace, simi¬
lar to Coma of the Ammonians. Cum is a lord or ma¬
ster j Cham a sceptre. Lastly, by Cham is signified a
priest, analogous to the Chamanim and Chamenim of
Cutha and Babylonia. The country itself is by the
Tartars called Ham. The cities Cham-ju, Campion,
Compition, Cumdan, Chamul, and many others of the
same form, are manifestly compounded of the sacred
term Cham. Cambalu, the name of the ancient me¬
tropolis, is the city of Cham-bal; and Milton styles it
very properly Cambalu, seat of Cathaian Chan. By
this is meant the chief city of the Cuthean monarch ;
for Chan is a derivative of Cahen, a prince. It seems
sometimes in China and Japan to have been expressed
Quan and Quauo.
“ Two temples are taken notice of by Hamilton, near
Syrian in Pegu, which he represents as so like in struc¬
ture, that they seemed to be built on the same model.
One of these was called Kiakiack, or the God of Gods
temple. The other is called the temple of Da gun ; and
the doors and windows of it are perpetually shut, so that
none can enter but the priests. They will not tell of
what shape the idol is, but only say that it is not of
human form. The former deity, Kiakiack, is repre¬
sented as asleep, of a human shape, and 60 feet long ;
and when he awakes, the world is to be destroyed. As
soon as Kiakiack has dissolved the frame and being of
this world, Dagun will gather up the fragments, and Dcliwe.
make a new one. I make no doubt but the true name  vr~
ot the temple was lach Inch, and dedicated to the
same god as the Jachusi in Japan. Mr Wise takes no¬
tice ol the Grecian exclamation to Hionusus, when
the terms lucchc, 0 lacche, were repeated : and he sup-
po-es, with great prebability, that the Pegnan name had
a reference to the same deity. It is certain, that the
worship of Hionusus prevailed very early among the
nations in the east. I he Indians used to maintain,
that his rites first began among them. Professor Bayer
has shown, that traces of his worship are still to be ob¬
served among the Tamuli of Tranquebar. “ They
have a tradition (says he), that there was once a gigan¬
tic person named Mat'dashuren, who was born of Nisa-
dabura near the mountain Meru. He had the horns
of a bull, and drank wine, and made war upon the gods.
He was attended by eight Pudam, who were gigantic
and mischievous daemons, of the family of those Indian
shepherds called KobalerP Jn this account we have
a manifest reference to the history of Hionusus, as
well as that of the Bionusians, by whom his rites were
introduced. And we may perceive that it bears a
great resemblance to the accounts transmitted by the
Grecians. What are these Kobaler, who were de¬
scended from the shepherds, but the same as the Cobali
of Greece, the uniform attendants upon Hionusus ? a
set of priests whose cruelty and chicanery rendered
them infamous. ‘ The Cobali (says an ancient author)
were a set of cruel dtemons, who followed in the reti¬
nue of Hionusus.. It is a term made use of for knaves
and cheats.
“ As the deity, in the second temple of Syrian,
to which strangers were not admitted, was not of a hu¬
man form, and was called Dagun, we may easily con¬
ceive the hidden character under which he was descri¬
bed. We may conclude, that it was no other than
that mixed figure of a man and a fish, under which he
was of old worshipped both in Palestine and Syria.
He is expressed under this symbolical representation in
many parts of India ; and by the Bramins is called
Wistnou or Vishnou. Hagon and Vishnou have a like
reference. They equally represent the man of the sea,
called by Berosus Oannes ; whose history has been re¬
versed by the Indians. They suppose that he will re¬
store the world, when it shall be destroyed by the chief
God. But by Hagon is signified the very person
through whom the earth has been alreadv restored
when it was in a state of ruin, and by whom mankind
was renewed. Hagon and Noah, I have shown to be
the same. Vishnou, is represented, like Hagon, under
the mixed figure of a man and a fish, or rather of a
man, a princely figure, proceeding from a fish. The
name of this district, near which the temples above
stand, we find to be called Syrian; just as was named
the region where stood the temples of Atargatis and
Hagon. Syrus, Syria, and Syrian, are all of the same
purport, and signify Coelestis and Solaris from Sehor,
the sun.”
Our author next proceeds to describe some, of the
Indian temples or pagodas ; particularly those of Sal-
sette,, Efephanta, and another called Dior a, near Au-
runghabad in the province of Balagate, which was
visited by Thevenot. The traveller relates, that
“ upon making diligent inquiry among the natives
about 4,
D E L [ H2 ]
about the origin of these wonderful buildings, the con- “ Tenslo the
stunt tradition was, that all these pagodas, great and
small, with all their works and ornaments, were made
by giants ; but in what age they could not tell.
' “ Many of these ancient structures (continues Mr
Bryant) have been attributed to Ramscander, or Alex¬
ander the Great •, but there is nothing among these
stately edifices that in the least savours of Grecian
workmanship; nor had that monarch, nor any ot the
princes after him, opportunity to perform works ot
this nature. We have not the least reason to think
that they ever possessed the country, for they were
called off from their attention this way by feuds and
engagements nearer home. There is no tradition o
this country having been ever conquered except by the
fabulous armies of Hercules and Dionusns Vv hat has
led people to think that those works were the operation
of Alexander, is the similitude of the name Ramtxan-
der. To this person they have sometimes been attri¬
buted ; but Ramtxander was a deity, the supposed
son of Bal * and he is introduced among, the person¬
ages who were concerned in the incarnations ot is i-
n°u The temple of Elora, and all the pagodas of which
I have made mention, must be of great antiquity, as
the natives cannot reach their era. They were un¬
doubtedly the work of the Indo-Cuthites, who came
so early into these parts. And that these structures
were formed by them, will appear from many circum¬
stances j but especially from works of the same magni¬
ficence which were performed by them in other places.
For scarce any people could have effected such great
works, but a branch of that family which erected the
tower in Babylonia, the walls of Baalbec, and the py-
'having^then described a number of East Indian
idols of surprising magnitude, “ the Babylon,a"S
Egyptians (says he), and all of the same great family
used to take a pleasure in forming gigantic figures, and
exhibiting other representations equally stupendou .
Such were the colossal statues at Thebes, and the
sphinx in the plains of Coume.. The statue erected
by Nebuchadnezzar in the plains of Dura, was in
height threescore Babylonish cubits. It was proba¬
bly raised in honour of Cham, the sun ^ and perhaps it
was also dedicated to the head of the Chaldaic family,
who was deified, and reverenced under that title.
Marcellinus takes notice of a statue of Apollo named
Comeus; which, in the time of the emperor Verus was
brought from Seleucia to Rome. This rekted to he
same deity as the preceding. We may also infer, t at
the temple at Kamju was erected to Cham the sun,
whom the people worshipped under the name of Samo-
D
god of light.”
E L
~0~~ Near his temple was a Deluge,
cavern religiously visited, upon account of ius having'
been once hid, when no sun nor stars appeared. Pie
was esteemed the fountain of day, and Ins temple was
called the temple of Naiku. Near this cavern was an¬
other temple, in which the canusi or priests showed an
image of the deity sitting upon a cow. It was called
Dainits No Raij, “ the great representation of the
sun.” One of their principal gods is Jakust, similar to
the'lacchus of the west. Kaempfer says, that he is the
Apollo of the Japanese, and they describe him as the
Egyptians did Orus. His temple stands in a town cal-
hil Minnoki: and Jakusi is here represented upon a
gilt tarate flower ; which is said to be the nymphaa, pa-
lustris maxima, or faba Egyptiaca of Prosper Alpinus.
One half of a large scallop shell is like a canopy placed
over him •, and his head is surrounded with a crown of
rays. They have also an idol named Menippe, much
reverenced in different parts. Both these, continues
our author, relate to the same person, viz. Noah.
Ksempfer, an author of great credit, saw the temple
of Dabys, which be truly renders Daibod, at Jedo in
Japan.' By Daibod was meant the god Budha, whose
religion was styled the Budso, and which prevailed
greatly upon the Indus and Ganges. Ivasnipfer, ficm
whom Mr Bryant takes this account, says, that the
people of Siam represent him under the form of a
Moor, in a sitting posture, and of a prodigious size.
His skin is black, and his hair curled (probably), and
the images about him are of the same complexion.
“ This god was supposed (says Mr Bryant) to have
neither father nor mother. By Budha we are certain¬
ly to understand the idolatrous symbol called by some
nations Buddo ; the same as Argus and Theba (names
for the ark). In the mythology concerning it, we
may see a reference both to the machine itself and to
the persons preserved in it. In consequence of which
we find this person also styled Bod, Budha, and Bud¬
do ; and in the west Butus, Battus, and Boeotus. He
was said by the Indians not to have been born in the
ordinary way, but to have come to light indirectly
through the side of his mother. By Clemens of
Alexandria he is called Bouta : and in the history ot
this person, however varied, we may perceive a re¬
lation to the arklte deity of the sea, called Poseidon
or Neptune*, also to Arculus and Dionusus, styled
Baotus and Thehanus. Kaempfer has a curious history
of a deity of this sort called Abutto ; whose temple
stood in the province of Bungo, upon the sea-shore,
near the village of Toma. About a quarter of a
German mile before you come to this village, stands
a famous temple of the god Abutto *, which is said to
be very eminent for miraculously curing many invete-
. vG   {nr nrnrnrimr a wind and sood
??/It is remarkable, that in Japan the priests and no-
iility have the title of Cami. The emperor Q^bacon-
W i» a letter to the Portuguese viceroy, 1585, tells
him that Japan is the kingdom of Charms *, whom,
says he, we hold to be the same as Sew, the origin of
alf things. By Scin is probably meant San, the sun,
who was the same as Cham, rendered here Chamis.
The laws of the country are spoken of as Jc laws of
Chamis*, and we are told by Kaempfer, that all the
gods were styled either Sin or Camu The founder of
the empire is said to have been Tensio Den hin, or
tie very emmem. iu.   7 a m j
rate distempers, as also for procuring a wind and good
passage. For this reason, sailors and passengers al-
ways tie some farthings to a piece of wood, and throw
it into the sea, as an offering to this Abutto, to obtain
a favourable wind. The same deity, but under a dif¬
ferent name, was worshipped in China. The Apis,
Mneuis, and Anubis of Egypt, have often been men¬
tioned and explained, as well as the Minotaur Oi Crete.
The same hieroglyphics occur in Japan *, ana we are
informed by Marco Polo, that the inhabitants worship,
idols of different shapes. Some have the head of an
ox, some of a swine, and others the head of a dog.
BEL [ 143 ] BEL
Delude. The most common representation in this country is
that, of Goclso Ten Oo, or ‘ the ox-headed prince of
heaven.’
“ It has already been noticed, that the ark was
represented under the symbol of an egg, called the
mundane egg; which was exposed to the rage ofTy-
phon. It was also described under the figure of a lu¬
nette, and called Selene, the moon. The person by
whom it was framed, and who through its means was
providentially preserved, occurs under the character of
a steer, and the machine itself under the semblance of
a cow or heifer. We have moreover been told that
it was called Cibotus, which Clemens of Alexandria
calls Thebotha. Epiphanius mentions it by the name
Ideal Booth; and says that, according to an eastern
tradition, a person named Nim was preserved in it.
The horse ot Neptune was another emblem, as was
also the hippopotamus or river-horse. The people of
Elis made use of the tortoise for the same purpose, and
represented Venus as resting upon its back. Some,
traces of these hieroglyphics are to be found in Japan,
which wrere certainly carried thither by the Indie E-
thiopians.
“ From an account of a temple of Daiboth (probably
the same with Daibod) at Meaco in Japan, we may
perceive that the people there speak of the renewal
ol the world at the deluge as the real creation, which
I have shown to be a common mistake in the histories
of the event. And though the story is told with some
variation, yet in all the circumstances of consequence
it accords very happily with the mythology of Egypt,
Syria, and Greece. It matters not how the emblems
have by length of time been misinterpreted. We have
the mundane egg upon the waters, and the concomi¬
tant symbol of the moon *, and the egg at last opened
by the assistance of the sacred steer, upon which the
world issues forth to this day.” The author proceeds
afterwards to mention the great veneration paid in
these parts to the ox and cow j and says, that nobody
dare« injure them. One deity of the Japanese was
Canon, the reputed lord of the ocean. He was repre¬
sented in an erect posture, crowned with a flower, and
coming out of the mouth of a fish. He is represented
in the same manner by the natives of India, and named
Vishnou and Macauter; and he is to be found in other
parts of the east. Father Boushet mentions a tradi¬
tion among the Indians concerning a flood in the days
of Vishnou which covered the whole earth. It is
moreover reported of him, that seeing the prevalence
of the waters, he made a float j and being turned into
a fish, he steered it with his tail. This person, in the
account of the Banians by Lord, is called Alenow;
which certainly should be expressed Men-Now. It is
said, that in the Shaster of this people, a like history
is given of the earth being overwhelmed by a deluge,
in which mankind perished; but the world was after¬
wards renewed in two persons called Menou and Cete-
roupa. Vishnou is described under many characters,,
which he is said at times to have assumed. One of
these, according to the bramins of Tanjour, was that
of Kama Sami. This undoubtedly is the same as Sama
Kama of Babylonia, only reversed : and it relates to
that great phenomenon the Iris; which was generally
accompanied with the dove, and held in veneration by
the Semarim.
“ As the history of China is supposed to extend up- Deluge,
wards to an amazing height, it may be worth while to —-v-—
consider the first eras in the Chinese annals, as they are
represented in the writings of Japan (for the Japanese
have preserved histories of China) ; and by such a colla¬
tion, I believe no small light may be obtained towards
the discovery of some important truths. Hitherto it
has not been observed that such a collation could be
made.
“ In the histories of this country, the first monarch Japanese
of China is named Foki; the same whom the Chinese history of
call jFo///, and place at the head of their list. This ^hina.]
prince had, according to some, the body, according to
others the head, of a serpent. If we may believe the
Japanese historians, he began his reign above 21,000
years before Christ. The second Chinese emperor was
Sin-Noo, by the people of China called Sin-Ni/m ; and
many begin the chronology of the country with him.
He is supposed to have lived about 3000 years before
Christ; consequently there is an interval of near x 8,000
years between the first emperor and the second ; a cir¬
cumstance not to be credited. The third, who imme¬
diately succeeded Sin-Noo, was Hoam-Ti. In tin’s
account we may, I think, perceive, that the Chinese
have acted like the people of Greece and other re¬
gions. The histories which were imported they have
prefixed to the annals of the nation ; and adopted
the first personages of antiquity, and made them mo-
narchs in their own country. Whom can we suppose
Fohi, with the head of a serpent, to have been, but
the great founder of all kingdoms, the father of man¬
kind ? They have placed him at an immense distance,
not knowing his true ei'a. And I think we may be
assured, that under the character of Sin-Num and Sin-
Noo we have the history of Noah ; and Hoam-Ti was
no other than Ham. According to Kaempfer, Sin-
Noo was exactly the same character as Serapis of E-
gypt. ‘ Pie was a husbandman, and taught mankind
agriculture, and those arts which relate to the imme¬
diate support of life.. He also discovered the virtues
of many plants; and he was represented with the head
of an ox, and sometimes only with two horns. His
picture is held in high estimation by the Chinese.’ Well
indeed might Keempfer think, that in Sin-Noo he saw
the character of Serapis ; for this personage was no
other than Sar-Apis, the great father of mankind, the
same as Men-Neuas of Egypt, the same also as Dionu-
sus and Osiris. By Du Halde he is called C/iin-Nong,
and made the next monarch after Fohi. P'he Chinese
accounts afford the same history as has been given
above.
“ As the family of Noah consisted of eight persons
inclusive, there have been writers who have placed
some of them in succession, and supposed that thex-e
were three or four persons who reigned between Sin-
Noo and Hoam. But Du Halde says, that in the
true histories of the country, the three first monarchs
were Fohi, Chin-Nong, and Hoam, whom he styles
Hoang-Ti. To these, he says, the arts and sciences
owe their invention and progress. Thus we find, that
those who were heads of families have been raised to
be pi'inces ; and their names have been prefixed to the
list of kings ; and their history superadded to the an¬
nals of the country. It is further observable, in the
accounts given of those supposed kings, that their term
DEL
[ H4 ]
DEL
Deluge.
iS
History of
Japan.
of life, for tlie first five or six generations, corresponds
with that of the patriarchs after the flood, and decreases
much in the same proportion.
“ The history of Japan is divided into three aeras ;
■which consist of gods, demigods, and mortals. The
person whom the natives look upon to be the real
founder of their monarchy is named Synmu ; in whose
reign the Sintoo religion, the most ancient of the
country, was introduced. It was called Sin-sju and
Ckami-mitsa; from Sin and Chami, the deities which
were the objects of worship. At this time it is said
> that 600 foreign idols were brought into Japan. rlo
the Sintoo religion was afterwards added the Budso,
togetiier with the worship of Amida. This deity they
commonly represented with the head of a dog, and
esteemed him the guardian of mankind. Ihis re¬
ligion was more complicated than the former, and
abounded with hieroglyphical representations and my¬
sterious rites. It is the same which I have termed
the Arkitc Idolatry, wherein the sacred steer and cow
were venerated. The deity was represented upon the
lotus and upon a tortoise, and oftentimes as proceeding
from a fish. In this also, under the character of Bud-
ha, we may trace innumerable memorials of the ark,
and of the person preserved in it. Ihe author above,
having mentioned the eleventh emperor inclusive fiom
Syn-Mu, tells us, that in his time these rites began.
* In his reign Budo, otherwise called Koboius, came
over from the Indies to Japan ; and brought with him,
upon a white horse, his religion and doctrines. We
find here, that the object of worship is made the person
who introduced it (a mistake almost universally preva¬
lent) *, otherwise in this short account what a curious
rhistory is unfolded !
“ The only people to whom we can have recourse
for any written memorials concerning these things are
the inhabitants of India Proper. They were, we
find, the persons who introduced these hieroglyphics
both’ in China and Japan. It will therefore be worth
while to consider what they have transmitted concern-
their religious opinions j as we may from hence
obtain still greater light towards explaining this sym¬
bolical worship. Every manifestation of God’s good¬
ness to the world was in the first ages expressed by an
hieroglyphic j and the Deity was accordingly de¬
scribed under various forms, and in different atti¬
tudes. These at length were mistaken for real trans¬
figurations ; and Vishnou was supposed to have ap¬
peared in different shapes, which were styled incarna¬
tions. In one of these he is represented under the fi¬
gure before mentioned, of a princely person coming
out of a fish. In another he appears with the head
of a boar, treading upon an evil daemon, which seems
to be the same as the Typhon of the Egyptians. . On
his head he supports a lunette, in which are seen cities,
towers, in short, all that the world contains._ In
Baldaeus we have a delineation and history ol this in¬
carnation. Kircher varies a little in his representa¬
tion, vet gives him a similar figure of the Deity, and
«tyles him Barachater. By this I should think
was signified Vishnou, “ the offspring of the fish.”
The bramins say, that there was a time when the ser¬
pent with a thousand heads withdrew itself, and would
not support the world, it was so overburdened with
sin. Upon this the earth sunk in the great abyss of
3
waters, and mankind and all that breathed perished. Deluge,
But Vishnou took upon himself the form above de-*',“,“v
scribed, and diving to the bottom of the sea, lifted up
the earth out of the waters, and placed it, together
with the serpent of a thousand heads, upon the back of
a tortoise. 19
“In the third volume of M. Perron’s Zendavesta Account:
there is an account given of the cosmogony of thec°s™'
Persees *, also of the subsequent great events that en- c
sued. The supreme Deity, called by him gjvenbyt
is said to have accomplished the creation at six dif- Persees.
ferent intervals. He first formed the heavens j at the
second the waters ; at the third the earth. Next
in order were produced the trees and vegetables j in
the fifth place were formed birds and fishes, and the
wild inhabitants of the woods •, and in the sixth and
last place, he created man. The man thus produced
is said to have been an ox-like person, and is described
as consisting of a purely divine and a mortal part.
For some time after his creation he lived in great hap¬
piness } but at last the world was corrupted by a dae¬
mon named Ahriman. This daemon had the boldness
to visit heaven : whence he came down to the earth in
the form of a serpent, and introduced a set of wicked
beings, called karsesters. By him the first ox-like per¬
sonage, called Aboudad, was so infected that he died ;
after which Kaimorts, probably the divine part, of
which the ox was the representative, died also. Out of
the left arm of the deceased proceeded a being called
Goschoraitn, who is said to have raised a cry louder
than the shout of 1000 men. After some conversation
between the supreme Deity and Goschoraun, it was
determined to put Ahriman to flight, and to destroy
all those wicked persons he had introduced j for there
now seemed to be an universal opposition to the su¬
preme Deity Ormisda. At this season a second ox¬
like personage is introduced by the name of Taschter.
He is spoken of both as a star and a sun. At the
same time he is mentioned as a person upon earth
under three forms. By Taschter is certainly signified
De Ashter ; the same person whom the Greeks and Sy¬
rians represented as a female, and called Astarte. She
was described horned, and sometimes with the head of
a bull; supposed to proceed from an egg; and they
esteemed her the same as Juno and the moon. At
last it was thought proper to bring an universal inun¬
dation over the face of the earth *, that all impurity
might be washed away which being accomplished by
Taschter, every living creature perished, and the earth
was for some time entirely covered. At last, the wa¬
ters retreating within their proper bounds, the moun¬
tain of Albordi in Eerakh-kand first appeared ; which
the author compares to a tree, and supposes that all
other mountains proceeded from it. After this there
was a renewal of the world ; and the earth was restored
to its pristine state. The particular place where Or¬
misda planted the germina from whence all things
were to spring, was Ferakh-kand, which seems to be
the land of Arach ; the country upon the Araxes in
Armenia.”
Thus we have given an ample specimen of this very
ingenious author’s method of reasoning, and discover¬
ing traces of the sacred history even in things which
have been thought least to relate to it. That the
Greeks and ’ estern nations had souse knowledge of the
flood,
DEL [i
$
m
BSlf:'
Delude, tlie flood, has never been denied ; and from what has
— v—been already related, it appears that the same has per¬
vaded the remotest regions of the east. The know¬
ledge which these people have of the fall of man, and
the evil consequences which ensued, cannot, according
to our author, be the consequences of their intercourse
with Christians : for their traditions afford neither any
traces of Christianity, nor its founder. Whatever truths
may be found in their writings, therefore, must be de¬
rived from a more ancient source. “ There are (says
he) in every climate some shattered fragments of ori¬
ginal history ; some traces of a primitive and universal
language : and these may be observed in the names of
deities, terms of worship, and titles of honour, which
prevail among nations widely separated, who for ages
had no connexion. The like may be found in the
names of pagodas and temples; and of sundry other
objects which will present themselves to the traveller.
Even America would contribute to this purpose. The
more rude the monuments, the more ancient they may
possibly prove, and afford a greater light upon in¬
to quiry” . . , . ,.
.merican The accounts hitherto met with in tins continent,
ccounts of indeed, are far from being equally authentic and satis-
ie deluge. fact0ry with those hitherto treated of. In Acosta’s
history of the Indies, however, we are informed, that
the Mexicans make particular mention of a deluge in
their country, by which a/l men were drowned. Ac¬
cording to them, one Viracocha came out of the great
lake Titicaca in their country. This person staid in
Tiaguanaco, where at this day are to be seen the ruins
of some ancient and very strange buildings. From
thence he came to Cusco, where mankind began to
multiply. They show also a small lake, where they
say the sun hid himself: for which reason they sacri¬
fice largely to him, both men and other animals.—
Hennepin informs us, that some of the savages are of
opinion, that a certain spirit, called Otkon by the Iro¬
quois, and Atahauta by those at the mouth of the ri¬
ver St Lawrence, is the creator of the world j that
Messou repaired it after the deluge. They say, that
this Messou or Otkon, being a-hunting one day, his
dogs lost themselves in a great lake, which thereupon
overflowing, covered the whole earth in a short time,
and swallowed up the world. According to Herrera,
the people of Cuba knew that the heavens and the
earth had been created *, and said they had much in¬
formation concerning the flood j and that the world
had been destroyed by water, by three persons, who
came three several ways. Gabriel de Cabrera was
told by a man of more than 70 years of age, that an
old man, knowing the deluge was to come, built a
great ship, and went into it with his family and abun¬
dance of animals j that he sent out a crow, which
did not at first return, staying to feed on the carcases
of dead animals, but afterwards came back with a
green branch. He is said to have added other par¬
ticulars nearly consonant to the Mosaic account, as
far as Noah’s sons covering him when drunk, and the
other scoffing at it. The Indians, he said, descended
from the latter, and therefore had no clothes: but
the Spaniards descending from the former, had both
clothes and liorses.—The same author likewise informs
us, that it was reported by the inhabitants of Castilla
del Oro in Terra Firma, that when the universal de-
Vol. VII. Part I. t
45 ] D E L
luge happened, one man with his wife and children es- Deluge,
caped in a canoe, and that from them the world was ——v——»
peopled. The Peruvians, according to our author,
likewise affirmed, that they had received by tradition
from their ancestors, that, many years before there
were any incas or kings, when the country was very
populous, there happened a great flood ; the sea break¬
ing out beyond its bounds, so that the land was co¬
vered with water, and all the people perished. To
this it is added by the Guancas, inhabiting the vale of
Xausea, and the natives of Chiquito in the province
of Callao, that some persons remained in the hollows
and caves of the highest mountains, who again peo¬
pled the land. Others affirm, that all perished in a
deluge, only six persons being saved in a float, from
whom descended all the inhabitants of that country.
In Nieuhoff’s voyages to Brazil, we are informed, that
the most barbarous of the Brasilians, inhabiting the in¬
land countries, scarce knew any thing of religion or
an Almighty Being : they have some knowledge re¬
maining of a general deluge ; it being their opinion
that the whole race of mankind were extirpated by a
general deluge, except one man and his sister, who,
being with child before, they by degrees repeopled
the world. M. Thevet gives us the creed of the Bra¬
silians in this matter more particularly. In the opinion
of these savages the deluge was universal. They say,
that Summay, a Caribbee of great dignity, had two chil¬
dren named Tamendonare and Ariconte. Being of con¬
trary dispositions, one delighting in peace and the other
in war and rapine, they mortally hated each other. One
day Ariconte, the warrior, brought an arm of an enemy
he had encountered to his brother, reproaching him
at the same time with cowardice. The other retorted
by telling, that if he had been possessed of the valour
he boasted, he would have brought his enemy entire.
Ariconte on this threw the arm against the door of
his brother’s house. At that instant the whole village
was carried up into the sky, and Tamendonare stri¬
king the ground with violence, a vast stream of water
issued out from it, and continued to flow in such quan¬
tity, that in a short time it seemed to rise above the
clouds, and the earth was entirely covered. The two
brothers, seeing this, ascended the highest mountains
of the country, and with their wives got upon the
trees that grew upon them. By this deluge all man¬
kind, as well as all other animals, were drowned, ex¬
cept the two brothers above mentioned and their wives,
who having descended when the flood abated, became
heads of two different nations,” &c.
To these American testimonies we may add another Testj^0
from the remote and uncivilized island of Otaheite. njes from
Dr Watson*, in his discourse to the clergy, informs otaheite
us, that one of the navigators to the southern hemi- and the
sphere have asked some of the inhabitants of *-bat ^
island concerning their origin, was answered, that ^ t^erinoni
their supreme God, a long time ago, being angry,
dragged the earth through the sea, and their island p. 203,
being broken off, was preserved. In the East Indies,
we are informed by Dr Watson f , that Sir William ^
Jones, by whom a society for the advancement of Asia-p 32t>
tic literature was instituted at Calcutta, discovered in
the oldest mythological books of that country, such an
account of the deluge as corresponds sufficiently with
that of Moses.
T
II. The
Delude.
22
Hypotheses
concerning
the means
by which
the deluge
took place.
23*
Supposed
creation;
and anni¬
hilation of
water.
DEL [
II The fact being thus established by the umver
sal consent of mankind, that there was a general de¬
lude which overflowed the whole world; it remains
nevt to inouire, by what means it may reasonably be
supposed to have been accomplished. The hypotheses
on tliis subject have been principally the following.
i It has been asserted, that a quantity of water
was* created on purpose, and at a proper time anmhi-
ILl by divine power. This, however besides its
being absolutely without evidence, is directly contrary
to the words of the sacred writer whom the assertors
of this hypothesis mean to defend. He expressly de¬
rives the waters of the flood from two sources j first,
the fountains of the great deep, which he tells us were
all broken up *, and secondly, the windows of heaven,
which he says were opened : and speaking of the e-
crease of the waters, he says, the fountains of the
deep and the windows of heaven were stopped, and the
waters returned continually from off the earthy Here
r obvious, that Moses was so far from having any
difficulty about the quantity of water, that he thought
the sources from whence it came were not exhausted,
since both of them required to be stopped by the same
almighty hand who opened them, lest the flood should
increase more than it actually dit • _
’4 “ nr Burnet, in his 2’e#»wTfe»rM,&C"’’endea'
Theory of 2. xnr, > „ } waters in the ocean were
Dr Burnet, vours to show, that all tne wai assigned
not sufficient to cover the earth to the depth assignee
bv Moses. Supposing the sea drained quite dry, and
all the clouds of the atmosphere dissolved into rain,
„e should still, according to him, ™ant r"“1
greatest part of the water of a deluge, lo get cleai
of this difficulty, Dr Burnet and others have adopted
DecrS theory. That philosopher supposes the an-
t“ n world "to have been PerfectW roun and
eoual without mountains or valleys. He account,
for it’s formation on mechanical principles, by ™j>P?-
Snfl it affirst in the condition of a .luck turbid fluid
replete with divers heterogeneous matters ; > which,
subsiding by slow degrees, formed themselves into dif.
fprent concentric strata, or beds, by the laws ot gravi
ty. Dr Burnet improves on this theory, by supposing
the primitive earth to have been no more than a shell
nr c?usTi«vestin<x the surface of the water contained in
the ocean, and in the central abyss which he and others
*See,%tt. SUyp0se to exist in the bowels of the earth . At
thePtime of the flood, this outward crust, according
to him broke in a thousand pieces y and consequen -
]y sunk down among the water, winch thus spoutec
4 ia vast cataracts, and overflowed the whole surface.
He1 'supposes also, ’that before the flood there was a
perfect coincidence of the equator with the ecliptic
Ld consequently
bvPXh thfoufer crust was broken, shifted also the
position of the earth, and produced the present obh
liuity of the ecliptic. The theory, it will ^ observ¬
ed is eaually arbitrary witli the fonuei. But it is,
Wides, directly contrary to the words of Moses, who
assures us, that all the high bills were covered ; while
Dr Burnet affirms that there were then no lulls m be-
lng3. Other authors, supposing a sufficient fund of wa.
"““s', ter in the abyss or sea, are only concerned for an ex
supposed toier *n u,c j . . rorj;neiY Some have re-
be shifted, pedient to bring it forth, accoraing.y
25 .
€entre of
gravity of
the earth
146 ] DEL
course to a shifting of the earth’s centre of gravity, Deluge,
which, drawing after it the water out of its channel, v"*—
overwhelmed the several parts of the earth succes¬
sively. s6
4. The inquisitive Mr Whiston, in'his New Theory Mr Wlh.
oj the Earth, shows, from several remarkable coinci-* * 601
dences, that a comet descending in the plane of the
ecliptic, towards its perihelion, passed just before the
earth on the first day of the deluge ; the consequences
whereof would be, first, that this comet,, when it came
below the moon, would raise a vast and strong tidey-
both in the small seas, which according to his hypo¬
thesis were in the antediluvian earth (for he allows no
great ocean there as in ours), and also in the abyss
which was under the upper crust of the earth. And
this tide would rise and increase all the time of the
approach of the comet towards the earth y and would
be at its greatest height when the comet was at its
least distance from it. By the force of which tide,
as also by the attraction of the comet, he judges, that
the abyss must put on an elliptical figure, whose sur¬
face being considerably larger than the former spheri¬
cal one, the outward crust of the earth* incumbent on
the abyss, must accommodate itself to that figure,
which it could not do while it held solid, and conjoined
together. He concludes, therefore, that it must of ne¬
cessity be extended, and at last broken by the violence
of the said tides and attraction 5 out of which the in¬
cluded water issuing, was a great means of the deluge ;
this answering to what Moses speaks of the “ foun¬
tains of the great deep being broken open.”—Again,
the same comet, he shows, in its descent towards the
sun, passed so close by the body of the earth, as to in¬
volve it in its atmosphere and tail for a considerable
time 5 and of consequence left a vast quantity of its-
vapours, both expanded and condensed on its surface y
a great part of which being rarefied by the solar
heat, would be drawn up into the atmosphere, and
afterwards return in violent rains i and this he takes
to he what Moses intimates by “ the windows of hea¬
ven being opened,” and particularly by the “ forty
days raim” For as to the following rain, which with
this made the whole time of raining 150 days, Mr
Whiston attributes it to the earth coming a second
time within the atmosphere of the comet, ajs the comet
was on its return from the sun. Lastly, to remove
this vast Lorb of waters again, he supposes a mighty
wind to have arisen, which dried up some, and forced
the rest into the abyss through the clefts by which it
came up: only a good quantity remained in the al¬
veus of the great ocean, now first made, and in lesser
seas, lakes, &c. This theory was at first only proposed
as an hypothesis y but, on further consideration, Mr
Whiston thought he could actually prove that a comet
did at that time pass very near the earth, and that it
was the same which afterwards appeared in 1688.,
After this he looked upon his theory no longer as an
hypothesis, but published it in a particular tract, en¬
titled The Cause of the Deluge demonstrated. But the
uncertainty of the comet’s return in 1758, and the
absolute failure of that which ought to have appeared
in 1788 or 1789, must certainly render Mr Whiston’s
calculations for such a length of time extremely du¬
bious : and the great similarity between the tails of co¬
mets, and streams of electric matter, renders his sup-
DEL [ H7 ] DEL
ii eUn-e. po8^*011 their being aqueous vapours exceedingly im-
rprobable.
*1 5. According to Mr de la Pryme, the antediluvian
t lijory of world |iatl an external sea as well as land, with moun-
d<;la tains, rivers, &c. and the deluge was effected by break-
iyine' ing the subterraneous caverns and pillars thereof, with
dreadful earthquakes, and causing the same to be for
the most part, if not wholly, absorbed and swallowed
up, and covered by the seas that we now have. Last¬
ly, this earth of ours arose out of the bottom of the
antediluvian sea : and in its room, just as many islands
are swallowed down, and others thrust up in their stead.
On this, as on all the other hypotheses, it may be re¬
marked, that it is quite arbitrary, and without the least
foundation from the words of Moses. The sacred hi¬
storian speaks not one word of earthquakes, nay, from
the nature of the thing, we know it is impossible that
the flood could have been occasioned by an earth¬
quake, and the ark preserved, without a miracle. It
is certain, that if a ship sinks at sea, the commotion
excited in the water by the descent of such a large
body, will swallow up a small boat that happens to come
too near. If the pillars of the earth itself then were
broken, what must the commotion have been, when
the continents of Europe, Asia, and Africa, descend¬
ed into the abyss at once ; not to mention America,
which lying at so great a distance from Noah, he
might be supposed out of danger from that quarter.
By what miracle was the little ark preserved amidst
the tumult of those impetuous waves which must have
rushed in from all quarters ? Besides, as the ark was
built not at sea, but on dry ground, when the earth
on which it rested sunk down, the ark must have sunk
along with it; and the waters falling in as it were over¬
head, must have dashed in pieces the strongest vessel
that can be imagined. Earthquakes, also, operate sud¬
denly and violently ; whereas, according to the Mosaic
account, the flood came on gradually, and did not ar¬
rive at its height till six weeks, or perhaps five months,
after it began.
iitchinso- Hutchinson and his followers present us with
»u theo- a. theory of the deluge, which they pretend to derive
from the word of God itself. This theory hath been
particularly enlarged upon and illustrated by Mr Cat-
cot, who in 1768 published a volume on the subject.
This gentleman asserts, that when the world was first
created, at the time when it is said to have been “ with¬
out form and void,” the terrestrial matter was then
entirely dissolved in the aqueous 5 so that the whole
formed, as it were, a thick muddy water. The figure
of this mass was spherical j and on the outside of this
sphere lay the gross dark air. Within the sphere of
earth and water was an immense cavity, called by
Moses the deep ; and this internal cavity was filled with
air of a kind similar to that on the outside. On the
creation of light, the internal air received elasticity
sufficient to burst out through the external covering
of earth and water. Upon this the water descended,
filled up the void, and left the earth in a form similar
to what it hath at present. Thus, according to him,
the antediluvian world, as well as the present, con¬
sisted of a vast collection or nucleus of water, called the
great deep, or the abyss; and over this the shell of
earth perforated in many places j by which means the
waters of the ocean communicated with the abyss.
The breaking up of these fountains was occasioned by Delude,
a miraculous pressure of the atmosphere, from the im- ——v-“
mediate action of the Deity himself. So violent was
this pressure, that the air descended to where it had
been originally ; occupied the space of the abyss j and
drove out the waters over the whole face of the dry
land. But this account, so far for being infallibly
certain, seems inconsistent with the most common ob¬
servation. No pressure, however violent, will cause
water rise above its level, unless the pressure is unequal.
If, therefore, the atmosphere, entered into the supposed
abyss, by a vehement pressure on the surface of the
ocean, that pressure must only have been on one place,
or on a few places ; and even though we suppose the
atmosphere to have been the agent made use of, it is
impossible that it could have remained for any time
in the abyss without a continued miracle} as the pres¬
sure of the water would immediately have forced it up
again through those holes which had afforded it a pas¬
sage downwards.
The explication given from Hutchinson by Mr Cat-
cot, of the “ windows of heaven,” is somewhat ex¬
traordinary. According to him, these windows are
not in heaven, but in the bowels of the earth 5 and
mean no more than the cracks and fissures by which
the airs, as he calls them, found a passage through the
shell or covering of earth, which they utterly dissolved
and reduced to its original state of fluidity. It is, how¬
ever, difficult to conceive how the opening of such
windows as these, could cause a violent rain for 40 days
and nights.
It is not to be supposed, that we can pretend to as¬
certain any thing on the subject more than others have
done. The following conjectures, however, may be
offered on the manner in which the deluge might have
happened, without any violence to the established laws
of nature. 29
I. If we consider the quantity of water requisite for Another
the purpose of the deluge, it will not appear so very ex-theory,
traordinary as has been commonly represented. The
height of the highest hills is thought not to be quite
four miles. It will therefore be deemed a sufficient
allowance, when we suppose the waters of the deluge
to have been four miles deep on the surface of the
ground. Now it is certain, that water, or any other
matter, when spread out at large upon the ground,
seems to occupy an immense space in comparison of
what it does when contained in a cubical vessel, or
when packed together in a cubical form. Suppose
we wanted to overflow a room 16 feet every way, or
containing 256 square feet, with water, to the height
of one foot, it may be nearly done by a cubical vessel
of six feet filled with water. A cube of eight feet will
cover it two feet deep, and a cube of ten feet will very
nearly cover it four feet deep. It makes not the least
difference whether we suppose feet or miles to be co¬
vered. A cube of ten miles of water would very near¬
ly overflow 256 square miles of plain ground to the
height of four miles. But if we take into our account
the vast number of eminences with which the surface
of the earth abounds, the above-mentioned quantity of
water would do a great deal more. If, therefore, we
attempt to calculate the quantity of water sufficient to
deluge the earth, we must make a very considerable
allowance for the bulk of all the hills on its surface.
T 2 To
DEL
t US ]
DEL
Deluge. To consider this matter, however, in its utmost lati-
v ' 1 ' tilde : The surface of the earth is supposed, by the
latest computations, to contain 199,512,595 square
miles. To overflow this surface to the height ot four
miles, is required a parallelepiped ot water 16 miles
deep, and containing 49,878,148 square miles of sur¬
face. Now, considering the immense thickness of the
globe of the earth, it can by no means be improbable,
that this whole quantity of water may be contained in
its bowels, without the necessity ot any remarkable
abyss or huge collection of water, such as most of our
theorists suppose to exist in the centre. It is certain,
that as far as the earth has been dug, it hath been
found not dry, but moist j nor have we the least
reason to imagine, that it is not at least equally moist
all the way down to the centre. How moist it really
is cannot be known, nor the quantity of water requi¬
site to impart to it the degree of moisture it has 5 but
we are sure it must be immense. The earth is com¬
puted to be near 8000 miles in diameter. The ocean
is of an unfathomable depth ; but there is no reason
for supposing it more than a few miles. To make all
reasonable allowance, however, we shall suppose the
whole solid matter in the globe to be only equal to a
cube of 5000 miles j and even on this supposition we
shall find, that all the waters of the deluge would
not be half sufficient to moisten it. The above-men¬
tioned parallelepiped of water would indeed contain
798,050,368 cubic miles of the fluid; but the cube
of earth containing no less than an hundred and twenty-
five thousand millions of cubic miles, it is evident, that
the quantity assigned for the deluge would scarce be
known to moisten it. It could have indeed no more
effect this way, than a single pound of water could have
upon 150 times its bulk of dry earth. We are per¬
suaded, therefore, that any person who will try by ex¬
periment how much water a given quantity of earth
contains, and from that experiment will make calcula¬
tions with regard to the whole quantity of water contain¬
ed in the bowels of the earth, must be abundantly satis¬
fied, that though all the water of the deluge had been
thence derived, the diminution of the general store would,
comparatively speaking, have been next to nothing.
2. It was not from the bowels of the earth only
that the waters were discharged, but also from the air ;
for we are assured by Moses, that it rained 40 days
and 40 nights. This source of the diluvian w'aters hath
been considered as of small consequence by almost every
one who hath treated on the subject. The general opi¬
nion concerning this matter we shall transcribe from the
Universal History, vol. i. where it is very fully express¬
ed. “ According to the observations made ot the
quantity of water that falls in rain, the rains could not
afford one ocean, nor half an ocean, and would be a
verv inconsiderable part ot what was necessary for a
deluge. If it rained 40 days and 40 nights throughout
the whole earth at once, it might be sufficient to lay all
the lower grounds under water, but it would signify
very little as to the overflowing of the mountains; so
that it lias been said, that if the deluge bad been
made of rains only, there would have needed not
40 days, but 40 years, to have brought it to pass.
And if we suppose the whole atmosphere condensed in¬
to water, it would not all have been sufficient for this
effect; for it is certain that it could not have risen
above 32 feet, the height to which water can be raised
by the pressure of the atmosphere ; for the weight of
the whole air, when condensed into water, can be no
more than equal to its weight m its natural state, and
must become no less than 800 times denser; for that
is the difference between the weight of the heaviest
air and that of water.”
On this subject we must observe, that there is a very
general mistake with regard to the air, similar to the
above-mentioned one regarding the earth. Because the
earth below our feet appears to our senses firm and com¬
pact, therefore the vast quantity of water, contained
even in the most solid parts of it, and which will rea¬
dily appear on proper experiment, is overlooked, and
treated as a non-entity. In like manner, because the
air does not always deluge with excessive rains, it is
also imagined that it contains but very little water.
Because the pressure of the air is able to raise only
32 feet of water on the surface of the earth, it is
therefore supposed we may know to what depth the
atmosphere could deluge the earth it it was to let fall
the whole water contained in it. But daily observa¬
tion shows, that the pressure of the atmosphere hath
not the least connexion with the quantity of water it
contains. Nay, if there is any connexion, the air
seems to be lightest when it contains most water. In
the course of a long summer’s drought, for instance,
the mercury in the barometer will stand at 30 inches,
or little more. If it does so at the beginning of the
drought, it ought to ascend continually during the time
the dry weather continues; because the air is all the
while absorbing water in great quantity from the surface
of the earth and sea. This, however, is known to be
contrary to fact. At such times the mercury does not
ascend, but remains stationary; and what is still more
extraordinary, when the drought is about to have an
end, the air, while it yet contains the whole quantity
of water it absorbed, and hath not discharged one single
drop, becomes suddenly lighter, and the mercury will
perhaps sink an inch before any rain falls. The most
surprising phenomenon, however, is yet to come. Af¬
ter the atmosphere has been discharging for a number
of days successively, a quantity of matter 800 times hea¬
vier than itself, instead of being lightened by the dis¬
charge, it becomes heovievf nay, specifically heavier,
than it ivas before. It is also certain, that very dry
air, provided it is not at the same time very hot, is al¬
ways heaviest; and the driest air which we are acquaint¬
ed with, namely Dr Priestley’s dephlogisticaled»iv (oxy¬
gen gas), is considerably heavier than the air we com¬
monly breathe. For these reasons, we think the quan¬
tity of water contained in the whole atmosphere ought
to he considered as indefinite, especially as we know that
by whatever agent it is suspended, that agent must coun¬
teract the force of gravity, otherwise the water would
immediately descend; and while the force of gravity
in any substance is counteracted, that substance cannot
appear to us to gravitate at all.
3. The above considerations render it probable at least
that there is in nature a quantity of water sufficient to
deluge the world, provided it was applied to the pur¬
pose. We must next consider whether there is any na¬
tural agent powerful enough to effectuate this purpose.
We shall take the phrases used by Moses in their most
obvious sense. 'The breaking up of the fountains of the
deep%
DEL L 149 ] DEL
Deluge, deep, we may reasonably suppose to have been the open-
—y——' ing of all passages, whether small or great, through
which the subterraneous waters possibly could discharge
themselves on the surface of the earth. The opening of
the windows of heaven we may also suppose to be the
pouring out the water contained in the atmosphere,
through those invisible passages by which it enters in
such a manner as totally to elude every one of our senses,
as when water is absorbed by the air in evaporation. As
both these are said to have been opened at the same time,
it seems from thence probable, that one natural agent
was employed to do both. Now it is certain, that the
industry of modern inquiry hath discovered an agent
unknown to the former ages, and whose influence is
so great, that with regard to this world, it may be
said to have a kind of omnipotence. The agent we
mean is electricity. It is certain, that, by means of it,
immense quantities of water can be raised to a great
height in the air. This is proved by the phenomena
of water-spouts. Mr Forster relates, that he happen¬
ed to see one break very near him, and observed a flash
of lightning proceed from it at the moment of its
breaking. The conclusion from this is obvious. When
the electric matter was discharged from the water, it
could no longer be supported by the atmosphere, but
immediately fell down, Though water-spouts do not
often appear in this country, yet every one must have
made an observation somewhat similar to Mr Forster’s.
In a violent storm of thunder and rain, after every flash
of lightning or discharge of electricity from the clouds,
the rain pours down with increased violence : thus show¬
ing, that the cloud, having parted with so much of its
electricity, cannot longer be supported in the form of
vapour, but must descend in rain. It is not indeed yet
discovered that electricity is the cause of the suspension
of water in the atmosphere j but it is certain that eva¬
poration is promoted by electrifying the fluid to be
! SeeEfee-evaporated *. It may therefore be admitted as a.possi-
I city and. bility, that the electric fluid contained in the air is the
JMPora- agent by which it is enabled to suspend the water
which rises in vapour. If therefore the air is deprived
of the due proportion of this fluid, it is evident that rain
must fall in prodigious quantities.
Again, we are assured from the most undeniable ob¬
servations that electricity is able to swell up water on
the surface of the earth. This we can make it do even
in our trifling experiments ; and much more must the
whole force of the fluid be supposed capable of doing it,
if applied to the waters of the ocean, or any others.
The agitation of the sea in earthquakes is a sufficient
\ 'eE«?'Wf.Proof thisf. It is certain, that at these times there
is a discharge of a vast quantity of electric matter from
the earth into the air 5 and as soon as this happens, all
becomes quiet on the surface of the earth.
From a multitude of observations it also appears, that
there is at all times a passage of electric matter from
the atmosphere into the earth, and, vice versa, from
the earth into the atmosphere. There is therefore no
absurdity in supposing the Deity to have influenced
the action ot the natural powers in such a manner,
that for 40 days and nights the electric matter con¬
tained in the atmosphere should descend into the bowels
of the earth,—it indeed there is occasion for suppo¬
sing any such immediate influence at all, since it is not
impossible that there might have been, from some na¬
tural cause, a descent of this matter from the atmo- Deluge,
sphere for that time. But by whatever cause the de- ——v—
scent was occasioned, the consequence would be, the
breaking up of the fountains of the deep, and the opening
the windows of heaven. The water contained in the
atmosphere being left without support, would descend
in impetuous rains ; while the waters of the ocean,
those from which fountains originate, and those con¬
tained in the solid earth itself, would rise from the very
centre, and meet the waters which descended from
above. Thus the breaking up of the fountains of the
deep, and the opening the windows of heaven, would
accompany each other, as Moses tells us they actually
did ; for, according to him, both happened on the
same day.
In this manner the flood would come on quietly and
gradually, without that violence to the globe which
Burnet, Whiston, and other theorists, are obliged to
suppose. The abatement of the waters would ensue
on the ascent of the electric fluid to where it was be¬
fore. The atmosphere would then absorb the water as
formerly ; that which had ascended through the earth
would again subside j and thus every thing would re¬
turn to its pristine state.
III. Having thus shown in what manner it is possible
that an universal deluge might take place by means of
the natural agents known to us at present, w'e shall
next consider some more of the evidences that such an
event actually did happen, and that the deluge was
universal. The proof here is so strong from the tra¬
ditions prevalent among almost every nation on the
face of the earth, and which have been already so
amply treated, that no farther objection could be
made to the Mosaic account, were it not that the
necessity of an universal deluge is denied by some, who
contend that all the deluges mentioned in history or
recorded by tradition were only partial, and may be
accounted for from the swelling of rivers or other ac¬
cidental causes. Many indeed, even of those who
profess to believe the Mosaic account, have thought
that the deluge was not universal ; or, though it
might be universal with respect to mankind, that it
was not so with regard to the earth itself. The learn-Vossius’s
ed Isaac Vossius w'as of this opinion, though his rea-scbe.nle a
sons seem principally to have been that he could not ^e"
conceive how an universal deluge could happen. “ To b
effect this (says he) many miracles must have concur¬
red ; but God works no miracles in vain. What need
was there to drown those lands where no men lived, or
are yet to be found ! ’Tis a foolish thing to think that
mankind had multiplied so much before the flood as to
have overspread all the earth. How slow and sluggish
the first men were in propagating their kind, is evident
from hence, that Noah was but the ninth in a lineal
descent from Adam. They are quite wide of the
truth, therefore, who think mankind to have spread
over all the earth in the days of Noah, who perhaps
at that time had not extended themselves beyond the
borders of Syria and Mesopotamia : but no reason ob¬
liges us to extend the inundation of the deluge be¬
yond those bounds which are inhabited 5 yea, it is al¬
together absurd to aver, that the effect of a punishment
inflicted upon mankind only, should extend to those
places where no men lived. Although we should there¬
fore believe that part of the earth only to Ivave been
overflowed
Deluge.
31 ADOlliei 0«J1IC11JC VL a Jjaiwm uv.ugv. ~J
Coetlogon’s^jr (;oetlogon in his Universal History of Arts and
scheme. Scjences> under the article Antediluvians. Thisap-
D E L
overflowed by the waters which we have
1 and which is not the hundredth part of the terrestrial
globe, the deluge ivill nevertheless be universal, (zcume-
nical, since the destruction was universal, and over¬
whelmed the whole habitable world.”
Another scheme of a partial deluge is published by
Deluge,
3*
Bishop Stil
lingfieet’s
scheme.
pears to have been formed with a design to accommo¬
date the belief of a deluge to the opinions of the free¬
thinkers, who deny the truth of the Mosaic accounts,
as he tells us that they are willing to allow it. Accord¬
ing to this author, the first inhabitants of the earth be¬
ing placed at the confluence of two great rivers, the Eu¬
phrates and Tigris, those rivers may have overflowed
their banks all of a sudden, and surprised the neighbour¬
ing inhabitants not yet accustomed to such sorts of visits,
and drowned part of them (and if really designed as a
punishment), such as were more guilty. That some of
the animals, particularly the more slothful, and con¬
sequently not so apprehensive of danger or so ready to
take to flight to avoid it, might have been involved in
the same calamity, as well as some of the volatiles,
which being deprived of food by the earth’s being co¬
vered with water, might have perished j particularly
those who, by the too great weakness of their wings
to support their bodies, were not proper for a long
flight. As for others who had these advantages above
the rest, they would no doubt take care of their own
preservation, by flying to those parts of the earth which
their natural instinct could shew them free from the in¬
undation. > # .
A third scheme of a partial deluge is given by the
learned Bishop Stillingfleet in his Origines^ Sacra. “ I
cannot (says he) see any urgent necessity from the
Scripture to assert, that the flood did spread itself all
over the surface of the earth. That all mankind
(those in the ark excepted) were destroyed by it, is
most certain, according to the Scripture. When the
Lord said, that he would destroy man from the face of
the earth, it could not be any particular deluge of
so small a country as Palestine, as some have ridicu¬
lously imagined •, for we find an universal corruption
in the earth mentioned as the cause j an universal
threatening upon all men for this cause j and after¬
wards an universal destruction expressed as the effect
of this flood. So then it is evident, that the flood
was universal with regard to mankind •, but from
thence follows no necessity at all of asserting the uni¬
versality of it as to the globe of the earth, unless it be
sufficiently proved that the whole earth was peopled
before the flood, which I despair of ever seeing proved ;
and what reason can there be to extend the flood be¬
yond the occasion of it, which was the corruption^ of
mankind?—The only probability then of asserting
the universality of the flood, as to the globe of the
earth, is from the destruction of all living creatures, to¬
gether with man. Now though men might not have
spread themselves over the whole surface of the earth,
yet beasts and creeping things might, which were all
destroyed with the flood j for it is said, that all flesh
died that moved upon the earth, both of fowl and of
cattle, and of every creeping thing that creepeth up¬
on the earth, and every man.’ To what end should
there be not only a note of universality added, but such
2
[ 150 ] DEL
mentioned, a particular enumeration of the several kinds of beasts,
creeping things and fowls, if they were not all de- v.
stroyed"? To this I answer*, I grant that, as far as
the flood extended, all these were destroyed : but I
see no reason to extend the destruction of those beyond
that compass and space of the earth where men inha¬
bited, because the punishment upon the beasts was oc¬
casioned by, and could not be concomitant with, the
destruction of man $ but the occasion of the deluge
being the sin of man, who was punished in the beasts
that were destroyed for his sake, as well as in himself)
where the occasion was not, as where there were ani¬
mals and no men, there seems no necessity of extend¬
ing the flood thither.—But to what end, will it there¬
fore be replied, did God command Noah, with so
much care, to take all kinds of birds, beasts, and creep¬
ing things into the ark with him, if all these living
creatures were not destroyed by the flood ? I answer,
because all those things were destroyed wherever the
flood was. Suppose then the whole continent of Asia
was peopled before the flood, which is as much as in
reason we may suppose; I say, all the living creatures
in that continent were destroyed $ or il we may suppose
it to have extended over our whole continent of the
ancient known world, what reason would there be, that
in the opposite part of the globe, which we suppose to
be unpeopled then, all the living creatures should there
be destroyed, because men had sinned in this ? and
would there not have been on this supposition a suffi¬
cient reason to preserve living creatures in the ark for
future propagation ?” &c. 33
Thus we have the strength of all the arguments ^ partial
that have been offered in support of a partial deluge, dehige pro
and which may all be summed up in the three follow-to be^
jng articles: 1. The impossibility, in a natural way,
of°accounting for the quantity of water, necessary to
overflow the whole world; 2. I he small number of
mankind supposed at that time to have existed on
the earth; and, 3. The inutility of an universal de¬
luge, when the divine purposes could have been equal¬
ly well answered by a partial one. But to all this we
may make one general answer, that a partial deluge
is in the nature of things impossible. We cannot
imagine that the waters could accumulate upon any
country without going olF to the sea, while the lat¬
ter retained its usual level; neither can we suppose
any part of the sea to remain above the level of the
rest. On the supposition of Bishop Stillingfleet, there¬
fore, that the deluge extended over the whole conti¬
nent of Asia, we know that it must have covered the
high mountains of Ararat, on which the ark rested ;
Caucasus, Taurus, &c. The height Of Ararat is in-
determined, as no traveller of any credit pretends to
have ascended to its top; but from the distance at
which it is seen, we can scarce look upon it to be in¬
ferior to the most celebrated mountains of the old* See i"
continent*. Sir John Chardin thinks that some partrdt.
of Caucasus is higher ; and supposing each of these to
be only a mile and a half in height, the sea all round
the globe must have been raised to the same height ;
and‘therefore, all that could remain of dry ground as
a shelter to animals of any kind, must have been the
uninhabitable tops of some high mountains scattered at
immense distances from one another. We may there¬
fore tvith equal reason suppose that these were in like
manner
.
DEL
[
;D«Iu£e. manner covered, and that no living creature whatever
could find shelter even for a moment: and it is cer¬
tainly more agreeable to the character of the Deity to
believe, that he would at once destroy animal life by
suffocation in water, rather than allow numbers of
them to collect themselves on the tops of mountains to
perish with hunger and cold. It is besides very im¬
probable, that any creature, whether bird or beast,
could sustain a continued rain of 40 days and 40 nights,
even without supposing them to have been absolutely
immersed in water.
This consideration alone is sufficient to show, that
if there was a deluge at all, it must have been universal
with regard to the world as well as the human race j
and the possibility of such a deluge by natural means
has already been evinced. Under the article Antedi¬
luvians it is shown, that, according to the most mo¬
derate computation, the world must have been vastly
more full of people than at present. The least calcu¬
lation there made indeed seems incredible, since, ac¬
cording to it, the world must have contained upwards
of 68,719 times as many inhabitants as are at present
to be met with in the empire of* China, the most po¬
pulous country in the world : but China bears a much
larger proportion to the habitable part of the world
than this. The violences exercised by mankind upon
one another have always been the means of thinning
their numbers, and preventing the earth from being
overstocked with inhabitants j and the strong expres¬
sion in Scripture, that the “ earth was filled with vio¬
lence,” shows that it must have gone to an extraordi¬
nary height. But though this violence must have un¬
doubtedly thinned the old world of its inhabitants, it
must likewise have dispersed some of them into distant
regions. There is therefore no reason for supposing
that before the flood the human race were not driven
into the remotest regions of the habitable world, or that
America was destitute of inhabitants then more than it
is at present. At any rate, the schemes of Vossius and
Coetlogon, who would confine the whole race of man¬
kind to a small part of Asia, must appear evidently
futile and erroneous in the highest degree.
Some objections have been made to the doctrine of
an universal deluge from the state of the continent of
iimals°be- America, and the number of animals peculiar to that
gpeculiarand other countries, which could not be supposed to
certain travel to such a distance either to or from the ark of
untries. Noah. On this subject Bishop Stillingfleet observes,
that the supposition of animals being propagated much
farther in the world than mankind before the flood,
seems very probable, “ because the production of ani¬
mals is parallel in Genesis with that of fishes, and both
of them different from man. For God saith, ‘ Let the
waters bring forth every moving creature that hath
life, viz. fish and fowlAnd accordingly it is said, that
the waters brought forth abundantly every living crea¬
ture after their kind, and every fowl after his kind.
Accordingly, in the production of beasts, we read,
* Let the earth bring forth the living creature after
his kind, cattle, and every creeping thing, and beast
of the earth, after his kind : and it was so.’ But in
the production of man it is said, ‘ Let us make man
in our image, and after our likeness.’ From hence I
observe this difference between the formation of ani¬
mals and of man, that in one God gave a prolific
Deluge.
. ?4
bjectioni
am some
ecies of
35
SI ] DEL
power to the earth and waters for the production of
the several living creatures which came from them, so v
that the seminal principles of them were contained in
the matter out of which they were produced $ which
was otherwise in man, who was made by a peculiar
hand of the great Creator himself, who thence is said
to have formed man out of the dust of the ground.
“ If now this supposition be embraced, by it we
presently clear ourselves of many difficulties concern¬
ing the propagation of animals in the world, and their
conservation in the ark j as how the unknown kind of
serpent in Brazil, the slow-bellied creature in the In¬
dies, and all those strange species of animals seen in
the West Indies, should either come into the ark of
Noah, or be conveyed out of it into those countries
which are divided by so vast an ocean on one side, and
at least so large a tract of land on the other. Besides,
some kind of animals cannot live out of the climate
where they are; and there are many sorts of animals
discovered in America, and the adjoining islands, which
have left no remainder of themselves in these parts of
the world. And it seems strange, that these should
propagate into those parts of the world from the place
of the flood, and leave none at all of their number be¬
hind them in these parts whence they were propaga¬
ted.”
To this Mr Cockhurn, in his treatise on the deluge, Replies by
replies, 1. That as it pleased God to create only one Cock-
man and one woman at the beginning, and their poste-kur11'
rity were sufficient to overspread the earth, it might
well be supposed to he furnished with animals from an
original pair of each. 2. On the supposition of many
pairs of brute animals having been created originally,
they must, when the human race were few in number,
have multiplied to such a degree as to render the world
uninhabitable. In confirmation of this, he informs us
from the accounts of the Indian missionaries, that in j6
the kingdom of Champua in the Indies, the river cal- Countries
led by the natives Tinacoreu, but by the Portuguese rendered
Vaj'ella, goes up 80 leagues into the country to a moun- ujunnabRs-
tain called Moncalor, above which it is much broader, abundance
but not so deep by far ; there being banks of sand in 0f brute
some places, and lands overflowed'with water, where creatures,
there are an infinite number of fowls that cover all the
country j insomuch, that by reason of them the whole
kingdom of Chintalcuhos had for 40 years been deso¬
late, though it was eight days journey in length ;
which, at 30 miles a-day, made it 240 miles long. ,
After passing this country, another was met with more
ydld, and full of great rocks j where there were a vast
number of animals yet worse than the fowls, as ele¬
phants, rhinoceroses, lions, bears, buffaloes, and other
beasts, in such multitudes, that whatever men cultivat¬
ed for the support of life was spoiled or destroyed by
them, nor was it possible for the inhabitants to pre¬
vent it.
The isle of Fiance may be said to be the kingdom
of rats. They come down from the mountains like
an army, creep up the steepest rocks, march into the
flat country, assemble in the marshy grounds, and
bring desolation everywhere, especially in the night.
Men can scarce sleep for them, and are obliged to roll
themselves in such things as may best secure them from
their bitings. It was the same in the isle of Bourbon,
which was as much infested with them at first, till it
became
D E
L
Delude, became more fully peopled. “We have good rea-
" —v—■—1 son therefore (says Mr Cockburn) to conclude, that
there was but one pair ol animals created at first, that
they might not increase too fast for mankind j and
though they would multiply much more, and increase
faster than men could do, they had room to spread
themselves for a long time without much annoyance
to man ; and as men increased in number, and ex¬
tended their habitations, they would be able to drive
them further oil, or defend themselves from their de¬
predations.” The same mode of reasoning is by our
author made use of with regard to aquatic animals.
The multitude of these indeed, however great, could
be no detriment to man, who lived on land j but if we
consider how large and numerous a spawn fishes cast
at once, and in how short a time they multiply to im¬
mense numbers, he thinks it reasonable to conclude,
that only one pair was created at once j and that the
command to the waters to bring forth abundantly both
fish and fowl, related only to the variety of species,
37 not to a number of each.
Vast iu- 2- Though at the restoration of the world it was to
crease of repe0ple(l by six persons instead of two, and though
creation!' at the same time animal food was given to man, yet
Noah was commanded only to take a single pair of
each of the animals, clean beasts, which are but few in
number, only excepted. It is further observable, that
notwithstanding this scanty supply of animals, they
had increased so much by the time of Nimrod, that it
then became necessary to hunt and destroy them ;
Nimrod was celebrated for his courage and skill
in that necessary employment. “ So numerous (adds
he) were the animals before the flood, though but
two of a kind were created, that Dr Woodward, from
the remains of that earth, as well the animal as vege¬
table productions of it still preserved, concludes, that
‘ at the time the deluge came, the earth was so loaded
with herbage, and so thronged with animals, that such
an expedient was even wanting to ease it of the bur¬
den, and to make room for a new succession of its pro-
,5 ductions.’
Of the peo- 4. Mr Cockburn is of opinion, that America must
pling of A-have been peopled before the flood, as the old conti-
merica, audnenj. could not be supposed able to hold the number of
inhabitants. _ .
5. With regard to the main difficulty, viz. how the
animals peculiar to different countries could travel to
such distances to and from the ark, Mr Cockburn re¬
plies, that America, which Bishop Stillingfleet chiefly
insists upon, has nothing peculiar to it, but what may
equally well be urged both with respect to Asia and
Africa j each of them having animals peculiar to them¬
selves. It is also possible, that there might formerly
be a more easy communication between the Asiatic
and American continents than there is now. See the
article America, N° ioi—113.
Our author likewise observes, that though the ark
rested on Mount Ararat, yet we are not told where it
was built, which might be far enough from the place
where it is commonly supposed j so that these animals
which are peculiar to America might not have so far
to travel to the ark as is commonly imagined. Ihis
argument, however, seems to be very inconclusive }
for though we should suppose the ark to have been
constructed in America itself, the animals of Mesopo-
3
Deluge.
39
migration
of animals
to it.
152 ] DEL
- tamia would have had as far to travel from thence to
America, as the American animals fiom their own
country to Mesopotamia, according to the^ common
opinion. But in whatever part of the eaith ^voah lived
and the ark was built, it was at God’s command that
the several kinds of animals came hither in order to
their preservation} and his command could bring
them from the farthest parts of the earth during the
120 years that all the world lay under condemnation.
Though after all, none of the animals might have very
far to°travel to the ark ; for if only one pair of each
kind was created at first, and all of these in or near
one place, since they were all brought before Adam,
and received names from him, there is no absurdity in
supposing that some of every kind might remain in the
country where they were first produced, from thence
Noah’s habitation might not be very distant. Neither
can any objection be brought from the extinction of
some species of animals in certain countries of the
world, since they might have been hunted and de¬
stroyed either by the human race or by other creatures.
Thus it is said, that there are now few or no deer in
Switzerland, though formerly there were a great many
when it was full of woods. In Britain also there are
no wolves now to be found, though the island was in¬
fested with them in former times.
In considering the subject of the deluge, among other of the mb
questions which occur, one is, by what means were sistence cl
ravenous animals, which feed only upon flesh, SUP* animahil
ported in the ark? For this some authors have sup-the ark
posed, that Noah, besides these animals whom he took
into the ark for preservation, took likewise a great
number for slaughter. For this purpose Bishop Wil¬
kins has allowed no fewer than 1825 sheep, though
he was of opinion that there were no carnivorous
animals before the flood ; and this latter opinion is
adopted by Mr Cockburn. The idea indeed of slaugh¬
tering a number of harmless animals to satisfy a few
vile rapacious ones, and that too in a place designed
for the common asylum of the animal creation, seems
inconsistent with that scheme of mercy displayed in
the whole transaction. It is by much the more pro¬
bable supposition then, that though some animals had
been accustomed to live on flesh in their natural
state, they could nevertheless subsist upon vegetable
food/ This seems the more probable, as some animals
naturally carnivorous, particularly dogs and cats, may
be supported in their domestic state by vegetable food
alone. If we extend this to the whole canine and fe¬
line genera, we shall take in most of the beasts of
prey •, as lions, tygers, leopards, panthers, wolves,
foxes, hyaenas, &c. Bears are well known sometimes
to feed on berries } snakes will eat bread and milk $
and there is no reason to suppose that even the most
carnivorous birds could not be kept alive by grain or
other vegetable food. By thus excluding such a num¬
ber of useless animals, a very considerable space will
be allowed for the circulation of air in the ark, the
want of which seems to be the most inexplicable dif¬
ficulty, if we may judge from the present constitution
of things. It seems indeed to be certain, that no equal
number of animals could subsist for a twelvemonth
in an equal space so closely shut up as they . were.
The ark, it is true, contained near two millions of
cubic feet; but considering the number of its in¬
habitants,
DEL
j habitants, the great space necessary for the food
‘ i with which they were to be supplied, and the con¬
tinual pollution of the air by their dung and filth,
as well as the effluvia from their bodies, there
seems little probability that even such a vast bulk of
air could suffice for any length of time. This diffi¬
culty will appear the greater, when we consider that
any ventilation was impossible, as this could not have
been done without opening both the door and win¬
dow j and the former, we are certain, was not opened
until the time that the command was given to come
forth out of the ark. Neither is there the smallest
probability, that the opening of a single window could
renew the air in such a manner as to make it fit for
breathing throughout the whole extent of the ark.
In this particular, therefore, we must have recourse to
the immediate interposition of Divine power, and sup¬
pose that the air was miraculously preserved of a suffi¬
cient degree of purity, as the garments of the Israe¬
lites were preserved from turning old, and their feet
from being affected by the journey through the desert
in which they wandered so long.—Many other que¬
stions concerning the economy of the ark might be
proposed 5 as, how they supplied themselves with wa¬
ter *, in what manner they could use fire for the dres¬
sing of their victuals, &c. But as every answer to
these must be founded wholly upon conjecture, and
none can pretend that there was a natural impossibility
of effecting any of these things, we forbear to insist
farther upon them. The case, however, is very dif¬
ferent with respect to the air necessary for sustaining
animal life; for here there is a plain impossibility in a
natural way ; nay, we may even doubt whether the
general mass of atmosphere, after being deprived of its
electric matter, or otherwise altered in such a manner
as to let fall such a quantity of the water it contain¬
ed, was fit for the support of animal life j so that a
miracle would have been necessary at any rate. To
this indeed it may be replied, that on such a supposi¬
tion, men and other animals would have been de¬
stroyed, not by the flood, but by the vitiated air they
breathed. But, as has been already hinted, it is im¬
probable that any living creature could resist the vio¬
lent rain which took place, and which would soon
drive the birds from their shelter, as the waters begin¬
ning to overflow the ground would soon expel the hu¬
man race from their houses j and it would not be till
the end of the 40 days and 40 nights that the air could
be at its worst state, long before which time all animal
life would be extinct.
< *nges We shall conclude this article with considering some
rich have of the alterations which are supposed to have taken
place in the world in consequence of the deluge. One
<| ;nce 0f of these is the much greater quantity of water on the
y deluge, present than on the old world. Dr Keill has indeed
endeavoured to prove, that the present extent of the
surface of the waters is necessary to raise such a quan¬
tity of vapours as may supply the surface of the earth
with rain and with springs. In answer to this, it is
said, that it may be justly questioned whether all springs
are derived from the vapours raised by the sun’s heat ?
and, 2. Whether the primitive earth stood in need of
such a quantity of rain to render it as fertile as the pre¬
sent ? Dr Woodward gives the following reason for
supposing the antediluvian seas to have been nearly of
Vol. VII. Part I. t
DEL
the same extent with those at present, viz. that “ the Deluge-
spoils of the sea, the shells and other marine bodies, v—1-
are left in such prodigious numbers, and in heaps upon
heaps in the earth, besides those which have long since
perished, that they could not have been left in such
quantities, had not the seas occupied much the same
space as they do now.” This argument, however, is
thought by Mr Cockburn to be also inconclusive :
“ For (says he), 1. Animal food, whether fish or flesh,
was not used by mankind before the deluge : but,
2. Suppose it had, yet for the first 500 years the num¬
ber of mankind was but small, and likely at a great
distance from the sea j so that the increase of all kinds
of fish during so long a time must have been prodigious.
We need not be surprised, then, at the immense quan¬
tities of the exuviae of marine animals left on the earth
by the deluge. But the reason he brings to prove that
the several continents of the world were encompassed
with seas as they are now, viz. that as there are dif¬
ferent sorts of fishes in the different seas of the world,
so the exuviae of the same kind are generally found
upon contiguous lands, does not always hold, since
there are some shells found in the continent which are
strangers to the parts of the sea conterminous to these
continents. That the seas in the present earth are
vastly more extended, and consequently the dry land
so much less in proportion, may likewise be inferred
from the great multitude of islands that lie near the
shores of the greater continents, if it be true, what some
allege, that they are parts broken off by the deluge
from the main land, which before that reached to and
beyond them. And though islands are thought to be
rarely found in the great ocean, yet there have of late
been found in the midst of the Indian ocean vast clus¬
ters of islands, &c.
To all this it may be replied, That the Mosaic ac¬
count says nothing of the extent of the seas either be¬
fore or after the flood ; but simply tells us, that the
waters were poured out upon the surface of the earth
from the windows of heaven and the fountains of the
deep, and that as the flood decreased, the waters re¬
turned from off the face of the earth. If part of them
returned, we have not the least reason to suppose that
the whole did not do so likewise. That the fish, as well
as land animals, were more numerous in the antedilu¬
vian world than now when such quantities are destroyed
by mankind, is very probable, as we see they abound to
this day in uninhabited places. This may account for
the astonishing quantities of their exuviae to be met
with in many diflerent parts of the earth j but from the
formation of islands nothing can be concluded concern¬
ing the antediluvian world. Late discoveries have
shown that many islands have a volcanic origin j others
are formed by the growth of coral ; some by an accu¬
mulation of sea-weeds and other matters floating on the
surface of the ocean, and detained upon sand banks or
sunk rocks : while not a few of those near the great
continents owe their origin to the quantities of mud
brought down by the great rivers which empty them¬
selves into the ocean. Authentic history scarcely affords
an instance of an island formed by the breaking off a
piece from the continent, though it does many of islands
being joined to continents by some one or other of the
causes just mentioned.
The inferior fertility of the earth after the deluge is
U much
[ iS3 ]
Deluge.
DEL [ 154 ] DEL
much insisted upon by the same author, for the follow- of it produced spontaneously like the garden of Eden,
'ing reasons: “ 1. The grant of animal food to Noah On the contrary, rve are told that this garden was
Deluge,
and his posterity j which he thinks is an indication of
greater barrenness in the ground than formerly. 2. Our
Saviour compares the days of Noah with those oi
Lot} and as the country about Sodom is said to have
been exceedingly fertile like the garden of the Lord,
he is of opinion that the antediluvian world must have
been very fertile also. 3. As (according to Dr Wood¬
ward) the first earth brought forth all manner of
plants of itself, without any labour or culture of man,
and even before there was a man to till the ground,
we may reasonably suppose that the exterior stratum
or surface of the earth consisted of such terrestrial
matter as was fit for these productions j that is, of
a rich light mould, affording plentifully matter for
vegetation. Now, though God was pleased, upon
man’s transgression,
to withdraw in part his benedic¬
tion from the earth 5 yet the earth itself was untouch¬
ed till the deluge, the same surface of rich mould was
still upon it, and brought forth plentifully, especially
when man’s culture for corn was added. Rut the
inundation of waters at the deluge greatly altered the
constitution of the earth itself; it mixed and conlound-
ed this upper stratum of vegetative earth with other
terrestrial matter not fit for vegetation, with sand, gra¬
vel, stones, and all kinds of mineral matter, which must
needs render the earth in general much less fertile than
before, and which made the plough necessary to dig
up the proper vegetative mould, and bring it to the
surface, and also manure or compost to increase and
enrich it; neither of which before the flood it needed.
4. There is a moral reason why the earth after the
flood should be less fertile than before. The luxu¬
riant productions of the first earth, after man’s nature
became corrupted, and to deviate more and more from
righteousness, served only to excite and foment his
lusts, and to minister plentiful fuel to his vices and
luxury. To cut off, therefore, such occasion of sin
and wickedness, God, in great mercy to men, retrench¬
ed the earth in its former fertility, thereby obliging
them to labour and diligence, and employing most of
their time to procure their necessary subsistence, which
the earth by diligent culture will still afford, but not
that luxuriant abundance it did before the flood. .If
we take a survey of the diflerent regions and countries
of the world, we shall find this to be the truth of the
case. Some places, both in Asia and America, are
as it were a paradise in respect of the rest, to show
us perhaps what was and would have been the state of
the earth had not man sinned ; but far the greatest
part is nothing to he compared to these, and evidently
shows that effect which the sins of men had upon the
earth itself. In a word, if we take a survey, of the
whole, it cannot be thought that the first blessing Avas
restored to the earth after the flood, or that it came
out of the hands of its Maker, in the state it is at pre¬
sent, since so great a part of it bears still the marks of
the curse laid upon it.”
Notwithstanding all that is here alleged* the extia-
ordinary fertility of the ancient earth must still ap¬
pear very problematical, if we consider all ciicum-
stances. For,
I. Even at the creation, when the earth was at its
utmost perfection, avc cannot suppose that every part
planted by the Lord God, and that Adam was put into
it to dress it and keep it. It appears, therefore, that
even in the Paradisaical state the earth would not have
produced food for man Avithout culture ; for as God
planted the first garden, there can be no doubt that
had man continued in his state of innocence and mul¬
tiplied, he must have planted other gardens Avhen it
became necessary. After the fall, the fertility of the
earth was expressly removed, and that not in a slight
degree ; hut if avc can judge from the present state of
things, it must have become extremely wild and bar¬
ren. Thus, Avhen it is said, “ Thorns also and thistles
shall it bring forth to thee we may judge of the
state of the soil from that Avhich we see bringing forth
thorns and thistles at this day. Every one knows that
an abundant crop of these weeds indicates poor ground,
Avhich will require a great deal of cultix'ation to bring
it into order. Nay, that avc may be sure that the cul¬
tivation of the earth was at this time no easy matter,
it is likewise said, “ In sorrow shall thou eat of it ail
the days of thy life.” Hence it Avould appear, that
the antediluvian earth, instead of being more fertile,
Avas much more barren than at present, fhat the la¬
bour of cultivating the ground at that time was also
so great as to be almost intolerable, is evident from the
speech of Lamech on the birth of Noah : ** This same
(says he) shall comfort us concerning our work and
toil of our hands, concerning the ground Avhich the
Lord hath cursed.”
2. There is a very evident natural reason Avhy the
antediluvian world should have been more barren than
the present, and Avhy the deluge should have removed
that barrenness. Under the article Antediluvians,
N° 19. it is hinted, that the purity of the air at that
time was a principal cause of the longevity of the hu¬
man race. If this was really the case, which is very
probable, we must suppose the atmosphere to have
then contained a greater quantity of pure air than it
does at present; for experiments have put it beyond
doubt, that from this the support of animal life is im¬
mediately derived. Rut this kind of air, however fa¬
vourable to animal life, is found to be very unfavour¬
able to vegetation ; and therefore in proportion to its-
abundance in the antediluvian atmosphere, the animals
Avill be healthy, and the vegetables weak, puny, and
sickly. Rut the deluge, by overflowing the earth for
a whole year, destroyed every animal and vegetable,
and consequently induced a vast putrefaction all over
the globe ; the consequence of which Avas the produc¬
tion of an immense quantity of what is called phlogisti-
cated air(a%oticgas'). This, mixing with the pure atmo¬
sphere, vitiated it to such a degree as to make it less
friendly to animal life, but more so to vegetation.
Hence the present Avorld must naturally be. more fer¬
tile than the former; and not only on this account,
hut by reason of its being manured by the stagnation
of the waters upon its surface for a tAvelvemonth, and
the immense quantity of animal matter left by them,
the ground, instead of being lessened in its fertility, as
Dr Woodward supposes, must have been restored, as
far as we can judge, to the very stats it was in at its
original formation.
3, That this was really the case appears probable from
J what
DEL [ 155 ] DEM
what the Deity said to Noah after offering up his sacri¬
fice. “ I will not (says he) curse the ground any more
for man’s sake.” Now this was plainly intimating that
the earth was restored to its primitive fertility, and that
he would no more take it away ; for when he did so to
the primitive world, it was in these words, “ Cursed is
the ground for thy sake.” That the curse here alluded
to Avas really the depriving the earth of its fertility,
and not the overflowing the earth with water, is evi¬
dent j because, after declaring that he would no more
curse the ground for man’s sake, he adds, “ Neither
will I again smite every living thing as I have
done.”
4. The moral reasons assigned why the present world
should be less fertile than the former, seem to be incon¬
clusive. However barren we may reckon the earth just
now, it is certain that it produces, or might produce,
much more than would suffice for all its inhabitants.
The difficulties which mankind undergo are not at all
owing to the barrenness of the earth, but to their own
conduct, or their oppression of one another. Neither
does it clearly appear that animal food is in any degree
cheaper than vegetable, but rather the contrary : so
that whatever was the reason of this grant after the
flood, we cannot fairly ascribe it to a foresight of the
future barrenness of the earth.
Another question which naturally occurs on the sub¬
ject of the deluge is, Whether there was any rain before
it or not ? The argument against the existence of rain
before the flood, is obviously derived from the rain¬
bow being made a symbol of the divine favour imme¬
diately after. It is certain, indeed, unless we sup¬
pose the nature of light or of water to have been
different before this event from what it was afterwards,
there is a natural impossibility of the refraction of the
sun’s light being prevented from showing the appearance
ef a rainbow, whenever the sun and clouds were in a
certain position with regard to one another. It appears
improbable to those who take this side of the question,
that the Deity should institute any thing as an emblem
of his displeasure being turned away, when the same
emblem had been seen perhaps a very short time before
the catastrophe happened. On the other hand, it is re¬
plied, that there is no absurdity in supposing this to
have been tbe case j for though the rainbow existed be¬
fore tbe deluge, yet it never was appointed to be the
symbol of this particular event, viz., the reconciliation
of the Deity $ and the impossibility of vegetables being
supplied with a sufficient quantity of moisture without
rain, is likewise urged as a decisive argument. Still,
however, it appears, that even vegetation may subsist,
and that in its utmost perfection, without rain j for we
are informed, that by means of a mist the ground was
originally watered, and vegetables supplied with mois¬
ture, before there was any rain ; and if this was the
case at one time, it might have been at any other, or at
any number of times we can suppose. Indeed, as mat¬
ters stand at present, this would undoubtedly be a very
scanty supply j and perhaps so it was in the antedilu¬
vian world 5 and thus the want of rain might have been
one cause of that barrenness in the antediluvian world
which we have already mentioned as probable, and
which Mr Bryant mentions as the opinion of all the an¬
cient mythologists.
DEMADES, a famous Athenian, who from being
a mariner, became a great orator, and appeased Philip
by his eloquence, after the famous victory over the A-
thenians at Cheronea, in the 338th year B. C.
DEMAIN, or Demesne, in Law, is commonly
understood to be the lord’s chief manor place, with
the lands thereto belonging, which he and his ances¬
tors have, time out of mind, kept in their own manual
occupation.
DEMAND, in its popular sense, denotes a calling
for or requiring one’s due.
Demand, in Larv, has a more special signification, as
contradistinguished from plaint; for all civil actions are
pursued either by demands or plaints 5 according to
which the pursuer is called either demandant or plaintiff;
viz. in real actions, demandant; and in personal ac¬
tions, plaintiff'. See Plaintiff.
DEMERARY, formerly a Dutch settlement in
Guiana, now in possession of the English. See De-
marara, Supplement.
DEMESNE. See Demain.
Demesne Lands. See Revenue.
DEMETRIA, a festival in honour of Ceres, called
by the Greeks Demeter. The votaries of the goddess
lashed themselves with whips made with the bark of
trees. I he Athenians had a solemnity of the same
name in honour of Demetrius Poliorcetes.
_ DEMETRIUS, a son of Antigonus and Strato-
nice, surnamed JPohorcetes, “ Destroyer of towns.” At
the age of 22, he was sent by his father against Ptolemy,
who invaded Syria. He was defeated near Gaza}
but he soon repaired his loss by a victory over one of
the generals of the enemy. He afterwards sailed with
a fleet of 250 ships to Athens, and restored the Athe¬
nians to liberty, by freeing them from the power of
Cassander and Ptolemy, and expelling the garrison
which rvas stationed there under Demetrius Phalereus.
After this successful expedition, he besieged and took
Munychia, and defeated Cassander at Thermopylae?.
His reception at Athens after these victories Avas at¬
tended Avith the greatest servility, and the Athenians
were not ashamed to raise altars to him as a god, and
consult his oracles. This uncommon success raised
the jealousy of the successors of Alexander ; and Seleif-
cus, Cassander, and Lysimachus, united to destroy An¬
tigonus and his son. Their hostile armies met at Ipsus,
299 years before the Augustan age. Antigonus Avas
killed in the battle : and Demetrius, after a severe
loss, retired to Ephesus. His ill success raised him
many enemies} and the Athenians, who bad lately
adored him as a god, refused to admit him into their
city. He soon after ravaged the territory of Lysima¬
chus, and reconciled himself to Seleucus, to Avhom he
gave his daughter Stratonice in marriage. Athens
now laboured under tyranny, and Demetrius relieved it
and pardoned the inhabitants. The loss of his possessions
in Asia recalled him from Greece, and he established
himself on the throne of Macedonia by the murder of
Alexander the son of Cassander. Here he Avas conti¬
nually at Avar with the neighbouring states, and the
superior power of his adversaries obliged him to leave
Macedonia, after he bad sat on the throne for seven
years. He passed into Asia, and attacked some of thej
provinces of Lysimachus, Avith various success} but fa-i
U 2 mine!
Demade*
ll .
Demetrius.
DEM [I
IJcmetnu*. mine and pestilence destroyed the greatest part of his
'v‘* 1 army, and he retired to the court of Seleucus for sup¬
port and assistance. He met with a kind reception ",
hut hostilities were soon begun ; and after he had
gained some advantages over his son-in-law, Demetrius
was totally forsaken by his troops in the field of battle,
and became an easy prey to tbe enemy. Though he
was kept in confinement by his son-in-law, yet lie
maintained himself like a prince, and passed his time
in hunting, and in every laborious exercise. His son
^ntigonus offered Seleucus all his possessions, and even
. . ° , • r IM ... . L.... ..11
his person, to procure his father’s liberty j but all
proved unavailing, and Demetrius died in the 54th year
of his age, after a confinement of three years, 286
years before Christ. His remains were given to An-
tigonus, and honoured with a splendid funeral pomp
at Corinth, and hence conveyed to Demetrias. His
posterity remained in possession of the Macedonian
throne till the age of Perseus who was conquered by
the Romans. Demetrius has rendered himself famous
for his fondness of dissipation when among the dissolute,
and for his love of virtue and military glory in tbe
field of battle. He has been commended as a great
warrior; and his ingenious inventions, his warlike en¬
gines, and stupendous machines in the war with the
Rhodians, justify his claims to that character. He has
been blamed for his voluptuous indulgences ; and his
biographer observes that no Grecian prince had more
wives and concubines than Poliorcetes. . His obedience
and reverence to his father has been justly admired,
and it has been observed, that Antigonus ordered the
ambassadors of a foreign prince particularly to remark
the cordiality and friendship which subsisted between
him and his son.
Demetrius, surnamed Donatus, succeeded his father
Antigonus on the throne of Macedonia. He reigned
12 years, and was succeeded by his son Philip.
Demetrius, a son of Philip king of Macedonia,
delivered as an hostage to the Romans. His modesty
delivered his father from a heavy accusation laid be¬
fore the Roman senate. When he returned to Mace¬
donia, he was falsely accused by his brother Perseus,
who was jealous of his popularity, and his father too
credulously consented to his death.
Demerius I. surnamed Soter or Saviour, was son of
Seleucus Philopator, the son of Antiochus the Great,
king of Syria. His father gave him as a hostage to
the Romans. After the death of Seleucus, Antio¬
chus Epiphanes, the deceased monarch’s, brother, usur¬
ped the kingdom of Syria, and was succeeded by his
son Antiochus Eupator. This usurpation displeased
Demetrius, who was detained at Rome. He procured
his liberty on pretence of going to hunt, and fled to
Syria, where the troops received him as their lawful
sovereign. He put to death Eupator and Lysias, and
established himself on his throne by cruelty andoppres.-
sion. Alexander Bala, the son of Antiochus Epiphanes,
laid claims upon the crown of Syria, and defeated De¬
metrius in a battle, 230 years before Christ.
Demetrius II. surnamed Nicalor, or Conqueror, was
son of Soter, to whom he succeeded by the assistance
pf Ptolemy Philometor- He married Cleopatra, the
daughter of Ptolemy, who was before the wife of the
ejtnejled monarch Alexander Bala.. Demetuus gayp
56 ] DEM
himself up to luxury and voluptuousness, and suffered JViretmii
his kingdom to he governed by his favourites. At fl
that time a pretended son of Bala, called Diodorus
Tryphon, seized a part of Syria ", and Demetrius, to
oppose his antagonist, made an alliance with the Jews,
and marched into the east, where he was taken by the
Parthians. Phraates, king of Parthia, gave him his
daughter Rodogyne in marriage •, and Cleopatra was
so incensed at his new connection, that she gave her¬
self up to Antiochus Sidetes her brother-in-law, ami
married him. Sidetes was killed in a battle against the
Parthians, and Demetrius regained the possession of his
kingdom. His pride and oppression rendered him odi¬
ous $ and his subjects asked a king of the house of Se¬
leucus from Ptolemy Physcon king of Egypt; and De¬
metrius, unable to resist the power of his enemies, fled
to Ptolemais, which was then in the hands of his wife
Cleopatra. The gates were shut up against his approach
by Cleopatra ; and he was killed by order of the gover¬
nor of Tyre, whither he had fled for protection, A. U.
C. 627. He was succeeded by Alexander Zebina,
whom Ptolemy had raised to the throne.
Demetrius Phalercus, a celebrated orator and Peri¬
patetic philosopher, was the scholar of Theophrastus.
He acquired so much authority at Athens, that he go¬
verned the city for ten years 5 and ruled with so much
wisdom and virtue, that they set up 36 statues in honour
of him. By the slanders of some malicious persons in
his absence, he was, however, condemned to die j and
his image was pulled down ", which, when Demetrius
heard, he said, they could not pull down that virtue
for which those images were set up. He escaped into
Egypt, and was protected by Ptolemy Lagus. This
king, it is said, asked his advice concerning the succes¬
sion of his children to the throne ; viz. whether he
ought to prefer those he had by Euridice to Ptolemy
Philadelphus, whom he had by Berenice ? and Deme¬
trius advised him to leave his crown to the former.
This displeased Philadelphus so much, that his father
being dead, he banished Demetrius j who was after-
wards killed by the bite of an asp. Demetrius composed
more works in prose and verse than any other Peripa¬
tetic of his time •, and his writings consisted of poetry,
history, politics, rhetoric, harangues, and embassies.
None of them are extant except his rhetoric, which is
usually printed among the Rhetorcs Scfccti.
Demetrius, a Cynic philosopher, disciple of Apol¬
lonius Tyanseus, in the age of Caligula. . Ihe empe¬
ror wished to gain the philosopher to his inteiest by a
large present •, but Demetrius refused it with indigna¬
tion, and said, II Caligula wishes to bribe me, let him
send me his crown. Vespasian was displeased with his
insolence, and banished him to an island. 1 he Cynic
derided the punishment, and bitterly inveighed against
the emperor. He died in a great old age ", and Seneca
observes that “ nature had brought him forth to show
mankind that an exalted genius can live securely, with.,
out being corrupted by the vices of the world.”
DEMI (formed from dimidium), a word used in
composition with other words to signify Jialf.
DEMI-Attici, boroughs or larger villages of Attica.
The Athenian tribes were distinguished into Demi. Ho¬
mer, in his catalogue, distinguishes the Athenians by
the appellatipn Demos., And when Theseus prevailed
tel#'-
tici
DEM [ 157 ] DEM
on them to quit the country and settle at Athens, they
still continued to frequent the denii, and to perform
their several religious ceremonies there.
Demi-Culveri/i, a piece of ordnance, usually qf
inches bore, 2700 pounds weight, 10 feet long, and
carrying point blank 175 paces. A demi-culverin of the
least size is qA inches bore, 10 feet long, and 2003
pounds weight. It carries a ball of 4 inches diameter
and of 9 pounds weight, and its level range is 174
paces. A demi-culverin of the largest sort is 4! inches
bore, X3y feet long, and weighs 3000 pounds weight.
It carries a ball 4^ inches diameter, weighing 12
pounds 11 ounces, point blank 178 paces.
Demi-God. See Hero.
DEMi-Gorge, in Fortification, is that part of the
polygon which remains after the flank is raised, and
goes from the curtain to the angle of the polygon. It
is half of the vacant space or entrance into a bastion.
Demi-Quaver, a note in Music, two of which are
equal to a quaver.
Demi-Semi- Quaver, in Music, the shortest note, two
of them being equal to a semiquaver.
DEMISE, in Law, is applied to an estate either in
fee-simple, fee-tail, or for a term of life or years ; and
so it is commonly taken in many writs. The king’s
death is in law termed the demise of the king.
Demise and Redemise, denote a conveyance where
there are mutual leases made from one to another of
the same land, or something out of it.
DEMIURGE (from which denotes a “ public
servant,” and “ work”), in the mythology of the
eastern philosophers, was one of the TEONS employed
by the supreme Deity in the creation of the world.
He is represented as claiming dominion over the new
world he had formed j and excluding totally the su¬
preme Deity from all concern in it.
DEMOCRACY, from “ people,” and*g«T6<j',
“ to command” or “ govern j” the same with a popular
government, wherein the supreme power is lodged in
the hands of the people ; such were Rome and Athens
of old •, but the most perfect example of democracy is
afforded by the United States of North America at the
present day, the government of which, for the security
it gives, the good order it preserves, the small burdens
it imposes, and the admirable judgment with which its
foreign and domestic policy has been conducted, de¬
serves to be considered as one of the best and wisest in
the world. See Government, Supplement.
DEMOCRITUS, one of the greatest philosophers
of antiquity, was born at Abdera, a town of Thrace,
about the 80th Olympiad ; that is, about 460 years
before Christ. His father, says Valerius Maximus,
was able to entertain the army of Xerxes; and Dio¬
genes Laertius adds, upon the testimony of Herodotus,
that the king, in requital, presented him with some
Magi and Chaldeans. From these Magi and Chaldeans
Democritus ieceived the first part of his education ;
and from them, whilst yet a boy, he learned theology
and astronomy. He next applied to Leucippus, and
learned from him the system of atoms and a vacuum.
His father dying, the three sons, for so many there were,
divided the estate. Democritus made choice of that
part which consisted in money, as being, though the
least share, the most convenient for travelling *, and it
is said, that his portion amounted to above xqo talents,
which is near 20,0001. sterling. His extraordinary Rcmo-
inclination for the sciences and for knowledge, induced cruus,
him to travel into all parts of the world where he hoped P^Q've.
to find learned men. He went to visit the priests ot ' v
Egypt, from whom he learned geometry ; he consulted
the Chaldeans and the Persian philosophers ; and it is
said that he penetrated even into India and Ethiopia,
to confer with the Gymnosophists. In these travels
he wasted his substance; after which, at his return, he'
was obliged to be maintained by his brother; and if
he had not given proofs of the greatest understanding,
and thereby procured to himself the highest honours,
and the strongest interest of his country, he would have-
incurred the penalty of that law which denied in¬
terment in the family-sepulchre to those who had spent
their patrimony. After his return from travelling, he
lived at Abdera, and governed there in a most absolute'
manner, by virtue of his consummate wisdom. The
magistrates of that city made him a present of 500 ta-.
lents, and erected statues to him even in his lifetime:
but being naturally more inclined to contemplation
than delighted with public honours and employments,,
he withdrew into solitude and retirement. Democri¬
tus incessantly laughed at human life, as a continued
farce, which made the inhabitants of Abdera think he
was mad ; on which they sent Hippocrates to cure
him ; but that celebrated physician having discoursed
with the philosopher, told the Abderians, that he had
a great veneration for Democritus ; and that in his
opinion, those who esteemed themselves the most heal¬
thy were the most distempered. Democritus died, ac¬
cording to Diogenes Laertius, in the 361st year before
the Christian era, aged 109. It is said that he put out
his eyes, in order that he might meditate more pro¬
foundly on philosophical subjects; but this has little pro¬
bability. He was the author of many books, which are
lost; and from these Epicurus borrowed his philosophy.
DEMOIVRE, Abraham, an eminent mathema¬
tician, was born at Vitri in Champagne, May 1667.
The revocation of the edict of Nantz, in 1683, deter¬
mined him to fly into England, rather than abandon
the religion of his fathers. He laid the foundation of
Ids mathematical studies in France, and perfected him¬
self at London ; where a mediocrity of fortune obliged
him to employ his talents in this way,, and to read pu-.
blic lectures for his better support. The, Frtncipia
Mathematica of Newton, which chance is said to have
thrown in his way, made him comprehend at once, ,
how little he had advanced in thescience he professed.
He fell hard to work : he succeeded as he went along;,
and he soon became connected with, andt celebrated ,
among, the first-rate mathematicians. His eminence
and abilities soon opened to him. an entrance into the
Royal Society of London, and afterwards into the Aca-j
demy of Sciences at Paris. His merit was so known
and acknowledged by the former, that they judged him .
a fit person to decide the famous contest between New¬
ton and Leibnitz. The collection, of the academy of
Paris contains no memoir of >tbis author, who died at
London Nov. 1754, soon after his admission into it ; ,
but the Philosophical Transactions of London have se¬
veral, and all of them interesting... He published also
some capital works, such as, Miscellanea Analytica, de
seriebus et quadraturis, &c. 1730, qto. But perhaps
he. has been more generally known by ,his “ Doctrine
Demoivre
II
Demos¬
thenes.
DEM [ 158 ] DEM
of Chances j wr, Method of calculating the Probablli- was sent to fetch hint -^Cghia
ties of Events at Play.” This work was first printed
1618, in 4to, and dedicated to Sir Isaac Newton : it
was reprinted 1738, with great alterations and improve¬
ments j and a third edition was afterwards published
with additions, and “ A Treatise on Annuities,” dedi¬
cated to Lord Carpenter.
DEMONSTRABLE, a term used in the schools to
signify that a thing may he clearly proved. Thus, it
is demonstrable, that the three angles of a triangle are
equal to two right ones.
DEMONSTRATION, in Logic, a series of syllo¬
gisms, all whose premises are either definitions, self-
evident truths, or propositions already established. See
Logic.
DEMONSTRATIVE, in Grammar, a term given
to such pronouns as serve to indicate or point out a
thing. Of this number are hie, h<£c, hoc, among the
Latins •, and this, that, these, those, in English.
DEMOSTHENES, the famous Athenian orator,
was born at Athens 381 B. C. He lost his father at
seven years of age j and was placed under the conduct
of guardians, who robbed him of his substance, and ne¬
glected his education. Demosthenes repaired this loss
by his love of eloquence and his extraordinary abilities.
He became the disciple of Isaeus and Plato, and ap¬
plied himself to study the orations of Isocrates. At
the age of 17 he gave an early proof of his eloquence
and abilities against his guardians, from whom he ob¬
tained the retribution of the greatest part of his estate.
His rising talents were, however, impeded by various
natural defects. But these were at last conquered by
dint of resolution and unwearied attention. He de¬
claimed by the sea-shore, that he might be used to the
noise of a tumultuous assembly ; and with pebbles in
his mouth, that he might correct a defect in his speech.
He practised at home with a naked sword hanging
over his shoulder, that he might check an ungraceful
motion to which he was subject. He also confined
himself in a subterraneous cave, to devote himself more
closely to studious pursuits *, and to eradicate all curio¬
sity of appearing in public, he shaved one hall of his
head. In this solitary retirement, by the help of a
glimmering lamp, he composed the greatest part of his
orations, which have ever been the admiration of every
age ; though his contemporaries and rivals inveighed
against them, and observed that they smelt of oil. His
abilities as an orator raised him to consequence at A-
thens, and he was soon placed at the head of govern¬
ment. In this public capacity he roused his country¬
men from their indolence, and animated them against
the encroachment of Philip of Macedonia.^ In the
battle of Cheronaea, Demosthenes betrayed his pusilla¬
nimity, and saved his life by flight. After the death
of Philip, he declared himself warmly against his son
and successor Alexander 5 and when the Macedonians
demanded of the Athenians their orators, Demosthenes
reminded his countrymen of the fable of the sheep,
which delivered their dogs to the wolves. By the
prevalence of party, however, he was forced to retiie
from Athens •, and in his banishment, which he passed
at Troezen and Angina, he lived with more eflemi-
nacy than true heroism. When Antipater made W’ar
against Greece after the death of Alexander, Demos¬
thenes was publicly recalled from his exile, and a galley
His return was
attended with much splendour, and all the citizens
crowded at the Piraeus to see him land. His triumph '
and popularity were short. Antipater and Craterus
were near Athens, and demanded all the orators to be
delivered up into their hands. Demosthenes fled to
the temple of Neptune in Calauria; and when he saw
that all hopes of safety were vanished, he took a dose
of poison, which he always carried in a quill, and ex¬
pired on the day that the Thesmophoria were celebra¬
ted, 322 years before Christ. The Athenians raised a
brazen statue to his honour, with an inscription trans¬
lated into this distich :
Demos.
thenes.
Si tibipar menti robur, Vir magne,fuisset,
Grcecia non Macedo succubuisset hero.
Demosthenes has been deservedly called the prince
of orators. Indeed no orator had ever a finer field
than Demosthenes in his Olynthiacs and Philippics,
which are his capital orations j and undoubtedly to1
the greatness of the subject, and to that integrity and
public spirit which breathe in them, they owe a large
portion of their merit. The subject is, to excite
the indignation of his countrymen against Philip of
Macedon, the public enemy of the liberties of Greece;
and to guard them against the treacherous measures
by which that crafty tyrant endeavoured to lull them
into a neglect of their danger. To attain this end,
we see him use every proper means to animate a
people distinguished by justice, humanity and valour,
but in many instances become corrupt and degenerate.
He boldly accuses them of venality, indolence, and
indifference to the public good ; while, at the
same time, he reminds them of their former glory
and of their present resources. His contemporary
orators, who were bribed by Philip, and who persuaded
the people to peace, he openly reproaches as trai¬
tors to their country. He not only prompts to vi¬
gorous measures, but teaches how they are to be
carried into execution. His orations are strongly a-
nimated, and full of the impetuosity and ardour of
public spirit. His composition is not distinguished by
ornament and splendour. It is an energy of thought,
peculiarly his own, which forms his character, and
raises him above his species. He seems not to attend
to words, but to things. We forget the orator, and
think of the subject. He has no parade and ostenta¬
tion, no studied introductions : but is like a man full
of his subject; who after preparing his audience by a
sentence or two for the reception of plain truths, en¬
ters directly on business.
The style of Demosthenes is strong and concise;
though sometimes, it must be confessed, harsh and
abrupt. His words are highly expressive, and his ar¬
rangement firm and manly. Negligent of lesser graces,
he seems to have aimed at that sublime which lies in
sentiment. His action and pronunciation are said to
have been uncommonly vehement and ardent; which,
from the manner of his writings, we should readily
believe. His character appears to have been of the
austere rather than of a gentle kind. He is always
grave, serious, passionate ; never degrading himself,
nor attempting any thing like pleasantry. If his
admirable eloquence be in any respect laulty, it is
that he sometimes borders on the hard and dry. He
may
EM [ 159 ] DEN
Demo- may be thought to want smoothness and grace ; which
uheae*, is attributed to his imitating too closely the manner
(empster. 0f Thucydides, who was his great model for style,
aml whose history he is said to have transcribed eight
times with his own hand. But these defects are
more than atoned for by that masterly force of mas¬
culine eloquence, which, as it overpowered all who
heard it, cannot in the present day be read without
emotion.
Cicero calls him a perfect model, and such as he him¬
self wished to be. These two great princes of eloquence
have been often compared together ; but the judgment
hesitates to which to give the preference. The arch¬
bishop of Cambray, however, seems to have stated their
merits with great justice and perspicuity in his Reflec¬
tions on Rhetoric and Poetry. The passage, transla¬
ted, is as follows : “ I do not hesitate to declare that
I think Demosthenes superior to Cicei’o. I am per¬
suaded no one can admire Cicero more than I do. He
adorns whatever he-attempts. He does honour to lan¬
guage. He disposes of words in a manner peculiar
to himself. His style has great variety of character.
Whenever he pleases, he is even concise and vehement,
for instance, against Catiline, against Verres, against
Antony. But ornament is too visible in his writings.
His art is wonderful, but it is perceived. When the
orator is providing for the safety of the republic, he
forgets not himself, nor permits others to forget him.
Demosthenes seems to escape from himself, and to see
nothing but his country. He seeks not elegance of
expression ; unsought for, he possesses it. He is supe¬
rior to admiration. He makes use of language, as a
modest man does of dress, only to cover him. He
thunders, he lightens. He is a torrent which carries
every thing before it. We cannot criticise, because
we are not ourselves. His subject enchains our atten¬
tion, and makes us forget his language. We lose him
from our sight: Philip alone occupies our minds. I
am delighted with both these orators j but I confess
that I am less affected by the infinite art and magnifi¬
cent eloquence of Cicero, than by the rapid simplicity
of Demosthenes.”
DEMPSTER, Thomas, a very learned man, but
of a singular character. He was born in Scotland, but
we do not find in what year. He went over to France
for the sake of embracing the Catholic religion, and
taught classical learning at Paris about the beginning
of the 17th century. Though his business was to teach
school, yet he was as ready to draw his sword, and as
quarrelsome, as if he had been a duellist by profession j
and it is said, that there scarce passed a day but he had
something or other of this kind upon his hands. This
spirit and turn of temper drew him into many scrapes j
and one in particular, which obliged him to quit the
country. Grangier, principal of the college of Beau¬
vais at Paris, being obliged to take a journey, appoint¬
ed Dempster his substitute. Dempster caused whip a
scholar, in full school, for challenging one of his fel¬
lows to fight a duel. The scholar, to revenge this af¬
front, brought three gentlemen of his relations, who
were of the king’s life-guards, into the college. Demp¬
ster made the whole college take arms •, hamstrung the
three life-guard-men’s horses before the college-gate $
and put himself in such a posture of defence, that
the three sparks were forced to ask for quarter. He Dempster
gave them their lives ; but imprisoned them, and did II
not release them for some days. They sought another , Dent)|gh.^
way to revenge themselves : they caused an informa- y
tion to be made of the life and moral behaviour of
Dempster, and got some witnesses to be heard against
him. Upon this he went over to England, where he
found refuge j but did not make any long stay. He
went abroad again, and read lectures upon polite learn¬
ing in several universities j in that of Nismes particu¬
larly, where he disputed for a professor’s chair, and ob¬
tained it. He went to Bologna, and was professor
there for the remainder of his life ; and was there also
admitted a member of the Academy Della Rottc. He
died there in September 1625, Raving behind him se¬
veral learned works j as Commentaries on Rosinusde An-
tiquitatibus Romanorujn, and upon Claudian, &c.j four
books of epistles } several dramatic pieces, and other
poems j some books of law j an Apparatus to the His¬
tory of Scotland 5 a Martyrology of Scotland j and a
List of the Scottish Writers.
Dempster of Court, the name formerly given in
Scotland to the common executioner or hangman.
DEMSTER, or Deemster. See Deemster.
DEMULCENTS, among physicians, medicines
good against acrimonious humours. Such are the roots
of marsh-mallows, of white lilies, of liquorice, and of
viper-grass, the five emollient herbs, &c.
DEMURRAGE, in Commerce, an allowance made
to the master of a ship by the merchants, for staying in
a port longer than the time first appointed for his de¬
parture.
DEMURRER, in Law, a stop put to any action
upon some point of difficulty which must be determined
by the court, before any further proceedings can be
had in the suit.
DEN, a syllable which, added to the names of
places, shows them to be situated in valleys or near
woods ; as Tenterden.
DENARIUS, in Roman antiquity, the chief silver
coin among the Romans, worth in our money about
sevenpence three farthings. As a weight, it was the
seventh part of a Roman ounce.
Denarius, is also used in our law-books for an
English penny.
DENBIGHSHIRE, a county of Wales, bounded on
the south by Merioneth and Montgomery shires, on the
north by Flintshire and the Irish sea, on the west by
Caernarvon. It is about 40 miles long and 23 broad.
It contains 410,000 acres, a considerable part of which
is rugged and mountainous. It contained 66,400 in¬
habitants in 1811. The soil in general is barren j but
the vale of Clwyd, so called from its being watered by
that river, is a very fertile pleasant spot of great ex¬
tent. The chief commodities are black-cattle, sheep,
and goats, rye, called here and lead-ore. The
county sends two members to parliament, viz. a knight
for the shire, and a burgess for Denbigh the capital.
See Denbighshire, Supplement.
Denbigh, the capital town in Denbighshire in North
Wales. It is seated on the side of a rocky hill, on a
branch of the river Clwyd, and was formerly a plac#
of great strength, with an impregnable castle, now de¬
molished. It is pretty large, well-built, and inhabited
by
DEN [ 160 ] DEN
I>tnSi§h by tanners and glovers, and gives the title of earl to
H the noble family of Fielding. Population 2714 *n
De"d‘'°- 1811. W. Long. 3. 30. N.Lat. 53. 15.
J1' . DENDERA, a town of Egypt, on the west side of
the Nile. Near it are very magnificent ruins, supposed
to be those of an ancient temple of Serapis. It is 4^
miles south-south-east ofGirge, and 242 south of Cairo.
E. Long. 31. 40. N. Lat. 26. 10.
DENDERMOND, a handsome and strong town
in the kingdom of the Netherlands, with a strong ci¬
tadel. It was taken by the allies in 1706, and by
the French in 1745. It is surrounded by marshes and
fine meadows, which the inhabitants can lay undei wa
ter when they please. It is seated at the confluence
of the Dender and Scheldt. E. Long. 4. 3. N. Lat.
5IDENDRACHATES, in Natural History, the name
used by the ancients for an extremely elegant and
beautiful species of agate, the ground of which is
whitish, variegated with veins ot a brighter white.
These veins are beautifully disposed in a number of va¬
rious figures ; but generally in many concentric irregu¬
lar circles, drawn" round one or more points, ft is
common also, ia various parts of this stone, to find very
beautiful delineations of trees, mosses, sea-plants, and
the like, so elegantly expressed, that many have erro¬
neously taken them for real plants included in the sub¬
stance of the stone : whence the name dendrachates.
DENDROMETER, (from a tree, and
I measure, (an instrument invented by Messrs Dun-
combe and Whittel, for which they obtained a patent;
and so called from its use in measuring trees. This in-
rr TvVstrument consists of a semicircle A (fig. 1.), divided into
t. 1 two quadrants, and graduated from the middle : upon
the diameter B there hangs a plummet L for fixing the
instrument in a vertical position : there is also a chord
D parallel to the diameter, and a radius E* passing at
right angles through the diameter and chord. From
a point on the radius hangs an altimeter C, between
the chord and diameter, to which is fixed a small semi¬
circle G, and a screw, to confine it in any position.
The altimeter, which is contrived to form the same
angle with the radius of the instrument as the tree
forms with the horizon, is divided from its centre both
wavs into forty equal parts : and these parts are again
subdivided into halves and quarters. Upon the small
semicircle G, on which is accounted the quantity ot
the angle made by the altimeter and radius, are ex¬
pressed degrees from 60 to 120, being 30 on each qua¬
drant. The radius is numbered with the same scale
of divisions as the altimeter. There is also a nonius
to the small semicircle, which shows the quantity of
an angle to every five minutes. On the back of the
instrument the. stock M of the sliding piece is confined
to the axis N, which moves concentrically parallel to
the elevation index F on the opposite sale, to which it
is fixed. This index is numbered by a scale of equal
divisions with the altimeter and radius: at the end of
the index is a nonius, by which the angles of elevation
above, or of depression below, the horizon, measured
upon the semicircle of the instrument, are determined
to every five minutes. There is also a groove in the
radius, that slides across the axis by means of a screw
I, working between the chord and semicircle of the
instrument j and this screw is turned by the key U.
3
Upon the stock M (fig. 2.) is a sliding piece r, tliat at- Dendro j I#
ways acts at right angles with the altimeter, by means meter, ter.
of a groove in the latter. To the shank of the sliding ^
piece is affixed a moveable limb Q, which forms the 3 '
same angle with the altimeter as the bough forms
with the body or trunk of the tree. This limb may
be of any convenient length, divided into equal parts
of the same scale with all the foregoing divisions. At
the extremity of the fixed axis, on a centre, an index
R, with telescope sights, works horizontally upon the
moveable limb of the sliding piece. Upon this hori¬
zontal index R may be fixed a small quadrant T, de¬
scribed with any convenient radius from the centre on
which the index moves, and divided into 90 degrees,
beginning at a right line drawn from the centre at
right angles with the fiducial edge of the said index \
and upon the extremity of the axis is a nonius, where¬
by to determine the quantity of an angle upon the
quadrant every five minutes. There are also two small
circular arches S S, serving to keep the sights in a
parallel position, each containing an equal number of
degrees. Upon these arches is measured the angle,
subtending a side equal to the difference of the altitudes
of the observed objects above the plane of the horizon,
and whose base is the nearest distance between the per¬
pendiculars in which these objects are situated. I he
dendrometer is fitted to a theodolite, and may be used
either with or without it as occasion requires.
The principal use of this instrument is for measuring
the length and diameter of any tree, perpendicular or
oblique to a horizontal plane, or in any situation ot
the plane on which it rests, or of any figure, whether
regular or irregular, and also the length and diameter
of the boughs, by mere inspection ; and the inventors
of it have calculated tables, annexed to their account
of the instrument itself, by the help of which the quan¬
tity of timber in a tree is obtained without calculation,
or’ the use of the sliding rule. The instrument is rec¬
tified by setting it in a perpendicular position, by means
of the plummet, and screwing it to the staff 5 then the
altimeter is placed in the exact position of the tree,
whether perpendicular, reclining, or inclining, and
screwed fast. If the tree stands on level ground, the
horizontal distance from the tree to the axis of the in¬
strument is measured with a tape-line, and the ladius
is moved with the key till that distance be cut upon it
by the inside of the diameter *, but if the ground be
slanting, the distance from the tree to the instrument
is measured, and the elevation index is moved till the
point of the tree from which the distance was measured
is seen through the sights, and there, screwed fast ; and
the radius is moved backwards or forwards with the
key, till this distance is cut upon the elevation index
by the perpendicular line ot the altimeter j and the ho¬
rizontal line will be marked upon the radius by the
inside of the diameter. In order to obtain the length
of the tree, the elevation index is first moved down¬
wards, till the bottom of the tree cut by the hori¬
zontal wires is observed through the sights, and the
feet and inches marked by the index upon the alti¬
meter below the point of sight or horizontal line
are noted down : then the index is moved upwards
till the part to which you would measure, cut by the
horizontal wires, is seen, and the feet and inches
marked on the altimeter above the point of sight are
noted:
DEN [ 161 ] DEN
ndrome.noted: these two quantities added together give the
ter. exact length of the tree, which is inserted in a lield-
' book. For the girth of the tree, the circumference
in that part where the horizontal distance was taken,
is measured with the tape line ; and a sixth part of
this circumference is added to the distance on the ra¬
dius, which was before cut by the inside of the diame¬
ter, because the tape-line, in taking the distance, can¬
not be applied to the centre of the body of the tree ;
then the elevation index is lowered to that part of the
tree, of which the diameter is to be taken, and screwed
fast. Set the moveable limb of the sliding piece
quite straight, and the edge of the horizontal index
upon the first division of it. Turn the whole instru¬
ment about to the left hand till you see through
the sights the left side of the tree cut exactly by the
perpendicular wires j then the instrument being fixed,
move the sights only upon the sliding piece, till you
see the right side of the tree cut also by the perpendi¬
cular wires ; and you will find the true diameter mai'k-
ed by the horizontal index upon the sliding piece,
which is to be entered in a distinct column of the field-
book.
For the boughs : let the distance on the radius be
now reduced to its former quantity, and the elevation
index moved upwards till the bough is seen through
the sights, and screwed fast. Set the moveable part of
the sliding piece in a position parallel to the bough,
and the edge of the horizontal index on the first divi¬
sion of it. Turn the whole instrument about till you
see through the sights the shoot of the bough close
to the trunk cut by the perpendicular wires j then
move the sights till you see the other end of the bougli
cut by the said wires, and note the feet and inches
marked by the horizontal index on the moveable limb
of the sliding piece, which will give the true length of
the bough to be inserted in the field-book. And the
girth of the bough may be obtained by directing the
sights to that part of it whose girth is desired j then
by moving the elevation index downwards till you see
the under side of the bough cut by the horizontal
wires, and there noting the feet and inches marked by
the said index on the altimeter j after which, let the
elevation index be moved upwards, till the upper side
of the bough cut by the horizontal wires is seen j the
feet and inches marked upon the altimeter are to be
noted as before. The former quantity subtracted from
the latter will give the true diameter of the bough,
which is entered in the field book. The true solidity
both of the body of the tree and of the boughs may be
found from the diameter and lengths in tables calcu¬
lated for this purpose.
The dendrometer, fitted to a theodolite, may be
applied to measuring the heights and distances of ob¬
jects, accessible or inaccessible, whether situated in
planes parallel or oblique to the plane in which the
instrument is placed. It may be also used for taking
all angles, whether vertical, horizontal, or oblique, in
any position of the planes in which they are formed ;
and thus tor facilitating the practical operations of en¬
gineering, land-surveying, levelling, mining, &c. and
for performing the various cases of plane trigonometry
without calculation ; of which the inventors have sub¬
joined to their account of this instrument many ex¬
amples.
Vol. VII. Part I. X
Dendrometer, an instrument for measuring di- Dendrome*
stances by a single observation, which has been propo- ter.
sed by Mr Pitt of Pendeford, near Wolverhampton, v“,,J
and of which the following is the description in the
words of the author.
“ The idea of an instrument to measure distances by
a single observation, has sometimes been discussed,
both in conversation and upon paper 5 and, though
the subject has generally been treated with neglect,
and even with a kind of contempt, by sound mathe¬
maticians, upon an idea of its extravagance and eccen¬
tricity, or upon a supposition of its being founded upon
false principles, yet I cannot but strongly recommend
it to the attention of the ingenious mathematical in¬
strument maker, as an article perhaps capable of being
brought to a higher degree of perfection than has ge¬
nerally been supposed.
“1 he method of determining distances by two ob-
sei’vations, from either end of a base line, is well
known to every one in the least degree conversant with
plane trigonometry : that of determining such distances
by one observation has been less explained and under¬
stood j and to this I wish to call the attention of the in¬
genious, whose local circumstances of situation may en¬
able them to investigate and improve the subject.
“ To determine distances by one observation, two
methods may be proposed, founded on different princi¬
ples j the one, on the supposition of the observer being
in the centre, and the object in the circumference, of
a circle $ the other, on the contrary supposition, of the
observer being in the circumference, and the object in
the centre.
“ To determine the distance of any object on the
first supposition, of the observer being in the centre,
the hulk or dimensions of such object must be known,
either by measure or estimation; and the angle formed
by lines drawn to its extremities being taken, by an
accurate instrument, the distance is easily calculated ;
and such calculations may be facilitated by tables, or
theorems adapted to that purpose. For this method
our present instruments, with a nonius, and the whole
very accurately divided, are sufficient; the only im¬
provement wanting seems to be, the application of a
micrometer to such instrument, to enable the observer
to read his angle with more minute accuracy, by as¬
certaining not only the degrees and parts of a degree,
but also the minutes and parts of a minute.
“ As, in this method, the bulk of inaccessible objects
can only be estimated, the error in distance will be ex¬
actly in the proportion of the error in such estimation ;
little dependence can therefore be placed on distances
thus ascertained. For the purposes of surveying, in¬
deed, a staff of known length may be held by an assist¬
ant ; and the angle from the eye of the observer to its
two ends being measured by an accurate instrument,
with a micrometer fitted to ascertain minutes and parts
of a minute, distances may be thus determined with
great accuracy ; the application of a micrometer to
the theodolite, if it could be depended upon, for thus
determining the minute parts of a degree, in small
angles, is very much a desideratum with the practical
surveyor.
“ This method of measuring distances, though plain
and simple enough, I shall just beg leave to illustrate ^’ate
by an example; suppose A, (fig. 3.) the place of the
X instrument; 5‘
DEN [ 162 ] DEN
Dendromc- Instrument •, BC, the assistant’s staff, with a perpendi- dolite, and furnished with spirit-tubes to adjust it to an Dendrmc.
cular pin at D, to enable the assistant to hold it in its horizontal position. I he instrument being placed
ter.
rig. 4-
'right position j now, if the angle BAG could, by the
hdp of a micrometer, be ascertained to parts of a mi¬
nute, the distance from A to B, or to C, may be, with
little trouble, calculated as follows.
“ Suppose the length of the staff BC be 100 inches,
or other parts; divide the number 343,500 by the mi¬
nutes contained in the angle A, the quotient will be the
distance AB, or AC, in the same parts.
“ The number 343,500 becomes the dividend in this
case, because the arch of a circle subtending an angle
of 3435 minutes, or 570 15', is equal in length to the
radius, and the object staff BC is supposed divided in¬
to 100 equal parts.
“ Thus, suppose the angle A be i°, or 60*, then,
60)343500(^:5725 inches rz distance AB.
“ Or, if the angle Abe 6o'TV> then 60.1) 343500(=
5715.5 inches.
“ Hence it appears, that an error of TV of a minute
in the angle A, would cause an error of 9 inches and
a half in the distance AB, or about -5^ part of the
whole ; the accuracy, therefore, of thus taking distances,
depends upon the accuracy wherewith angles can be
ascertained 5 and the error in distance will bear the
same proportion to the actual distance, as the error in
taking the angle does to the actual angle.
“ But this method of ascertaining distances cannot
be applied to inaccessible objects, and it is moreover
subject to the inconvenience of an assistant being ob¬
liged to go to the object whose distance is required,
(an inconvenience almost equal to the trouble of ac¬
tual admeasurement), theretore the perfection of the
second method proposed (if attainable) is principally
to be desired ; namely, that of conceiving the obser¬
vation made on the circumference of a circle, whose
centre is in the object whose distance is to be ascertain¬
ed ; and none of our instruments now in use being
adapted to this mode of observation, a new construction
of a mathematical instrument is therefore proposed, the
name intended for which is the Dendrometer.
“ This name is not now used for the first time, it
was applied in the same way by a gentleman who had,
as I have been informed, turned his thoughts to this
particular subject; but I do not find that he ever
brought his instrument into use, or explained its prin¬
ciples ; nor do I understand that this principle has ever
been applied in practice, for the familiar purpose of
ascertaining terrestrial distances in surveying, or other¬
wise though the same principle has been so generally,
and successfully, applied, in determining the distance
of the heavenly bodies by means of their parallax.
“ The following principles of construction are pro¬
posed, which mav perhaps be otherwise varied and im¬
proved. O, fig.'4. the object whose distance is re¬
quired i ABCDE the instrument in piano ; BC, a te¬
lescope, placed exactly parallel to the side AE 5 CE,
an arch of a circle, whose centre is at A, accurately
divided from E, in degrees, &c.; AD, an index,
moveable on the centre A, with a nonius scale at the
end D, graduated to apply to the divisions of the arch j
also witlv a telescope, to enable the observer to discri¬
minate the object, or any particular part or side there¬
of, the more accurately. The whole should be mounted
on three legs, in the manner of a plain table, or theo-
such position, the telescope BC must be brought upon
the object O, or rather upon some particular point or
side thereof; when, being there fastened, the index
AD must be moved, till its telescope exactly strikes
the same point of the object; then the divisions, on
the arch ED, mark out the angle DAE ; which will
be exactly equal to the angle BOA, as is demonstrated
in the 15th and 29th propositions ol Euclid, Book I. ;
and the side BA being already known, the distance
BO, or AO, may be easily determined in two differ¬
ent ways ; viz. first, by supposing the triangle BOA,
an isosceles triangle ; then multiply the side BA by
3435, as before, and divide the product by the mi¬
nutes contained in the angle DAE iz the angle BOA ;
the quotient will be the distance BO zz AO, very
nearly ; or, secondly, by supposing the triangle ABO
right-angled at B, then, as the sine of the angle found
DAErzBOA is to the side known BA, so is the ra¬
dius to the side AO, or so is the sine of the angle
BAO to the side BO. To illustrate this by an exam¬
ple, suppose the side BA zz 1 yard, the angle found
DAE = BOA = o° 15', then, per first method,
15)3435( — 229 yards == tlie distance BO, or AO.
Or, by the second method,
As the sine of the angle found 0°
Is to the side BAzzi yard zz
~ o'zz
15 —
Azzi yard zz
So is radius 90°
To the log. of the side AO=229 yardszz 2.3601840
7.6398160
0.0000000
10.0000000
Or,
As to the sine of the angle found o° IJ* zz 7.6398160
Is to the side BAzzi yardzz - 0.0000000
So is the sine of the angle BAO=89° 45,=r9,9999959
To the log. of the side BO zz 229 yards = 2.3601799.
“ As the perfectiou of this instrument depends to¬
tally upon its accuracy in taking small angles, which
accuracy must depend, for its minute divisions, upon
its being fitted with a micrometer; and as the writer
of this cannot doubt that the particular mode of doing
this must be familiar to the intelligent instrument ma¬
ker, he cannot but strongly recommend it to the at¬
tention of the ingenious of that profession, as an ob¬
ject which, when perfected, would be a real and con¬
siderable improvement in their art, and an useful in¬
strument to the practical surveyor. Its accuracy would
also, in some measure, depend upon the length of the
line BA in the figure ; that line might therefore be
extended, by the instrument being constructed to fold
or slide out to a greater length, when in use ; upon
which principle, connected with the application of a
micrometer, an accurate and useful instrument might
certainly be constructed. To adjust such instrument
for use, let a staff be held up at a distance, in the
manner of fig. I. exactly equal in length to the distance
of the two telescopes, and the index AD being brought
exactly upon the side AE, if the two telescopes accu¬
rately strike either end of the staff, the instrument is
properly adjusted. M ^
i£. fif?/fit f
tei
Dei
iti1
DEN [ 163 ] DEN
udromc- “ The construction of a similar instrument, on the
ter principles of Hadley’s quadrant, for naval observations,
R would also doubtless be an acceptable object in naviga-
)eneb. enabling the mariner to ascertain the distances
of ships, capes, and other objects, at a single observa¬
tion $ and that, perhaps, with greater accuracy than
can be done by any method now in use.
“ For this purpose, the following construction is
proposed : ABCDE, fig. 5. the instrument in piano ;
O, the object whose distance is required ; at A, at C,
at E, and at 3, are to be fixed speculum*, properly
framed and fitted, that at 3 having only its lower part
quicksilvered, the upper part being left transparent, to
view the object j the speculum at A being fixed ob¬
liquely, so that a line A I, drawn perpendicular to its
surface, may bisect the angle BAG in equal parts j that
at C being perpendicular to the line C 2 j those at E
and 3 being perpendicular to the index E 3, and that
at E being furnished with a sight; the arch DC to be
divided from D, in the manner of Hadley’s quadrant j
the movement of the index to be measured, as before,
by a micrometer j and, as the length of the fine AE
would tend to the perfection of the instrument, it may
be constructed to fold in the middle, on the line C 2,
into less compass, when not in use ; the instrument may
be adjusted for use by holding up a staff at a distance,
as before proposed, whose length is exactly equal to
the line AE.
“ To make an observation by this instrument, it
being previously properly adjusted, the eye is to be
applied at the sight in the speculum E, and the face
turned toward the object j when the object, being re¬
ceived on the speculum A, is reflected into that at C,
and again into that at E, and that at 3 on the index j
the index being then moved, till the reflected object,
in the speculum at 3, exactly coincides with the real
object, in the transparent part of the glass, the divi¬
sions on the arch D 3, subdivided by the micrometer,
will determine the angle DE 3 =r the angle AOE ;
from which the distance O may be determined as before.
“ It is very probable that this arrangement may be
improved, by those who are familiar with the best con¬
struction of Hadley’s quadrant j which the writer of
this professes himself not to be, farther than its general
principle. He has not the least doubt that useful
practical instruments may be constructed on the prin¬
ciples here described j and, upon this idea, cannot but
recommend the subject to the attention of those con¬
cerned in the manufacture of similar instruments.”
Repertory of Arts, vo\. i.
DENDilOPHOIUA, in antiquity, the carrying
of houghs or branches of trees ; a religious ceremony
so called, because certain priests, called from thence
dendrophori, tree-bearers, marched in procession, carry¬
ing the branches of trees in their hands in honour of
some god, as Bacchus, Cybele, Sylvanus, &c. The
college of the dendrophori is often mentioned in an¬
cient marbles ; and we frequently see in basso relievos
the bacchanals represented as men carrying little shrubs
or branches of trees.
DENEB, an Arabic term signifying tail, used by
astronomers to denote several fixed stars. Thus, deneb
elect, signifies the bright star in the lion’s tail. Deneb
adigege, that in the swan’s tail.
DENHAM, Sir John, an eminent English poet, Denham
the only son of Sir John Denham, chief baron of the |]
exchequer in Ireland, and one of the lords commis- Denmark,
sioners there, was born in Dublin in 161 $ : hut his fa- ,T v"
ther, in 1617, being made a baron of the exchequer
in England, he received his education in that country.
In his youth he followed gaming more than any
thing else ; but in 1641, published a tragedy called
the Sophy, which was much admired by the best
judges j and, in 1643, wrote his famous poem called
Coopet-'s Hill, which Mr Dryden pronounces will ever
he the standard of good writing for majesty of style.
Denham was sent ambassador from Charles II. to the
king of Poland j and at the Restoration was made
surveyor-general of his majesty’s buildings, and crea¬
ted knight of the Bath. On obtaining this post, he is
said to have renounced his poetry for more important
studies. He died at his office in Whitehall in 1668 $
and his works have been often since printed.
DENIER, a small French copper coin, of which 12
make a sol. There are two kinds, the one tournois,
the other parisois, whereof the latter was worth a fourth
part more than the former.
DENINA, C. J. M. an eminent Italian writer. See
Supplement.
DENIZEN, in Laiv, an alien made a subject by
the king’s letters patent j otherwise called donaison,
because his legitimation proceeds ex donatione regis,
“ from the king’s gift.”
A denizen is in a kind of middle state between an
alien and a natural-born subject, and partakes of both
of them. He may take lands by purchase or devise,
which an alien may not *, but cannot take by inheri¬
tance j for his parent, through whom he must claim,
being an alien, had no inheritable blood, and therefore
could convey none to the son 5 and, upon a like de¬
fect of blood, the issue of a denizen born before deni¬
zation, cannot inherit to him ; but his issue born after
may. A denizen is not excused from paying the
alien’s duty, and some other mercantile burdens. And
no denizen can be of the privy-council, or either house
of parliament, or have any office of trust civil or mili¬
tary, or be capable of any grant of lands, &c. from
the crown.
DENMARK, one of the most ancient monarchies
in Europe, comprehending the peninsula of Jutland,
and the islands of Zealand, Funen, &c. But Denmark,
properly so called, is only that part of Scandinavia
which formerly went by the name of Cimbrica Cher-
sonesus, and now is called Jutland. Including Hol¬
stein, it is bounded by the sea called the Categate on the
north j by the Baltic on the east j by the kingdom of
Hanover on the south, and the duchy of Mecklenburg
on the south-east j extending from 53. 30. to 57. 30.
N.Lat. ,
The origin of the name Denmark is very uncertain. Name
The most probable conjecture concerning it is that ofwheocede-
Saxo-Grammaticus, the most ancient and best DanishTive<b
historian. He derives it from Dan the son of Humble,
the first king, and Mark or Marc, signifying a coun¬
try in several dialects ot the Teutonic; according to
which etymology, the word Denmark signifies the 2
land or country of Dan. This Dan is thought to Dan the
have lived about 1038 years before the Christian era. fir5t
X 2 Almost
DEN
Denmark. Almost all historians agree that he
v™—v ■1 11 Humble, a native ol Zealand. His possessions and in¬
fluence were very considerable not only in Zealand,
hut in the islands of Langland and Mona. It was his
courage, however, and skill in the art ot war, that in¬
duced the inhabitants of Denmark to choose him for
their king. He was called to the assistance of the Jut¬
landers upon an irruption of the Saxons into their ter¬
ritories, and promised the sovereignty of the country
if he drove out the enemy. On this he immediately
raised an army, gained a complete victory over the
Saxons, and obliged them to leave the country j and he
3 was accordingly elected king.
History of Jn such early ages as these, we are not to look for
this country anv aut|ientic history either of this or any other king-
many tw-esT d°rn. The history of Denmark, for a great number of
° ' ages after the reign of Dan, is filled with fabulous ex¬
ploits of heroes, encounters with giants, dragons, &c.
One of their kings named Frotho, who reigned about
761 years before Christ, is said to have conquered all
Britain, Sleswick, Russia, Pomerania, Holstein, &c. an
assertion which cannot easily be credited, considering
the difficulty which succeeding warriors, even the
greatest in the world, found to subdue the inhabitants
of those countries.—It is certain, however, that an¬
ciently the kingdom of Denmark made a much more
conspicuous figure than it does at present. I he Danes
appear to have had a very considerable naval force al¬
most from the foundation of their empire; and the
conquests they undoubtedly made in our island are cer¬
tain proofs of their valour.
The natural enemies of the Danes, were the Swedes,
Norwegians, and Saxons *, especially the first. With
one or other of these nations almost perpetual war was
carried on. The kingdom was also often rent by civil
dissensions 5 which the neighbouring monarchs did not
fail to take advantage of, in order to reduce the king¬
dom of Denmark under their subjection. As neither
party, however, generally came oft with advantage,
the history of the wars affords nothing interesting or
entertaining. One of the greatest of the Danish mo¬
narchs was I aide mar jT. who obtained the throne 111
j 1 57 j having defeated and killed his competitor Sweyn,
after a ten years civil war. He maintained a long war
with the Vandals, whose power he at last entirely
broke, and reduced under his subjection the island
of Ruoen. He also proved victorious over the Norwe¬
gians,&so that their king and queen came in person to
submit to him. In 1165, he also laid the foundations
of the city of Dantzic, which, though it hath since
become a place of much consequence, consisted at first
only of a few poor fishermen’s huts 5 but the privileges
and immunities conferred upon it by this monarch,
soon proved the means of its becoming a flourishing
city. In 1169, he entirely subdued the Courlanders ;
and, soon after, was invested with the duchy of Hol¬
stein, by the emperor Frederic Barbarossa, He is said
to have been poisoned by a quack medicine, given with
a design to recover him from a distemper with which
he was seized in 1182.
In the year 1195, Canute, Valdemar’s successor,
caused amusterto be made of all the men fit to bear aims
in his dominions } and ordered each province to fit out
its proportion of shipping, every way equipped, and
x^ady for action. The whole force of Denmark, at
Valdcmar
I. a great
monarch.
Power of
Ueninatk,
in Up 5.
[ 164 ] DEN
was the son of that time, consisted of 670 ships of war, besides the Denmark.
squadrons supplied by vassals, tributary states, and al-
lies. The number ot the land forces is not mentioned.
In the reign of this prince, the Danish dominions were
enlarged by the entire conquest of Stromar, the dis¬
tricts of Lubec and Hamburgh, formerly known by
the name of Nordalbingia, but now included under the
general name of Holstein. He died in 1203, and was
succeeded by Valdemar II. who proved a very great
and warlike prince. In 1211, he founded the city of
Straisund, opposite to the isle of Rugen. 1 he same
year his queen died in childbed 5 and in memory, of
her he built the castle of Drontngholm, that name im- g
porting the Queen's Island. In 1218, he undertook an
expedition against the Livonians, having received ad-0f Valde-
vice that they, assisted by the Lithuanians, Muscovites,mar II. a.
and other barbarous nations, had driven from their ha-S^V^
bitations all those in the neighbourhood who had em- s
braced Christianity, and taken an cath of allegiance
to the crown of Denmark. Fitting out a powerful
fleet, therefore, he immediately set sail for that coun¬
try } but his troops were no sooner landed, than they
were seized with a panic at the sight of such a power¬
ful army of savages as were assembled to oppose them.
The king himself was dismayed at the unusual.spectacle
ef a whole army clothed in skins, and resembling beasts
more than human creatures. Encouraged, however,
by the bishops who attended him, he ventured an en¬
gagement, and overthrew the barbarians with incre¬
dible slaughter. This victory was gained near the
fortress of Valdemar, which received its name on that
account. »
How potent and flourishing the kingdom of Den-
mark was at this time, appears from an estimate of state of tli
the revenues of the tributary provinces, those countries kingdom,
conquered by Valdemar, and the standing forces of the
whole kingdom. This account was copied by Ponta-
nus from Witfield, a writer of those days, who had it
from a register kept by Valdemar’s steward. From
the provinces were daily sent in 24 lasts of oats, 24 lasts
of rye, and half that quantity of wheat, 13 talents of
cheese and butter, and nine of honey 24 oxen, 300
sheep, 200 hogs; and 600 marks of coined money.
This was the certain revenue : but to this was added
near an equal sum from adventitious circumstances 5
such as fines, forfeitures, taxes on law-suits and plead¬
ings, with a variety of other contingencies •, the whole
amounting to upwards of x00,000 marks a-day, or
23,730,000!. per annum ", a sum in those days almost
incredible. With this revenue were kept for constant
service 1400 great and small ships for the king’s use,
each of which at a medium carried 121 soldiers m, ma¬
king the whole of the standing forces, besides garrisons,
consist of 169,400 fighting men.
In 1223, a very great misfortune befcl \ aldemar,
notwithstanding all his power. Henry earl of Swerin,
otherwise called Henry Palatine, a German prince, ha- s
ving been deprived of part of his dominions by Valde- Valdeiiw
mar, surprised and carried off" the king himself, and taken p1'
kept him close prisoner for three years. The condi-*oner-
tions on which he at last obtained his liberty were very ^e]eastd
hard. Hfe was obliged to pay a prodigious sum of011 c0„di-
money4 to relinquish Holstein, Swerin, Hamburgh,tion of cf
and all his possessions on the other side of the Elbe jjngP^
10
jlebrt
| iletre;
j
IttMl'
and lastly, solemnly to swear that he would maintain*1'
thL
tones.
DEN
[
Mnmarb,
breaks
ji ; treaty,
t is de-
; .ted.
it
<lfil war
liween
li two
ti
H'sdom
dlcied
•png
aiiiniber
IdlMs
this compulsive contract, and never take any measures
' to punish Henry or his associates. This treaty was
signed on the 25th of March 1226.
Besides these territories which the Danish monarch
had been obliged to cede by treaty, many tributary
princes took the opportunity of his captivity to re¬
cover their liberty; and among the rest, the inhabitants
of Lubec revolted, and entered into alliance with
Albert duke of Saxony against Valdemar. The latter,
however, was not of a disposition to submit tamely to
such treatment. He obtained a dispensation from the
pope to break his engagements with Henry, and im¬
mediately entered Holstein at the head of a numerous
army. Here he was met by several German princes,
at the head of a very numerous army ; and a desperate
engagement ensued. Valdemar at first had the advan¬
tage ; but being wounded in the eye, his troops were
at last defeated with great slaughter. It doth not ap¬
pear that ever the king of Denmark was able to re¬
venge himself of his enemies, or to recover the domi¬
nions he had lost. So far from this, he was obliged, in
1128, to cede Lauenburg to the duke of Saxony, who
had already seized on Ratzburg and Molna. Soon
after this, his eldest son Valdemar was accidentally kil¬
led as he was hunting, and his two other sons married
the daughters of his two greatest enemies. Abel, the
third son, married the daughter of Adolphus duke of
Holstein ; and Eric, the second, married the duke of
Saxony’s daughter. These misfortunes are supposed to
have hastened his death, which happened in the month
of April 1242.
On the death of Valdemar, the kingdom was di¬
vided between the two young princes ; and between
them a war commenced the very next year. A peace
was concluded the year following, and war renewed
the year after : but how long it continued, we are not
informed. In 1250, Eric paid a visit to his brother
Abel, intreating his mediation between him and the
princes of Holstein, with whom he was then at war.
Abel received him, in appearance, with great kindness,
and promised that his utmost endeavours to procure a
reconciliation should not be wanting; but in the mean¬
time, laid a plan for having him murdered at sea : this
was effected, and Abel became master of the whole
kingdom.
The new king did not long enjoy the sovereignty he
had so wickedly obtained. He was tormented by his
own conscience ; especially when he found among his
brother’s papers, one by which he was left heir to the
whole kingdom on the death of Eric, and many kind
expressions with regard to himself. He was at last
killed in a battle with his own subjects in 1252, on
account of some taxes he intended to impose.
From this time to the year 1333, the kingdom of
Denmark gradually declined. Usurpers established
themselves indifferent provinces; while the kings of
Sweden did not fail to avail themselves of the distract*
ed state of the Danish affairs. In 1333; died Chris¬
topher II. who possessed only the cities of Scanderburg
in Jutland and Neoburg in Fionia, with some few
other inconsiderable places, of all the hereditary do¬
minions of Denmark. Halland, Holbec, Calemburg,
and Samsoe, were held by Canute Porsius ; Schonen,
Lystre, and Bleking, by the king of Sweden, to whom
they had been lately sold.; John earl of Wagria had
65 ] DEN
the jurisdiction of Zealand, Falstre, Laaland, and Fe- Denmark.
merin ; Gerhard, of Jutland and Fionia; and Lawrence 1 v——^
Jonea of Longland and Arras.
Alter the death of Christopher, an interregnum of
seven years ensued.—The first attempt for the sove¬
reignty was made by Otho, second son to the late king,
who laid a scheme for driving Gerhard out of Jutland;
but not being able to accomplish it, he was taken pri¬
soner, and closely confined by Gerhard. The king of
Sweden next wrote to Pope Benedict XIII. beseech¬
ing his Holiness to confirm to him the provinces of
Schonen and others which he possessed ; and to allow
him to subdue the rest of the kingdom, which Was now
usurped and rendered miserable by a set of petty
pi inces, who knew not how to govern. To influence
him the more powerfully, he also promised to hold
this kingdom of the pope ; and to pay him the usual
tax collected by the church. This request, however,
was refused. Valdemar of Sleswick, nephew to Ger¬
hard, then aspired to the sovereignty. He had for¬
merly been elected king ; but had given over all
thoughts of enjoying the sovereignty, on account of
the superior influence of Christopher ; but now resumed
his ambitious views at the instigation of his uncle.
Several of his nobility also cast their eyes on young
Valdemar, Christopher’s son, now at the emperor’s
court. But while each of these princes were laying
schemes to aggrandise themselves, the unhappy Danes
were distressed by exorbitant taxes, famine, and pesti- Distressed
lence ; the two last in consequence of the former. The state of the
peasants neglected to cultivate the lands, which theykiugdom.
held on a very precarious tenure ; the consequence of
this was poverty and an unwholesome diet; and this,
co-operating with the peculiar disposition of the air,
produced a plague, which destroyed more than half the
inhabitants of the country. The poor dropped down
dead on the streets with disease and hunger, and the
gentry themselves were reduced to a state of wretch¬
edness ; yet, though the whole of the kingdom was evi¬
dently on the verge of ruin, ambitious projects employ¬
ed the great, as if every thing had been in the most
profound tranquillity.
In the midst of these grievous calamities, Gerhard
sovereign of Jutland, proposed to his nephew Valdemar
an exchange of territories, which he believed would
prove favourable to-the designs of the latter on the
crown. A treaty for this purpose was actually drawn
up and signed ; but the inhabitants, notwithstanding
their distressed situation, so highly resented their being
disposed of like cattle from one master to another, that
they refused to pay the usual taxes. Gerhard resolved
to compel them ; and therefore led 10,000 men, whom
he had levied in Germany, into the heart of the pro¬
vince. Providence, however,; now raised up an enemy
to this tyrant. One Nicholas Norevi, a man greatly Nicholas
esteemed for his courage, public spirit, and prudence, Norevi rc-
beheld with sorrow the condition to which Denmark covers the
was reducedi He had long meditated a variety 0f liberties of
projects for his relief, and at last imagined things were llt *
in such a situation that the whole depended on Iris single
arnn Young Valdemar, Christopher’s son, had a num¬
ber of adherents in the kingdom ; his most dangerous
enemy was Gerhard; and could he be removed, the
Jutlanders would at least be free from an oppressor,
and might choose Valdemar, or any other they thought
proper.
D E
Denmark. ProPer> for their sovereign
N [ 166 ] DEN
Collecting a hotly of cho- stavus Adolphus, king of Sweden. The Dutch ha- Denmark
proper, lor tneir boveicigu. ^ -- j
sen horse, therefore, he marched in the night to Kan-
dershusen, where Gerhard had fixed his head quarters 5
and having forced open the tyrant’s quarters, imme¬
diately put him to death. He then fled with the ut¬
most expedition ; but was pursued and overtaken by a
party of the enemy’s horse, through which he torced
his way and escaped. Gerhard’s sons, hearing of his
death, retired into Holstein, from whence they had
leaving the army, composed chiefly or Hol-
come
*5 ,
He is killed
Steiners, to be cut in pieces by the enraged peasants,
who fell upon them from every quarter. .
Still, however, the Holsteiners kept possession ot
the citadels and fortified places, from whence Nicholas
resolved to dislodge them. He accordingly raised a
body of forces ; attacked and took Landen, a castle
situated on the river Scheme : After which he laid
siege to Albeg j but the garrison making an obstinate
defence, he turned the siege into a blockade, by winch
they were soon reduced to great extremity. Ine go¬
vernor sent an express to the sons of Gerhard, ac¬
quainting them with the impossibility of his holding
out more than a few days, without being relieved.
This determined them to march to the relief of so im¬
portant a place. They came up with Nicholas just as
‘ the governor was ready to surrender, but were defeat¬
ed *, though Nicholas was unfortunately killed in the
Jutland having thus regained its liberty, the rest of
the kingdom followed its example. Zeala"« farst
openly declared itself. Here Henry, Gerhard s son,
maintained several garrisons; and resolved to defend
his possessions in spite of all the power of the inhabi¬
tants. For this purpose he drew together an army :
but, in the mean time, a tumult arose among the pea¬
sants on account of a Danish nobleman slain by the
Holsteiners. By this the people were at last so irri¬
tated, that falling upon the Holsteiners sword in hand,
they killed 300 of them, drove the rest out ot the
ving obliged* Christian, who died in 1648, to lower
the duties of the Sound, his son Frederic HI. con¬
sented to accept of an annuity of 150,000 florins for
the whole. The Dutch, after this, persuaded him to
declare war against Charles Gustavus king of Sweden,
which had almost cost him his crown in 1657. Charles
stormed the fortress of I redericstadt j and in tne suc¬
ceeding winter, he marched his army over the ice to
the island of Funen, where he surprised the Danish
troops, took Odensee and Nyburg, and marched over
the Great Belt to besiege Copenhagen itself. Crom¬
well, the English usurper, interposed: and Frederic
defended Ins capital with great magnanimity till the ^
peace of Roschild j by which Frederic ceded the pro-Several pi a
vinces of Halland, Bleking, and Sconia, the island 5e"
Bornholm, Bahus, and Drontheim, in Norway, tothed^0:>w;
Swedes. Frederic sought to elude those severe terms*,
but Charles took Cronenburg, and once more besieged
Copenhagen by sea and land. The steady intrepid con¬
duct of Frederic under these misfortunes endeared
him to his subjects j and the citizens of Copenhagen
made an admirable defence, till a Dutch fleet arrived
the Baltic, and beat the Swedish fleet. The for-
^r
17
tune of war was now entirely changed in favour of Fre¬
deric, who showed on every occasion great abilities,
both civil and military : and having forced Charles to
raise the siege of Copenhagen, might have carried the
war into Sweden, had not the English fleet, under
Montague, appeared in the Baltic. . This, enabled
Charles to besiege Copenhagen a third time $ but
France and England offering their mediation, a peace
was concluded in that capital; by which the island of
Bornholm returned to the Danes-, but the island of
Rugen, Bleking, Halland, and Schonen, remained with
the Swedes. 18
The year 1660 affords us an example of a revolu-Remark-
tion almost unequalled in the annals of history, viz. able reto
free people resigning their liberty into thejjjg^
it
16
Margaret
unites the
crowns of
Denmark,
Sweden,
and Nor¬
way.
iwllllpd ion of them, drove the rest out 01 me that of a nee  , y „ , which
they killed 300 ot mem, r , , f(jr their hands 0f their sovereign -, and of their own accord, and^ .
island, and chose A aldema , I without the least compulsion, rendering him despotic. dered abs
This was occasioned by the great character which Fre-lute.
deric had acquired by his prudent and valiant conduct
when Copenhagen was besieged by the king of. Swe¬
den ; and at that time he had also taken care to ingra¬
tiate himself with the commonalty, by obliging the
nobility to allow them some immunities which they
did not enjoy before ; allowing them also, by a special
edict, to possess lands, and enjoy all the privileges of
nobility. After the conclusion of the treaty with
Sweden, a diet was summoned at Copenhagen, to take
into consideration the state of the kingdom, which was
sovereign. . .1 1
The Danes now resumed their courage ; the lands
were cultivated, the famine and pestilence ceased, an
the kingdom began to flourish as formerly. Matters
continued in a prosperous way till. 1387, when Mar¬
garet mounted the throne. She raised the kingdom to
its highest pitch of glory, as partly by her address, and
partly by hereditary right, she formed the union ot
Calmar, by which she was acknowledged sovereign ot
Sweden, Denmark, and Norway. She held her dig¬
nity with such firmness and courage, that she was just-
rt •  * TT*>r cnr.p.pftSOrS
iy'styled the Semiramis of the boll, by reason^ the debts
being desutute of ^|n5,f bu4"Norway still continued in which it was involved and by the calamities of war.
Calmai fell to nothing . y This distressed state of aflairs was, by the commons, at-
^f D“,l ^Christian StToid^ iibuted'to the nobUit, > who on theUer hand, t„„k
burg, from whom the present royal family of Denmark
is descended 5 and, in 1536, the Protestant religion
was established in Denmark by that wise and politic
prince Christian III. . r
Christian IV. of Denmark, in 1629, was chosen for
the head of the Protestant league formed against the
house of Austria: but, though brave in his own per-
he was in danger of losing his dominions -, when
no care to conciliate the affections of the inferior clas-
ses, but rather increased the discontents by their arro¬
gance. They had even the imprudence to remonstrate
against the immunities above mentioned, which had
been granted by the king during the siege. In conse¬
quence of this the deputies of the commons and clergy
united against them ; and being joined by the citizens
of Copenhagen, formed a very considerable party. On
l^was s^cceede^din^hat command by°the famous Gu- bribing forward in the assembly the sums necessavy for
DEN L 167 ] DEN
, jjiimaik. the national exigencies, a general excise was proposed
1.—y—" ■' by the nobles on every article of consumptj and to
which they themselves were willing to submit, though,
by an express law, their order was to be exempted
from all taxes. This offer was accompanied with a re¬
monstrance to the king j in which they endeavoured, not
only to reclaim many obsolete privileges, but to add
fresh immunities, and introduce many other regula¬
tions, all of them tending to diminish the royal prero¬
gative, and check the rising influence of the commons
and clergy. This proposal occasioned great disputes
in the diet; and the two inferior orders insisted that
they would not admit of any tax which should not be
levied equally upon all ranks, without reserve or restric¬
tion. The nobles not only i*efused to comply with this
proposal, but even to be subject to the tax for more
than three years $ pretending that all taxes whatever
were infringements on their privileges. By way of
compensation, however, they proposed new duties upon
leather and stamped paper, and at last oftered to pay a
poll-tax for their peasants. This exchange seemed at
first to be agreeable to the two inferior estates $ but
they suddenly altered their mind, and demanded that
the fiefs and domains, which the nobles had hitherto
possessed exclusively, and at a very moderate rent,
should be let to the highest bidder.
Such a proposal appeared to the nobles to be to the
last degree unreasonable. They said it was an infraction
of their dearest privileges; as, by the 46th article of
the coronation oath taken by Frederic, the possession
of the royal fiefs was guaranteed to their order $ but,
in the heat of dispute, one of the chief senators having
imprudently thrown out some reproachful expressions
against the commons, a general ferment ensued, and
the assembly was broken up in confusion. This gave
11 occasion to the interposition of the king’s friends $ and
an idea of rendering the crown hereditary, and enlar-
,, ging the royal prerogative, began to be suggested as
[1 t the proper method of humbling the nobility. This
was first broached by the bishop of Zealand, at whose
house a numerous meeting was held on the 6th of Oc¬
tober 1660, where the scheme was fully laid open and
approved j an act for rendering the crown hereditary
drawn up j and the best method of publicly producing
it taken into consideration. All this time the king
seemed quite inactive, nor could he be prevailed upon
to take any part in an affair which so nearly concerned
him. But this indolence was abundantly compensated
by the alertness and diligence of the queen j between
whom and the heads of the party matters were soon
concerted. On the morning of the 8th of October,
therefore, the bishop of Zealand having obtained the
consent and signature of the ecclesiastical deputies, de¬
livered it to Nausen, burgomaster of Copenhagen and
speaker of the commons. The latter, in a most persua¬
sive speech, expatiated upon the wretched state of the
kingdom, the oppressive power of the nobles, and the
virtues of the king*, concluding with an exhortation to
the commons, to subscribe the act, as the only means of
saving their country.
The exhortations of the speaker had such an effect
upon the assembly, that they subscribed it without a
single dissent j the nobles being all the while in perfect
security, and entirely ignorant of the transaction. Next
day it was presented to the king by the bishop and
2
Nausen; and as they were returning from the palace, Denmark,
they met the senator who had already given offence ^ v—~'
to the commons. With him they had a violent al¬
tercation, and were threatened with imprisonment for
presuming to approach the king without acquainting
the order of nobles. This threat was now altogether
nugatory. The nobles having got some intelligence
ol what was going forward, had just assembled in order
to consider of what was to be done, when the deputies
of the two other estates entered, and informed them of
their proceedings, and delivered to them the proposal
for rendering the crown hereditary. By this declara¬
tion the nobles were thrown into the utmost consterna¬
tion; but judging it improper to put a negative on the
proposal at present, they endeavoured to gain time,
and replied, that though they willingly gave their as¬
sent to the declaration, yet that, as it was a matter of
great consequence, it deserved the most serious dis¬
cussion. Nausen, however, replied, that the other
estates had already taken their resolution j that they
would lose no time in debate j and that if the nobles
would not concur with them, they would immediately
repair to the palace by themselves, where they had not
the least doubt that the king would graciously accept
their proffer.
In the mean time the nobles had privately dispatch¬
ed a message to the king, intimating, that they were
willing to render the crown hereditary to the male line
of his issue, provided it was done with all the usual for¬
malities. But this proposal did not prove agreeable to
his majesty, unless they would confirm the right of suc¬
cession in the female line also. He added, however,
with great appearance of moderation, that he by no
means wished to prescribe rules for their conduct j they
were to follow the dictates of their own judgment j but
as for his part, he would owe every thing to their free
consent. While the nobles were waiting for this an¬
swer, the other deputies, perceiving that they wished
to keep the matter in suspense, lost all patience, and
repaired in solemn procession to the court j where, be¬
ing admitted into the royal presence, the matter was
opened by the bishop of Zealand. He addressed his
majesty on the resolution taken by the clergy and com¬
mons, offering in their name to render the crown he¬
reditary, and to invest him with absolute authority j
adding, that they were ready to sacrifice their lives in
the defence of an establishment so salutary to their coun¬
try. His majesty thanked them for their favourable
intentions j but mentioned the concurrence of the no¬
bles as a necessary condition ; though he had no doubt
of this when they should have time to accompany the
declaration with all the necessary formalities; he as¬
sured them of his protection, promised a redress of all
grievances, and dismissed them with an exhortation to
continue their sittings, until they should have brought
their design to perfection, and he could receive their
voluntary submission with all due solemnity.
On departure of the commons from the place where
they had been conferring with the nobles, the latter
had been so distracted and confused, that they broke
up without coming to any resolution, designing, how¬
ever, to decide the matter finally at their meeting on
the afternoon of the following day. But while they,
were thus wavering and irresolute, the court and the
popular party took the necessary measures to force them
to
D
Den mar
e n r i68
to a concunence. This was effectually done by an
order to shut the gates j for by this they were so much
dispirited, that they instantly dispatched deputies to the
court, with a message that they were ready to concur
with the commons, and subscribe to all the conditions
of the royal pleasure.
Nothing now remained but to ratify the transaction
with all proper solemnity. Accordingly, on the 16th
of October, the estates annulled, in the most solemn
manner, the capitulation or charters signed by the king
on his accession to the throne } absolved him from all
Ills engagements •, and cancelled all the limitations im¬
posed upon his sovereignty. The whole was concluded
by the ceremony of doing homage, taking the new
oath with great ceremony ; after which a new form of
government was promulgated under the title of T/te
Royal Law of Denmark. _ . .
Frederic was succeeded in 167c by his son Christian \ .
who obliged the duke of Holstein Gottorp to renounce
all the advantages he had gained by the treaty of Ros-
child. He then recovered a number of places m
Schonen •, but his army was defeated in the bloody
battle of Lunden by Charles XI. of Sweden. rIhis
defeat did not put an end to the war, which Christian
obstinately continued, till he was defeated entirely at
the battle of Landscroon ; and he had almost exhausted
his dominions in his military operations, till he was in
a manner abandoned by all his allies, and forced to sign
a treaty on the terms prescribed by France, m 1679.
Christian, however, did not desist from his military at¬
tempts •, and at last he became the ally and subsidiary
of Louis XIV. who was then threatening Europe with
chains. Christian, after a vast variety of treating and
lighting with the Holsteiners, Hamburghers, and other
northern powers, died in 1699. He was succeeded by
Frederic IV. who, like his predecessors, maintained his
pretensions upon Holstein 5 and probably must liav®
become master of that duchy, had not the Eng ish and
Dutch fleets raised the siege of Tonningen ; while the
young king of Sweden, Charles XII. who was no more
than 16 years of age, landed within eight miles
penhagen, to assist his brother-in-law the duke of Hoi-
stein, Charles probably would have made himself ma-
ster of Copenhagen, had not his Danish majesty agreed
to the peace of Travendahl, which was entirely in the
duke’s favour. By another treaty concluded with the
states-general, Frederic obliged himself to furnish a
body of troops, who were to be paid by the confederates J
and who afterwards did great service against the F rench.
Perpetual Notwithstanding this peace, Frederic was perpetual-
wars with Jy en«i-aLred in a war with the Swedes and while diaries
Sweden. was an exile at Bender, he marched through Holstein
into Swedish Pomerania*, and in the year 1712 into
Bremen, and took the city of Stade. His troops,
however, were totally defeated by the Swedes at Ga-
desbusch, who laid his favourite city of Altena .11 ashes.
Frederick revenged himself, by seizing great part ot the
ducal Holstein, and forcing the Swedish general, C<mnt
Steinbock, to surrender himself prisoner, vv‘tlL , .
troops. In the year 1716, the successes of Frederic
were so great, by taking Tonningen and Stralsund, by
drivincr the Swedes out of Norway, and reducing 'Vis-
mar and Pomerania, that his allies began to suspect he
was aiming at the sovereignty of all Scandinavia, kp-
]
DEN
on the return of Charles of Sweden from his exile, he Denftiai.k
renewed the war against Denmaik with a most em- —y—i ^
bittered spirit \ but on the death of that prince, who
was killed at the siege of Fredericshal, Frederic durst
not refuse the offer of his Britannic majesty’s mediation
between him and the crown of Sweden j in consequence
of which, a peace was concluded at Stockholm, which
left him in possession of the duchy of Sleswick. lie-
deric died in the year 1730, after having, two years
before, seen his capital reduced to ashes by an acciden¬
tal hre. His son and successor, Christian Frederic,
made no other use of his power, and the advantages
with which he mounted the throne, than to cultivate
peace with all his neighbours, and to promote the hap¬
piness of all his subjects, whom he eased of many op¬
pressive taxes. _ .
In 1734, after guaranteeing the Pragmatic oanc-
tion, Christian sent 6coo men to the assistance of the
emperor, during the dispute ot the succession to the
crown of Poland. Though he was pacific, yet he was
jealous of his rights, especially over Hamburgh.. He
obliged the Hamburghers to call in the mediation of
Prussia, to abolish their bank, to admit the coin of
Denmark as current, and to pay him a million of sil¬
ver marks. He had, two years after, viz. in 1738, a
dispute with his Britannic majesty about the little
lordship of Steinhorst, which had been mortgaged to
the latter by the duke of Holstein Lauenburg, and
which Christian said belonged to him. Some blood
was spilt during the contest j in which Christian, it is J0
thought, never was in earnest. It brought on, how-An advan.
ever!3 a treaty, in which he availed himself of his Bri-taverns
tannic majesty’s predilection for his German domi- ^aty w,ti
nions j for he agreed to pay Christian a subsidy ottajn(
70,000!. sterling a-year, on condition of keeping in
readiness 7000 troops for the protection of Hanover :
this was a gainful bargain for Denmark. And two
years after, he seized some Dutch ships for trading
without his leave to Iceland-: but the difference was
made up by the mediation of Sweden. Christian had
so great a party in that kingdom, that it was general¬
ly thought he would revive the union of Calmar, by
procuring his son to be declared successor to his then
Swedish majesty. Some steps for that purpose were
certainly taken : but whatever Christian’s views might
have been, the design was frustrated by the jealousy
of other powers, who could not bear the thoughts of
seeing all Scandinavia subject to one family. Christian
died in 1746, with the character of being the father ot
his people. . . .
His son and successor, Frederic V. had, 1111743,
married the princess Louisa, daughter to his Britannic
majesty. He improved upon his father s plan for the
happiness of his people 5 but took no concern ex¬
cept that of a mediator, in the German war. lor it
was by his intervention that the treaty of Closter¬
se ven was concluded between his royal highness the
duke of Cumberland and the French general Riche¬
lieu. Upon the death of his first queen, the mother ot
his successor, he married a daughter of the duke ot
Brunswick Wolfeubuttle , and died in 1766.
He wras succeeded on the throne by his son
Christian VII. who married the princess Carolina,
Matilda of England. But this alliance proved ex¬
tremely
PCBH
IX’V
tM0
[tr,
liiW
«[M
I fieti
3
DEN [ 169 ] DEN
(teninark. tremely unfortunate, which is generally ascribed to
-—v—-' the intrigues of the queen-dowager, who is represented
as ambitious, artful, and designing, and as one who
wished to have set aside the king himself in favour of
,• and l,er own 9on Frederic. On the arrival of the young
isfortunesqueen, however, she received her with much apparent
the young affection, telling her the faults of her husband, at the
icen■ same time promising to assist her on all occasions in
reclaiming him from his vicious courses. Thus, under
pretence of kindness and friendship, she sowed the
seeds of dissension betwixt the royal pair, before the
unfortunate princess had the least suspicion of her dan¬
ger; and while the unthinking queen revealed to the
dowager all her secrets, the latter is said to have placed
spies about the king to keep him constantly engaged in
riot and debauchery, to which he was at any time too
much inclined. At last it was contrived to throw a
mistress in his way, whom he was advised to keep in
his palace.—It was impossible that any woman could
pass such a piece of conduct unnoticed; however, in
this affair, the queen dowager behaved with her usual
duplicity. In the absence of the king, she pretended
great resentment against him, and even advised the
queen not to live with him ; but as soon as he returned,
when his consort reproached him, though in a gentle
manner, with his conduct, she not only took his part,
but insisted that it was presumptuous in a queen of
Denmark to pretend to direct her husband’s conduct.
Notwithstanding this incendiary behaviour, the queen
was in a short time reconciled to her husband, and lived
on very good terms with him until she again excited
the jealousy of the dowager. For some time it seemed
to be difficult for her to form any effectual plan of re¬
venge, as the king had displaced several of her friends
who had for some time had a share in the administra¬
tion. Two new favourites, Brandt and Struensee, had
now appeared ; and as these paid great court to the
queen, the dowager took occasion to insinuate, not only
that the queen was harbouring improper designs with
regard to the government, but that she had an intrigue
with Struensee. A plan was even spoken of, to super¬
sede the king as being incapable of governing, to de¬
clare the queen regent during the minority of her son,
and to make Struensee prime minister.
Thus a very formidable opposition was formed a-
gainst Brandt and Struensee ; and as the latter had made
some innovations in the military department as well as
the civil, some of the principal officers who were the
creatures of the dowager, represented him as design¬
ing to overthrow the whole system of government.
When matters were brought to a proper bearing, it
was at last resolved to surprise the king in the middle
of the night, and force him instantly to sign an order,
which was to be. ready prepared, for committing the
obnoxious persons to separate prisons, accuse them of
high treason in general, and particularly with a design
to dethrone or poison the king. If this could not be
properly authenticated, it was determined to suborn
witnesses to confirm the report of a criminal corre¬
spondence between the queen and Count Struensee.
Ibis design was executed on the night of the 16th of
January I772> when a masked ball was given at the
court of Denmark. I he queen, after having danced
most part of the night with Count Struensee, retired to
her chamber about two in the morning. About four
Vol. VII. Part I. f
the same morning Prince Frederic got up, and went Den nark.
with the queen-dowager to the king’s bed-chamber, 1 v
accompanied by General Eichstedt and Count Kantzau.
Having ordered the king’s valet de chambre. to awake
him, they informed his majesty, that the queen, with
Count Struensee, his brother, and Brandt one of the
new ministers, were at that moment busy in drawing
up an act of renunciation of the crown, which they
would immediately after compel him to sign ; and
therefore there was a necessity for him to give an order
for their arrestment. The king after some hesitation
consented. Count Ilantzau was dispatched at that un¬
timely hour into the queen’s apartments, and immedi¬
ately executed the orders of the king. The unfortunate
princess was conveyed in one of the king’s coaches to
the castle of Cronenburgh, together with the infant
princess, attended by Lady Mostyn, and escorted by a
party of dragoons. Struensee and Brandt were seized
in their beds and imprisoned, as well as several other
members of the new administration, to the number of
18. The queen-dowager and her adherents seemed to
assume the government entirely into their own hands,
and a total change took place in the departments of ad¬
ministration. Struensee and Brandt were put in irons,
and very severely treated : they underwent long and
fi-equent examinations ; and Struensee at last confessed
that he had a criminal intercourse with the queen.
Both their heads wer« struck off on the 28th of April; Execution
but many of their partisans were set at liberty. The °fStriIensee
confession of Struensee is by many, and indeed with noan(l Bran^t-
small degree of probability, supposed to have been ex¬
torted by fear of the torture, and to have no founda¬
tion in truth ; but as no means were used by the court
of Britain to clear up the queen’s character, the affair
must undoubtedly wear a suspicious aspect. At last,
however, his Britannic majesty interfered so far as to
send a small squadron of ships to convey the unhappy
princess to Germany. Here the city of Zell was ap¬
pointed for her residence ; and in this place she died
of a malignant fever on the 10th of May 1775, aged
23 years and 10 months.
The inhuman treatment of this princess did not
long prove advantageous to the queen-dowager and her
party: Anew revolution took place in April 1784, Change in
when the queen-dowager’s friends were removed, atneadmini-
new council was formed under the auspices of the prince 9tratIon‘
royal, and no instrument deemed authentic unless sign¬
ed by the king and countersigned by the prince. Since
tl at time, the king, who from the beginning of his
administration showed a great degree of incapacity,
was entirely laid aside from public business. He died
in 1808, and was succeeded by the crown-prince, now
Frederick IV.
Denmark wisely took no part in the wars which
arose out of the French revolution. But about 1800,
she concurred with Sweden and Russia in making Loud
complaints against the conduct of British cruizers, and
at length the three powers entered into an association
for the common protection of their commercial rights.
This was speedily followed by hostilities. Admiral
Parker, with Lord Nelson under him, sailed to the
Baltic with a strong fleet, and attacked the Danish
squadron in the road of Copenhagen, supported by for¬
midable batteries, on the 30th March i8or. After a
very obstinate battle, seventeen Danish ships of the
A line
DEN [ 170 ] D. E .
1 Denmark, line were taken or destroyed, and about 4000 Danes
  *  fell in the action. An armistice followed, which ter¬
minated in a peace, the emperor Paul, the chiet sup¬
porter of the confederacy, having been assassinated a
few days before this battle.
After the overthrow of the Prussians at the battle of
Jena, France possessed herself of part of the southern
shores of the Baltic j and as it was feared she would
thus be in a condition to get the naval means of Den¬
mark into her power, a secret expedition was fitted out
in August 1807, consisting of 27 sail of the line under
Lord Gambier, and 20,000 land troops under Lord
Cathcart. This force appeared suddenly before Copen¬
hagen ■, and the British agent, Mr Jackson, demanded
that the Danes should deliver up their fleet to be held
as a deposit by the British government, and to be re¬
stored at the general peace in the same condition. Ihis
demand was met with a peremptory refusal. The fleet
then advanced, the town was surrounded, and a furious
bombardment began, on the 2d of September, which
continued till the' 5th, and destroyed 400 houses. The
town was surrendered on the 7th, when the British car¬
ried away 16 sail of the line and several frigates, be¬
sides a quantity of naval stores. A great outcry was
raised against this assault on a neutral nation then at
peace with us •, the British nation generally condemned
the measure •, and as it was eventually the cause of in¬
volving Britain in a war with Russia, it was undoubt¬
edly upon the whole rather productive of loss than ad¬
vantage.
Denmark continued to adhere firmly to Bonaparte
till 1813. Lubec being taken, and the greater part ot
Holstein overrun by the Swedes, she was reduced to
the necessity of making peace on terms dictated by her
enemies. She gave up Norway to Sweden ; as a com¬
pensation for which she received Pomerania, and this
24 was exchanged for a part of the duchy of Lauenburg.
Division of The kingdom of Denmark at present is divided into
ike king- gjx gran4 districts or provinces j viz. 1. Denmark pro-
dwn* perly so Called, comprehending the islands of Zealand,
Funen, Langland, Laaland, Falstria, Mona, Samsoe,
Arroe, Bornholm, Anholt, Lessaw, and that part of
the continent called North Jutland. 2. The duchy ot
Sleswick, or South Jutland. 3. The duchy of Holstein.
4. The duchy of Lauenburg*, and, 5. Iceland, with the
islands lying in the northern seas ; for a particular
description of which see these articles.
Language The language of Denmark is a dialect
xeiigion, tonic, and bears a strong affinity to the Norwegian
^c' tongue j but is disagreeable to strangers, on account ot
the drawling tone with which it is pronounced. They
have borrowed many words from the German *, and
indeed the High Dutch is used in common discourse
by the court, the gentry, and the burghers. The bet¬
ter sort likewise understand French, and speak it flu¬
ently. The Lutheran doctrine is universally embraced
through all Denmark, Sweden, and Norway ; so that
there is not another sect in these kingdoms. Denmark
is divided into six dioceses, one in Zealand, one in b li¬
nen and four in Jutland : but the bishops are, proper¬
ly speaking no other than snperintendants, or pnmi
inter pares. They have no cathedrals, ecclesiastical
courts, or temporalities. Their business is to inspect
the doctrine and morals of the inferior clergy* Ihe re¬
venue of the bishop of Copenhagen amounts to about
2000 nx-nolUus 5 and this is the richest uenence in ine DenmarM
kingdom. The clergy are wholly dependent on the   .
government. They never intermeddle, and are never
employed or consulted in civil aflairs. 1 hey neverthe¬
less have acquired great influence, and erected a sort
of spiritual tyranny over the minds of the common
people, by whom they are much revered. They aie,
generally speaking, men of exemplary lives, and some
erudition. Their churches are kept more clean, and
better adorned, than those of England ; the people are
great lovers ot music, and their organists commonly1
entertain the congregation for half an hour before and
after service. The state of literature is very low in
Denmark. There is, indeed, an university at Copen¬
hagen *, but meanly endowed, and very ill supplied with
masters. Taste and the belles lettres are utterly un¬
known in this country, which yet has produced some
men of great eminence in mathematics and medicine j
such as Tycho Brahe, Borriclnus, and the Barthohnes. ^
The constitution of Denmark was heretofore of the G(m[;n.
free Gothic original. The convention of the estates, nient.
even including the representatives ot the boors or pea¬
sants, elected a king for bis personal virtues, having
still a regard to the" son of their late monarch, whom,
however, they made no scruple of setting aside, if they
deemed him unworthy of the royal dignity. Ihey
enacted laws *, conferred the great offices ot state j de¬
bated all affairs relating to commerce, peace, war, and
alliances ; and occasionally gave their consent to the
imposition of necessary taxes. The king was no other
than chief magistrate, generalissimo, and as it were,
prime minister to his people. His business was to see
justice administered impartially j to command the army
in time of war } to encourage industry, religion, arts,
and sciences j and to watch over the interests o. his
subjects.
In 1660, however, the constitution was new model¬
led, as has been already related, and which was to the
following purport. “ The hereditary kings of Den¬
mark and Norway should be in effect, and ought to be
esteemed by their subjects, the only supreme head up¬
on earth *, they shall be above all human laws, and shall
acknowledge, in all ecclesiastical and civil affairs, no
higher power than God alone. The king shall enjoy
the right of making and interpreting the laws, of
abrogating, adding to, and dispensing with them. He
mav^also annul all the laws which either he or his pre¬
decessors shall have made, excepting this royal law,
which must remain irrevocable, and be considered as
the fundamental law of the state. He has the poive*.
of declaring war, making peace, imposing taxes, and
levying contributions ol all sorts, &c. &.c.
Then follow the regulations for the order of succes¬
sion, the regency in case of minority, the majority of
the ’king, the maintenance of the royal family j and,
after having enumerated all the possible prerogatives
of regal uncircumscribed authority, as if sufficient had
not yet been laid down, it is added in the 26th article :
“ All that we have hitherto said of power and emi¬
nence, and sovereignty, and if there is any thing fur¬
ther which has not been expressly specified, shall all be
comprised in the following words : ‘ The king of Den¬
mark and Norway shall be the hereditary monarch,
and endued with the highest authority; insomuch,
that all that can be said and written to the advantage
DEN [ 171 ] DEN
nmark. of a Christian, hereditary, and absolute king, shall be
-v—"'extended under the most favourable interpretation to
the hereditary king and queen of Denmark and Nor¬
way,” &c. &c.
*7 The laws of Denmark are so concise, that the whole
iws, See. Js contained in one quarto volume, written in the
language of the country. Every man may plead bis
own cause, without employing either counsel or attor¬
ney ; but there are a few advocates for the benefit of
those who cannot or will not speak in their own de¬
fence. The proceedings are so summary, that a suit
may be carried through all the courts, and finally de¬
cided in 13 months. There are three courts in Den¬
mark, and an appeal lies from the inferior to the supe¬
rior tribunal. The lowest of these is, in cities and
towns, denominated the Byfoglids Court; and in the
country, the Herredsfougds. Causes may be appealed
from this to the Lanstag, or general head court for
the province ; but the final appeal lies to the court of
High-right in Copenhagen, where the king presides in
person, assisted by the prime nobility. The judges of
the two other courts are appointed by his majesty’s
letters patent, to sit and determine causes diit'ante bene
placito. These are punishable for any misdemean¬
ours of which they may be guilty ; and when convicted
of having passed an unjust sentence, they are condemned
to make reparation to the injured party. Their salaries
are very inconsiderable, and paid out of the king’s trea¬
sury, from the fines of delinquents, besides a small gra¬
tuity from the plaintiff and defendant when sentence is
passed. Such is the peculiar privilege enjoyed by the
city of Copenhagen, that causes appealed from the By¬
foglids court, instead of passing through the provincial
court, are tried by the burgomaster and common coun¬
cil ; from whence they proceed immediately to the
highest court as the last resource. Affairs relating to
the revenue are determined in the rent-chamber of
Denmark, which is analogous to our court of exche¬
quer. To another tribunal, composed of some mem¬
bers from this rent-chamber, from the admiralty, and
college of commerce, merchants appeal for redress
when their commodities are seized for non-payment of
duties. All disputes relating tg the sea are determined
by the court of admiralty, constituted of commissioners
appointed for these purposes. The chancellary may be
more properly termed a secretary's office. It consists of
clerks, who write and issue all the king’s decrees and
citations, transcribe papers, and according to the di¬
rections they receive, make draughts of treaties, and
alliances with other nations. The government of Den¬
mark is very commendable for the excellent police it
maintains. Justice is executed upon criminals with
great severity ; and such regulations are established as
effectually prevent those outrages that are daily com¬
mitted in other countries. No man presumes to wag
his tongue against the government, far less to hatch
schemes of treason. All the subjects are, or seem to
be, attached to their sovereign by the ties of affection.
Robbery on the highway, burglary, coining or clip¬
ping, are crimes seldom or never heard of in Den¬
mark. The capital crimes usually committed are theft
and manslaughter. Such offenders are beheaded very
dexterously with one stroke of a sword. The exe¬
cutioner, though infamous, is commonly rich ; be¬
cause, beside the proper functions of his office, he is
employed in other mean occupations, which few other Denmark.
persons will undertake. He, by means of his under- v-1 J
strapper, called the pi'acher, empties all the jakes, and
removes from houses, stables, or streets, dead dogs,
horses, &c. which no other Dane would vouchsafe to
touch on any consideration whatever. i3
The Danish nobility and gentry are all included in Slavish
the term noblesse ; and formerly there were no distinc-^jj^™^
tions of title j but within these 60 or 70 years somesub_'
few favourites have been dignified with the titles of jects.
and baron. These, and these only, enjoy the privilege
of disposing of their estates by will; though others
may make particular dispositions, provided they have
sufficient interest to procure the king’s approbation and
signature. The noblesse of Denmark formerly lived at
their own seats with great magnificence 5 and at the
conventions of estates met the king with numerous
and superb retinues; but since he became absolute,
they are so impoverished by exorbitant taxes, that they
can hardly procure subsistence ; but, for the most part
live obscurely in some corner of their ruined coun¬
try palaces, unless they have interest enough to pro¬
cure some employment at court. They no longer in¬
herit the spirit and virtues of their ancestors; but are
become servile, indolent, ostentatious, extravagant, and
oppressive.
Their general character is a strange composition of
pride and meanness, insolence and poverty. If any gen¬
tleman can find a purchaser for his estate, the king, by
the Danish laws, has a right to one third of the pur¬
chase-money ; but the lands are so burdened with im¬
positions, that there would be no danger of an aliena¬
tion, even though this restriction was not in force.—
Nay, some gentlemen in the island of Zealand have ac¬
tually offered to make a surrender to the king of large
tracts of very fertile land in the island of Zealand, if
his majesty would be pleased to accept of them in place
of the impositions laid on them. The reason of this is,
because, by the law of Denmark, if any estate is bur¬
dened beyond what it can bear, the owner must make
up the deficiency out of his other estates, if he has any.
Hence the king generally refuses such offers ; and some
gentlemen have been transported with joy when they
heard that his majesty had been “ graciously pleased to
accept their whole estates.”
This oppression of the nobles by the king produces
in them a like disposition to oppress the commons; and
the consequence of all this is, that there is no part of
the world where extravagancy and dissipation reign to
such a degree. The courtiers maintain splendid equi¬
pages, wear fine clothes, drink a vast quantity of French
wine, and indulge themselves with eating to excess.
Such as derive money from their employment, instead
of purchasing land in Denmark, remit their cash to the
banks of Hamburgh and Amsterdam. The merchants
and burghers tread in the steps of their superiors ; they
spend all their gains in luxury and pleasure, afraid of
incurring the suspicion of affluence, and being stripped
by taxation. The peasant, or boor, follows the same
example. No sooner has he earned a rix-dollar than he
makes haste to expend it in brandy, lest it should fall
into the hands of his oppressive landlord. This lower
class of people are as absolute slaves as the negroes in
the West Indies, and subsist upon much harder fare.
The value of estates is not computed by the number of
Y 2 acres,
T
D • E N [17
Denmark, acre?, but by the stock of boors, wbo, like the timber,
-v~i 1, are reckoned parcel of tlie freehold } and nothing can
be more wretched than the state of these boors ^ they
feed upon stock-fish, salted meats, and other coarse diet j
there is not the least piece of furniture of any value in
their houses, except feather-beds, of which there is
great plenty in Denmark, and which are used not only
as beds to lie on, but as blankets for covering. After
the boor has toiled like a slave to raise the king’s taxes,
he must pay the overplus of his toil to his needy land¬
lord. Should he improve his ground and repair his
farm house, his cruel master will immediately transplant
him to a barren farm and a naked habitation, that he
may let the improved ground to another tenant at a
higher price. The peasants likewise sustain a great deal
of damage and violence from the licentious soldiers that
are quartered in their houses. They are moreover obli¬
ged to furnish horses and waggons for the royal family
and all their attendants, when the king makes a pro¬
gress through the country, or removes his residence fiom
one place to another. On such occasions the neigh¬
bouring boors are summoned to assemble with then-
cattle and carriages, and not only to live at their own
expence, but to bear every species of outrage from the
meanest lacquies of those who attend his majesty. The
warlike spirit of the Danes no longer subsists 5 the com¬
mon people are mean-spirited, suspicious, and deceitful,
nor have they that talent for mechanics, so remarkable
in some northern nations. While the peasants are em¬
ployed in their labour without doors, the women aie
occupied at home in spinning yarn for linen, which is
here made in great perfection.
In Denmark all persons of any rank above the vul¬
gar dress in the French taste, and affect finery j the
winter-dress of the ladies is peculiar to the country,
very neat, warm, and becoming. The common peo¬
ple" are likewise remarkably neat, and pride them¬
selves in different changes of linen. I hey are very
little addicted to jollity and diversion*, their whole
amusements consist in running at the goose on Shrove
Tuesday, and in winter in being drawn in sledges up¬
on the ice. With respect to marriage, the man and
woman frequently cohabit together in contract long
before the ceremony is performed j the nobility and
gentry pique themselves on sumptuous burials and mo¬
numents for the dead : the corpse is very often kept
in a vault, or in the chancel of a church, for several
years, before an opportunity offers of celebrating the
funeral.
The taverns in this country are poorly supplied ;
and he wbo diets in them must be contented to eat m
a public room, unless he will condescend to pay an ex¬
travagant price for a private apartment; the metropo¬
lis is but indifferently furnished with game ; the wild
ducks and plover are hardly eatable : but the hares
are good, and the markets sometimes produce tolerable
roebuck ; their sea-fish are not to be commended ; but
the rivers produce plenty of delicious carp, perch, and
craw-fish ; the gardens of the gentry are well provided
with melons, grapes, peaches, and all sorts of greens
and salads in perfection.
The army of Denmark is composed of the troops ot
Denmark and Holstein. _
The forces of Denmark and Holstein are divided
into regulars and national or militia. Ihese forces
29
Dress, &c.
30
Ann) of
Denmark.
2 ] DEN
(the foot and horse guards excepted, who are all regu- Denmaik,
lars) are not separated, as in our army, into distinct' 
regiments, but are formed in the following manner :
Before the late augmentation, every regiment of in¬
fantry, when complete, consisted of 26 officers and
1632 privates, divided into ten companies of fusileers
and two of grenadiers. Of these 1632 privates, 480,
who are chiefly foreigners enlisted in Germany, are
regulars. The remaining 1152 are ^ie national mj-
litia, or peasants who reside upon the estates of their
landholders, each estate furnishing a certain number in
proportion to its value. These national troops are occa¬
sionally exercised in small corps upon Sundays and holi¬
days *, and are embodied once every year for about 17
days in their respective districts. By a late addition
of ten men to each company, a regiment of infantry is
increased to 1778, including officers. The expence
of each regiment which before amounted to 6000I. has
been raised by the late augmentation to 8000I. The
cavalry is upon the same footing 5 each regiment eon-
sistimg of 17 officers, including serjeants and corporals,^
and 365 privates, divided into five squadrons. Of
these about 260 are regular, and the remainder national
troops. The regiments of foot and horse guards are
regulars: the former is composed of 21 officers and 465
men, in five companies j and the latter of 7 officers and
154 men, in two squadrons.
From their insular situation, the Danes have always
excelled as a maritime people. In the earlier ages,
when piracy was an honourable profession, they were
a race of pirates, and issued from the Baltic to the
conquests of England and Normandy. And though,
since the improvement of navigation by the invention
of the compass, other nations have risen to a greater
degree of naval eminence, still, however, the Danes,
as "they inhabit a cluster of islands, and possess a large
tract of sea-coast, are well versed in maritime affairs,
and are certainly the most numerous, as well as the
most experienced, sailors of the north.
The greatest part of the Danish navy is stationed
in the harbour of Copenhagen, which lies within the
fortifications ; the depth of water being only 20 feet,
the ships have not their lower tier of guns on board, hut
take them in when they get out of port. Besides large
magazines, each vessel has a separate storehouse on
the water’s edge, opposite to which she is moored when
in harbour, and may by this means be instantly
equipped ^ the number ot registered seamen is neai
4.0,000, and are divided into two masses 5 the first com¬
prises those inhabiting the coasts, who are allowed to
engage in the service of merchant-ships trading to any
part of the world. Each receives 8s. annually from
the crown, as long as he sends a certificate of Ins be¬
ing alive ; but is subject to a recal in case of war.
The second comprehends the fixed sailors, who are
constantly in the employ of the crown, and amount
to about 4000, ranged under four divisions, or 40
companies : they are stationed at Copenhagen for the
ordinary service of the navy, and work in the dock¬
yard. Each of them, when not at sea, receives 8s.
per month, beside a sufficient quantity of flour and
other provisions ; every two years a complete suit of
clothes j and every year breeches, stockings, shoes,
and a cap. Some of them are lodged in barracks.
When they sail, their pay is augmented to 20s. per
month.
WuruU1
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Kium or
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it wed
liol(Ten^>
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Pub/is/ied />t' A. Caristab/e A CfEttiaburifh
DEN [ i?3 ] DEN
,enmark, month. The marine artillery consists of 800 men, in
IDennis. four divisions.
■ * The Danish navy was formerly estimated at 38 ships
1 of the line, besides frigates. It may be doubted, how¬
ever, whether the whole of these were at any one time
fit for service. Seventeen ships of war were destroy¬
ed in Admiral Parker’s attack in 1801 *, and Lord
Gambler brought away, in 1807, 16 ships of the line and
15 frigates. No authentic account of the strength of the
Danish navy has been published since the late peace.
The population of Denmark in 1811 was stated to
be 1,800,000 ; and that of Iceland is estimated at
53,000. The revenue of the country is estimated at
1,700.000!. sterling. Norway, when Denmark lost it,
contained 950,00 inhabitants.
weiiue The revenue of his Danish majesty arises from taxes
laid on his own subjects, from the duties paid by fo¬
reigners, from his own estate, crown lands, and con¬
fiscations. The taxes are altogether arbitrary, and
therefore fluctuating; but they are always grievous to
the subject. They commonly consist of customs or toll,
for export and import; of excise upon the consump¬
tion of wine, salt, tobacco, and all kinds of provisions ;
of taxes upon marriages, paper, brewing, or grinding,
and the exercise of difierent professions ; of impositions
on land, poll-money, ground-rent for all houses in Co¬
penhagen and elsewhere ; of money raised for main¬
taining fortifications, and for a portion to the king’s
daughter when she happens to be married ; but this
seldom exceeds 100,000 rix dollars. One considerable
article in the revenue is the toll paid by foreign ships
that pass through the Sound, or Ore Sound (the strait
between Schonen and Zealand), into the Ealtic. This
was originally no other than a small contribution,
which trading nations agreed to make for maintaining
lights at certain places, to direct their course through
the passage in dark and stormy weather. In process of
time the Danes converted this voluntary contribution,
into an exorbitant toll, and even exacted arbitrary
sums in proportion to the weakness of the nation whose
ships they visited. These exactions sometimes involved
them in quarrels, and the toll was regulated in repeated
treaties. See Denmark, Supplement.
DENNIS, John, the celebrated critic, was the son
of a reputable tradesman in London, and born in the
year 1657. -^e received the first branches of education
at the great school in Harrow on the Hill, where he
commenced acquaintance and intimacy with many
young noblemen and gentleman, who afterwards made
considerable figures in public affairs, whereby he laid
the foundation of a very strong and extensive interest,
which might, but for his own fault, have been of infi¬
nite use to him in future life. From Harrow he went
to Caius-college Cambridge ; where, after his proper-
standing, he took the degree of batchelor of arts. When
he quitted the university, he made the tour of Eu¬
rope ; in the course of which he conceived such a de¬
testation for despotism, as confirmed him still more in
those Whig principles which he had from his infancy
imbibed.
On his return to England he became early ac¬
quainted with Dryden, Wycherly, Congreve, and
Southerne ; whose conversation inspiring him with a
passion for poetry, and a contempt for every attainment
that had not something of the belles lettres, diverted
him from the acquisition of any profitable art, or the
exercise of any profession. Ibis, to a man who hail
not an independent income, was undoubtedly a misfor¬
tune : however bis zeal for the Protestant succession
having recommended him to the patronage of the duke
of Marlborough, that nobleman procured him a place
in tlie customs worth 120I. per annum ; which he en¬
joyed for some years, till from profuseness and want of
economy, he was reduced to the necessity of disposing
of it to s-atisfy some very pressing demands. By the
advice of Lord Halifax, however, he reserved to him¬
self, 111 the sale of it, an annuity for a term of years ;
which term he outlived, and was, in the decline of his
life, reduced to extreme necessity.
Air I heo. Cibber relates an anecdote of him, which
w'e cannot avoid repeating, as it is not only highly cha¬
racteristic of the man whose affairs we are now consi¬
dering, but also a striking and melancholy instance,
among thousands, of the distressful predicaments into
which men of genius and literary abilities are perhaps
apter than any others to plunge themselves, by paying
too slight an attention to the common concerns of life,
and their own most important interests. “ After that
he was worn out (says that author) with age and po¬
verty, he resided within the verge of the court, to pre¬
vent danger from his creditors. One Saturday night
he happened to saunter to a public house, which in a
short time he discovered to be without the verge. He
was sitting in an open drinking-room, when a man of a
suspicious appearance happened to come in. There
was something about the man which denoted to Mr
Dennis that he was a bailiff. This struck him with a
panic ; he was afraid his liberty was at an end ; he
sat in the utmost solicitude, but did not offer to
stir lest he should be seized upon. After an hour or
two had passed in this painful anxiety, at last the clock
struck twelve ; when Mr Dennis, in an ecstacy, cried
out, addressing himself to the suspected person, “ Now,
Sir, bailiff or no bailiff, I do’nt care a farthing for
you, you have no power now.” The man w’as asto¬
nished at his behaviour ; and when it was explained to
him, was so much affronted with the suspicion, that
had not Mr Dennis found his protection in age, he
would probably have smarted for his mistaken opinion.
A strong picture of the effects of fear and apprehen¬
sion, in a temper naturally so timorous and jealous as
Mr Dennis’s; of which the following is a still more
whimsical instance. In 1704 came out his favourite
tragedy, “ Liberty Asserted ;” in which were so many
strokes on the French nation, that he thought they
were never to be forgiven. He had worked himself
into a persuasion that the king of France would insist
on his being delivered up, before he would consent to
a peace; and full of this idea of his own importance,
when the congress was held at Utrecht, he is said to
have waited on his patron the duke of Marlborough,
to desire that no such article might be stipulated. The
duke told him he had really no interest then with the
ministry ; but had made no such provision for his own
security, though he could not help thinking he had
done the French as much injury as Mr Dennis himself.
Another story relating to this affair is, that being at a
gentleman’s house on the coast of Sussex, and walking;
one day on the sea-shore, he saw a ship sailing, as he
fancied, towards him ; he instantly set out for London,
in
DEN
[ 174
DEN
Dennis
in the fancy that he was betrayed ; and congratulating
himself on his escape, gave out that Ins friend had de-
Density. coyeA him down to his house, to surrender him up to
the French. . ,
Mr Dennis, partly through a natural peevishness
a„d petulance of temper, and partly perhaps for the
sake of procuring the means of subsistence, was conti¬
nually engaged in a paper-war with his contemporaries,
whom he ever treated with the utmost severity : and,
though many of his observations were judicious, yet,
he usually conveyed them in language so scurrilous and
abusive, as destroyed their intended eflect ; and as his
attacks were almost always on persons of superior abi¬
lities to himself, viz. Addison, Steele, and Pope, their
replies usually turned the popular opinion so greatly
against him, that, by irritating his testy temper the
more, it rendered him a perpetual torment to himself
till at length, after a long life of vicissitudes, disappoint¬
ments, and turmoils, rendered wretched by indiscre¬
tion, and hateful by malevolence, having outlived the
reversion of his estate, and reduced to distress from
which his having been daily creating enemies had left
him scarcely any hopes of relief, he was compelled to
what must be the most irksome situation that can be
conceived in human life, the receiving obligations
from those whom be bad been continually treating ill.
In the very close of his days, a play was acted for his
benefit at the little theatre in the Hay-market, procu-
red through the united interests of Messrs Ihomson,
Mallet, and Pope •, the last of whom, notwithstanding
the gross manner in which Mr Dennis had on many
occasions used him, and the long warfare that had sub¬
sisted between them, interested himself very warmly
for him ; and even wrote an occasional prologue to the
play, which was spoken by Mr Cibber. Not long
after this, viz. on the 6th of January 1733, he died,
being then in the 77th year of his age.
Mr Dennis certainly was possessed of much erudi¬
tion, and a considerable share of genius. In prose, he
is far from a bad writer, where abuse or personal scur¬
rility does not mingle itself with his language. In
verse, he is extremely unequal *, his numbers being at
some’times spirited and harmonious, and his subjects
x elevated and judicious j and at others flat, harsh, and
puerile.—As a dramatic author, he certainly deserves
not to he held in any consideration. It was justly said
of him by a wit, that he was the most complete in¬
structor for a dramatic poet, since he could teach him
to distinguish good plays by his precepts, and bad ones
by his examples. %
DENOMINATION (from denomino, of de and «o-
men, “ a name) a name imposed upon any thing,
usually expressing some quality predominant therein..
DENOMINATOR, in Arithmetic, a term used in
s pea kino- of fractions. See ARITHMETIC, N° 21. . .
Denominator of a Ratio, is the quotient arising
from the division of the antecedent by the consequent.
Thus 6 is the denominator of the ratio 30 to 5 ; because
30 divided by 5 gives 6. This is otherwise called the
exponent of the ratio.
DENSITY of Bodies, is that property directly
opposite to rarity, whereby they contain such a quan¬
tity of matter under such a bulk.
Accordingly, a body is said to have double or triple
the density of another body, when their bulk being
Density
equal, the quantity of matter is in the one double or
triple the quantity of matter in the other.
Density of the Air, is a property that has employ- t _
ed the later philosophers, since the discovery of the
Torricellian experiment.
It is demonstrated, that in the same vessel, or even
in vessels communicating with each other, at the same
distance from the centre, the air has everywhere the
same density. Jlie density of air, cesteris paiihus, in¬
creases in proportion to the compressing power. Hence
the inferior air is denser than the superior} the density ,
however, of the lower air is not proportional to the
weight of the atmosphere, on account of heat and cold,
and other causes perhaps, which make great alterations
in density and rarity. However, from the elasticity of
the air, its density must be always different at different
heights from the" earth’s surface; for the lower parte
being pressed by the weight of those above, will he
made to accede nearer to each other, and the more so
as the weight of the incumbent air is greater. Hence
the density of the air is greatest at the earth’s surface,
and decreases upwards in geometrical proportion to the
altitudes taken in arithmetical progression.
If the air he rendered denser, the weight of bodies
in it is diminished *, if rarer, increased, because bodies
lose a greater part of their weight in denser than in
rarer mediums. Hence, if the density of the air he
sensibly altered, bodies equally heavy in a rarer air, if
their specific gravities be considerably different, will
lose their equilibrium in the denser, and the specifically
heavier body will preponderate. See Pneumatics.
DENTALIUM, a shell-fish, belonging to the order
of vermes testacea. See Conchology Index..
DENTARIA, Tooth-wort, or Tooth-violet; a
genus of plants belonging to the tetradynamia class ;
and in the natural method ranking under the 39th or¬
der, Siliquosce. See Botany Index.
DENTATUS, Curius, a renowned disinterested
Roman general, whose virtues render him more me¬
morable than even his great military reputation, flou¬
rished 272 years B. C. He was thrice consul ; he
conquered the Samnites, Sabines, and Eucanians and
o-ave each citizen 40 acres of land, allowing himself
no more. The ambassadors of the Samnites making
him a visit, found him boiling turnips in a pipkin;
upon which they offered him gold to come over to
their interest *, hut he told them, his design was not to
(trow rich, but to command those who were so. He
defeated Pyrrhus near Tarentum, and received the
honour of a triumph.
DENTELLA, in Botany, a genus of plants belong¬
ing to the pentandria class. See Botany Index.
DENTILES, or Dentils, in Architecture, an or¬
nament in corniches bearing some resemblance to teeth,
particularly used in the Ionic and Corinthian orders.
See Architecture.
DENTIFRICE, in Medicine, a remedy for the
teeth. There are various kinds •, generally made of
earthy substances finely pounded, and mixed with alum,
or some other saline substances j but these are perni¬
cious on account of their wearing away the enamel
of the teeth, but more especially by the septic quality
with which these earthy substances are endowed. On
this account, a portion of Peruvian bark finely pound¬
ed is now commonly added, which answers the double
purpose
entrlfice
I!
Oephleg-
tnation.
D E P { i
purpose of cleaning the teeth, and preserving them af¬
terwards from corruption.
DENTISCALPRA, in Surgery, an instrument for
; scouring yellow, livid, or black teeth j to which being
applied near the gums, it scrapes off the foul morbid
crust.
DENTITION, the breeding or cutting the teeth in
children. See Medicine Index.
DENUNCIATION, a solemn publication or pro¬
mulgation of any thing.
All vessels of enemies are lawful prizes, after denun¬
ciation or proclamation of war. The design of the de¬
nunciation of excommunicated persons is, that the sen¬
tence may be the more fully executed by the person’s
being more known.
Denunciation at the Horn, in Scots Law. See
Law Index.
DENYS the Little. See Dionysius.
Denys, *SV, a famous town of France, in the de¬
partment of Paris. Here is an ancient and magniii-
cent church, in which were the tombs of many of the
French kings ; and in the treasury, among other cu¬
riosities, the swords of St Lewis and the Maid of Or¬
leans, and the sceptre of Charlemagne. The abbey of
the late Benedictines, a magnificent piece of modern
architecture, has more the appearance of a palace than
a convent. In 1793, after the abolition of royalty,
the royal tombs in the church were all destroyed ; and
the name of the town was changed to that of Fran-
ciade. It is seated on the river Crould, near the Seine,
five miles north of Paris. E, Long. 2. 26. N. Lat.
48. 56.
DEOBSTRUENTS, in Pharmacy, such medicines
as open obstructions.
DEODAND, in our customs, a thing given or for¬
feited as it were to God, for the pacification of his
wrath in a case of misadventure, whereby a Christian
soul comes to a violent end without the fault of any
reasonable creature.
As, if a horse strike his keeper and kill him j if a
man, in driving a cart, falls so as the cart-wheel runs
ovefc him, and presses him to death ; if one be felling a
tree, and gives warning to the standers by to look t:o
themselves, yet a man is killed by the fall thereof j in
the first case, the horse $ in the second, the cart-wheel,
cart, and horses; a:.d in the third, the tree, is Deodan-
dus, “ to be given to God,” that is, to the king, to be
distributed to the poor by his almoner, for expiation of
this dreadful event; though effected by irrational, nay,
senseless and deadly creatures.
Omnia qux movent ad mortem sunt Deodanda:
What moves to death, or kills him dead,
Is Deodand, and forfeited.
This law seems to be an imitation of that in Exodus,
chap, xxi. “ If an ox gore a man or a woman with
his horns, so as they die ; the ox shall be stoned to
death, and his flesh not be eaten ; so shall his owner be
innocent.”
Fleta says the Deodand is to be sold, and the price
distributed to the poor, for the soul of the king, his an¬
cestors, and all faithful people departed this life.
DEPHLEGMATION, is an operation by which
the superabundant water of a body is taken from it;
75 ] D E P
and it is principally effected by evaporation or distilla¬
tion. Dephlegmation is also called Concentration, par¬
ticularly when acids are the subject. See Concen¬
tration.
DEPHLOGISTICATED, in Chemistry, any thing
deprived of the phlogiston supposed to be contained in
it.
Depiilogisticated Air, is the same with oxygen
gas of modern chemistry, and is an invisible elastic
fluid, of somewhat greater specific gravity than that of
common atmospheric air, and capable of supporting
animal life and flame for a much longer time than the
air we commonly breathe. See Oxygen, Chemistry
Index.
DEPILATORY medicines, are those applied in
order to take off the hair : such are known to be the
effects of lime and orpiment, but they ought to be used
with great caution.
DEPONENT, in Latin grammar, a term applied
to verbs which have active significations, but passive
terminations or conjugations, and want one of their
participles passive.
Deponent, in the Law of Scotland, a person who
makes a deposition. See Deposition.
DEPOPULATION, the act of diminishing the
number of people in any country, whether by war,
disease, or political causes.
DEPORTATION, a sort of banishment used by
the Romans, whereby some island or other place was
allotted to a criminal for the place of his abode, with
a prohibition not to stir out of the same on pain of
death.
DEPOSIT, among civilians, something that is com¬
mitted to the custody of a person, to be kept without
any rew’ard, and to be returned again on demand.
DEPOSITARY, in Law, a person intrusted as
keeper or guardian of a deposit.
DEPOSITION, in Lena, the testimony given in
court by a witness upon oath.
Deposition is also used for the sequestrating or de¬
priving a person of his dignity and office.
This deposition only dift’ers from abdication, in that
the latter is supposed voluntary, and the act of the dig¬
nitary or officer himself; and the former of compulsion,
being the act of a superior power, whose authority ex¬
tends thereto. Some say the deposition, and some the
abdication, of King James II.
Deposition does not differ from deprivation : we
say, indifferently, a deposed or deprived bishop, offi¬
cial, &c.
Deposition differs from suspension, in that it absolute¬
ly and for ever strips or divests a priest, &c. of all dig¬
nity, office, &c. whereas suspension only prohibits, or
restrains, the exercise thereof.
Deposition only differs from degradation, in that
the latter is more formal, and attended with more
circumstances, than the former: but in effect and
substance they are the same ; those additional circum¬
stances being only matter of show, first set on toot out
of zeal and indignation, and kept up by custom, but
not warranted by the laws or canons. See Degra¬
dation.
DEPRECATION, in Rhetoric,, a figure whereby
the orator invokes the aid and assistance of some one;
ox
Dephleg-
niation
11
Depreca¬
tion.
Defeca¬
tion
I!
Dejitli.
D E P [ 176 ]
or prays for some great evil or punishment to hefal the same instrument
D E R
him who speaks ialsely, either himself or his adver
sary.
DEPRECATORY, or Deprecative, m 2 heology,
a term applied to the manner of performing some cere¬
monies in the form of prayer. .
rJ['he form of absolution is deprecative in the Greek
church, being conceived in these terms, Mcnj God ab¬
solve you : whereas it is in the declarative form in the
Latin church, and in some of the reformed churches,
J absolve you.
DEPRESSION of the Pole. When a person sails
or travels towards the equator, he is said to depress the
pole •, because as many degrees as he approaches nearer
the equator, so many degrees will the pole be nearer
the horizon. This phenomenon arises from the spheri¬
cal figure of the earth.
Depression of a Star, or of the Sua, is its distance
below the horizon ; and is measured by an arc of a ver¬
tical circle, intercepted between the horizon and the
place of the star.
Depression of the Visible Horizon, or Dip oj the
Horizon, denotes its sinking or dipping below the true
horizontal plane, by the observer’s eye being raised
above the surface of the sea j in consequence of which,
the observed altitude of an object is by so much too
great.
DEPRESSOR, or Deprimens, in Anatomy, a name
applied to several muscles, because they depress the
parts they are fastened to.
DEPRIVATION, in the common law, the act of
bereaving, divesting, or taking away a spiritual pro¬
motion or dignity : as when a bishop, vicar, prebend,
or the like, is deposed or deprived of his preferment,
for some matter or fault, in fact or in law. See De¬
position. _ . „ .
Deprivation is of two kinds *, a benefino, et ab officio.
Deprivation a beneficio is, when for some great
crime a minister is wholly and for ever deprived of his
living or preferment j which differs from suspension, in
that the latter is only temporary.
Deprivation ab officio is, when a minister is for
ever deprived of his order j which is the same, in reali¬
ty, with what we otherwise call deposition and degrada¬
tion ; and is usually for some heinous crime deserving
death, and is performed by the bishop in a solemn man¬
ner. See Degradation.
DEPTFORD, a town of Kent in England, consi¬
derable for its fine docks and for the king’s yard and
storehouses. It was anciently called West Greenwich.
It is divided into Upper and Lower Deptford, and has
two parish churches. Here is an hospital incorporated
by HenryVIII. calledTrinity HouseofDeptfordStrond.
The brethren of the Trinity House hold their corpora¬
tion by this hospital, and are obliged, at certain times,
t < meet here for business. Both these are for decayed
pilots, or masters of ships, or for their widows, who
have a handsome monthly allowance. The town is
handsomely built, and contained 19,833 inhabitants in
1811. It is four miles east of London. E. Long,
c. 4. N. Lat. 51. 30.
DEPTH, the measure of any thing from the surface
downwards.
Measuring of Depths by the Barometer, depends on
the same principles on which heights are measured by
3
    The mensuration of depths being
chiefly applied to mines, is still more precarious than
the mensuration of heights, on account of the various
kinds of vapours with which the subterraneous regions
are filled. But for a particular account of these diffi¬
culties, with the best methods of obviating them, see
Barometer and Mines.
Depth of a Squadron or Battalion, is the number
of men in a file; which in a squadron is three,
and in a battalion generally six. See Squadron,
File, &c.
We say, the battalion was drawn up six deep; the
enemy’s horse was drawn up five deep.
DEPURATION, is the freeing of any fluid from its
heterogeneous matter or feculence. It is of three kinds 3
I. Decantation-, which is performed by letting the li¬
quor to be depurated stand for some time in a pretty deep
vessel, till the gross sediment has fallen to the bottom j
after which the clear fluid is poured off. 2. Despuma-
tion 5 which is performed by means of the whites of
eggs, or other viscid matter, and is also called clari¬
fication. 3. Filtration j which is effected by passing
the fluid through cloth or porous paper.
DEPURATORY fever, a name given by Syden¬
ham to a fever which prevailed much in the years 1661,
1662, 1663, and 1664. He called it depuratory, be¬
cause he supposed that nature regulated all the symp¬
toms in such a manner, as to fit the febrile matter, pre¬
pared by proper concoction, for expulsion in a certain
time, either by a copious sweat or *a freer perspira¬
tion.
DEPUTATION, a mission of select persons, out of
a company or body, to a prince or assembly, to treat of
matters in their name.
DEPUTY, a person sent upon some business by
some community.
Deputy is also one that exercises an office in ano¬
ther’s right; and the forfeiture or misdemeanour of
such deputy shall cause the person whom he represents
to lose his office.
DEPUTATUS, among the ancients, a name ap¬
plied to persons employed in making armour j and
likewise to brisk active people, whose business was to
take care of the wounded in engagements, and carry
them off the field.
DER, a syllable frequently prefixed to the names of
places in England. It is said to signify that such were
formerly places where wild beasts herded together, so
called from the Saxon, deop, fera, unless the situation
was near some river.
DERBEND, a strong town of Asia, in Persia, said
to have been founded by Alexander the Great. The
walls are built with stones as hard as marble ; and near
it are the remains of a wall which reached from the
Caspian to the Black sea. It is situated near the Cas¬
pian sea, at the foot of Mount Caucasus. E. Long.
30. o. N. Lat. 42. 8.
DERBY, the capital of a county of the same name
in England. It is thought to have received its name
from being formerly a park or shelter for deer ; and
what makes this supposition more probable is, that the
arms of the town consist of a buck couchant in a park.
It is very ancient, having been a royal borough in
the time of Edward the Confessor. At present it is
a handsome town, and sends two members to par¬
liament.
D E R [ 177 ] D E R
lerby liament. In digging for foundations of houses, hu¬
ll man bones of a monstrous size have sometimes been
relict^ found. The trade consists in wool, corn, malt, and
'~v ale, of which considerable quantities are sent to Lon¬
don. Here also is that curious machine for throwing
silk, the model of which Sir Thomas Lombe, at the
hazard of his life, brought from Italy. Before that
time, the English merchants used to purchase thrown
silks of the Italians for ready money. But by the
help of this wonderful machine, one hand-mill will
twist as much silk as 50 people could do without it. It
works 73,726 yards of silk every time the water-wheel
goes round, which is thrice in a minute. The house
in which it is contained is five or six stories high, and
half a quarter of a mile in length. When Sir Thomas’s
patent expired in 1732, the parliament were so sensible
of the value and importance of the machine, that they
granted him a farther recompense of 14,000!. for the
hazard and expence he had incurred in introducing and
erecting it, upon condition he should allow an exact
model of it to be taken. This model is deposited in
the Tower of London, in order to prevent so curious
and important an art from being lost. The town of
Derby is watered by a river and a brook ; the latter
of which has nine bridges over it, the former only
one. Derby gives title of earl to the noble family of
Stanley. Population 13,043 in 1811. W. Long. 1.
45. N. Lat. 52. 57.
DERBYSHIRE, a county of England, bounded on
the east by Nottinghamshire, and a part of Leicester¬
shire, which last bounds it also on the south. On the
west it is bounded by Staffordshire, and part of Che¬
shire ; and on the north by Yorkshire. It is 56 miles
long by 33 broad, and contains 972 square miles, or
622,080 acres.—The air is pleasant and healthful, es¬
pecially on the east side } but on the west, about the
Peak, it is sharper and more subject to wind and rain.
The soil varies much. In the east and south parts it
is very fruitful in all kinds of grain ; but in the west, be¬
yond the Derwent, it is barren and mountainous, pro¬
ducing nothing but a little oats. There is, however,
plenty of grass in the valleys, which afford pasture to a
great number of sheep. This part of the county is
called the Peak, from a Saxon word signifying “ an
eminence.” Its mountains are bleak, high, and bar¬
ren ; but yield abundance of lead, copper, iron, grind¬
stones, marble, alabaster, a coarse sort of crystal, fluor
or Derbyshire spar, as it is called, which is extensive¬
ly manufactured into various ornaments, and pit-coal.
In these mountains are two remarkable caverns, named
Pool's Hole, Elden-Hole. See these articles. The
population of Derbyshire in 18x1 was 185,487. See
Derbyshire, Supplement.
DEREHAM, a town of Norfolk in England, si¬
tuated in E. Long. 1. o. N. Lat. 52. 40. It con¬
tained 2888 inhabitants in 1811. The market is
noted for woollen yarn.
DERELICTS (from de, and relinquo, “ I leave”),
in the civil law, are such goods as are wilfully thrown
away, or relinquished by the owner.
Derelict is also applied to such lands as the sea
receding from leaves dry, and fit for cultivation. If
they are left by a gradual recess of the sea, they are
adjudged to belong to the owner of the adjoining
land ; but when an island is formed in the sea, or a
Vol. VII. Part I. 4.
large quantity of new land appears, such derelict lands Derelict
belong to the king. j]
DERHAM, Dr William, a very celebrated Dero^a-
English philosopher and divine, born in 1657. In,
1682, be was presented to the vicarage of Wargrave v
in Beikshire j and in 1689, to the valuable rectory of
Upminster in Essex ; which latter lying at a conveni¬
ent distance from London, afforded him an opportu¬
nity of conversing and corresponding with the greatest
virtuosos of the nation. Applying himself there with
great eagerness to natural and experimental philoso- *
phy, he soon became a distinguished member of the
Royal Society, whose Philosophical Transactions con¬
tain a great variety of curious and valuable pieces, the
fruits of his laudable industry. In his younger years
he published his Artificial Clockmaker, which has been
often printed: and in 1711, 1712, and 1714, he
preached those sermons at Boyle’s lecture, which he
afterwards digested under the well known titles of
Plnjsico-Theology and Astro-Theology, and enriched with
valuable notes and copper-plates. The last thing he
published of his own composition was Christo-Theology,
a demonstration of the divine authority of the Christian
religion, being the substance of a sermon preached at
Bath in 1729. This great good man, after spending
his life in the most agreeable as well as improving stu¬
dy of nature, died at Upminster in 1735: and be¬
sides many other works, left a valuable collection of
curiosities, particularly specimens of birds and insects
of this island.—It may be necessary just to observe,
that Dr Derham was very well skilled in medical as
well as in physical knowledge ; and was constantly a
physician to the bodies as well as the souls of his pa¬
rishioners.
DERIVATION, in Medicine, is when a humour
which cannot conveniently be evacuated at the part af¬
fected, is attracted from thence, and discharged else¬
where ; thus a blister is applied to the neck to draw
arvay the humour from the eyes.
Derivation, in Grammar, the affinity one word has
with another, by having been originally formed from
it. See Derivative.
DERIVATIVE, in Grammar, a word which takes
its origin from another word, called its primitive.—
Such is the word derivative itself, which takes its
origin from the primitive rivus, a rivulet or channel,
out of which lesser streams are drawn j and thus man¬
hood, deity, lawyer, &c. are derived from ma?i, deus,
law, &c.
DERMESTES, a genus of insects belonging to the
order of coleoptera. See Entomology Index.
DERNIER resort. See Resort.
DEROGATION, an act contrary to a preceding
one, and which annuls, destroys, and revokes it, either
in whole or in part.
DEROGATORY, a clause importing derogation.
A derogatory clause in a testament, is a certain sen¬
tence, cipher, or secret character, which the testator
inserts in his will, and of which he reserves the know¬
ledge to himself alone, adding a condition, that no will
he may make hereafter is to be reckoned valid, if this
derogatory clause is not inserted expressly and word
for word. It is a precaution invented by lawyers
against latter-wills extorted by violence, or obtained by
suggestion.
Z DERP,
D E R [
Berp DERP, a town of Livonia, anti capital of a palati-
H nate ef the same name, with a bishop’s see, and an uni-
Dervis. versity. It is subject to the Russians, and lies near the
river Ambeck. E. Long. 31. 55' Eat‘ 30, 4°*>
DERTONA, Derton, or Derthon, in Ancient
Geography, a colony of the Cispadana j called Julia
Augusta on inscriptions and coins j midway between
Genoa and Placentia, and situated to the east of the
Tanarus in Liguria. Now Tortona, a city ot Milan.
E. Long. 9. 12. N. Lat. 45.
DERTOSA, in Ancient Geography, the capital of
the Hercaones, in Tarraconensis, or the Hither Spain :
a municipium and colony ; surnamed Julia llergayonia
(Coins). Deriosani, the people. Now Tortosa, in Ca¬
talonia, on the Ebro. E. Long. o. 15. N. Lat. 40. 45.
DERVENTIO, in Ancient Geography, a river of
the Brigantes in Britain. Now the Darwent in the east
of Yorkshire, tailing into the Ouse.. Also a town ol the
Brigantes on the same river. Now called Auldby, seven
miles from York, to the north-east (Camden).
DERVIS, or DervicH, a name given to a sort of
monks among the Turks, who lead a very austere life,
and profess extreme poverty, though they are allowed
to marry. The word is originally Persian, ©'IT*, sig¬
nifying a “ beggar,” or “ person who has nothing
and because the religious, and particularly the followers
of Mevelava, profess not to possess any thing, they call
both the religious in general, and the Mevelavites in
particular, Dervises or Derviches.
The dervises, called also Mevelavites, are a Maho¬
metan order of religious *, the chief or founder whereof
was one Mevelava. They are now very numerous.
Their chief monastery is that near Cogna in Natolia,
where the general makes his residence, and where all
the assemblies of the order are held •, the other houses
being all dependent on this, by a privilege granted to
this monastery under Ottoman I.
The dervises affect a great deal of modesty, patience,
humility, and charity. They always go bare-legged
and open-breasted, and frequently burn themselves
with hot irons, to inure themselves to patience. They
always fast on Wednesdays, eating nothing on those
days till after sunset. Tuesdays and Fridays they
hold meetings, at which the superior of the house pre¬
sides. One of them plays all the while on a flute, and
the rest dance, turning their bodies round and round
with the greatest swiftness imaginable. Long custom
to this exercise from their youth has brought them to
such a habitude, that it does not discompose them at
all. This practice they observe with great strictness, in
memory of Mevelava their patriarch’s turning miracu¬
lously round, as they pretend, for the space of four days,
without any food or refreshment *, his companion Hamsa
playing all the while on the flute *, after which he fell
into an ecstasy, and therein received wonderful revela¬
tions for the establishment of his order. They believe
the flute an instrument consecrated by Jacob and the
shepherds of the Old Testament, because they sang the
praises of God upon it. They profess poverty, chasti¬
ty, and obedience, and really observe them while they
remain dervises : but if they choose to go out and mar¬
ry, they are always allowed.
The generality of dervises are mountebanks 5 some ap¬
ply themselves to legerdemain, postures, &c. to amuse
Desarti
178 ] D E S
the people j others give in to sorcery and magic: but BmU
all of them, contrary to Mahomet’s precept, are said
to drink wine, brandy, and other strong liquors, to give
them the degree of gaiety their order requires.
Beside their great saint Mevelava, there are particu¬
lar saints honoured in some particular monasteries : as
Kiderele, greatly revered in the monasteries of Egypt,
and held by some to be St George 5 and by others, with
more probability, the prophet Elias.
The dervises are great travellers ; and, under pretence
of preaching, and propagating their faith, are continu¬
ally passing from one place to another : on which ac¬
count they have been frequently used as spies.
There are also dervises in Persia, called in that coun¬
try Abdals, q. d. servants of God. They lead a very
penurious, austere life, and preach the Alcoran in the
streets, coffee-houses, and wherever they can meet with
auditors. The Persian dervises retail little but tables
to the people, and are in the utmost contempt among
the men of sense and letters.
There are in Egypt two or three kinds; those that
are in convents, are in a manner of the religious or¬
der, and live retired ; though there are of these some
who travel and return again to their convents. Some
take this character, and yet live with their families,
and exercise their trades ; of this kind are the dancing
dervises at Damascus, who go once or twice a-week to
a little uninhabited convent, and perform their extra¬
ordinary exercises ; these also seem to be a good peo¬
ple : but there is a third sort of them who travel about
the country, and beg, or rather oblige people to give,
for whenever they sound their horn something must be
given them. The people of these orders, in Egypt,
wear an octagonal badge, of a greenish white alabaster,
at their girdles, and a high stiff cap without any thing
round it.
DESAGUILIERS, John Theophilus, who intro¬
duced the practice of reading public lectures in expe¬
rimental philosophy, in the metropolis, and who made
several improvements in mechanics; was the son of the
reverend John Desaguiliers, a French Protestant refu¬
gee, and was born at Rochelle in 1683. His father
brought him to England an infant ; and at a proper
age placed him at Christ-Church College, Oxford ;
where he succeeded Dr Keil in reading lectures on
experimental philosophy at Hart-Hall. The magni¬
ficent duke of Chandos made Dr Desaguiliers his
chaplain, and presented him to the living of Edgeware,
near his seat at Cannons : and he was afterwards chap¬
lain to Frederic prince of Wales. He read lectures
with great success to the time of his death in 1749*
He communicated many curious papers printed in the
Philosophical Transactions; published a valuable Course
of Experimental Philosophy, in 2 vols 4to ; and gave
an edition of Gregory's Elements of Catoptrics and Di¬
optrics, with an Appendix on reflecting telescopes, 8vo.
He was a member of the Royal Society, and of several
foreign academies.
DESART, a large extent of country entirely bar¬
ren, and producing nothing. In this sense some are
sandy desarts; as those of Lop, Xamo, Arabia, and
several others in Asia ; in Africa, those of Libya and
Zara : others are stony, as the desart of Pharan in A-
rabia Petrea.
The
D E S [ 179 ] D E S
7Vie Desart, properly so called, is that part of
Arabia, south of the Holy Land, where the children
of Israel wandered forty years.
DESCANT, in Music, the art of composing in se¬
veral parts. See Comfosition.
Descant is threefold, viz. plain, figurative, and
double.
Plain Descant is the ground-work and foundation
of all musical compositions, consisting altogether in the
orderly placing of many concords, answering to simple
counterpoint. See Counterpoint.
Figurative or Florid Descant, is that part of an air
of music wherein some discords are concerned, as well,
though .not so much, as concords. This may be term¬
ed the ornamental and rhetorical part of music, in re¬
gard that there are introduced all the varieties of
points, syncopes, diversities of measures, and whatever
is capable of adorning the composition.
Descant Double, is when the parts are so contrived,
that the treble, or any high part, may be made the
bass; and, on the contrary, the bass the treble.
DESCARTES. See Cartes.
DESCENDANT. The issue of a common parent,
in infinitum, are called his descendants. See the article
Descent.
DESCENSION, in Astronomy, is either right or
oblique.
Right Descension, is an arch of the equinoctial, in¬
tercepted between the next equinoctial point and the
intersection of the meridian, passing through the centre
of the object, at its setting, in a right sphere.
Oblique Descension, an arch of the equinoctial, in¬
tercepted between the next equinoctial point and the
horizon, passing through the centre of the object, at its
setting, in an oblique sphere.
DESCENT, in general, is the tendency of a body
from a higher to a lower place ; thus all bodies, unless
otherwise determined by a force superior to their gra¬
vity, descend towards the centre of the earth. See
Gravity and Mechanics.
Descent, or Hereditary Succession, in Law, is the
title whereby a man, on the death of his ancestor, ac¬
quires his estate by right of representation, as his heir
at law. An heir, therefore, is he upon whom the law
casts the estate immediately on the death of the an¬
cestor : and an estate so descending to the heir is in
law called the inheritance.
Descent is either lineal or collateral. The former is
that conveyed down in a right line from the grandfather
to the father, and from the father to the son, and from
the son to the grandson. The latter is that springing
out of the side of the line or blood ; as from a man to
his brother, nephew or the like.
The doctrine of descents, or law of inheritances in
fee-simple, is a point of the highest importance : (See
the article Fee). All the rules relating to purchases,
whereby the legal course of descents is broken and al¬
tered, perpetually refer to this settled law of inheritance,
as a datum or first principle universally known, and upon
which their subsequent limitations are to work. Thus
a gift in tail, or to a man and the heirs of his body, is
a limitation that cannot be perfectly understood with¬
out a previous knowledge of the law of descents in fee-
simple. One may well perceive, that this is an estate
confined in its descent to such heirs only of the donee
as have sprung or shall spring from his body : but who Descent.
those heirs are, whether all his children both male and ' ,
female, or the male only, and (among the males) whe¬
ther the eldest, youngest, or other son alone, or all the
sons together, shall be his heir j this is a point that we
must result back to the standing law of descents in fee-
simple to be informed of.
And as this depends not a little on the nature of
kindred, and the several degrees of consanguinity, it
will be necessary to refer the reader to the article Con¬
sanguinity, where the true notion of this kindred or
alliance in blood is particularly stated.
V. e shall here exhibit a series of rules or canons of
inheritance, with illustrations, according to which, by
the law of England, estates are transmitted from the
ancestor to the heir.
1. “ Inheritances shall lineally descend to the issue
of the person last actually seised in infinitum, but shall
never lineally ascend.”
To understand both this and the subsequent rules, it
must be observed, that by law no inheritance can vest,
nor can any person be the actual complete heir of ano¬
ther, till the ancestor is previously dead. Nemo est ha¬
res viventis. Before that time, the person who is next
in the line of succession is called heir apparent, or heir
presumptive. Heirs apparent are such whose right
of inheritance is indefeasible, provided they outlive the
ancestor; as the eldest son or his issue, who must, by
the course of the common law, be heirs to the father
whenever he happens to die. Heirs presumptive are
such, who, if the ancestor should die immediately, would
in the present circumstances of things be his heirs ; but
whose right of inheritance may he defeated by the con¬
tingency of some nearer heir being born : as a brother
or nephew, whose presumptive succession may be de¬
stroyed by the birth of a child ; or a daughter, whose
present hopes may he hereafter cut off by the birth of a
son. Nay, even if the estate hath descended, by the
death of the owner, to such a brother, or nephew, or
daughter; in the former cases, the estate shall be di¬
vested and taken away by the birth of a posthumous
child ; and, in the latter, it shall also be totally divest¬
ed by the birth of a posthumous son.
We must also remember, that no person can be pro¬
perly such an ancestor as that an inheritance in lands
or tenements can be derived from him, unless he hath
had actual seisin of such lands, either by his own
entry, or by the possession of his own or his ancestor’s
lessee for years, or by receiving rent from a lessee of
the freehold : or unless he hath what is equivalent to
corporal seisin in hereditaments that are incorporal ;
such as the receipt of rent, a presentation to the church
in case of an advovvson, and the like. But he shall not
be accounted an ancestor who hath had only a bare
right or title to enter or be otherwise seised. And
therefore all the cases which will be mentioned in the
present article, are upon the supposition that the de¬
ceased (whose inheritance is now claimed) was the last
person actually seised thereof. For the law requires
this notoriety of possession, as evidence that the ances- Idlackst.
tor had that property in himself, which is now to be (-<>mment'
transmitted to his heir. Which notoriety hath succeed¬
ed in the place of the ancient feodal investiture, where¬
by, while feuds were precarious, the vassal on the de¬
scent of lands was formerly admitted to the lord’s court
Z 2 (as
D E S
[ 180 ]
D E S
Descent.
(as is still the practice in Scotland) j and therefore re¬
ceived his seisin, in the nature of a renewal ot his an¬
cestor’s grant, in the presence ot the teodal peers: till
at length, when the right ot succession became indefea¬
sible, an entry on any part of the lands within the
county (which if disputed was afterwards to be tried
by those peers), or other notorious possession, was ad¬
mitted as equivalent to the formal grant ot seisin, and
made the tenant capable ot transmitting his estate by
descent. The seisin therefore of any person, thus un¬
derstood, makes him the root or stock from which all
future inheritance by right of blood must be derived,
which is very briefly expressed in this maxim, sosina
facit stipitem. # .
When therefore a person dies so seised, the inhen-
tance first goes to his issue : as if there be Geoffrey,
John, and Matthew, grandfather, father, and son ; and
John purchases lands and dies 5 his son Matthew shall
succeed him as heir, and not the grandfather Geotfrey,
to whom the land shall never ascend, but shall rather
escheat to the lord.
2. “ The male issue shall be admitted before the fe¬
male.’’—Thus sons shall be admitted before daughters;
as our male lawgivers have somewhat uncomplai-
santly expressed it, the worthiest ot blood shall be pie-
ferred. As if John Stiles had two sons, Matthew and
Gilbert, and two daughters, Margaret and Charlotte,
and dies ; first Matthew, and (in case of his death
without issue) then Gilbert shall be admitted to the
succession in preference to both the daughters.
q. “ Where there are two or more males in equal
degree, the eldest only shall inherit; but the females
all together.” As if a man hath two sons, Matthew
and Gilbert, and two daughters, Margaret and Char¬
lotte, and dies; Matthew his eldest son shall alone suc¬
ceed to his estate, in exclusion ot Gilbert the second son
and both the daughters; but if both the sons die with¬
out issue before the father, the daughters Margaret
and Charlotte shall both inherit the estate as copar¬
ceners. . . - . c
4. The lineal descendants in injinitutn^ 01 any
person deceased, shall represent their ancestor; that
is, shall stand in the same place as the person himself
would have done had he been living.” Thus the
child, grand child, or great-grand-child (either male or
female), of the eldest son, succeeds before the younger
son, and so in infinitum. And these representatives
shall take neither more nor less, but just so much as
their principals would have done. As it there be two
sisters, Margaret and Charlotte ; and Margaret dies,
leaving six daughters; and then John Stiles the father
of the two sisters dies without other issue ; these six
daughters shall take among them exactly the same as
their mother Margaret would have done, had she been
living; that is, a moiety of the lands of John Stiles
in coparcenary : so that, upon partition made, if the
land be divided into twelve parts, thereof Charlotte
the surviving sister shall have six, and hei six nieces,
the daughters of Margaret, one a piece.
5. “ On failure of lineal descendants, or issue ot the
person last seised, the inheritance shall descend to the
blood of the first purchaser ; subject to the three pre¬
ceding rules.” Thus, if Geoffrey Stiles purchases
land, and it descends to John Stiles his son, and John
dies seised thereof without issue ; whoever succeeds to
this inheritance must be of the blood of Geoffrey, the Deicent
first purchaser of this family. The first purchaser,  ^
perquisitor, is he who first acquired the estate to his
family, whether the same was transferred to him by
sale, or by gift, or by any other method, except only
that of descent.
6. “ The collateral heir of the person last seized must
be his next collateral kinsman of the whole blood.”
First, he must be his next collateral kinsman either
personally or jure representationis; which proximity i&
reckoned according to the canonical degrees of con¬
sanguinity : See Consanguinity. Therefore the
brother being in the first degree, he and his descend¬
ants shall exclude the uncle and his issue, who is only
in the second.—Thus, if John Stiles dies without issue,
his estate shall descend to Francis his brother, who is
lineally descended from Geoffrey Stiles, his next im¬
mediate ancestor or father. On failure of brethren or
sisters and their issue, it shall descend to the uncle of
John Stiles, the lineal descendant of his grandfather
George ; and so on in infinitum.
But, secondly, the heir need not be the nearest kins¬
man absolutely, but only sub modo ; that is, he must be
the nearest kinsman of the whole blood ; for if there
be a much nearer kinsman of the /^rt/^blood, a distant
kinsman of the whole blood shall be admitted, and the
other entirely excluded. A kinsman of the whole blood
is he that is derived, not only from the same ancestor,
but from the same couple of ancestors. For as every
man’s own blood is compounded of the bloods of his
respective ancestors, he only is properly of the whole
or entire blood with another who hath (so far as the
distance of degrees will permit) all the same ingredients
in the composition of his blood that the other hath-
Thus, the blood of John Stiles being composed of those
of Geoffrey Stiles his father, and Lucy Baker his mo¬
ther, therefore his brother Francis, being descended
from both the same parents, hath entirely the same
blood with John Stiles ; or he is his brother of the
whole blood. But if, after the death of Geoffrey, Lu¬
cy Baker the mother marries a second husband, Lewis
Gay, and hath issue by him : the blood of this issue,
being compounded of the blood of Lucy Baker (it is
true) on the one part, but that of Lewis Gay (instead
of Geoffrey Stiles) on the other part, it hath therefore
only half the same ingredients with that of John Stiles;
so that he is only his brother of the half blood, and for
that reason they shall never inherit to each other. So
also, if the father has two sons, A and B, by different
venters or wives ; now these two brethren are not bre¬
thren of the whole blood, and therefore shall never in¬
herit to each other, but the estate shall rather escheat
to the lord. Nay, even if the father dies, and his lands
descend to his eldest son A, who enters thereon, and
dies seised without issue ; still B shall not be hen to
this estate, because he is only ot the half blood to A,
the person last seised : but had A died without entry,
then B might have inherited; not as heir to A his hall-
brother, but as heir to their common father, who was
the person last actually seised.
The rule then, together with its illustration, amounts
to this, That in order to keep the estate of John Stiles
as nearly as possible in the line 6f his purchasing an¬
cestor, it must descend to the issue ot the nearest couple
of ancestors that have left descendants behind them ;
because
. WJr// (JAy,',. //„/?,
D E S [ i
Descent, because the descendants of one ancestor only are not so
1 likely to be in the line of that purchasing ancestor as
those who are descended from two.
But here a difficulty arises. In the second, third,
fourth, and every superior degree, every man has
many couples of ancestors, increasing according to the
distances in a geometrical progression upwards, the de¬
scendants of all which respective couples are (repre¬
sentatively) related to him in the same degree. Thus,
in the second degree, the issue of George and Cecilia
Stiles and of Andrew and Esther Baker, the two
grandsires and grandmothers of John Stiles, are each
in the same degree of propinquity; in the third degree,
the respective issues of Walter and Christian Stiles, of
Euke and Frances Kempe, of Herbert and Hannah
Baker, and of James and Emma Thorpe, are (upon
the extinction of the two inferior degrees) all e-
qually entitled to call themselves the next kindred of
the whole blood to John Stiles. To which therefore
of these ancestors must we first resort, in order to find
out descendants to be preferably called to the inheri¬
tance ? In answer to this, and to avoid the confusion
and uncertainty that might arise between the several
stocks wherein the purchasing ancestor may be sought
for,—
7. The seventh and last rule or canon is, “ That in
collateral inheritances the male stocks shall be prefer¬
red to the female (that is, kindred derived from the
blood of the male ancestors shall be admitted before
those from the blood of the female) ;—unless where
the lands have in fact descended from a female.”—
Thus the relations on the father’s side are admitted in
infinitum, before those on the mother’s side are admit¬
ted at all; and the relations of the father’s father, be¬
fore those of the father’s mother ; and so on.
For the origin and progress of the above canons,
the reasons upon which they are founded, and their
agreement with the laws of other nations, the curious
reader may consult Blackstone's Commentaries, vol. ii.
p. 208—237.
We shall conclude with exemplifying the rules them¬
selves by a short sketch of the manner in which we
must search for the heir of a person, as John Stiles,
who dies seised of land which he acquired, and which
therefore he held as a feud of indefinite antiquity. See
the Table of Descents on Plate CLXIX.
In the first place succeeds the eldest son, Matthew
Stiles, or his issue, (N° 1.) :—If his line be extinct,
then Gilbert Stiles and the other sons respectively, in
order of birth, or their issue, (N° 2.) :—in default of
these, all the daughters together, Margaret and Char¬
lotte Stiles or their issue, (N° 3.) :—On the failure
of the descendants of John Stiles himself, the issue of
Geoffrey and Lucy Stiles, his parents, is called in ;
viz. first, Francis Stiles, the eldest brother of the
whole blood, or his issue, (N° 4.) :—then Oliver Stiles,
and the other whole brothers respectively, in order of
birth, or their issue, (N° 5.) :—then the sisters of the
whole blood altogether, Bridget and Alice Stiles, or
their issue, (N° 6.) :—In defect of these, the issue of
George and Cecilia Stiles, his father’s parents ; respect
being still had to their age and sex, (N° 7.) ;—then
the issue of Walter and Christian Stiles, the parents of
his paternal grandfather, (N° 8.) then the issue of
luchard and Anne Stiles, the parents of his paternal
81 ] D E S
grandfather’s father, (N° 9.) :—and so on in the pater- Descent,
nal grandfather’s paternal line, or blood of Walter ——v——
Stile, in infinitum. In defect of these the issue of Wil¬
liam and Jane Smith, the parents of his paternal grand¬
father’s mother, (N° 10.) :—and so on in the paternal
grandfather’s maternal line, or blood of Christian
Smith, in infinitum ; till both the immediate bloods of
George Stiles, the paternal grandfather, are spent.—
I hen we must resort to the issue of Luke and Frances
Kempe, the parents ol John Stiles’s paternal grandmo-
ther, (N 11.) :—then to the issue of Thomas and Sa¬
rah Kempe, the parents of his paternal grandmother’s
father, (N° 1 2.) :—and so on in the paternal grand¬
mother s paternal line, or blood of Luke Kempe, in in¬
finitum. In default of which, we must call in the issue
of Charles -and Mary Holland, the parents of his pa¬
ternal grandmother’s mother, (N° 13.) :—and soon in
the paternal grandmother’s maternal line, or blood of
Frances Holland, z'/z infinitum; till both the immediate
bloods of Cecilia Kempe, the paternal grandmother,
are also spent.—W hereby the paternal blood of John
Stiles entirely failing, recourse must then, and not be¬
fore, be had to his maternal relations ; or the blood of
the Bakers, (N° 14, 15, 16.), Willis’s (N° 17.),
Thorpe’s (N° 18, 19.), and White’s (N° 20.); in
the same regular successive order as in the paternal
line.
The student should bear in mind, that during this
whole process, John Stiles is the person supposed to have
been last actually seised in the estate. For if ever
it comes to vest in any other person, as heir to John
Stiles, a new order of succession must be observed up¬
on the death of such heir; since he, by his own seisin,
now becomes himself an ancestor, or stipes, and must
be put in the place of John Stiles. The figures there¬
fore denote the order in which the several classes would
succeed to John Stiles, and not to each other; and be¬
fore we search for an heir in any of the higher figures,
(as N° 8.) we must first be assured that all the lower
classes from (N° 1. to 7.) were extinct at John Stiles’s
decease.
Descent, or Succession, in the Law of Scotland. See
Law Index.
Descent of the Crown. See Succession.
Descent of Dignities. A dignity differs from com¬
mon inheritances, and goes not according to the rules
of the common law : for it descends to the half-blood ;
and there is no coparcenership in it, but the eldest takes
the whole. The dignity of peerage is personal, an¬
nexed to the blood ; and so inseparable that it cannot
be transferred to any person, or surrendered even to
the crown ; it can move neither forward nor backward,
but only downward to posterity ; and nothing but cor¬
ruption of blood, as if the ancestor be attainted of trea¬
son or felony, can hinder the descent to the right
heir.
Descent, in genealogy, the order or succession of
descendants in a line or family; or their distance from
a common progenitor: Thus we say, one descent, two
descents, &c.
Descent, in Heraldry, is used to express the com¬
ing down of any thing from above ; as, a lion en des¬
cent is a lion with his head towards the base points, and
his heels towards one of the corners of the chief, as if
he were leaping down from some high place.
DESCHAMPS,
Descitamp*
H
Design,
D E S [ i?
DESCHAMPS, Francis, a French poet, born in
Champagne, was the author of a tragedy entitled Cato
of Utica, and a history of the French theatre. He
died at Paris in 1747.
DESCRIPTION, in literary composition, is such
a strong and beautiful representation of a thing, as
gives the reader a distinct view and satisfactory notion
of it. See Narration and Description.
DESEADA, or Desiderada, one of the Carib-
bee islands, about ten miles long and five broad, lying
eastward of Guadaloupe.
DESERT, or Desart. See Desart.
DESERTER, in a military sense, a soldier who,
by running away from his regiment or company, aban¬
dons the service.
A deserter is, by the articles of war, punishable by
death j which, after conviction, is executed upon him
at the head of the regiment he formerly belonged to,
with his crime written on his breast.
DESERTION, in Law. See Law Index.^
DESHABILLE, a French term, naturalized of
late. It properly signifies a night-gown, and other
necessaries, made use of in dressing or undressing. Mr
-- is not to be spoken with, he is yet in his dessha-
bille, i. e. undressed, or in his night-gown. The word
is compounded of the privative de, and s'liubillery “ to
dress one’s self.”
DESHACHE', in Heraldry, is where a beast has
its limbs separated from its body, so that they still re¬
main on the escutcheon, with only a small separation
from their natural places.
DESIDERATUM, is used to signify the desirable
perfections in any art or science; thus, it is a deside¬
ratum with the blacksmith, to render iron fusible by a
gentle heat, and yet preserve it hard enough for ordi¬
nary uses} with the glassman and looking-glass-ma¬
ker, to render glass malleable *, with the clock-maker,
to bring pendulums to be useful where there are irregu¬
lar motions, &c.
DESIGN, in a general sense, the plan, order, re¬
presentation, or construction of a building, book, paint¬
ing, &c. See Architecture, Painting, Poetry,
Oratory, History.
Design, in the manufactories, expresses the figures
wherewith the workman enriches his stuff or silk, and
which he copies after some painter or eminent draughts¬
man, as in diaper, damask, and other liowered silk
and tapestry, and the like.
In undertaking of such kinds of figured stuffs, it is
necessary, says Moris. Savary, that before the first stroke
of the shuttle, the whole design be represented on the
threads of the warp, we do not mean in colours, but
with an infinite number of little packthreads, which,
being disposed so as to raise the threads of the warp,
let the workmen see, from time to time, what kind of
silk is to be put in the eye of the shuttle for woof.
This method of preparing the work is called reading
the design, and reading the figure, which is performed
in the following manner ? A paper is provided, consi¬
derably broader tban the stuff, and of a length propor¬
tionate to what is intended to be represented thereon.
This they divide lengthwise by as many black lines as
there are intended threads in the warp j and across these
lines by others drawn breadthwise, which, with the
former, make little equal squares, on the paper thus
2 ] D E S
squared, the draughtsman designs his figures, and height- Design,
ens them with colours as he sees fit. When the design —v--
is finished, a workman reads it, while another lays it
on the simblot.
To read the design, is to tell the person who ma¬
nages the loom the number of squares or threads com¬
prised in the space he is reading, i intimating at the
same time, whether it is ground or figure. To put what
is read on the simblot, is to fasten little strings to the
several packthreads, which are to raise the threads
named : and this they continue to do till the whole de¬
sign is read.
Every piece being composed of several repetitions of
the same design, when the whole design is drawn, the
drawer, to re-begin the design afresh, has nothing to do
but to raise the little strings, with slip-knots, to the top
of the simblot, which he had let down to the bottom ;
this he is to repeat as often as is necessary, till the whole
he manufactured.
The ribbon-weavers have likewise a design, but far
more simple than that now described. It is drawn on
paper with lines and squares, representing the threads
of the warp and woof. But instead of lines, whereof
the figures of the former consist, these are constituted
of points only, or dots, placed in certain of the little
squares formed by the intersection of the lines. These
points mark the threads of the warp that are to he rai¬
sed, and the spaces left blank denote the threads that
are to keep their situation } the rest is managed as in
the former.
Design is also used, in Painting, for the first idea of
a large work, drawn roughly, and in little, with an in¬
tention to be executed and finished in large.
In this sense, it is the simple contour or outlines
of the figures intended to be represented, or the lines
that terminate and circumscribe them : such design is
sometimes drawn in crayons or ink, without any sha¬
dows at all; sometimes it is hatched, that is, the sha¬
dows are expressed by sensible outlines, usually drawn
across each other with the pen, crayon, or graver.
Sometimes, again, the shadows are done with the cray¬
on rubbed so as that there do not appear any lines ;
at other times, the grains or stroke of the crayon ap¬
pear, as not being rubbed : sometimes the design is
washed, that is, the shadows are done with a pencil
in Indian ink, or some other liquor ; and sometimes the
design is coloured, that is, colours are laid on much
like those intended for the grand work.
Design, in Music, is justly defined by Rousseau to
be the invention and the conduct ol the subject, the
disposition of every part, and the general order of the
whole.
It is not sufficient to form beautiful airs, and a le¬
gitimate harmony ; all these must be connected by a
principal subject, to which all tne parts oi the woik
relate, and by which they become one. Thus unity
ought to prevail in the air, in the movement, in the
character, in the harmony, and in the modulation. All
these must indispensably relate to one common idea
which unites them. The greatest difficulty is, to recon¬
cile the observation of those precepts with an elegant
variety, which, if not introduced, renders the whole
piece irksome and monotonic. Without question, the
musician, as well as the poet and the painter, may risk
every thing in favour of this delightful variety ; if,
under
Design
D E S [ i
un^er the pretext of contrasting, they do not endea-
1 Despot.
vour to cheat us with false appearances, and instead of
pieces justly and happily planned, present us with a
musical minced meat, composed of little abortive frag¬
ments, and of characters so incompatible, that the whole
assembled forms a heterogeneous monster.
Despot
xVg/z ut placiilis coeant immitia, non ut
Sei'pentes avibus geminentur, tigribus agni.
Translated thus:
But not that nature should revers’d appear j
Mix mild with fierce, and gentle with severe j
Profane her laws to contradiction’s height:
Tygei’s with lambs, with serpents birds unite.
It is therefore in a distribution formed with intel¬
ligence and taste, in a just proportion between all the
parts, that the perfection of design consists j and it is
above all, in this point, that the immortal Pergoleso has
shown his judgment and his taste, and has left so far
behind him all his competitors. His Stabat Mater,
his Orfeo, his Serva Padrona, are, in three difierent
species of composition, three masterpieces of design
equally perfect.
This idea of the general design of a work is like¬
wise particularly applicable to every piece of which
it consists : thus the composer plans an air, a duet,
a chorus, &c. For this purpose, after having invent¬
ed his subject, he distributes it, according to the rules
of a legitimate modulation, into all the parts where it
ought to be perceived, in such a proportion, that its
impression may not be lost on the minds of the audi¬
ence j yet that it may never be reiterated in their ears,
without the graces of novelty. The composer errs in
designing, who suffers his subject to be forgot; he is
still more culpable who pursues it till it becomes trite
and tiresome.
DESIGNATION, the act of marking or indica¬
ting, and making a thing known. The designation of
such an estate is made by the tenants, hutments, and
boundings. Among the Romans, there were designa¬
tions of the consuls and other magistrates, some time
before their election.
DESIGNATOR, a Roman officer, who assigned and
marked each person his place and rank in public cere¬
monies, shows, processions, &c. The word is formed
from the verb designare, “ to design.”
The designator was a kind of marshal, or master of
the ceremonies, who regulated the seats, march, order,
&c. There were designators at funeral solemnities,
and at the games, theatre, and shows, who not only
assigned every one his place, but also led him to it 5
as appears from the prologue to the Pcenulus of Plau¬
tus. Much of the same nature were the agonathetee
of the Greeks.
DESIGNING, the art of delineating or drawing
the appearance of natural objects, by lines on a plane.
T. 0 design, according to the rules of mathematics, makes
the object ot perspective. See Perspective.
DESIOI, a term sometimes used for an absolute
prince : (see next article). The word, in its first
origin, signified the same with the Eatin hems, and
the English master : but in time it underwent the same
fate on medals, as, among the Latins, Caesar did with
regard to Augustus : BAUAErO answering to Augus-
83 ] D e s
tus, and AECIIOTHC, despotes, to Caesar. See Cjesar.
Thus, Nicephorus having ordered his son Stauracius to g,
be crowned, the son, out of respect, would only take Dessauit.
the name AECIIOTHfj, leaving to his father that
BACIAEYC. lor it is to be noted, that it was just a-
bout the time that the emperors began to cease to use
Latin inscriptions. This delicacy, however, did not
last long ; for the following emperors preferred the
quality of AELIIOTHC to that ot BACIAEYC, particu¬
larly Constantine, Michael Ducas, Nicephorus Boto-
niates, Romanus Diogenes, the Comneni, and some
others. In imitation of the princes, the princesses like¬
wise assumed the title of AECDOINA.
It was the emperor Alexius, surnamed the angel,
that created the dignity of despot, and made it °the
first after that of emperor, above that of Augustus or
Sebastocrator and Caesar. See August.
The despots were usually the emperor’s sons or sons-
in-law, and their colleagues or copartners in the empire,
as well as their presumptive heirs. The despots that
were sons of the emperors had more privileges and
authority than those that were only sons-in-law. Co-
P- 58* describes the habits and ornaments of the
despot. See the notes of Father Goar on that author.
Under the successors of Constantine the Great, the title
despot of Sparta was given to the emperor’s son or bro-
' ther, who had the city of Sparta or Lacedemon by way
of apannege.
Despot is at present a title of quality given to
Wallachia, Servia, and some of the neighbouring
countries.
DESPOTICAL, in general, denotes any thing
that is uncontrouled and absolute; but is particularly
used for an arbitrary government, where the power of
the prince is unlimited, and his will a law to his sub¬
jects ; such as those of Turkey, Persia, and most of
the eastern governments ; and even those of Europe,
if we except the republics, our own, and of late the
French government.
DESPOUILLE, in Heraldry, the whole case, skin,
or slough of a beast, with the head, feet, tail, and all
appurtenances, so that being filled and stuffed it looks
like the entire creature.
DESPREAUX. See Boileau.
DESSAULT, Peter Joseph, a distinguished
French surgeon, was born at Magny Vernois, a village
of Franche Comte, in the year 1744. He was de¬
scended of parents of a humble rank in life. He re¬
ceived the early part of his education in a school of
the Jesuits, and was destined for the church j but his
own inclination tended to the study of medicine, and
in this he was at length indulged and settled as an ap¬
prentice in the military hospital of Befort. Here he
acquired some knowledge of anatomy and surgery ; and
having previously made considerable progress in ma¬
thematical studies, he applied this knowledge, after the
example of Borelli and others, to the investigation of
physiological subjects. He translated the work of Bo¬
relli, De Motu Animalium, and added notes and illus¬
trations, in which, although he proceeded upon wrong
principles, he discovered at a very early period strong
proofs of his zeal and industry.
About his 20th year he went to Paris, where he en- -
joyed the best opportunities of storing his mind with
the knowledge of surgery and anatomy, which he pro¬
secuted
Pessault.
D E S [ 184 ] D E S
secuted with the utmost ardour and success. He spent ferent. After beine; twice examined, he was seized Dessault
almost the whole of his time at the anatomical theatres
and hospitals } but by this close attendance his health
suffered greatly. He was seized with a cachectical dis¬
ease, which confined him to bed for a twelvemonth ;
and he was indebted for his recovery to the vigour of
his constitution, and the kind offices of a young friend
who constantly watched the progress of his disorder.
His health being re-established, neither his circum¬
stances nor the activity of his mind would permit him
to indulge in repose. He commenced teacher of ana¬
tomy in the winter of 1766, and was soon attended
by 300 pupils, a great proportion of whom was older
than himself. But this success excited the jealousy of
the established teachers and professors, who exerted all
the influence ol authority to silence him ) and although
he was patronised and protected by some surgeons of
great eminence, the opposition which he met with
would have obliged him to renounce public teaching,
had he not been permitted to go on by the expedient
of adopting the name of another as a sanction. His
reputation was now greatly extended ; but still he de¬
clined private practice, till he was established in some
distinguished public station. In the year 1^6, he was
admitted a member of the corporation of surgeons, and
it would appear that his finances were at this time ex¬
tremely limited, from the circumstance of his being
indulged by that body in paying his fees when it
should be convenient for himself. He successively fil¬
led the honourable stations in the corporation and aca¬
demy of surgery, and in the year 1782, he was ap¬
pointed surgeon-major to the hospital De let Charite.
Hessault was now regarded as one of the first sur¬
geons of Paris. He succeeded to the next vacancy at
the Hotel Dieu j and after the death of Moreau, al¬
most the whole surgical department of that hospital
was intrusted to him. Here he instituted a clinical
school of surgery, on a liberal and extensive plan,
which attracted a great concourse of students, not on¬
ly from every part of Prance, but also from foreign
countries. An audience composed of 600 students
frequently met to hear his instructions, and most of the
surgeons of the French army derived their knowledge
from his lectures.
The surgical practice of Dessault was always distin¬
guished for its efficacy and simplicity. Among the im¬
provements which he introduced into surgery may be
mentioned bandages for the retention of fractured
limbs, the use of compressions in promoting the cure
of ulcers, the use of ligature in umbilical hernia of
children, the. extraction of loose cartilages in joints,
the use of bougies in schirrosities of the rectum, and
that of elastic probes in contractions of the urethra.
He also introduced essential improvements in the con¬
struction of various surgical improvements.
In the year 1791, he published a work entitled
Journal de Chirurgerie, the object of which was to re¬
cord the most interesting cases which occurred in his
clinical school, with the remarks which he made upon
them in the course of his lectures. The editing of
this work was intrusted to his pupils. But in the midst
of his valuable labours he became obnoxious to some
of the prevailing parties of that turbulent period, and
in 1792 he was denounced to the popular sections in
the cant language of the times, as egotist ov indif-
3
while he was delivering a lecture, carriert away trom |]
his theatre, and committed to the prison of the Luxem- ,
bourg. But in three days he was liberated and per- r'*‘J
mitted to resume all his functions. When the school
of health was established, he was appointed clinical
professor for external maladies } and it was through his
means that the Eveche was converted into an hospital
for surgical operations.
The" horrid scenes which were exhibited in May
1795, made so deep an impression on his mind, from
the apprehension of a renewal of the horrors which
he had formerly experienced, that he was seized with a
fever, accompanied with delirium j and this put an
end to his life on the 1st of June, the same year, at
the ag;e of 51. He had attended the dauphin in the
temple •, and from the circumstance of his death ha¬
ving happened but a short time before that prince, an
opinion was prevalent among the populace that he was
poisoned, because he refused to do any thing against
the dauphin’s life. This story seems to have no
foundation, but it affords a proof of the opinion held
by the public of Dessault’s integrity. A pension was
settled on his widow by the republic. Fame, and
not emolument, had been always the object of his
ambition j for he neglected many opportunities of ac¬
quiring wealth. Indifferent to all other pleasures and
pursuits, Dessault was solely and passionately attached
to his profession. His temper was ardent, and some¬
times rather violent $ but his sentiments were always
elevated and noble. The only work of which he is
to be considered as the sole author, is entitled Traite
des Maladies chit'urgicales, et des Operations qui leur
conviennent, in 2 vols 8vo.
DESSAW, a city of Upper Saxony, in Germany,
situated on the river Elbe, 60 miles north-west of Dres¬
den, and subject to the prince of Anhalt Dessaw. E.
Long. 12. 40. N. Lat. 51. 50.
DESSERT, or Desert, a service of fruits and
sweetmeats, usually served up last at table.
DESSICCATIVE, or Desiccative, in Phar¬
macy, an epithet applied to such topical medicines as
dry up the humours flowing to a wound or ulcer.
DESTINIES, in Mythology. See Parc/e.
DESTINY, among philosophers and divines. See
Fate.
DESTRUCTION, in general, an alteration of any
thing from its natural state to one contrary to nature,
whereby it is deemed the same with Corruption.
A chemical destruction, or corruption, is nothing but
a resolution of the whole naturally mixt body into its
parts.
DESUDATION, in Medicine, a profuse and inor¬
dinate sweat, succeeded by an eruption of pustules,
called sudamina, or heat pimples.
DESULTOR, in antiquity, a vaulter or leaper,
who, leading one horse by the bridle, and riding ano¬
ther, jumped from the back of one to the other, as the
custom was after they had run several courses or heats.
—This practice required great dexterity, being per¬
formed before the use of either saddles or stirrups.
The custom was practised in the army when necessity
required it $ but chiefly amongst the Numidians, who
always carried with them two horses at least tor that
purpose, changing them as they tired. The Greeks
ptial
I
I
DET [185] DEU
-sdt« aT1^ Romans borrowed the practice from them $ but
' |j only used it at races, games, &c. The Sarmatae were
i^tinue. great masters of this exercise, and the hussars have still
some remains of it.
DETACHMENT, in military affairs, a certain
number of soldiers drawn out from several regiments
or companies equally, to be employed as the general
thinks proper, whether on an attack, at a siege, or in
parties to scour the country.
DETENTION (from detineo, “ I detain,”) the
possession or holding of lands, or the like, from some
other claimant. The word is chiefly used in an ill
sense, for an unjust withholding, &c.
DETENTS, in a clock, are those stops which, by
being lifted up or let fall down, lock and unlock the
clock in striking.
DEtenT-Wheel, or Hoop-Wheel, in a clock, that
wheel which has a hoop almost round it, wherein there
is a vacancy, at which the clock locks.
DETERGENTS, in Pharmacy, such medicines as
are not only softening and adhesive, but also, by a pe¬
culiar activity, conjoined with suitable configuration of
parts, are apt to abrade and carry along with them such
particles as they lay hold on in their passage.
DETERIORATION, the impairing or rendering
any thing worse j it is just the reverse of melioration.
DETERMINATE problem, is that which has
but one solution, or a certain limited number of solu¬
tions^ in contradistinction to an indeterminate pro¬
blem, which admits of infinite solutions.
Determinate Section, the name of a tract or gene¬
ral problem, written by the ancient geometrician Apol¬
lonius. None of this work has come down to us, ex¬
cepting some extracts, and an account of it, by Pappus,
in the Preface to the 7th book of his Mathematical
Collections. He there says that the general problem
was u To cut an infinite right line in one point so,
that, of the segments contained between the point of
section sought, and given points in the said line, either
the square on one of them, or the rectangle contained
by two of them, may have a given ratio, either to the
rectangle contained by one of them and a given line,
or to the rectangle contained by two of them.”
DETERMINATION, in Mechanics, signifies much
the same with the tendency or direction of a body in
motion. See Mechanics.
Determination, among school-divines, is an act of
divine power, limiting the agency of second causes, in
every instance, to what the Deity predestinated con¬
cerning them. See Predestination.
DETERSIVES, the same with Detergents.
DETINUE, in Law^ a writ or action that lies
against one who has got goods or other things deliver¬
ed to him to keep, and afterwards refuses to deliver
them.—In this action, the thing detained is generally
to be recovered, and not damages ; but if one can¬
not recover the thing itself, he shall recover damages
for the thing, and also for the detainer. Detinue lies
for any thing certain and valuable, wherein one may
have a property or right j as for a horse, cow, sheep,
hens, dogs, jewels, plate, cloth, bags of money, sacks
of corn, &c. It must be laid so certain, that the
thing detained may be known and recovered: and
therefore, for money out of a bag, or corn out of a
sack, &c. it lies not j for the money or corn cannot
VOL. VII. Part I. ' 4.
in this case be known from other money or corn ) so f)^;
that the party must have an action on the case, &c. |J
Yet detinue may be brought for a piece of gold of the
price of 22s. though not for 22s. in money.
. DETONATION, in Chemistry, signifies an explo¬
sion with noise made by the sudden inflammation of
some combustible body: such are the explosions of
gunpowder, fulminating gold, and fulminating powder.
See Chemistry Index.
DETRANCHE, in Heraldry, a line bend-wise,
proceeding always from the dexter side, but not from
the very angle, diagonally athwart the shield.
DETTINGEN, a village of Germany, in the circle
of the Upper Rhine, and in the territory of Hanau.
Here the Austrians and the British, in June 1743,
were attacked by the French, who met with a repulse;
but as the allies were inferior in number, they could
not make the advantage of it they might otherwise have
done. E. Long. 8. 45. N. Lat. 50. 8.
DEVA, or Deuna, in Ancient Geography, a town
of the Cornavii in Britain. Now Chester, on the Dee.
W. Long. 3. o. N. Lat. 53. 15.
DEUCALEDONIUS oceanus, supposed to be de¬
rived from the Gaelic words Duuh Gael, the north¬
ern Highlanders: the sea on the north-west of Scot¬
land.
DEUCALION, king of Thessaly. The flood said
to have happened in his time (1500 B. C.), is sup¬
posed to have been only an inundation of that coun¬
try, occasioned by heavy rains, and an earthquake
that stopped the course of the river Peneus where it
usually discharged itself into the sea. On these cir¬
cumstances the fable of Deucalion’s flood is founded.
—According to the fable, he was the son of Prome¬
theus. He governed his people with equity $ but the
rest of mankind being extremely wicked, were de¬
stroyed by a flood, while Deucalion and Pyrrha bis
queen saved themselves by ascending Mount Parnassus.
When the waters were decreased, they went and con¬
sulted the oracle of Tfiemis, on the means by which the
earth was to be repeopled : when they were ordered to
veil their heads and faces, to unloose their girdles, and
throw behind their backs the bones of their great mo¬
ther. At this advice Pyrrha was seized with horror ;
but Deucalion explained the mystery, by observing,
that their great mother must mean the earth, and her
bones the stones $ when taking them up, those Deuca¬
lion threw over his head became men, and those thrown
by Pyrrha, women.
Some have supposed that Deucalion, whom the
Greeks have represented under a variety of characters,
and concerning whom their poets have given many fa¬
bulous accounts, was the same with the patriarch
Noah j and that Deucalion’s flood in Thessaly, as well
as that of Ogyges in Attica, and of Prometheus in
Egypt, were the same with that of Noah recorded in
scripture. Diodorus Siculus expressly says, that in the
deluge which happened in the time of Deucalion
almost all flesh died. Apollodorus having mentioned
Deucalion Xctpctxt, “ consigned to the ark,” takes no¬
tice upon his quitting it, of his offering up an imme¬
diate sacrifice, An <pv&*, “ to the God who delivered
him.” As he was the father of mankind, the an¬
cients have given him great dignity and universal mo¬
narchy j though sometimes he is reduced to a petty
A a king
Deucalion
II
De^ej'cux.
D
king of Thessaly.
E V
f)e Bca
Syria, toI.
ii. p; SSz.
Apollonius Rhodius makes him a
native of Greece, and the son of Prometheus. We
may learn, however, from their confused history, that
the person represented was the first of men, through
whom religious rites were renewed, cities built, and
civil polity established in the world j none of which
circumstances are applicable to any king of Greece.
Philo assures us, that the Grecians call the person
Deucalion, but the Chaldeans style him.Noe, in whose
time there happened the great eruption of waters.
But as Lucian has given the most particular history
of the deluge, and that which comes nearest to the
account given by Moses j and as he was a native of
Samosata, a city of Commagene upon the Euphrates,
a part of the world where memorials of the_ deluge
were particularly preserved, and where an obvious re¬
ference to that history may be observed in the rites
and worship of the country, we shall give the following
extract of what he says on the subject. Having de-
cribed Noah under the name of Deucalion, he says,
that the present race of mankind are different from
those who first existed : for those of the antediluvian
world were all destroyed. The present world is peo¬
pled from the sons of Deucalion j having increased to
so great a number from one person. In respect to the
former brood, they were men of violence, and lawless
in their dealings. They regarded not oaths, nor ob¬
served the rites of hospitality, nor showed mercy to
those who sued for it. On this account they were
doomed to destruction •, and for this purpose there was
a mighty eruption of waters from the earth, attended
with heavy showers from above j so that the rivers
swelled, and the sea overflowed, till the whole earth
was covered with a flood, and all flesh drowned. Deu¬
calion alone was preserved, to repeople the world. Ibis
mercy was shown to him on account of his justice and
piety. His preservation was effected in this manner j
he put all his family, both his sons and their wives,
into a vast ark which he had provided, and he went
into it himself. At the same time animals of every
species, boars, horses, lions, serpents, whatever lived
upon the face of the earth, followed him by pairs : all
which he received into the ark, and experienced no
evil from them ; for there prevailed a wonderful har¬
mony throughout by the immediate influence of the
Deity. Thus were they wafted with him as long as
the flood endured. After this he proceeds to mention,
that upon the disappearing of the waters Deucalion
went forth from the ark, and raised an altar to God.
Dr Bryant produces a variety of monuments that
bear an obvious reference to the deluge in the Gentile
history, besides this account of Deucalion and his
flood. Analysis of Ancient Mythology, vol. ii. p. 193.
—25°. _
DEVENSHRING. See Devonshering.
DEVENTER, a large, strong, trading, and po¬
pulous town of the United Provinces, in Overyssel, with
an university. It is surrounded with strong walls,
flanked with several towers, and with ditches full of
water. It is seated on the river Issel, 55 miles east of
Amsterdam, and 42 west of Bentheim. E. Long.
8. N. Lat. 52. 18.
DEVEREUX, Robert, earl of Essex, thfc'son of
Walter Devereux, Viscount Hereford, was born at Ne-
therwood in Herefordshire, in the year 1567. He
3,
186 ] DEV
succeeded to the title of earl of Essex at ten years of Deverem,
age *, and about two years after was sent by his guar- -y—,
dian, Lord Burleigh, to Trinity-college in Cambridge.
He took the degree of master of arts in 1582, and soon
after retired to his seat at Lampsie in South Wales.
He did not however continue long in this retreat j for
we find him, in his seventeenth year, at the court of
Queen Elizabeth, who immediately honoured him with
singular marks of her favour. Authors seem very
unnecessarily perplexed to account for this young earl’s
gracious reception at the court of Elizabeth.
reasons are obvious ; he was her relation, the son of one
of her most faithful servants, the son-in-law of her fa¬
vourite Leicester, and a very handsome and accom¬
plished youth. Towards the end of the following
year, 1585, he attended the earl ot Leicester to Hol¬
land 5 and gave signal proofs of his personal courage
during the campaign of 1586, particularly at the battle
of Zutphen, where the gallant Sidney was mortally
wounded. On this occasion the earl ot Leicester con¬
ferred on him the honour of knight banneret..
In the year 1587, Leicester being appointed lord
steward of the household, Essex succeeded him in tbs
honourable post of master of the horse j and the year
following, when the queen assembled an army at Til¬
bury to oppose the Spanish invasion, Essex was made
general of the horse. From this time he was consider¬
ed as the happy favourite of the queen. And if there
was any mark yet wanting to fix the people’s opinion
in that respect, it was shown by the queen s conferiing
on him the honour of the garter.
We need not wonder that so quick an elevation, and
to so great a height, should affect so young a man as
the earl of Essex j who showed from heneeforwards a
very high spirit, and often behaved petulantly enough
to the queen herself, who yet did not love to be con¬
trolled by her subjects. His eagerness about this time
to dispute her favour with Sir Charles Blunt, afterwards
Lord Mountjoy and earl of Devonshire, cost him some
blood ; for Sir Charles, thinking himself affronted hy
the earl, challenged him, and after a short dispute
wounded him in the knee. The queen, so far from
being displeased with it, is said to have sworn a good
round oath, that it was fit somebody should take him
down, otherwise there would be no ruling him. How¬
ever, she reconciled the rivals j who, to their honour,
continued good friends as long as they lived.
The gallant Essex, however, was not so entirely cap¬
tivated with his situation as to become insensible to the
allurements of military glory. In 1589, Sir John
Norris and Sir Francis Drake having sailed on an ex¬
pedition against Spain, our young favourite, without
the permission or knowledge ot his royal mistress, fol¬
lowed the fleet; which he joined as they were sailing
towards Lisbon, and acted with great resolution in the
repulse of the Spanish garrison of that city. The queen
wrote him a very severe letter on the occasion ; but she
was, after his return, soon appeased. Yet it was not
long before he again incurred her displeasure, hy mar¬
rying the widow of Sir Philip Sidney. In *59r>
was sent to France with the command of 4000 men
to the assistance of Henry IV. In I59^> ^ie was joined
with the lord high admiral Howard in the command
of the famous expedition against Cadiz, the success
of which is universally known. In J597 he w4® aP*
pointed
DEV
leTcreuK. pointed master of the ordnance j and the same year coni-
" manded another expedition against Spain, called the
Island voyage, the particulars of which are also well
known.
Soon after his return, he was created earl marshal of
England j and on the death of the great Lord Burleigh,
in 1598, elected chancellor of the university of Cam¬
bridge. This is reckoned one of the last instances of
this great man’s felicity, who was now advanced too
high to sit at ease ; and those who longed for his ho-
Mours and employments, very closely applied them¬
selves to bring about his fall. The first great shock he
received in regard to the queen’s favour, arose from a
warm dispute between her majesty and himself, about
the choice of some fit and able person to superintend
the affairs of Ireland. The affair is related by Cam¬
den ; who tells us, that nobody was present but the
lord admiral, Sir Robert Cecil secretary, and Winde-
bank clerk of the seal. The queen looked upon Sir
William Knolls, uncle to Essex, as the most proper
person for that charge : Essex contended, that Sir
George Carevv was a much fitter man for it. When
the queen could not be persuaded to approve his choice,
he so far forgot himself and his duty, as to turn his
Lack upon her in a contemptuous manner; which in¬
solence her majesty not being able to bear, gave him a
box on the ear, and bid him go and be hanged. Essex,
like a blockhead, put his hand to his sword, and swore
revenge. Where was his gallantry on this occasion ?
Could a stroke from an angry woman tinge the honour
of a gallant soldier ? I his violent storm, however, soon
subsided ; and they were again reconciled, at least ap¬
parently.
The total reduction of Ireland being brought upon
the tapis soon after, the earl was pitched upon as the
only man from whom it could be expected. This was
an artful contrivance of his enemies, who hoped by this
means to ruin him. Nor were their expectations dis¬
appointed. He declined this fatal preferment as long
as he could : but perceiving that he should have no
quiet at home, he accepted ; and his commission for
lord lieutenant passed the great seal on the 12th of
March 1598. His enemies now began to insinuate
that he had sought this command, for the sake of
greater things which he then was meditating; but
there is a letter of his to the queen, preserved in the
Harleian collections, which shows, that he was so far
from entering upon it with alacrity, that he looked
upon it rather as a banishment, and a place assigned
him for a retreat from his sovereign’s displeasure, than
a potent government bestowed upon him by her favour.
“ To the Queen.
“ From a mind delighting in sorrow ; from spirits
“ wasted with passion ; from a heart torn in pieces
“ with care, grief, and travail ; from a man that hateth
himself and all things else that keep him alive ;
“ what service can your majesty expect, since any ser¬
vice past deserves no more than banishment and pro-
“ scription to the cursedest of all islands ? It is your
rebels pride and succession must give me leave to
ransom myself out of this hateful prison, out of my
loathed body ; which if it happen so, your majesty
^ shall have no cause to mislike the fashion of my death,
since the course of my life could never please you.
DEV
“ Happy he could finish forth his fate,
“ In some unhaunted desert most obscure
“ I* rom all society, from love and hate
“ Of worldly lolk ; then should he sleep secure.
“ Then wake again, and yield God ever praise,
Content with hips and haws, and brambleberry ;
“ In contemplation passing out his days,
Ami change of holy thoughts to make him merry.
“ Who when he dies, his tomb may be a bush
M here harmless robin dwells with gentle thrush.
“ Your majesty’s exiled servant,
“ Robert Essex.”
The earl met with nothing in Ireland but ill suc¬
cess and crosses: in the midst of which, an army was
suddenly raised in England, under the command of the
earl of Nottingham ; nobody well knowing why, but
in reality from the suggestions of the earl’s enemies to
the queen, that he rather meditated an invasion on his
native country, than the reduction of the Irish rebels.
This and other considerations made him resolve to quit
his post, and come over to England ; which he accord¬
ingly did without leave. He burst into her majesty’s
bed-chamber as she was rising, and she received him
with a mixture of tenderness and severity : but she
soon after thought fit to deprive him of all his employ¬
ments, except that of master of the horse. He was
committed to the custody of the lord-keeper, with
whom he continued six months. No sooner had he re¬
gained his liberty, than he was guilty of many extra¬
vagancies ; to which he was instigated by knaves and
fools, but perhaps more powerfully by his own passions.
He first determined to obtain an audience of the queen
by force. He refused to attend the council when sum¬
moned. When the queen sent the lord-keeper, the
lord chief-justice, and two others, to know his grievan¬
ces, he confined them ; and then marched with his
friends into the city, in expectation that the people
would rise in his favour; but in that he was disappoint¬
ed. He was at last besieged and taken in his house
in Essex-street ; committed to the Tower; tried by his
peers, condemned, and executed. Thus did this brave
man, this favourite of the queen, this idol of the people,
fall a sacrifice to his want of that dissimulation, that
cunning, that court-policy, by which his enemies were
enabled to effect his ruin. He was a polite scholar,
and a generous friend to literature.
To those who have not taken the trouble to consult
and compare the several authors who have related the
story of this unfortunate earl, it must appear wonder¬
ful, if, as hath been suggested, he was really beloved
by Queen Elizabeth, that she should consent to his exe¬
cution. Now that she had conceived a tender passion
for him, is proved beyond a doubt by Mr Walpole in his
very entertaining and instructive Catalogue of Noble
Authors:—“ I am aware (says that author) that it is
become a mode to treat the queen’s passion for him as
a romance. Voltaire laughs at it ; and observes, that
when her struggle about him must have been the great¬
est (the time of his death), she was sixty-eight.—Had
he been sixty-eight, it is probable she would not have
been in love with him.”—“ Whenever Essex acted a
fit of sickness, not a day passed without the queen’s
sending often to see him ; and once wTent so far as to sit
A a 2 Jong-
t »87 ]
Devereux.
DEV r
Devercux. long by him, and order his broths and things. It is re-
v. ■ v■■ ._i corded by a diligent observer of that court, that in one
of his sick moods, he took the liberty of going up to
the queen in his night-gown. In the height ot these
fretful fooleries, there was a mask at Black Iryars
on. the marriage of Lord Herbert and Mrs Russel.
Eight lady maskers chose eight more to dance the
measures. Mrs Fitton, who led them, went to the
queen, and wooed her to dance. Pier majesty asked
what she was ? she said. Affection! said the
queen 5 Affection is false. Were not these the mur¬
murs of a heart ill at ease ? Yet her majesty rose, and
danced. She w’as then sixty-eight. Sure it was as
natural for her to he in love.”
Mr Walpole farther observes, that her court and
contemporaries had an uniform opinion ot her passion
tor Essex, and quotes several instances from a letter
written by Sir Francis Bacon to the earl j in which,
among other things, he advises him to consult her taste
in his very apparel and gestures, and to give way to
any other inclination she may have. Sir Francis advi¬
sed the queen herself, knowing her inclination, to keep
the earl about her for society. What Henry IV. oi
France thought of the queen’s affection for Essex, is
evident from what he said to her ambassador—“ Q«e sa
majeste ne laisscroit jamais son cousin d'Essex eloigner
de son cotillon.”—After his confinement, on hearing
he was ill, she sent him word, with tears in her eyes,
that if she might with her honour, she would visit him.
“ If (says Mr Walpole) these instances are proble¬
matic, are the following so ? In one of the curious
letters of Rowland White, he says, the (jueen hath of
kite used the fair Airs Bridges with words and blows
of anger. In a subsequent letter, he says, the earl is
again fallen in love with his fairest B. It cannot choose
but come to the queeii's ear, and then he is undone.”—
Essex himself says, that her fond parting with him when
he set out for Ireland, pierced his very soul.
Probably the reader has now very little doubt as to
Queen Elizabeth’s affection for the unfortunate Essex 5
but, in proportion to our belief of the existence ot the
affection, her motives for consenting to his execution
became more inexplicable. Queen Elizabeth bad a
very high opinion of her beauty and personal attrac¬
tions, and probably expected more entire adoration
than the earl’s passion for variety would suffer him to
pay. Towards the latter end of her life, she was cer¬
tainly an object of disgust. He bad too much honest
simplicity in his nature to feign a passion which he did
not feel. She foolishly gave credit to the stories of his
ambitious projects incompatible with her safety \ and
was informed that he had once inadvertently said, that
she grew old and cankered, and that her mind was be¬
come as crooked as her carcase. If this be true, where
is the woman that would not sacrifice such a lover to
her resentment ?
It is said, however, that, concerning his execution,
her majesty was irresolute to the last, and sent orders to
countermand it: but, considering his obstinacy in re¬
fusing to ask her pardon, afterwards directed that he
should die. It is reported that the queen, in the height
of her passion for the earl of Essex, had given him a
ring, ordering him to keep it, and that whatever crime
he should commit, she would pardon him when be
should return that pledge. The earl, upon his con-
D E V
88 ]
demnation, applied to Admiral Howard’s lady, his re- Bevcrm
lation, desiring her, hy a person whom she could trust, fi
to return it into the queen’s own hands j but her hus-, PeTI»e„
band, who was one of the earl’s greatest enemies, and /~m‘
to whom she had imprudently told the circumstance,
would not suffer her to acquit herselt of the commission \
so that the queen consented to the earl’s death, being
full of indignation against so proud and haughty a spi¬
rit, who chose rather to die than implore her mercy-
Some time after, the admiral’s lady fell sick, and being
near her death, she sent word to the queen that she had
something of great consequence to communicate before
she died. The queen came to her bedside, and having
ordered all her attendants to withdraw, the lady re¬
turned, but too late, the ring, desiring to be excused
that she did not return it sooner : on which, it is
said, the queen immediately retired, overwhelmed with
grief.
The earl of Essex died in the thirty-fourth year of
his agej leaving by his lady one son and two daugh¬
ters.
DEVICE, among painters. See Devise-
DEVIL {Diabolus), an evil angel, one of those ce¬
lestial spirits cast down from heaven for pretending to
equal himself with God. The Ethiopians paint the
devil white, to be even with the Europeans who paint
him black.
There is no mention of the word devil in the Old
Testament, but only of the word Satan and Belial: nor
do we meet with it in any heathen authors, in the sense
it is taken among Christians, that is, as a creature re¬
volted from God. Their theology went no farther
than to evil genii or daemons.
Some of the American idolaters have a notion of
two collateral independent beings, one of whom is
good and the other evil: which last they imagine has
the direction and superintendence of this earth, for
which reason they chiefly worship him : whence those
that give us an account of the religion of these savages
give out with some impropriety, that they worship
the devil. The Chaldeans, in like manner, believed
both a good principle and an evil one j which last they
imagined was an enemy to mankind.
Isaiah, speaking, according to some commentators,
of the fall of the devil, calls him Lucifer, from his
former elevation and state of glory ; but others explain
this passage of Isaiah in reference to the king of Ba¬
bylon, who had been precipitated from his throne and
glory. The Arabians call Lucifer, Eblis ; which some
think is only a diminutive or corruption of the word
Diabolus.
Devil on the Neck, a tormenting engine made of
iron, straitening and wincing the neck of a man, with
his legs together, in a horrible manner ", so that the
more he stirreth in it, the straiterit presseth him j for¬
merly in use among the persecuting papists.
DEVINCTION {Devinctio), in antiquity,was used
to signify a love charm or incantation to gain the affec¬
tion of a person beloved.
It was done by tying knots j and is thus, described
by Virgil in his eighth Eclogue :
Necte tribus nodis ter nos, Amarylh, cohres :
Necte, Amarylli, modo ; et Veneris, die, vincula necto.
DEVISE, or Device, in Heraldry, Painting, and
Sculpture,
DEV [ 189 ] DEV
iDeviia Sculpture, any emblem used to represent a certain fa¬
ll mily, person, action, or quality $ with a suitable motto,
Revolt- applied in a figurative sense. See Motto.
. The essence of a device consists in a metaphorical si¬
militude between the things representing and repre¬
sented : thus, a young nobleman, of great courage and
ambition, is said to have borne for his devise, in a late
carousal at the court of France, a rocket mounted in
the air, with this motto in Italian, li poco cluri purche
m,inal%i;''1 expressing, that he preferred a short life,
provided he might thereby attain to glory and emi¬
nence.
The Italians have reduced the making of devises in¬
to an art, some ot the principal laws of which are these j
I. That there be nothing extravagant or monstrous in
the figures. 2. That figures be never joined which
have no relation or affinity with one another j except¬
ing some whimsical unions established in ancient fables,
which custom has authorised. 3. That the human
body be never used. 4. The fewer figures the better.
5. T-he motto should be every way suitable.
Devise, in Zau>, the act whereby a person bequeathes
his lands or tenements to another by his last will or
testament.
DEUNX, in Roman antiquity, 11 ounces, or 44 of
the Libra.
DEVOLVED, something acquired by right of de¬
volution. Such a right is devolved to the crown;
such an estate devolved on M  by the death of
N  
Ihe word is also used for a right, acquired by a su¬
perior, of conferring a benefice, when the inferior and
ordinary collator has neglected to confer, or has con¬
ferred it on an unqualified person.
If a person neglects to present to a benefice in six
months, the presentation lapses or devolves upon the
bishop, from thence to the primate, and from thence
to the king.
DEVOLUTION, in Law, a right acquired by suc¬
cession from one to another.
DEVONSHERING, a term used by the farmers
to express the burning of land by way of manure : the
method is to cut oft the turf about four inches thick,
and burn it in heaps, and then spread the ashes upon
the land. The name is probably derived from its having
been earliest practised in Devonshire.
DEVONSHIRE, a county of England, bounded
on the south by the English channel, on the north by
the Bristol channel, on the east by Somersetshire, and
on the west by Cornwall. It is about 72 miles long
and 71 broad. The soil is various j in the western
parts of the county it is coarse and moorish, bad for
sheep, but proper for black cattle. In the northern
parts, the dry soil and downs are well adapted to sheep,
wth numerous flocks of which they are well covered.
Tolerable crops of corn are also produced there when
the land is well manured. The soil of the rest of the
country is rich and fertile both in corn and pasture,
yielding also in some places plenty of marie for ma-
nunng it. In other places they pare oft and burn the
surface, making use of the ashes as a manure. It
has mines of lead, iron, and silver, in which it formerly
exceeded Cornwall, though now it is greatly inferior.
Un the coast also they have herring and pilchard fish¬
eries. Devonshire sends two members to parliament,
and gives title of duke to the noble family of Cavendish Devon-
It contains 464 parishes j and in 1811 the population* thire,
amounted to 383,308. See Devonshire, Supple- Demotion*
ment. ' v "J
DEV O riON, (Devotio), a sincere ardent worship
of the Deity.
_ Devotion, as defined by Jurieu, is a softening and
yielding of the heart, with an internal consolation,
which the souls of believers feel in the practice or ex¬
ercise ot piety. By devotion is also understood certain
religious practices, which a person makes it a rule to
discharge regularly ; and with reason, if the exactitude
be founded on solid piety, otherwise it is vanity or su¬
perstition. That devotion is vain and trifling, which
would accommodate itself both to God and to the
world. Trevoux.
The character of devotion has frequently suffered
from the forbidding air which has been thrown over it,
by the narrowness of bigotry on the one hand, or the
gloom of superstition on the other. When freer and
more cheerful minds have not had occasion to see it
accompanied with those feelings of delight and bene¬
volence which naturally attend it, they are apt to be
prejudiced against piety at large, by mistaking this un¬
gracious appearance for its genuine form. Nor has
the rant of vulgar enthusiasts contributed a little to
beget or strengthen the same aversion, in persons of a
cool and speculative temper j who have happened to
meet with such images and phrases among religionists 7
of a certain strain, as ill suit the rational, pure, and
spiritual nature of true devotion. It may likewise be
remarked, on the other side, that people of taste and
sensibility have not seldom been disgusted with the in¬
sipid style too often employed on such subjects, by
those who possess neither, or who purposely avoid every
thing of that kind, from an aim at simplicity misun¬
derstood, or perhaps from a fear of being thought too
warm, in an age of fashionable indifference and false
refinement.
Wherever the vital and unadulterated spirit of Chri¬
stian devotion prevails, its immediate object will be to
please him whom we wer,e made to please, by adoring
his perfections; by admiring his works and ways ; by
entertaining with reverence and complacence the va¬
rious intimations of his pleasure, especially those con¬
tained in holy writ ; by acknowledging our abso¬
lute dependence, and infinite obligations; by confes¬
sing and lamenting the disorders of our nature and
the trangressions of our lives ; by imploring his grace
and mercy through Jesus Christ; by interceding for
our brethren of mankind ; by praying for the propa¬
gation and embellishment of truth, righteousness, ami
peace on earth ; in fine, by longing for a more entire
conformity to the will of God, and breathing after the
everlasting enjoyment of his friendship. The effects
of such a spirit habitually cherished, and feelingly ex¬
pressed before him, with conceptions more or less en¬
larged and elevated, in language more or less empha-
tical and accurate, sententious or diffuse, must surely
be important and happy. Among these effects may
be reckoned, a profound humility in the sight of God,
a high veneration for his presence and attributes, an
ardent zeal for his worship and honour, an affectionate
faith in the Saviour of the world, a constant imitation
of his divine example, a diffusive charity for men of all
denominations, ,
DEV [ i
Demotion, denominations, a generous and unwearied self-denial
DEW
Deutero- for the sake of virtue and society, a total resignation to
canonical. Providence, an increasing esteem for the gospel, with
clearer and firmer hopes of that immortal life which it
has brought to light.
Devotion, among the Romans, was a kind of sa¬
crifice or ceremony, whereby they consecrated them¬
selves to the service of some person. The ancients had
a notion, that the life of one might be ransomed by
the death of another j whence those devotions became
frequent for the lives of the emperors. Devotion to
any particular person was unknown among the Ro¬
mans till the time of Augustus. The very day after
the title of Augustus had been conferred upon Octa¬
vius, Pacuvius, a tribune of the people, publicly de¬
clared, that he would devote himself to Augustus, and
obey him at the expence of his life (as was the practice
among barbarous nations), if he was commanded. His
example was immediately followred by all the rest; till
at length it became an established custom never to go
to salute the emperor, without declaring that they were
devoted to him. Before this, the practice of the Ro¬
mans was that of devoting themselves to their country.
See Decius.
DEUTEROCANONICAL, in the school theo¬
logy, an appellation given to certain books of holy
Scripture, which were added to the canon after the
rest j either by reason they were not wrote till after
the compilation of the canon, or by reason of some
dispute as to their canonicity. The word is Greek,
being compounded of second, and ca-
■nonical.
The Jews, it is certain, acknowledged several books
- in their canon, which were put there later than the
rest. They say, that under Esdras, a great assembly
of their doctors, which they call by way of eminence
the rrreat synagogue, made the collection of the sacred
books which we now have in the Hebrew Old Testa¬
ment. And they agree that they put books therein
which had not been so before the Babylonish captivity j
Hiich are those of Daniel, Ezekiel, Haggai, &c. and
those of Esdras and Nehemiah.
And the Romish church has since added others to
the canon, that were not, and could not be, in the ca¬
non of the Jews, by reason some of them were not com¬
posed till after. Such is the book of Ecclesiasticus,
with several of the apocryphal books, as the Maccabees,
Wisdom, &c. Others were added still later, by reason
their canonicity had not been yet examined $ and till
,*uch examen and judgment they might be set aside at
pleasure.-—But since that church has pronounced as to
the canonicity of these books, there is no more room
now for her members to doubt of them, than there was
for the Jews to doubt of those of the canon of Esdras.
And the deuterocanonical books are with them as cano¬
nical as the protocanonical; the only difference between
them consisting in this, that the canonicity of the one
was not generally known, examined, and settled, so soon
as that of the others.
The deuterocanonical hooks in the modern canon,
are the book of Esther, either the whole, or at least
the seven last chapters thereof*, the Epistle to the
Hebrews; that of James ; and that of Jude; the se¬
cond of St Peter ; the second ami third of St John ; and
the Revelation. The deuterocanonical parts ©1 books
Dew,
90 ]
are in Daniel, the hymn of the three children; the Dcutero-
prayer of Azariah ; the histories of Susannah, of Bel canonicai
and the Dragon ; the last chapter of St Mark; the
bloody sweat, and the appearance of the angel, related y
in St Luke, chap. xxii. *, and the history of the adulte¬
rous woman in St John, chap. viii.
DEUTERONOMY, one of the sacred books of
the Old Testament; being the last of those written by
Moses ; (see PENTATEUCH). The word is Greek,
compounded ofhvngtf, second, and npos, law.
Deuteronomy was written in the 40th year after the
delivery from Egypt, in the country of the Moabites,
beyond Jordan; Moses being then in the I20th year
of his age. It contains, in Hebrew, 11 paraches ;
though only 10 in the edition of the rabbins at Venice;
20 chapters, and 955 verses. In the Greek, Latin,
and other versions, it contains 34 chapters. The
last is not of Moses. Some say, it was added by
Joshua immediately after Moses’s death ; which is the
most probable opinion. Others will have it added by
Esdras.
DEUTEROPOTMI, in Grecian antiquity, a de¬
signation given to such of the Athenians as had been
thought dead, and, after the celebration of the fu¬
neral rites, unexpectedly recovered. It was unlaw¬
ful for the deuteropotmi to enter into the temple of
the Eumenides, or to be admitted to the holy rites,
till after they were purified, by being let through the
lap of a woman’s gown, that they might seem to be
new born.
DEUTEROSIS, the Greek name by which the
Jews called their Mischnah or second law. See Ml-
SCNAH.
DEUTZIA, a genus of plants belonging to the de-
candria class. See Botany Index.
DEW, a dense, moist vapour, found on the earth
in spring and summer mornings, in form of a misling
rain, being collected there chiefly while the sun is be¬
low the horizon.
It hath been disputed whether the dew is formed
from the vapours ascending from the earth during the
night time, or from the descent of such as have been
already raised through the day. The most remarkable
experiments adduced in favour of the first hypothesis
are those of Dr Dufay of the Royal Academy of Sci¬
ences, at Paris. He supposed, that if the dew ascended
it must wet a body placed low down sooner than one
placed in a higher situation ; and if a number ot bodies
were placed in this manner, the lowermost would be
wetted first; and the rest in like manner, gradually up
to the top.
To determine this, he placed two ladders against
one another, meeting at their tops, spreading wide
asunder at the bottom, and so tall as to reach 32 feet
high. To the several steps of these he fastened large
squares of glass like the panes of windows, placing
them in sueir a manner that they should not overshade
one another. On the trial it appeared exactly as Dr
Dufay had apprehended. Jhe lower surface of the
lowest piece of glass was first wetted, then the. upper,
then the lower surface of the pane next above it ; and
so on, till all the pieces were wetted to the top. Hence
it appeared plain to him, that the dew consisted of the
vapours ascending from the earth during the night¬
time *, which, being condensed by the coldness of the
atmosphere.
DEW [ 191 ] DEW
pew. atmosphere, are prevented from being dissipated as in
-y—the day-time by the sun’s heat. He afterwards tried a
similar experiment with pieces of cloth instead of panes
of glass, and the result was quite conformable to his
expectations. He weighed all the pieces of cloth next
morning, in order to know what quantity of water each
had imbibed, and found those that had been placed
lowermost considerably heavier than such as had been
placed at the top ; though he owns that this experiment
did not succeed so perfectly as the former.
M. Muschenbroek, who embraced the contrary opi¬
nion, thought he had invalidated all Dr Dufay’s proofs,
by repeating his experiments, with the same success,
on a plane covered with sheet-lead. Rut to this Dr
Dufay replied, that there was no occasion for suppo¬
sing the vapour to rise through the lead, nor from that
very spot 5 but that as it arose from the adjoining
open ground, the continual fluctuation of the air could
not but spread it abroad, and carry it thither in its
ascent.
But though this experiment of M. Muschenbroek’s
is not sufficient to overthrow those of Dr Dufay, it
must still remain dubious whether the dew rises or falls.
One thing which seems to favour the hypothesis of its
descent is, that in cloudy weather there is little or no
dew to be observed, From this M. de Luc brings an
argument in favour of the hypothesis just now men-
iF'*'Tron*. tioned. He accounts for it in the following manner :
* ii- When there are no clouds in the air, the heat of the
P u- inferior air and that which rises from the earth dissi¬
pates itself into the superior regions $ and then the va¬
pours which are dispersed throughout the air condense,
and fall down in dew : But, when the clouds continue,
they separate the inferior from the superior part of the
atmosphere, and thus prevent the dissipation of the
heat, by which means the vapours remain suspended.
When the sky grows cloudy, some hours after sunset,
although the heat has been sensibly diminished, it is
again increased ; because continuing to rise out of the
earth, it is accumulated in the inferior air. But nei¬
ther can this be reckoned a positive proof of the de¬
scent of the dew since we may as well suppose the
heat of the atmosphere to be great enough to dissipate
it in its ascent, as to keep it suspended after its ascent
through the day.
On the other hand, its being found in greater quan¬
tities on bodies placed low down than on such as are
high up, is no proof of the ascent of the dew} because
the same thing is observed of rain. A body placed low
down receives more rain than one placed in an elevated
situation j and yet the rain certainly descends from the
atmosphere. I he reason why the dew appears first on
the lower parts of bodies may be, that, in the evening,
the lower part of the atmosphere is first cooled, and
consequently most disposed to part with its vapours. It
is also certain, that part of the water contained in the
air may be condensed at any time on the sides of a
glass, by means of cold, so as to run down its sides in
small drops like dew. It seems therefore, that this
subject is not sufficiently determined by such experi¬
ments as have yet been made } nor indeed does it ap¬
pear easy to make such experiments as shall be perfect¬
ly decisive on the matter.
Several substances exposed to the same dew receive
and charge themselves with it in a very difterent man¬
ner } some more, others less, and some even not at all.
I he drops seem to make a sort of choice of what bo¬
dies they shall affix themselves to ; glass and crystals
are those to which they adhere in the most ready man¬
ner, and in the largest quantity} but metals of all kinds
never receive them at all, nor do the drops ever adhere
to them, i he reason of this is, probably, because me¬
tals promote evaporation more than glass does. Thus,
if a piece of metal and a piece of glass are both made
equally moist, the former will be found to dry in much
less time than the latter. Hence it would seem, that
there is between metals and water some kind of re¬
pulsion } and this may be sufficient to keep o(T the very
small quantity that falls in dew ; for whatever tends
to make water evaporate after it is actually in contact
with any substance, also tends to keep the water from
ever coming into contact with it. On this subject
several curious particulars are mentioned by Dr Fer-
cival relative to the attraction and repulsion between
dew and glass or metalline vessels. The experiments
were made by M. Dufay, who, in order to determine
with certainty whether the difference between vitrified
substances and metals was the same in all cases, set a
china saucer in the middle of a silver plate, and on one
side, adjoining to it, was placed a china plate, with
a silver dish very much resembling the saucer in the
middle. In this experiment the china saucer was co¬
vered with dew, but the plate, though extending four
inches round it, was not moistened in the least. The
china plate also had become quite moist, while the silver
vessel in the middle had not received the smallest drop.
M. Dufay next endeavoured to ascertain whether a
china saucer set upon a plate of metal, as already descri¬
bed, did not receive more dew than it would have done
if exposed alone. To accomplish this design, he took,
two watch crystals of equal dimensions, and placed the
one upon a plate of silver, the other upon a plate of
china, each with its concavity uppermost. That which
was upon the silver plate he surrounded with a ferrel
of the same metal, well polished, that no watery par¬
ticles might attach themselves to the convex surface of
the glass. In this situation he exposed the crystals
for several days successively, and always found five or
six times more dew in that which was on the china plate
than on the other placed on the silver. The repulsion
between the dew and silver is further confirmed by the
following experiment of M. Dufay, with regard to the
crystal on the silver plate. He informs us, that the small
quantity of dew on the side near the centre, was in
minute drops} and that round the border there was a
space of five or six lines perfectly dry } towards which
the drops regularly decreased in magnitude, as if the
silver ferrel had driven away the dew from that part of
the glass which was contiguous to it. These experi¬
ments were repeated thirty times with invariable suc¬
cess. M. Dufay’s experiments have received a re¬
markable confirmation, from some lately made by Dr
Watson, now bishop of LlandafF, with a view to de¬
termine the quantity of vapour that ascsnds from a
given surface of earth. “ By means of a little bees¬
wax (says he), I fastened a half-crown very near, but
not quite contiguous, to the side of the glass } and,
setting the glass with its mouth downward on the
grass, it presently became covered with vapour, except
that part of it which was next the half-crown. Not only
tliS'-
DEW [19
the half-crown itself was free from vapour, but it had
hindered any from settling on the glass which was near
it j for there was a little ring of glass surrounding the
half-crown, to the distance of a quarter of an inch,
which was quite dry, as well as that part of the glass
which was immediately under the half-crown j it seem¬
ed as if the silver had repelled the water to that dis¬
tance. A large red wafer had the same effect as the
half-crown; it was neither wetted itself, nor was the
ring of glass contiguous to it wetted. A circle of
white paper produced the same effect, so did several
other substances, which it would be too tedious to enu¬
merate.”
Substances of a very different kind from the usual
dew are said to have sometimes fallen from the atmo¬
sphere. In the Phil. Trans, we are told, that in the
Year 1695 there fell in Ireland, in the provinces of
Leinster and Munster, for a considerable part of the
winter and spring, a fatty substance resembling butter,
instead of the common dew. It was of a clammy tex¬
ture, and dark-yellow colour j and was, from its great
resemblance, generally called dew-butter by the coun¬
try people. It always fell in the night, and chiefly in
the moorish low grounds ; and was found hanging on
the tops of the grass, and en the thatch of the houses, of
the poor people. It was seldom observed to fall twice
in the same place; and usually, wherever it fell, it lay
a fortnight upon the ground before it changed colour;
but after that it gradually dried up, and became
black. The cattle fed in the fields where it lay as
well as in others, and received no harm by it. It
fell in pieces of the bigness of one’s finger-end; but
they were dispersed scatteringly about, and it had an
offensive smell like a churchyard. There were in
the same places very stinking fogs during the winter,
and some people supposed this no other than a sediment
from the fog. It would not keep very long, but never
bred worms. See Dew, Supplement.
May-Dew whitens linen and wax ; the dew of au¬
tumn is converted into a white frost. Out of dew pu-
trified by the sun, arise divers insects, which change
apace from one species into another; what remains is
converted into a fine white salt, with angles like those
of saltpetre, after a number of evaporations, calcina¬
tions, and fixations.
There is a spirit drawn from May-dew, which has
wonderful virtues attributed to it. The method of col¬
lecting and preparing it, is described by Hanneman,
physician at Kiel. It is to be gathered in clean linen
cloths ; exposed to the sun in close vials; then distilled,
and the spirit thrown upon the caput mortuum; this
is to be repeated till the earth unite with the spirit, and
become liquid ; which happens about the seventh or
eighth cohobation or distillation. By such means you
gain a very red, odoriferous spirit. Stolterfoht, a phy¬
sician of Lubec, thinks May-dew may be gathered in
glass-plates, especially in still weather, and before sun¬
rise ; and Etmuller is of the same sentiment. It might
likewise be collected with a glass funnel, exposed to
the air, having a crooked neck to bring the dew into a
vial in a chamber. See Phil. Trans. N° 3* Hoffman,
and others. It is apparently from the preparation of
this dew, that the brothers of the Ilosy-Cross took their
denomination. See RosiCRUClANS.
Dew-Born, in country affairs, a distemper in cattle,
2 ] DEW
being swelled in the body, as much aa the skin can d**
hold, so that some beasts are in danger of bursting. H
This distemper proceeds from the greediness of a beast Wit
to feed, when put into a rank pasture, but commonly'
when the grass is full of water. In this case the beast
should be stirred up and down, and made to purge
well; but the proper cure is bleeding in the tail; then
take a grated nutmeg, with an egg, and breaking the
top of the shell, put out so much of the white as you
may have room to slip the nutmeg into the shell; mix
them together, and then let shell and all be put down
the beast’s throat; that done, walk him up and down,
and he will soon mend.
Dew-Worm. See Lumbricus, Helminthology
Index.
DEWAN, in the Mogul government, is the recei¬
ver-general and civil governor of the province. In
private affairs the same word signifies a steward.
DEWANNY, the revenue department of a pro¬
vince.
DE WIT, John, the famous pensionary, was born
in 1625, at Dort; where he prosecuted his studies so
diligently, that, at the age of 23, he published Ele-
menta Curvarum Linearum, one of the profoundest books
in mathematics at that time. After taking his degrees,
and travelling, he, in 1650, became pensionary of Dort,
and distinguished himself very early in the management
of public affairs. He opposed with all his power the
war between the English and the Dutch ; and when
the event justified his predictions, he was unanimously
chosen pensionary of Holland. In this capacity he
laboured to procure a peace with Cromwell; in which
peace a secret article was introduced by one side or
other, for the exclusion of the house of Orange. In
the war with England after the king’s restoration,
when it was thought expedient, on Opdam’s defeat
and death, that some of their own deputies should com¬
mand the fleet, he was one of the three put in commis¬
sion ; and wrote an accurate relation of all that hap¬
pened during the expedition he was engaged in, for
which, at his return, he received the solemn thanks of
the States General. In 1667, he established the per¬
petual edict for abolishing the office of Stadtholder, to
fix the liberty of the republic, as it was hoped, on a
firm basis; which produced seditions and tumults, that
restored the office, on pretence that the De Wits were
enemies to the house of Orange, and plundered the
state. The pensionary begged dismission from his post;
which was granted, with thanks for his faithful services.
But the invasion of the French, and the internal divi¬
sions among the Hollanders themselves, spread every¬
where terror and confusion ; which the Orange party
heightened to ruin the De Wits. Cornelius, the pen¬
sionary’s brother, was imprisoned and condemned to
exile; and a report being raised that he would be re¬
scued, the mob armed, and surrounded the prison where
the two brothers then were together, dragged them
out, barbarously murdered them, hung the bodies on the
gallows, and cut them to pieces, which many of them
even broiled and ate with savage fury. Such was the
end of one of the greatest geniuses ol his age ; of whom
Sir William Temple, who was well acquainted with
him, writes with the greatest esteem and admiration.
He observes, that when he was at the head of the go¬
vernment, he differed nothing in his manner of living
from
DIA [ 193 ] DIA
Wit from an ordinary citizen. His office, for the first ten
J| years, brought him in little more than 300I. and in the
Diabolus. Jatter part of his life, not above 700I. per annum. He
refused a gift of 10,cool, from the states-general, be¬
cause he thought it a bad precedent in the govern¬
ment. With great reason, therefore, Sir William
Temple, speaking of his death, observes, “ He was a
person that deserved another fate, and a better return
from his country, after 18 years spent in their minis¬
try, without any care of his entertainments or ease,
and little of his fortune. A man of unwearied indus¬
try, inflexible constancy, sound, clear, and deep un¬
derstanding, and untainted integrity ; so that whenever
he was blinded, it was by the passion he had for that
which he esteemed the good and interest of the state.
This testimony is justly due to him from all that were
well acquainted with him ; and is the more willingly
paid, since there can be as little interest to flatter, as
honour to reproach, the dead.”
Besides the works already mentioned, he wrote a
book containing those maxims of government upon
which he acted ; which will be a never-fading monu¬
ment to his immortal memory. A translation of it
from the original Dutch, entitled, The true interest and
political maxims of the republic of Holland, has been
printed in London ; to the last edition of which, in
1746, are prefixed historical memoirs of the illustrious
brothers Cornelius and John de Wit, by John Camp¬
bell, Esq.
DEXTANS, in Roman antiquity, ten ounces, or
of their libra. See Libra.
DEXTER, in Heraldry, an appellation given to
whatever belongs to the right side of a shield or coat
of arms : thus we say, bend-dexter, dexter-point, &c.
DEXTROCHERE, or Destrochere, in Herald¬
ry, is applied to the right arm painted in a shield,
sometimes naked, sometimes clothed, or adorned with a
bracelet ; and sometimes armed, or holding some move-
able member used in the aims.
DEY, the title of the sovereign of Algiers, under
the protection of the grand signior. A prince under
this title was appointed by the sultan, at the request
of the Turkish soldiers, in the year 1710. The term
dey in the Turkish language, signifies an uncle by the
mother’s side; and the reason of the denomination is
this: that the Turkish military consider the grand sig¬
nior as their father ; the republic as their mother, by
which they are nourished and maintained ; and the dey
as the brother of the republic, and consequently the
uncle of all who are under his dominion. Besides the
age, experience, and valour, which are necessary qua¬
lifications of a person to be elected, he must also be a
native Turk, and have made the voyage to Mecca.
He ias no guards or considerable retinue. He presides
at the divan, and is most distinguished by the respect
and submission which are paid him.
DIABETES, in Physic, a preternatural discharge
of urine, which has changed its properties, and exceeds
•the quantity of liquids drank. See MEDICINE Index.
DIABOLUS. See Devil.
Diabolus Marinus. See Raia, Ichthyology
Index.
Diabolus Metallorum, a title given by chemists to
jupiter or tin : because, when incorporated with other
VoL. VII. Part I. +
metals, it renders them incapable of reduction, or at DiabolEs
least very difficult to undergo that operation. }i
DIACAUSTIC CURVE, a species of the caustic DitV1'«sis
curves formed by refraction. ‘ ' v
DIACHYLON, in Pharmacy, an emollient diges¬
tive plaster, composed of mucilages or viscid juices
drawn from certain plants. See Pharmacy.
DIACOD1UM, in Pharmacy, a syrup prepared
from poppy heads. It is also called the syrupus de me-
conio. See Pharmacy.
DIACOUS1TCS, called also Diaphonics, the
consideration of the properties of refracted sound, as
it passes through different mediums. The word is
formed from the Greek per, “ through,” which
intimates a passage, and “ ] hear ;” q. d. the
consideration of the passage of the sounds we hear. See
Acoustics.
DIACRII, in antiquity, was the name of a party
or faction at Athens.—1 hat citv, we read, rvas divid¬
ed into two parties; the one favourers of an oligarchy,
who would only have a few persons employed in the
government ; the other consisted of such as were for a
democratical or popular government, wherein the whole
people should have a share. The first were called dia-
crii, and the latter pediaci; the latter inhabiting the
lower, and the former the ux.^cv, or upper quarter or
part of the city.— I he laws of Solon imported, that
Pisistratus should be chief of the diacrii ; though the
scholiast on Aristophanes’s comedy The Wasps, af¬
firms, that Pandion distributed the quarter of the dia¬
crii among his sons, and put Lycus at their head.
DIADELPHIA (?<f, “ twice,” and uiiXQts, “ a
brother”), the 17th class in the sexual system, com¬
prehending those plants which bear hermaphrodite
flowers with two sets of united stamina ; but this cir¬
cumstance must not be absolutely depended on. They
are i\vi papilionaceioPYomncioxt, the irregulares tetra-
petali of Rivinus, and the leguminosce of Ray. See
Botany Index.
DIADEM, in antiquity, a head-band or fillet, worn
by kings as a badge of their royalty. It was made of
silk, thread, or wool, and tied round the temples and
forehead, the ends being tied behind, and let fall on
the neck. It was usually white and quite plain;
though sometimes embroidered with gold, and set with
pearls and precious stones. In latter times, it came to
be twisted round crowns, laurels, &c. and even ap¬
pears to have been worn on divers parts of the body.
See Crown. The word comes from the Latin diade-
mu; of the Greek dixdtiftx, “ a little band encompass¬
ing the head,” of the verb, Zixdi*, cingo, “ I gird.”
Diadem, in Heraldry, is applied to certain circles
or rims serving to inclose the crowns of sovereign
princes, and to bear the globe and cross, or the fleur
de lis, for their crest. The crowns of sovereigns are
bound, some with a greater and some with a less num¬
ber of diadems.—The bandage about the heads of
Moors on shields is also called diadem m blazoning.
DI/ERESIS, in Surgery, an operation serving to
divide and separate the part when the continuity is a
hinderance of the cure.
Diaeresis, in Medicine, is fhe consuming of the ves¬
sels of an animal body, when, from some corroding cause,
certain passages are made which naturally ought not
B b to
D I A
Riieresis to have been *, or certain natural passages are dilated
|| beyond their ordinary dimensions, so that the humours
t)iah- which ought to have been contained in the vessels ex-
travasate or run out.
Diuresis, in Grammar, the division of one sylla¬
ble into two, which is usually noted by two points over
a letter, as auldi, instead of aulce, dissoluenda for dissol-
vend a.
DI^TETTE, in Grecian antiquity, a kind of
judges, of which there were two sorts, the cleroti and
diallacterii. The former were public arbitrators, chosen
by lot to determine all causes exceeding ten drachms,
within their own tribe, and from their sentence an ap¬
peal lay to the superior courts.
The diallacterii, on the contrary, were private arbi¬
trators, from whose sentence there lay no appeal, and
accordingly they always took an oath to administer
justice without partiality.
DIAGLYPHICE, the art of cutting or engraving
figures on metals, such as seals, intaglios, matrices of let¬
ters, &c. or coins for medals. See Engraving.
DIAGNOSIS, (from %Kzyvt»<rK*>, to discern or dis¬
tinguish), the diagnostics or the signs of a disease.
They are of two kinds, viz. the adjunct and the pa¬
thognomonic : the first are common to several diseases,
and serve only to point out the difference between dis¬
eases of the same species } the latter are those which
always attend the disease, and distinguish it from all
others.
DIAGNOSTIC, in Medicine, a term given to those
signs which indicate the present state of a disease, its
nature and cause.
DIAGONAL, in Geometry, a right line drawn a-
cross a quadrilateral figure, from one angle to another $
by some called the diameter, and by others the diame¬
tral, of the figure. See Geometry.
DIAGORAS, surnamed the Atheist, lived in the
91st Olympiad. He was not a native of Athens, but
he philosophised there. He delighted in making ver¬
ses, and had composed a poem which a certain poet
stole from him. He sued the thief, who swore it was
his own, and got glory by it. This tempted Diago-
ras to deny a Providence. The Athenians summoned
him to give an account of his doctrine. He fled, and
they set a price upon his head, promising a reward to
any who should kill him j but he took shipping, and
was cast away.
DIAGRAM, in Geometry, a scheme for explaining
and demonstrating the properties of any figure, whe¬
ther triangle, square, circle, &c. See GEOMETRY.
Diagram, among ancient musicians, the same with
the scale of the modern. See Scale.
DIAH, Diat, a name given by the Arabs to the
punishment of retaliation. By the Mahometan law,
a brother, or the next relation of a murdered person,
ought to take part against the murderer, and demand
his blood in reparation for that which he has shed. Be¬
fore the time of Mahomet, the Arabs had a custom of
putting a freeman of their prisoners to death in liett of
every slave they lost in battle, and a man for every
woman that was killed. But Mahomet regulated the
laws of reprisal *, directing in the Alcoran, by the diat,
that a freeman should be required for a treeman, and a
slave for a slave. The Turks, probably in consequence
of this law, formerly massacred almost all their priso-
2
D I A
ners of war, but they now content themselves with en- DbA
slaving and selling them. 1) ^
DIAHEXAPLA, or Diahexapte, among far- fthdecticii:
riers, a compound medicine, so called from its contain- 1
ing six ingredients, viz. birthwort and gentian roots,,
juniper-berries, bay-berries, myrrh, and ivory shavings.
It is commended for colds, consumptions, pursiness, and
many other disoi’ders in horses.
DIAL, an instrument, serving to measure time \
which, if effected by the aid of the sun, is called a sun¬
dial. The word is from the Latin dies, “ day,”, be¬
cause indicating the hour of the day. T-he ancients
also called it sciatherium, from its effect by the shadow..
See the article Dialling.
DIALECT, an appellation given to the language
of a province in so far as it differs from that of the
whole kingdom. The term, however, is more parti¬
cularly used in speaking of the ancient Greek, whereof
there were four dialects, the Attic, Ionic, Alolic, and
Doric •, each of which was a perfect language in its
kind, that took place in certain countries, and had pe¬
culiar beauties.
In Great Britain, besides, the grand diversity of Eng¬
lish and Scotch, almost every county has a dialect of
its own, all differing considerably in pronunciation,
accent, and tone, although one and the same lan¬
guage.
DIALECTICS, in the literary history of the an¬
cients, that branch of logic, which taught the ruleo
and modes of reasoning. See Logic, Part HI.
Zeno Eleates was the first who discovered the natu¬
ral series of principles and conclusions observed in rea¬
soning, and formed an art thereof in form of a dialogue ;
which, for this reasoning, was called dialectica.
The dialectica of the ancients is usually divided into
several kinds *, the first was the eleatica, that of Zeno
Eleates, which was threefold ; viz, consecutionum, col-
laquutioniim, and contentionum. The first consisting of
rules for deducing or drawing conclusions. The se¬
cond the art of dialogue } which became of such uni¬
versal use in philosophy, that all reasoning was called
interrogation: then syllogism being laid aside, the phi¬
losophers did all by dialogue j it lying on the respon¬
dent to conclude and argue from the several concessions
made. The last part of Zeno’s dialectics, Eg<r»*u, was
contentious, or the art of disputing and contradicting 5
though some, particularly Laertius, ascribe this part to
Protagoras, a disciple of Zeno.
The second is the dialectica megarica, whose author
is Euclid, not the mathematician, but another of Me-
gara. He gave much into the method of Zeno and
Protagoras : though there are two things appropriated
to him : the first, that he impugned the demonstra¬
tions of others, not by assumptions, but conclusions;
continually making illations, and proceeding from con¬
sequence to consequence : the second, that he set aside
all arguments drawn from comparisons of similitude as
invalid.
He was succeeded by Eubulides, from whom the
sophistic way of reasoning is said to be derived.. In j
his time the art is described as manifold : mentiens,
fallens, electra, obvelata, arcevalis, cornuta and calva.
See Sophism.
The third is the dialectics of Plato, which he pro¬
poses as a kind of analysis to direct the human mind,
[ 194 ]
D I A [i
ijalectici. by diviiling, defining, and bringing tilings to the first
truth ; where being arrived, and stopped there a little,
it applies itself to explain sensible things, but with a
view to return to the first truth, where alone it can rest.
Such is the idea of Plato’s analysis.
The fourth is Aristotle’s dialectics ; containing the
doctrine of simple words, delivered in his book of Pre¬
dicaments ; the doctrine of propositions, in his book
Interpretatione; and that of the several kinds of
syllogism, in his books of Analytics, Topics, and Elen-
chuses.
The fifth is the dialectics of the Stoics; which they
call a part of philosophy, and divide into rhetoric and
dialectic ; to which some add the definitive, whereby
things are justly defined ; comprehending likewise the
canons or criterions of truth.
The Stoics, before they come to treat of syllogisms,
have two principal places 5 the one about the significa¬
tion of words, the other about the things signified. On
occasion of the first, they consider abundance of things
belonging to the grammarian’s province: what, and
how many letters j what is a word, diction, speech,
&c. On occasion of the latter, they consider things
themselves, not as without the mind, but as in it, re¬
ceived in it by means of the senses. Accordingly, they
first teach, that nil sit in intellectu, quod non priusfue-
rit in sensu ; “whatever is in the mind came thither by
the senses 5” and that aut incursione suiy as Plato, who
meets the sight j aut similitudine, as Caesar by his effigy j
aitt proportioned either by enlarging as a giant, or&by
diminishing as a pigmy ; aut translatione, as a Cy¬
clops ; aut compositions, as a Centaur ; aut contrario,
as death ; aut pnvatione, as a blind man.
The sixth is Epicurus’s dialectics ; for though he
seems to have despised dialectic, he cultivated it with
95 ]
D I A
vigour. He was only averse to that of the Stoics j d; dcctic*
who he thought attributed too much to it, as pro- ||
nouncing him alone wise who was well versed in dia- Dial'tha.
lor this reason, Epicurus, seeming to set aside the
common dialectics, had recourse to another way, viz.
to certain canons which he substituted in their stead*
the collection whereof he called canonica; and as alt
questions in philosophy are either de re or de voce, he
gave separate rules for each. See Epicureans.
DIALIA, in antiquity, sacrifices performed bv the
flamen dialis. See Flamen.
DIALING, or Dialling. See Dialling.
if* antiquity, a Latin term signifying
something that belongs to Jupiter.—The word Is form¬
ed from A<of, the genitive of Zsvj, Jupiter.
Flamen Dialis. See Flamen.
DIALITHA, in the writings of the ancients, a
word used to express the elegant ornaments of the
Greeks and Romans, composed of gold and gems.
They also called these htkocolla, “ cemented stories or
gems 5” the gold being in this case as a cement to hold
the stones together. They wore bracelets and other
ornamental things about their habits thus made} and
their cups and table-furniture, for magnificent treats,
were of this kind. The green stones were found to
succeed best of all in these things } and the emerald
and greenish topaz, or, as we call it, chrysolite, were
most in esteem for this purpose. This use of the stones
explains what Pliny very often says of them in his de¬
scription : Nihil jucundius aurum decet, “ Nothing be¬
comes gold better } ’ this he says of the green topaz or
chrysolite } and this and many other like passages have
greatly perplexed the critics, who did not hit upon this
explication.
DIALLING.
UKty of
dm art.
Hi
>rv.
’T’HE art of drawing dials on the surface of any gi~
-L ven body or plane. The Greeks and the La¬
tins call this art gnomonica and sciatherica, by reason
it distinguishes the hours by the shadow of the gnomon.
Some call it photo-sciatherica, because the hours are
sometimes shown by the light of the sun. Lastly,
others call it horologiography.
Dialling is a most necessary art : for notwithstanding
we are provided with moving machines, such as clocks
and watches, to show time ; yet these are apt to be out
of order, go wrong, and stop } consequently they stand
frequently in need of regulation by some invariable
instrument, as a dial} which being rightly constructed
and duly placed, will always, by means of the sun, in¬
form us of the true solar time} which time being cor¬
rected by the equation table published annually in the
ephemerides, almanacks, and other books, will be the
mean time to which clocks and watches are to be set.
Ihe antiquity of dials is beyond doubt. Some at¬
tribute their invention to Anaximenes Milesius } and
others to Thales. Vitruvius mentions one made by
the ancient Chaldee historian Berosus, on a reclining
plane, almost parallel to the equinoctial. Aristarchus
Samius invented the hemispherical dial. And there
were some spherical ones, with a needle for a gnomon.
The discus of Aristarchus was a horizontal dial, with
its limb raised up all around, to prevent the shadow
stretching too far.
It was late ere the Romans became acquainted with
dials. The first sun-dial at Rome was set up by Papi-
rius Cursor, about the year of the city 460 } before
which time, says Pliny, there is no mention of any ac¬
count of time but by the sun’s rising and setting: it
was set up at or near the temple of Quirinus, but went
ill. About 30 years after, M. Valerius Messala being
consul, brought out of Sicily another dial, which he
set up on a pillar near the rostrum } but for want of
its being made for that latitude, it could not go true.
They made use of it 99 years } till Martins Philippus
set up another more exact.
But there seem to have been dials among the Jews
much earlier than any of these. Witness the dial of
Ahaz : who began to reign 400 years before Alexan¬
der, and within 12 years of the building of Rome:
mentioned by Isaiab, chap, xxxviii. ver. 8.
The first professed writer on dialling is Clavius } who
demonstrates all, both the theory and the operations,
after the rigid manner of the ancient mathematicians ;
B b 2 but
196
DIAL
hut so intricately, that few, we dare say, ever read them
all. 1)cchales and Ozanam gave much easier demon¬
strations in their Courses, and V\ oltius in his Elements.
M. Picard has given a new method ot making large
dials, by calculating, the hour-lines ; and M. de_ la
Hire, in his Dialling, printed in 1683, a geometrical
method of drawing hour-lines from certain points de¬
termined by observation. Eberhardus Welperus, in
162^ published his Dialling, wherein he lays down a
method of drawing the primary dials on a very easy
foundation. The same foundation is described at length
by Sebastian Munster, in his Rudimenta Mathematical
published in 1551- Sturmius, in 1672, published a
new edition of Welperus’s Dialling, with the addition
of a whole second part, about inclining and declining
dials, &.c. In 1709, the same work, with Sturmius s
additions, was republished, with the addition of a
fourth part, containing Picard’s and de la Hire s me¬
thods of drawing large dials. Paterson, Michael, and
Muller, have each wrote on dialling in the German
tongue •, Coetsius in his Horologiographia P/a«o, print¬
ed in 1689 Gaupennius, in his Gnoniontca Mechamca ;
Bion, in his Use of Mathematical Instruments i the late
ingenious Mr Ferguson, in his Select Lectures; Mr
Emmerson, in his Dialling; and Mr W. Jones, in his
Instrumental Dialling. .
Definitions. A Dial, accurately defined, is a plane, upon which
lines are described in such a manner, that the shadow
of a wire,"or of the upper edge of another plane, erect¬
ed perpendicularly on the former, may show the true
time of the day.   ,
The edge of the plane by which the time of the day
is found, is called the stile of the dial, which must be
parallel to the earth’s axis j and the line on which the
said plane is erected, is called the subside.
The angle included between the subside and stile,
is called the elevation or height of the stile.
Those dials whose planes are parallel to the plane ot
the horizon, are called horizontal dials; and those
dials whose planes are perpendicular to the plane ot the
horizon, are called vertical or erect dials.
Those erect dials, whose planes directly tront the
nprth or south, are called direct north or south duds;
-and all other erect dials are called decliners; because
their planes are turned away from the north or south.
Those dials whose planes are neither parallel nor per¬
pendicular to the plane of the horizon, are called in¬
clining or reclining dials, according as their planes
make acute or obtuse angles with the horizon ; and it
their planes are also turned aside from facing the south
or north, they are called declining-inclining ox declining-
reclining dials. . . .
The intersection of the plane of the dial, with that
of the meridian, passing through the stile, is called the
meridian of the dial, or the hour-line of XU.
Those meridians, whose planes pass through the
stile, and make angles of 15-, 30, 45, 60, 75, and 9,0
degrees with the meridian of the place (which marks
the hour-line of XZI) are called hour-circles; and
their intersections with the plane of the dial are called
hour-lines. . , , ,
In all declining dials, the substile makes an angle
with the hoar-line of XU, and this angle is called the
distance of the substile from the meridian. _
The declining plane’s difference of. longitude, is the
LING.
angle formed at the intersection of the stile and plane
of the dial, by two meridians j one of which passes
through the hour-line of XU, and the other through
the substile. . . . .
Thus much being premised concerning dials in ge¬
neral, we shall now proceed to explain the different me¬
thods of their construction. Plate
If the whole earth a V e p were transparent, and €LXXL
hollow, like a sphere of glass, and had its equator fig. 1.
divided into 24 'I™' ^ 80 "“."1', The
semicircles, a, b, c, d, e,f, g, &c. one o w uc i is iesalprincip;
geographical meridian of any given place, as .London on which
(which is supposed to be at the point o) ; and if the dialling du
hour of XU were marked at the equator, both uponPends.
that meridian and the opposite one, and all the rest ot
the hours in order on the rest of the meridians, those
meridians would be the hour-circles of London : then,
if the sphere had an opaque axis, as TE/J, terminating
in the poles P andp, the shadow of the axis would tall
upon every particular meridian and hour, when the sun
came to the plane of the opposite meridian, and would
consequently show the time at London, and at all other
places on the meridian of London. i Woriinul
If this sphere was cut through the middle by a
plane ABCD, in the rational horizon of London, one
half of the axis EP would be above the plane, and the
other half below itand if straight lines were drawn
from the centre of the plane to those points where its
circumference is cut by the hour-circles of the sphere,
those lines would be the hour-lines of a horizontal dial
for London : for the shadow of the axis would fall
upon each particular hour-line of the dial, when it fell
upon the like hour-circle of the sphere.
If the plane which cuts the sphere be upngbt, as pjg ^
AFCG, touching the given place (London) at F,
and directly facing the meridian of London, it will
then become the plane of an erect direct south dial. and ^
if right lines be drawn from its centre E to those points-yer(jc&j
of its circumference where the hour-circles of the sphere dial,
cut it, these will he the hour-lines of a vertical or direct
south-dial for London, to which the hours are to be set
as in the figure (contrary to those on a horizontal dial),
and the lower half E 73 of the axis will cast a shadow on
the hour of the day in this dial, at the same time that
it would fall upon the like hour-circle of the sphere, \i
the dial plane was not in the way.
If the plane (still facing the meridian) be made to
incline or recline any given number of degrees, the
hour-circles of the sphere will still cut the edge ot the
plane in those points to which the hour-lines must be
drawn straight from the centre ; and the axis of the
sphere will cast a shadow on these lines at the respective 7
hours. The like will still hold, if the plane be made to nclinijg.,
decline by any given number of degrees from the me-^ ^
ridian towards the east or west; provided the decli-^diak
Item
nation be less than 90 degrees, or the reclination be
less than the co-latitude of the place : and the axis ot
the sphere will be a gnomon or stile for the dial. . But
it cannot be a gnomon, when the declination is quite 90
degrees, nor when the reclination is equal to the colati*
tude •, because in these two cases, the axis has no ele¬
vation above the plane of the dial.
And thus it appears, that the plane of every dial re¬
presents the plane of some great circle upon the earth.;
and the gnomon of the earth’s axis, whether it be^a
i97
DIALLING.
H r, t.
tene-
I irlobe.
small wire as in the above figures, or the edge of a thin
phite, as in the common horizontal dials.
The whole earth, as to its hulk, is but a point, if
compared to its distance from the sun ; and therefore,
if a small sphere of glass he placed upon any part of
the earth’s surface, so that its axis be parallel to the
axis of the earth, and the sphere have such lines upon
it, and such planes within it, as above described } it
will show the hours of the day as truly as if it were
placed at the earth’s centre, and the shell of the earth
were as transparent as glass.
But because it is impossible to have a hollow sphere
of glass perfectly true, blown round a solid plane; or
if it was, we could not get at the plane within the glass
to set it in any given position ; we make use of a wire-
sphere to explain the principles of dialling, hy joining
24 semicircles together at the poles, and putting a thin
s flat plate of brass within it.
Illling by A common globe of 12 indies diameter has gene-
ijcom- rally 24 meridian semicircles drawn upon it. Il such
a globe be elevated to the latitude of any given place,
and turned about until one of these meridians cut the
horizon in the north point, where the hour of XIL is
supposed to be marked, the rest of the meridians will
cut the horizon at tiie respective distances of all the
other hours from XII. Then if these points of distance
he marked on the horizon, and the globe be taken out
of the horizon, and a flat hoard or plate be put into its
place, even with the surface of the horizon ; and if
straight lines be drawn from the centre of the board
to those points of distance on the horizon which were
cut by the 24 meridian semicircles ; these lines will be
the hour-lines of a horizontal dial for that latitude, the
edge of whose gnomon must he in the very same situa¬
tion that the axis of the globe was, before it was taken
out of the horizon ; that is, the gnomon must make an
angle with the plane of the dial equal to the latitude of
the place for which the dial is made.
If the pole of the globe be elevated to the co-lati¬
tude of the given place, and any meridian be brought
to the north point of the horizon, the rest of the me¬
ridians will cut the horizon in the respective distances
of all the hours from XII, for a direct south dial, whose
gnomon must be an angle with the plane of the dial,
equal to the co-latitude of the place ; and the hours
must be set the contrary way on this dial to what they
are on the horizontal.
But if your globe have more than 24 meridian semi¬
circles upon it, you must take the following method lor
making horizontal and south dials.
Elevate the pole to the latitude of your place, and
sn t a bo-turn the globe until any particular meridian (suppose
the first) comes to the north point of the horizon,
and the opposite meridian will cut the horizon in tlie
south. Then set the hour-index to the uppermost
XII on its circle ; which done, turn the globe west¬
ward until 15 degrees of the equator pass under the
brazen meridian, and then the hour index will be at
1 (for the sun moves 15 degrees every hour), and the,
first meridian will cut the horizon in the number of
degrees from the north point that I is distant from
XII. Turn on until other 15, degrees of the equa¬
tor pass under the brazen meridian, and the hour in¬
dex will then be at II, and the first meridian will cut
th.e horizon in the number of degrees that II is dj-
T(
ii> tal
diu
slant from XII: and so hy making 15 degrees of
the equator pass under the brazen meridian for every
hour, the first meridian of the globe will cut the ho¬
rizon in the distances of all the hours from XII to
i 1, which is just 90 degrees; and then you need go
no farther, lor the distances of XI, X, IX, VIII,
I II, and VI, in the forenoon, are the same from XII
as 1 he distances of I, II, III, IV, V, and VI, in the
afternoon : and these hour lines, continued through the
centre, will give the opposite hour-lines on the other
half of the dial.
Thus, to make a horizontal dial for the latitude of
London, which is degress north, elevate the north
pole of the globe 51 degrees above the north point
of the horizon ; and then turn the globe until the first
meridian (which is that of London on the English ter¬
restrial globe) cuts the north point of the horizon, and
set the hour-index to XII at noon.
Then turning the globe westward until the index
points successively to I, II, III, I V, V, and VI, in the
afternoon, or until 15, 30, 45, 60, 75, and 90 degrees
of the equator pass under the brazen meridian, you will
find that the first meridian of the globe cuts the hori¬
zon in the following number of degrees from the north
towards the east, viz. n|, 24^, 38/5-, 53I, 71T3-, and
90; which are the respective distances of the above
hours from XII upon the plane of the horizon.
To transfer these, and the rest of the hours, to a
horizontal plane, draw the parallel right lines «c and
d b, upon the plane, as far from each other as is equal
to the intended thickness of the gnomon or stile of
the dial, and the space included between them will be
the meridian or twelve-o’clock line on the dial. Cross •
this meridian at right angles with the six-o’clock line
gh, and setting one foot of your compasses in the in¬
tersection m, as a centre, describe the quadrant g-g
with any convenient radius or opening of the compas¬
ses ; then, setting one foot in the intersection b, as a
centre, with the same radius describe the quadrant Jh,
and divide each quadrant into qo equal parts or de-_
grees, as in the figure.
Because the hour-lines are less distant from each other
about noon, than in any other part of the dial, it is
best to have the centres of these quadrants at a little di¬
stance from the centre of the dial plane, on the side op¬
posite to XII, in order to enlarge the hour-distances
thereabouts, under the same angles on the plane. Thus
the centre of the plane is at C, but the centres of the
quadrants are at a and b.
Lay a ruler over the point £ (and keeping it there
for the centre of all the afternoon hours in the quadrant
fh) draw the hour-line of I through iiy degrees in the
quadrant; the hour-line of II, through 24£ degrees ;
of HI, through 38t*t degrees ; II1I, through 53* ;
and V, through 7ItV • an(* because the sun rises about ,
four in the morning, on the longest day, at London,
continue the hour-lines of I1II and Tin the afternoon
through the centre b to the opposite side, of the dial.---
This done, lay the ruler to the centre a of the quadrant
eg ; and through the like divisions or degrees of that
quadrant, viz. 1 if, 24^, 381IT, 53L and 71^, draw
the forenoon hour-lines of XI, X, IX, VIII, and VII,
and because the sun sets not before eight in the even¬
ing on the longest day, continue the hour-lines of VII
nnd VIII in the -forenoon, through the centre a, to
V1L
joS DIALLING.
VII and VIII in the afternoon j and all the hour-lines
will be finished on this dial $ to which the hours may
be set, as in the figure.
Lastly, through 5if degrees of either quadrant, and
from its centre, draw the right line ag for the hypo-
thenuse or axis of the gnomon ag i; and from g, let
fall the perpendicular gf, upon the meridian line cz*,
and there will he a triangle made, whose sides are og",
g i, and ia. If a plate similar to this triangle be made
as thick as the distance between the lines ac and b d,
and set upright between them, touching at a and b, its
hypothenuse ag will be parallel to the axis of the world,
when the dial is truly set; and will cast a shadow on
the hour of the day.
N. B. The trouble of dividing the two quadrants
may be saved if you have a scale with a line of chords
upon it (as represented in the plate) $ for if you ex¬
tend the compasses from o to 60 degrees of the line of
chords, and with that extent, as a radius, describe the
two quadrants upon their respective centres, the above
distances may be taken with the compasses upon the
4‘ lines, and set off upon the quadrants.
An erect To make an erect direct south dial. Elevate the pole
scutli dial, to the co-latitude of your place, and proceed in all re¬
spects as above taught for the horizontal dial from VI
jn the morning to VI in the afternoon j only the hours
must be reversed as in the figure ; and the hypothe¬
nuse ag of the gnomon agf, must make an angle with
the dial-plane equal to the co-latitude of the place.
As the sun can shine no longer on this dial than from
six in the morning until six in the evening, there is
no occasion for having any more than 12 hours up-
j ii on it.
Erect de- To make an erect dial, declining from the south to-
cjining wards the east or west. Elevate the pole to the lati-
l2laJ' lude of your place, and screw the quadrant of altitude
to the zenith. Then, if your dial declines towards the
east (which we shall suppose it to do at present), count
in the horizon the degrees of declination, from the east
point towards the north, and bring the lower end of
the quadrant to that degree of declination at which the
reckoning ends. This done, bring any particular me¬
ridian of your globe (as suppose the first meridian) di¬
rectly under the graduated edge of the upper part of
the brazen meridian, and set the hour to XII at noon.
Then, keeping the quadrant of altitude at the degree
of declination in the horizon, turn the globe eastward
oa its axis, and observe the degrees cut by the first
meridian in the quadrant of altitude (counted from the
zenith) as the hour-index comes to XI, X, IX, &c. in
the forenoon, or as 15, 30, 45, &c. degrees of the
equator pass under the brazen meridian at these hours
respectively; and the degrees then cut in the quadrant
by the first meridian, are the respective distances of
the forenoon hours from XII on the plane of the dial.
 Then, for the afternoon hours, turn the quadrant of
altitude round the zenith, until it comes to the degree
in the horizon opposite to that where it was placed be¬
fore ; namely, as far from the west point of the hori¬
zon towards the south, as it was set at first from the
east point towards the north ; and turn the globe west¬
ward on its axis, until the first meridian comes to the
brazen meridian again, and the hour index to XII:
then, continue to turn the globe westward; and as the
index points to the afternoon hours I, 11, III, &c. or
as 15, 30, 45, &c. degrees of the equator pass under
the brazen meridian, the first meridian will cut the
quadrant of altitude in the respective number of degrees
from the zenith that each of these hours is from XII
on the dial.—And note, that when the first meridian
goes off the quadrant at the horizon in the forenoon, the
hour-index shows the time when the sun will come up.
on this dial 5 and when it goes off the quadrant in the
afternoon, the index will point to the time when the
sun goes off the dial.
Having thus found all the hour-distances from XII,
lay them down upon your dial-plane, either by dividing
a semicircle into two quadrants of 90 degrees each (be¬
ginning at the hour-line of XII), or by the line of
chords, as above directed.
In all declining dials, the line on which the stile or
gnomon stands (commonly called the substile-line)
makes an angle with the twelve o’clock line, and falls
among the forenoon hour-lines, if the dial declines to¬
wards the east 5 and among the afternoon hour-lines,
when the dial declines towards the west j that is, to the
left hand from the twelve o’clock line in the former case,
and to the right hand from it in the latter.
To find the distance of the substile from the twelve
o’clock line $ if your dial declines from the south to¬
ward the east, count the degrees of that declination in
the horizon from the east point towards the north, and
bring the lower end of the quadrant of altitude to that
degree of declination where the reckoning ends : then
turn the globe until the first meridian cuts the horizon
in the like number of degrees, counted from the south
points towards the east j and the quadrant and first me¬
ridian will then cross one another at right angles; and
the number of degrees of the quadrant, which are in¬
tercepted between the first meridian and the zenith, is
equal to the distance of the substile line from the twelve
o’clock line $ and the number of degrees of the first
meridian, which are intercepted between the quadrant
and the north pole, is equal to the elevation of the stile
above the plane of the dial.
If the dial declines westward from the south, count
that declination from the east point of the horizon to¬
wards the south, and bring the quadrant of altitude to
the degree in the horizon at which the reckoning ends;
both for finding the forenoon hours and distance of the
substile from the meridian : and for the afternoon hours,
bring the quadrant to the opposite degree in the hori¬
zon, namely, as far from the west towards the north,
and then proceed in all respects as above.
Thus we have finished our declining dial j and in so
doing we made four dials, viz.
1. A north dial, declining eastward by the same
number of degrees. 2. A north dial, declining the
same number W'est. 3. A south dial, declining east.
And, 4. A south dial, declining west. Only, placing
the proper number of hours, and the stile or gnomon
respectively, upon each plane. For (as above-men¬
tioned) in the south-west plane, the substilar line falls
among the afternoon hours j and in the south-east, of
the same declination, among the forenoon hours, at
equal distances from XII. And so all the morning hours
on the west decliner will be like the afternoon hours
on the east decliner : the south-east decliner will pro¬
duce the north-west decliner j and the south-west de¬
cliner the north-east decliner, by only extending the
hour-lines
hour-lines, stile and sulistile, quite through the centre ;
the axis of the stile (or edge that casts the shadow on
the hour of the day) being in all dials whatever paral¬
lel to the axis of the world, and consequently pointing
towards the north pole of the heaven in north latitudes,
ja and towards the south pole in south latitudes,
easy because every one who would like to make a
, :hod for dial, may perhaps not be provided with a globe to assist
• an<* may Probably not understand the method of
i o doing it by logarithmic calculation; we shall show how
to perform it by the plain dialling lines, or scale of la¬
titudes and hours (as represented on the Plate), and
which may be had on scales commonly sold by the ma¬
thematical-instrument-makers.
This is the easist of all mechanical methods, and by
much the best, when the lines are truly divided : and
not only the half-hours and quarters may be laid down
by all of them, but every fifth minute by most, and
every single minute by those where the line of hours is
a foot in length.
11 5. Having drawn your double meridian line ab,cd, fig.
5. on the plane intended for a horizontal dial, and cros¬
sed it at right angles by the six o’clock line fe (as in
30»_ta^e the latitude of the place with your com¬
passes, in the scale of latitudes, and set that extent
from c to e, and from u to on the six o’clock line:
then, taking the whole six hours between the points
of the compasses in the scale of hours, with that ex¬
tent set one foot in the point c, and let the other foot
fall where it will upon the meridian line c r/, as at d.
Do the same from^to b, and draw the right lines e d
and f b, each of which will be equal in length to the
whole scale of hours. This done, setting one foot of
the compasses in the beginning of the scale at XII, and
extending the other to each hour of the scale, lay off
these extents from d to e for the afternoon hours, and
from b to f for those of the forenoon : this will divide
the lines d e and b f in the same manner as the hour-
scale is divided at 1, 2, 3, 4, and 6; on which the
quarters may also be laid down, if required. Then,
laying a ruler on the point c, draw the first five hours
in the afternoon, from that point, through the dots at
the numeral figures, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, on the line de ; and
continue the lines of 1III and V through the centre c
to the other side of the dial, for the like hours of the
morning : which done, lay the ruler on the point a, and
draw the last five hours in the forenoon through the
dots, 3, 4, 3, 2, 1, on the line f b ; continuing the hour-
lines of VII and VIII through the centre a to the
other side of the dial, for the like hours of the evening j
and set the hours to their respective lines, as in the
figure. Lastly, make the gnomon the same way as
taught above for the horizontal dial, and the whole will
be finished.
To make an erect south dial ; take the co-latitude
of your place from the scale of latitudes, and then pro¬
ceed in all respects for the hour-line as in the hori¬
zontal dial ; only reversing the hours, as in fig. 4. and
making the angle of the stile’s height equal to the co¬
latitude.
But, lest the young diallist should have neither globe
nor wooden scale, we shall now show him how he may
make a dial without any of these helps. Only, if he
has not a line of chords, he must divide a quadrant in-
DIALLING.
V99
to 90 equal parts or degrees for taking the proper angle
of the stile’s elevation 5 which is easily done.
With any opening of the compasses, as ZL, fio-. 6. Fig. 6.
describe the two semicircles LF k and LQ k, upon the
centres Z and 2;, where the six o’clock line crosses the
double meridian line, and divide each semicircle into
12 equal parts, beginning at L (though, strict!v speak¬
ing, only the quadrants from L to the six o’clock line rIor:z,I,;ii
need be divided) ; then connect the divisions which dial,
are equidistant from L, by the parallel lines KM, IN,
r r aiK^ ®raw ^^ f°r tbe hypothenuse
of the stile, making the angle VZE equal to the lati-
titude of your place; and continue the line VZ to R.
Diaw the line R r parallel to the six o’clock line ; and
set off the distance a K from Z to Y, the distance b I
from Z to X, c H from Z to W, d G from Z to T,
and e from Z to S. Then draw the lines S jf, T t,
Wm>, X #, and Yy, each parallel to R r. Set off the
distance y Y from o to 11, and from /to 1 ; the distance
x X from £ to 10, and from g to 2; w W from c to 9,
and hom to 3 ; £ I from d to 8, and from r to 4;
s S from e to 7, and from n to 3. Then laying a ruler
to the centre Z, draw the forenoon hour lines through
the points 11, 10, 9, 8, 7 ; and laying it to the centre
2!, diaw the afternoon lines through the points 1, 2,
3’ 4> 5? continuing the forenoon lines of VIl and
/^///through the centre Z, to the opposite side of the
dial, for the like afternoon hours; and the afternoon
lines HU and V through the centre ss, to the oppo¬
site side, for the like morning hours. Set the-,
hours to these lines as in the figure, and then erect
the stile or gnomon, and the horizontal dial will be
finished.
To construct a south dial draw the line VZ, making
an angle with the meridian ZL equal to the co-latitude
ol your place ; and proceed in all respects as in the
above horizontal dial for the same latitude, reversing
the hours as in fig. 4. and making the elevation of the
gnomon equal to the co-latitude.
Perhaps it may not be unacceptable to explain the
the method of constructing the dialling lines, and some
others ; which is as follows :
With any opening of the compasses, as EA, fig. 7. Dialling
according to the intended length of the scale, describe lines, how
the circle ADCB, and cross it at right angles by the conslruct-
diameters CEA and DEB. Divide the quadrant AB
first into 9 equal parts, and then each part into 10: g 7*
so shall the quadrant be divided into 90 equal parts or
degrees. Draw the right line AFB for the chord of
this quadrant; and setting one foot of the compasses
in the point A, extend the other to the several divi¬
sions of the quadrant, and transfer these divisions to
the line AFB by the arcs 10, 10, 20, 20, &c. and
this will be a line of chords, divided into 90 unequal
parts; which, if transferred from the line back again
to the quadrant, will divide it equally. It is plain by
the figure that the distance from A to 60 in the line
of chords, is just equal to AE, the radius of the circle
from which that line is made; for if the arc 60, 60,
be continued, of which A is the centre, it goes exactly .
through the centre D of the arc AB.
And therefore, in laying down any number of de-
grees on a circle, by the line of chords, you must first
open the compasses so as to take in just 60 degrees
upon *
200
Upon that line as from A to 60 : and then, with that
extent, as a radius, describe a circle, which will be
exactly of the same size with that from which the line
was divided : which done, set one foot of the compasses
in the beginning of the chord line, as at A, and ex¬
tend the other to the number of degrees you want
upon the line-, which extent, applied to the circle, will
include the like number of degrees upon it.
Divide the quadrant CD into 90 equal parts, and
from each point of division draw right lines, as r A:/,
&cc. to the line CE, all perpendicular to that line, and
parallel to DE, which will divide EC into a line of
sines : and although these are seldom put among the
dialling lines on a scale, yet they assist in drawing the
line of latitudes. For if a ruler be laid upon the point
D, and over each division in the line of sines, it will
divide the quadrant CB into 90 unequal parts, as Be,
B b, &c. shown by the right lines 10 e, 206, 30 c, &c.
drawn along the edge of the ruler. If the right line
BC be drawn, subtending this quadrant, and the near¬
est distances B a, B 6, B e, &c. be taken in the compas-
ses from B, and set upon this line in the same manner
as directed for the line of chords, it will make a line of
latitudes BC, equal in length to the line of chords AB,
and of an equal number of divisions, but very unequal
as to their lengths.
Draw the right line DGA, subtending the quadrant
DA ; and parallel to it, draw the right line r s, touch¬
ing the quadrant DA at the numeral figure 3. Divide
this quadrant into six equal parts, as I, 2, 3? cin(^
through these points of division draw right lines from
the centre E to the line r s, which will divide it at the
points where the six hours are to be placed, as in the
figure. If every sixth part of the quadrant he subdi¬
vided into four equal parts, right lines drawn from the
centre through these points of division, and continued
to the line r .9, will divide each hour upon it into quar-
A diafon aterin fig. 8. we have the representation of a portable
caid- dial, which may he easily drawn on a card, and carried
in a pocket-book. The lines ad, ah, and 6 c of the
gnomon, must he cut quite through the card ; and as
the end a of the gnomon is raised occasionally above
the plane of the dial, it turns upon the uncut line c d
as on a hinge. The dotted line AB must be slit quite
through the card, and the thread C must be put through
the slit, and have a knot tied behind, to keep.it from
being easily drawn out. On the other end, of this thread
is a small plummet D, and on the middle of it a small
bead for showing the hour of the day.
To rectify this dial, set the thread in the slit right
against the day of the month, and stretch the thread
from the day "of the month over the angular point
Where the curve lines meet at XII; then shift the head
to that point on the thread, and the dial will be recti¬
fied. .
To find tire hour of the day, raise the gnomon (no
matter how much or how little) and hold the edge of
the dial next the gnomon towards the sun, so as the
uppermost edge of the shadow of the gnomon may
just cover \\\e sJtcidnv line ; and the head then playing
freely on the face of the dial, by the weight of the
plummet, will show the time of the day among the
hour lines, as it is forenoon or afternoon..
To find the time of sun-rising and setting, move the
3
Eis. S.
IS
dialling.
thread among the hour-lines, until it either covers some
one of them, or lies parallel betwixt any two j and then
it will cut the time of sun-rising among the forenoon
hours, and of sun-setting among the afternoon hours,
for that day of the year to which the thread is set in
the scale of months.
To find the sun’s declination, stretch the thread from
the day of the month over the angular point at XII,
and it will cut the sun’s declination, as it is north or
south, for that day, in the proper scale.
To find on what days the sun enters the signs, when
the bead, as above rectified, moves along any of the
curve-lines which have the signs of the zodiac maiked
upon them, the sun enters those signs on the days
pointed out bv the thread in the scale of months.
The construction of this dial is very easy, especially
if the reader compares it all along with fig. 9. Plate
CLXXII. as he reads the following explanation ol that
figure.
Draw the occult line AB (fig. 9.) parallel to the
tup of the. card, and cross it at right angles with the six
o’clock line ECD ; then upon C, as a centre, with the
radius CA, describe the semicircle AEL, and divide it
into 12 equal parts (beginning at A), as Ar, A.?, &c.
and from these points of division draw the hour-lines r,
s, t, it, v, E, w, x, all parallel to the six o’clock line
EC. If each part of the semicircle he subdivided into
four equal parts, they will give the half-hour lines and
quarters, as in fig. 2. Draw the right line ASDo,
making the angle" SAB equal to the latitude of your
place. Upon the centre A describe the arch RST,
and set oft upon it the arcs SR and SI, each equal to
23f degrees, for the sun’s greatest declination j and
divide them into 23-^ equal parts, as in fig. 2. Through
the intersection D of the lines ECD and A Do, draw
the right line FDG at right angles to A Do. Lay a
ruler to the points A and R, and draw the line ABF
through 23f- degrees ot south declination in the aic
SR j and then laying the ruler to the points A and T,
draw the line ATG through 23* degrees, of north de¬
clination in the arc ST : so shall the lines AKF and
ATG cut the line FDG in the proper lengths for the
scale of months. Upon the centre D, with the radius
DF, describe the semicircle FoGj which divide into
six equal parts, Ym, m n, no, &c. and from these points
of division draw the right lines m h, n 1, p k, and c/ l,
each parallel to oD. Then setting one foot of the
compasses in the point !, extend the other to A, an
describe the arc AZH for the tropic of V? ; "ith the
same extent, setting one foot in G, describe the arc
AEO for tire tropic of ®. Next setting one foot in
the point h, arid extending the other to A, describe tire
arc ACI for the beginnings of the signs r: and f ;
and with the same extent, setting one foot in the point
l, describe the arc AN for the beginnings ol the signs
n and ft. Set one foot in the point 1, and having
extended the other to A, describe the arc AK for the
beginnings of the signs X ”1 i.an(1 'v,th tb.e *a™e
extent, set one foot in k, and describe the arc AM for
the beginnings of the signs « and it£. 1 hen setting
one foot in the point D, and extending the other to ,
describe the curve AL for the beginnings of and «g=;
and the signs will he finished. This done, lay a ruler
from the point A over the sun’s declination in the arch
RST ; and where the ruler cuts the line EDG, make
marks:
Plate
CLXXIt
%9-
Pie 9
pared 1
list. S.
201
DIAL
marks *. and place the days of the months right against
these marks, in the manner shown by fig. 2. Lastly,
draw the shadow line PQ parallel to the occult line
AB $ make the gnomon, and set the hours to their
respective lines, as in fig. 2. and the^ dial will be fi-
nished.
There are several kinds of dials called w/Mwrsa/, be-
ials. cause they serve for all latitudes. One, of Mr Pardie’s
construction, was formerly considered as the best. It
pjate consists of three principal parts $ the first whereof is
;i,XXII. called the horizontal plane, A fig. io. because in
fig. io. practice it must be parallel to the horizon. In this
plane is fixed an upright pin, which enters into the edge
of the second part BD, called the meridional plane j
which is made of two pieces, the lowest whereof B
is called the quadrant^ because it contains a quarter of
a circle, divided into 90 degrees j and it is only into
this part, near B, that the pin enters. The other piece
is a semicircle D adjusted to the quadrant, and turn¬
ing in it by a groove, for raising or depressing the dia¬
meter EF of the semicircle, which diameter is called
the axis of the instrument. The third piece is a circle
G, divided on both sides into 24 equal parts, which
are the hours. This circle is put upon the meridional
plane so that the axis EF may be perpendicular to
the circle, and the point C be the common centre of
the circle, semicircle, and quadrant. The straight edge
of the semicircle is chamfered on both sides to a sharp
edge, which passes through the centre of the circle.
On one side of the chamfered part, the first six months
of the year are laid down, according to the sun’s de¬
clination for their respective days, and on the other side
the last six months. And against the days on which the
sun enters the signs, there are straight lines drawn upon
the semicircle, with the characters of the signs marked
upon them. There is a black line drawn along the
middle of the upright edge of the quadrant, over which
hangs a thread H, with its plummet I, for levelling
the instrument. N. B. From the 23d of September to
the 20th of March, the upper surface of the circle
must touch both the centre C of the semicircle, and
the line of HP and ; and from the 20th of March to
the 23d of September, the lower surface of the circle
must touch that centre and line.
To find the time of the day by this dial. Having
set it on a level place in sunshine, and adjusted it by
the levelling screws k and /, until the plumb-line hangs
over the back line upon the edge of the quadrant, and
parallel to the said edge; move the semicircle in the
quadrant, until the line of nr* and (where the circle
touches) comes to the latitude of your place in the
quadrant: then turn the whole meridional place BH,
with its circle G, upon the horizontal plane A, until
the edge of the shadow of the circle fall precisely on
the day of the month in the semicircle ; and then the
meridional plane will be due north and south, the axis
EF will be parallel to the axis of the world, and will
cast a shadow upon the true time of the day among the
hours on the circle.
N. B. As, when the instrument is thus rectified, the
quadrant and semicircle are in the plane of the meri¬
dian, so the circle is then in the plane of the equinoc¬
tial. .Therefore, as the sun is above the equinoctial in
summer (in northern latitudes), and below it in winter j
the axis of the semicircle will cast a shadow on the
Vol. VII. Part I. f
LING.
hour of the day, on the upper surface of the circle,
from the 20th of March till the 23d of September}
and from the 23d of September to the 2oth of March,
the hour of the day will be determined by the shadow
of the semicircle upon the lower surface of the circle.
In the former case, the shadow of the circle falls upon
the day of the month, on the lower part of the dia¬
meter of the semicircle j and in the latter case, on the
upper part.
The method of laying down the months and signs
upon the semicircle is as follows: Draw the right line
ACB, fig. 11. equal to the diameter of the semicircle
ADB, and cross it in the middle at right angles with
the line ECD, equal in length to ADB ; then EC will
be the radius of the circle FCG, which is the same a*
that of the semicircle, Upon E, as a centre, describe
the circle FCG, on which set oft' the arcs C h and C 7',
each equal to 23^ degrees, and divide them accordingly
into that number for the sun’s declination. Then lay¬
ing the edge of a ruler over the centre E, and also over
the sun’s declination for every fifth day of each month
(as in the card-dial), mark the points on the diameter
AB of the semicircle from a tog-, which are cut by the
ruler} and there place the days of the months accord¬
ingly, answering to the sun’s declination. This done,
setting one foot of the compasses in C, and extending
the other to a or g, describe the semicircle abode fg ;
which divide into six equal parts, and through the points
of division draw right lines parallel to CD, for the be¬
ginning of the sines (of which one half are on one side
of the semicircle, and the other half on the other), and
set the characters of the sines to their proper lines, as
in the figure,
An universal dial, of a very ingenious construction, 4 1 ^
has lately been invented by Mr G. Wright of London, by Mi C?C
The hour-circle or arch E, (fig. 19.), and latitude arch Wright."
C, are the portions of two meridian circles } one Plate
fixed, and the other moveable. The hour or dial-plate C^XIII‘
SEN at top is fixed to the arch C, and has an index I?*
that moves with the hour-circle E j therefore the con¬
struction of this dial is perfectly similar to the construc¬
tion of the meridians and hour-circle upon a common
globe. The peculiar problems to be performed by
this instrument are, 1. Tofind the latitude of any place.
2. The latitude of the place being known, to find the
time by the sun and stars. 3. To find the sun or star's
animuth and altitude.
Previous to use, this instrument should be in a well-
adjusted state: to perform which, you try the levels of
the horizontal plates A a, by first turning the screws
BBBB till the bubbles of air in the glass tubes of the
spirit-levels (which levels are at right angles to each
other) are central or in the middle, and remain so
when you turn the upper plate A half round its cen¬
tre j but if they should not keep so, there are small
screws at the end of each level, which admit of being
turned one way or the other as may be requisite, till
they are so. The plates A a being thus made horizon¬
tal, set the latitude arch or meridian C steadily between
the two grooved sides that hold it (one of which is seen
at D) by the screw behind. On this side D is divided
the nonius or vernier, corresponding with the divisions
on the latitude arch C, and which may be subdivided
into 5 minutes of a degree, and even less if required.
The latitude arch C is to be so placed in D, that the
C c pole
202
DIALLING.
pole M may be m a vertical position ; which is done hy
making oo0 on the arch at bottom coincide with the o
ot" the nonius. The arch is then fixed by the tighten¬
ing screw at the back of I). Hang a silken plumb-
line on the hook at G ; which line is to coincide with a
mark at the bottom of the latitude arch at H, all the
while you move the upper plate A round its centre.
If it does not so, there are four screws to regulate this
adjustment, two of which pass through the base I into
the plate A ^ the other two screws fasten the nonius
piece D together 5 which when unscrewed a thread or
two, the nonius piece may be easily moved to the right
or left of 90° as may be lound requisite.
ITob. x. To find the latitude of the place. Fasten
the latitude and hour circles together, by placing the
pin K into the holes j slide the nonius piece E on the
hour-circle to the sun’s declination for the given day :
the sun’s declination you may know in the ephemeris
by White, or other almanacks, for every day in the
year. The nonius piece E must be set on that portion
of the hour-circle marked ND or SD, according as the
sun has north or south declination. About 20 minutes
or a quarter of an hour before noon, observe the sun’s
shadow or spot that passes through the hole at the axis
0, and gently move the latitude arch C down in its
groove at D, till you observe the spot exactly fall on
the cross line on the centre of the nonius piece at L }
and by the falling of this spot, so long as you observe
the sun to increase in altitude, you depress the arch
C : but at the instant of its stationary appearance the
spot will appear to go no lower $ then fix the arch by
the screw at the back of D, and the degrees thereby
cut by the nonius on the arch will be the latitude of
the place required if great exactness is wanted, al¬
lowance should be made for the refraction ot the at¬
mosphere, taken from some nautical or astronomical
treatise. , , 7 .
Prob. 2. The latitude oj the place being given, to
And the time by the sun or stars. From an epheme¬
ris, as before, you find the sun’s declination for the
day north or south, and set the nonius piece E on the
arch accordingly. Set the latitude arch C, by the no¬
nius at D, to the latitude of the place y and place the
magnifying glass at M, by which you will very correct¬
ly set the index carrying a nonius to the upper XII at
S. Take out the pin K, slacken the horizontal screw
N, and gently move, either to the right or left as you
see necessary, the hour-circle E, at the same time with
the other hand moving the horizontal plate A round its
axis to the right and left, till the latitude arch C fall
into the meridian y which you will know by the sun’s
spot falling exactly in the centre of the nonius piece,
or where the lines intersect each other. The time
may be now read off exactly to a minute by the no¬
nius on the dial-plate at top, and which will be the
time required. The horizontal line drawn on the no¬
nius piece L, not seen in the figure, being the paral¬
lel of declination, or path that the sun-dial makes,
therefore can fall on the centre of that line at no
other time but when the latitude arch C is in the
meridian, or due north and south. Hence the hour-
circle, on moving round with the pole, must give the
true time on the dial-plate at top. There is a hole to
the right, and cross hairs to the left, of the centre axis
hole Q, where the sun’s rays pass through ; whence
the sun’s shadow or spot will also appear on the right
and left of the centre on the nonius piece L, the holes
of which are occasionally used as sights to observe
through. If the sun’s rays are too weak for a shadow,
a dark glass to screen the eye is occasionally placed
over the hole. The most proper time to find a true
meridian is three or four hours before or after noon j
and take the difference of the sun’s declination from
noon at the time you observe.. If it be the morning,.,
the difference is that and the preceding day } if after¬
noon, that and the following day j and the meridian be¬
ing once found exact, the hour-circle E is to be brought
into this meridian, a fixed place made for the dial, and
an object to observe by it also fixed for it at a great
distance. The sights LO must at all times be directed
against this fixed object, to place the dial truly in the
meridian, proper for observing the planets, moon, or
bright stars, by night.
Prob. 3. 2b find the sun's azimuth and altitude.
The latitude arch C being in the meridian, bring the
pole M into the zenith, by setting the latitude arch to
90°. Fasten the hour-circle E in the meridian by put¬
ting in the pin K ; fix the horizontal plates by the screw
N •, and set the index of the dial-plate to XII, which
is the south point: Now take out the pin K, and gent¬
ly move the hour-circle E j leaving the latitude arch
fixed, till the sun’s rays or spot passing through the
centre hole in the axis O fall on the centre line of the
hour-circle E, made for that purpose. The azimuth in
time may be then read off on the dial-plate at top by
the magnifying glass. This time may be converted
into degrees, by allowing at the rate of 15 for every
hour. By sliding the nonius piece E, so that the
spot shall fall on the cross line thereon, the altitude
may be taken at the same time if it does not exceed 45
degrees. Or the altitude may be taken more univer¬
sally, by fixing the nonius piece E to the o on the di¬
visions, and sliding down the latitude arch in such a
manner in the groove at 1), till the spot falls exactly
on the centre of the nonius E. The degrees and mi¬
nutes then shown by the nonius at 1), taken from 90,
will be the altitude required. By looking through the
sight-holes LO, the altitude of the moon, planets, and
stars, may be easily taken. Upon this principle it is
somewhat adapted for levelling also } by lowering the
nonius piece E, equal altitudes of the sun may be had 5
and by raising it higher, equal depressions.
More completely to answer the purposes of a good
theodolite, of levelling, and the performance of pro¬
blems in practical astronomy, trigonometry, &.c. the
horizontal plate £) is divided into 360 , nnd an oppo¬
site nonius on the upper plate A, subdividing the de¬
grees into 5 or more minutes. A telescope and spirit-
level applies on the latitude arch at HG by two screws,
making the latitude arch a vertical arch 5 and the
whole is adapted to triangular staffs with parallel plates,
similar to those used with the best theodolites. lS
A dial more universal for the performance of pro- equi-
blems than the above, though in some particulars not noctialij'-
so convenient and accurate, has been invented by some
instrument-makers. It consists of the common equate- ver
rial circles reduced to a portable size, and instead of a
telescope carries a plain sight. Its principal parts con- piau
sist of the sight-piece OP, fig. 20. moveable over the CIAXI’1
declination’s semicircle D. It has a nonius Q to the $g-*c'
semicircle.
203
DIALLING.
semicircle. A dark glass to skreen the eye applies oc¬
casionally over either of the holes at O ; these holes on
the inner side of the piece are intersected by cross lines,
as seen in the figure below; and to the sight P two
pieces are screwed, the lower having a small hole for
the sun’s rays or shadow, and the upper two cross hairs
or wires.
The declination circle or arch D is divided into two,
<90° each j and is fixed perpendicularly on a circle with
a chamfered edge, containing a nonius division that sub¬
divides into single minutes the under equatorial circle
MN, which in all cases represents the equator, and is
divided into twice 12 hours, and each hour into five
minutes. At right angles below this equatorial circle
is fixed the semicircle of altitude AB, divided into two
quadrants of 90° each. This arch serves principally to
measure angles of altitude and depression j and it moves
centrally on an upright pillar fixed in the horizontal
circle EF. This circle EF is divided into four qua¬
drants of 90° each, and against it there is fixed a small
nonius plate at N. The horizontal circle may be turn¬
ed round its centre or axis; and two spirit levels LL
are fixed on it at right angles to one another.
We have not room to detail the great variety of
astronomical and trigonometrical problems, that may
be sol ved by this general instrument, which is described
in Jones’s “ Instrumental Dialling.” One example con¬
nected with our present purpose may here suffice, viz.
To find the time when the latitude is given. Supposing
the instrument to be well adjusted by the directions here¬
after given : The meridian of the place should be first
obtained to place the instrument in, which is settled
by a distant mark, or particular cavities to receive the
acrews at IGH, made in the base it stands on. The
meridian is best found by equal altitudes of the sun.
In order to take these, you set the middle mark of
the nonius on the declination arch D at o, and fix it
by the screw behind ; then set the horary or hour-circle
to Xll. The circle EF being next made horizontal, you
direct the sights to the sun, by moving the horizontal
circle EF and altitude semicircle AB : the degrees and
minutes marked by the nonius on the latter will be the
altitude required. To take altitudes, you observe
the sun’s altitude in the morning two or three hours be¬
fore noon by the semicircle AB : leave the instrument in
the same situation perfectly unaltered till the afternoon,
when, by moving the horizontal circle EF, only find
the direction of the sight or the sun’s spot to be just
the same, which will be an equal altitude with the
morning. The place of the horizontal circle EF
against the nonius at each time of observation is to be
carefully noted ; and the middle degree or part between
each will be the place where the semicircle AB, and
sight OP, will stand or coincide with, when directed
to the south or north, faccording to the sun’s situation
north or south at noon at the place of observation.
Set the index, or sight-piece OP, very accurately to
this middle point, by directing the sight to some di¬
stant object; or against it, let one be placed up; this
object will be the meridian mark, and will always
serve at any future time. To find the time, the me¬
ridian being thus previously known by equal altitudes
of the sun (or star), and determined by the meridian
mark made at a distance, or by the cavities in the base
to set the screw in : Place the equatorial accordingly.
and level the horizontal circle EF by the spiiit-levels
thereon. Set the semicircle AB to the latitude of the
place, and the index of the sights OP to the declina¬
tion of the sun, found by the ephemeris, as before di¬
rected. Turn the semicircle D till the sight holes are
accurately directed to the sun, when the nonius on the
hour-circle MN will show the time. It may easily be
known when the sun’s rays are direct through, by the
spot falling on the lower intersectors of the marks acrosn
the hole at O. See the figure S adjoining.
Fhe adjustments of this equatorial dial are to be
made from the following trials. 1st, To adjust the
levels LL on EF: Place the o of any of the divi¬
sions on El to the middle mark or stroke on the
nonius at N : bring the air-bubbles in the levels in the
centres ol each case, by turning the several screws
at IGH: this being exactly done, turn the circle EF
to 90 or half round: it the bubble of the air then
remains in the centre, they are right, and properly ad¬
justed for use; but if they are not, you make them so
by turning the necessary screws placed for that purpose
at the ends of the level-cases by means of a turn-screw,
until you bring them to that fixed position, that they
will return when the plate EF is turned half round.
2dly, To adjust the line of sight OP: Set the no¬
nius to o on the declination arch D, the nonius on the
hour-circle to Ti, and the nonius on the semicircle
AB 1090°. Direct to some part of the horizon where
there may be a variety of fixed objects. Level the
horizontal circle El* by the levels LL, and observe
any object that may appear on the centre of the cross
wires. Reverse the semicircle AB, viz. so that the
opposite 90° of it be applied to the nonius, observing
particularly that the other nonii preserve their situa¬
tion. If then the remote object formerly viewed still
continues in the centre of the cross wires, the line of
sight OP is truly adjusted; but if not, unscrew the
two screws of the frame carrying the cross wires, and
move the frame till the intersection appears against
another or new object, which is half way between the
first and that which the wires were against on the re¬
version. Return the semicircle AB "to its former po¬
sition ; when, if the intersection of the wires be found
to be against the half-way object, or that to which they
were last divided, the line of sight is adjusted; if not,
the operation of observing the interval of the two ob¬
jects, and applying half way, must be repeated.
It is necessary to observe, that one of the wires should
be in the plane of the declination circle, and the other
wire at right angles; the frame containing the wires
is made to shift for that purpose.
Hie hole at P which forms the sun’s spat is also to
be adjusted by directing the sight to the sun, that the
centre of the shadow of the cross hairs may fall ex¬
actly on the upper hole; the lower frame with the hole
is then to be moved till the spot falls exactly on the
lower sight-hole.
Lastly, it is generally necessary to find the correc¬
tion always, to be applied to the observations by the
semicircle of altitude AB. Set the nonius to o on
the declination arch D, and the nonius to AT//on the
equator or hour-circle: Turn the sight to any fixed
and distinct object, by moving the arch AB and circle
EF only: Note the degree and minute of the angle of
altitude or depression: Reverse the declination semi-
C c 2 circle
2C4
.19
Universal
ring dial.
DIAL
circle by placing the nonins on the hour-circle to the
opposite XII: Direct the sight to the same object
again as before. If the altitude or depression now gi¬
ven be the same as was observed in the former position,
no correction is wanted ; but if not the same, half the
difference of the two angles is the correction to be add¬
ed to all observations or rectifications made with that
quadrant by which the least angle was taken, or to be
subtracted from all observations made with the other
quadrant. These several adjustments are absolutely
necessary previous to the use of the instrument; and
when once well done, will keep so, with care, a consi¬
derable time.
The Universal or Astronomical Equinoctial Ring-
0 Dial, is an instrument of an old construction, that also
Fig. 21, *2,serves to find the hour of the day in any latitude of the
^ Plate ea,'t-h (see fig' 21.). It consists of two flat rings or cir-
CLXX1II. cles, usually from 4 to 12 inches diameter, and of a mo¬
derate thickness j the outward ring AE representing the
meridian of the place it is used at, contains two divisions
of 90° each opposite to one another, serving to let the
sliding piece H, and ring G (by which the dial is usually
suspended), be placed on one side from the equator to
the north pole, and on the other side to the south, ac¬
cording to the latitude of the place. The inner ring
B represents the equator, and turns diametrically within
the outer by means of two pivots inserted in each end
of the ring at the hour XII.
Across the two circles is screwed to the meridian a
thin pierced plate or bridge, with a cursor C, that
slides along the middle of the bridge : this cursor has
a small hole for the sun to shine through. The middle
of this bridge is conceived as the axis of the world,
and its extremities as the poles: on the one side
are delineated the 12 signs of the zodiac, and some¬
times opposite the degrees of the sun’s declination }
and on the other side the days of the month through¬
out the year. On the other side of the outer ring A
are the divisions of 90*, or a quadrant of altitude :
It serves, by the placing of a common pin P in the
hole h (see fig. 2 2.), to take the sun’s altitude or height,
and from which the latitude of the place may easily be
found.
Use of the Dial. Place the line a in the middle of
the sliding piece H over the degree of latitude of the
place. Suppose, for example, 5if for London; put
the line which crosses the hole of the cursor C to the
day of the month or the degree of the sign. Open
the instrument till the two rings be at right angles to
each other, and suspend it by the ring G ; that, the
axis of the dial represented by the middle of the bridge
be parallel to the axis of the earth, viz. the north pole
to the north, and vice versa. Then turn the flat side
of the bridge towards the sun, so that his rays passing
through the small hole in the cursor may fall exactly in
& line drawn through the middle of the concave sur¬
face of the inner ring or hour-circle, the bright spot
by which shows the hour of the day in the said con¬
cave surface of the dial. Note, The hour XII cannot
be shown by this dial, because the outer ring being
then in the plane of the meridian, excludes the sun’s
rays from the inner; nor can this dial show the hour
when the sun is in the equinoctial, because his rays then
falling parallel to the plane of the inner circle or equi¬
noctial, are excluded by it.
L I N G.
20
Its use.
To take the altitude of the sun by this dial, and with
the declination thereby to find the latitude of the place.
Place a common pin P in the hole h, projecting in
the side of the meridian where the quadrant of altitude
is ; then bring the centre mark of the sliding piece H
to the o or middle of the two divisions of latitude on
the other side, and turn the pin towards the sun till it
cuts a shadow over the degree of the quadrant of alti¬
tude ; then what degree the shadow cuts is the altitude.
Thus, in fig. 22. the shadow hg appears to cut 350, the
altitude of the sun.
The sun’s declination is found by moving the cursor
in the sliding piece till the mark across the hole stands
just against the day ot the month ; then, by turning to
the other side of the bridge, the mark will stand against
the sun’s declination.
In order to find the altitude of the place, observe
that the latitude and the declination be the same, viz.
both north or south j subtract the declination from the
meridian or greatest daily altitude of the sun, and the
remainder is the complement of the latitude ; which
subtracted from 90°, leaves the latitude.
Example.
The meridian altitude may be
The sun’s declination for the day
Deg. Mira.
57 48
19 18
Complement of latitude
38 30
90
The latitude
51 30
But if the latitude and declination be contrary, add
them together, and the sum is the complement of the
latitude. This dial is sometimes mounted on a stand,
with a compass, two spirit levels, and adjusting screws,
&c. &c. (see fig. 23.), by which it is rendered more
useful and convenient for finding the sun’s azimuth,
altitudes, variation of the needle, declinations of planes,
gtc. &c.
An Universal Dial on a plain cross, is described by ■^n|,(rsl]
Mr Ferguson. It is moveable on a joint C, for elc* cr0S54ial
vating it to any given latitude on the quadrant C 0 90, Fig. 24,1
as it stands upon the horizontal board A.. The arms»tf.
of the cross stand at right angles to the middle part *,
and the top of it from a to n, is of equal length with
either of the arms n e ov m k. See fig. 24.
This dial is rectified by setting the middle line tu to
the latitude of the place on the quadrant, the board
A level, and the point N northward by the needle y
thus, the plane of the cross will be parallel to tire
plane of the equator. Then, from III o’clock in the
morning till VI, the upper edge k l oi the arm 10
yji\\ cast a shadow on the time of the day on the side
of the arm c m ; from VI till IX, the lower edge i of
the arm i 0 will cast a shadow on the hours on the side
0 q; from IX in the morning to XII at noon, the
edge a £ of the top part a n will cast a shadow on the
hours on the arm nef; from XII to III in the after¬
noon, the edge c d of the top part will cast a shadow
on the hours on the arm kl m; from III to VI in the
evening the edge g h will east a shadow on the hours
on the part p q i and from VI till IX, the shadow of
the
\k
■ 1W1
i
1 %
1 Hitt,
! Utl,
205
DIAL
t!ie edge e f will show the time on the top part a n.
The breadth of each part, ab, e f &c. must be so
great, as never to let the shadow fall quite without the
part or arm on which the hours are marked, when the
sun is at his greatest declination from the equator.
To determine the breadth of the sides of the arms
which contain the hours, so as to be in just propor¬
tion to their length j make an angle ABC (fig. 25.) of
23f degrees, which is equal to the sun’s greatest de¬
clination $ and suppose the length of each arm, from
the side of the long middle part, and also the length
of the top part above the arms, to be equal to B d.
Then, as the edges of the shadow, from each of the
arms, will be parallel to B e, making an angle of 23^
degrees with the side B of the arm, when the sun’s
declination is 23 i°, it is plain, that if the length of
the arm be B d, the least breadth that it can have, to
keep the edge B e of the shadow R e g d from going off
the side of the arm d e before it comes to the end of
it e </, must be equal to e e? or rf B. But in order to
keep the shadow within the quarter divisions of the
hours, when it comes near the end of the arm, the
breadth of it should be still greater, so as to be almost
doubled, on account of the distance between the tips of
the arms.
The hours may be placed on the arms, by laying
down the cross abed (fig. 26.) on a sheet of paper;
and with a black lead pencil held close to it, drawing
its shape and size on the paper. Then take the length
ae in the compasses, and with one foot in the corner
a, describe with the other the quadrant e f. Divide
this arc into six equal parts, and through the points
of division draw right lines og, a h, &c. continuing
three of them to the arm c e, which are all that can
fall upon it j and they will meet the arm in those points
through which the lines that divide the hours from
each other, as in fig. 24. are to be drawn right across
it. Divide each arm, for the three hours contained in
it, in the same manner j and set the hours to their pro¬
per places, on the sides of the arms, as they are mark¬
ed in fig. 33. Each of the hour spaces should be di¬
vided into four equal parts, for the half hours and
quarters, in the quadrant ef; and right lines should
be drawn through these division-marks in the quadrant,
to the arms of the cross, in order to determine the
places thereon where the subdivisions of the hours must
be marked.
u
Ew rac-
tbi of
<3(Wing a
dij by the
Onisrsal
(D'luamcitl
dijii
^27.
This is a very simple kind of universal dial; it is
easily made, and has a pretty uncommon appearance in
a garden.
Fig. 27. is called an Universal Mechanical Dial, as
by its equinoctial circle an easy method is had of de¬
scribing a dial on any kind of plane. For example :
Suppose a dial is required on an horizontal plane. If
the plane be immoveable, as ABCD (fig. 27.), find
a meridian line as GF ; or if moveable, assume the
meridian at pleasure: then by means of the triangle
EKF, whose base is applied on the meridian line,
raise the equinoctial dial H till the index GI becomes
parallel to the axis of the earth, (which is so, if the
angle KEF be equal to the elevation of the pole),
and the 12 o’clock line on the dial hand over the me¬
ridian line of the plane or the base of the triangle. If
then, in the night time or a darkened place, a lighted
candle be successively applied to the axis GI, so as the
LING.
shadow of the index or stile GI falls upon one hour¬
line after another, the same shadow will mark out the
several hour-lines on the plane ABCD. Noting
the points therefore on the shadow, draw lines
through them to G j then an index being fixed on
G, according to the angle IGF, its shadow will
point out the several hours by the light of the sun.
If a dial were required on a vertical plane, having
raised the equinoctial circle as directed, push forward
the index GI till the tip thereof I touch the plane.
If the plane be inclined to the horizon, the elevation
of the pole should be found on the same j and the
angle of the triangle KEF should be made equal
thereto.
.Mr Ferguson describes a method of making threeT>\n\s\n
dials on three different planes, so that they may all show threeplanes
the time of the day by one gnomon. On the flat board b> onegno-
ABC (fig. 28.), describe an horizontal dial, with its^-on* g
gnomon FGH, the edge of the shadow of which shows ^
the time of the day. To this horizontal board join
the upright board EDC, touching the edge GH of
the gnomon} then making the top of the gnomon at
G the centre of the vertical south dial, describe it on
the board EDC. Besides, on a circular plate IK de¬
scribe an equinoctial dial, and by a slit c d in the
XII o’clock line from the edge to the centre, put it
on the gnomon EG as far as the slit will admit. The
same gnomon will show the same hour on each of these
dials.
An Universal Dial, showing the hours of the day by Plate
a terrestrial globe, and by the shadows of several gno- CLXXII.
mans, at the same time : together with all the places of lSa
the earth which are then enlightened by the sun ; and
those to which the sun is then rising, or on the merdian,
or setting. T.his dial is made of a thick square piece
of wood, or hollow metal. The sides are cut into
semicircular hollows, in which the hours are placed $
the stile of each hollow coming out from the bottom
thereof, as far as the ends of the hollows project. The
corners are cut out into angles j in the insides of which
the hours are also marked y and the edge of the end
of each side of the angle serves as a stile for casting a
shadow on the hours marked on the other side.
In the middle of the uppermost side, or plane,
there is an equinoctial dial j in the centre whereof an
upright wire is fixed, for casting a shadow on the hours
of that dial, and supporting a small terrestrial globe on
its top.
The whole dial stands on a pillar in the middle of a
round horizontal board, in which there is a compass
and magnetic needle, for placing the meridian stile to¬
ward the south. The pillar has a joint with a- quadrant
upon it, divided into 90 degrees (supposed to be hid
from sight under the dial in the figure) for setting it
to the latitude of any given place.
The equator of the globe is divided into 24 equal
parts, and the hours are laid down upon it at these
parts. The time of the day may be known by these
hours, when the sun shines upon the globe.
To rectify and use this dial, set it on a level table,
or sole of a window, where the sun shines, placing the
meridian stile due south, by means of the needle ; which
will be, when the needle points as far from the north-
fleur-de-lis towards the west, as it declines westward, at
your place. Then bend the pillar in the joint, till the
black
20<S
/
DIALLING.
black line on the pillar comes to the latitude of your
place in the quadrant.
The machine being thus rectified, the plane of its
dial part will be parallel to the equator, the wire or
axis that supports the globe will be parallel to the
earth’s axis, and the north pole of the globe will point
toward the north pole of the heavens.
The same hour will then be shown in several of the
hollows, by the ends of the shadows of their respective
stiles ; the axis of the globe will cast a shadow on the
same hour of the day, in the equinoctial dial, in the
centre of which it is placed, from the 20th of March
to the 23d of September : and if the meridian of your
place on the globe be set even with the meridian stile,
all the parts of the globe that the sun shines upon will
answer to those places of the real earth which are then
enlightened by the sun. The places where the shade
is just coming upon the globe answer to all those places
of the earth to which the sun is then setting; as the
places where it is going off, and the light coming on,
answer to all the places of the earth where the sun is
then rising. And lastly, if the hour of VI be marked
on the equator in the meridian of your place (as it is
marked on the meridian of London in the figure), the
division of the light and shadow on the globe will show
the time of the day.
The northern stile of the dial (opposite to the south¬
ern or meridian one) is hid from the sight in the figure,
by the axis of the globe. The hours in the hollow to
which that stile belongs are also supposed to be hid by
the oblique view of the figure ; but they are the^ same
as the hours in the front hollow. Those also in the
right and left hand semicircular hollows are mostly hid
from sight; and so also are all those on the sides next
the eye of the four acute angles.
The construction of this dial is as follows :
Plate On a thick square piece of wood, or metal, draw the
SI.XXU. lines a c and b d, fig. 17. as far from each other as you
H-^7- intend for the thickness of the stile abed; and in the
same manner draw the like thickness of the other three
stiles efg h, ikl m, and » 0 g-, all standing outright
as from the centre.
With any convenient opening of the compasses, as
a A, (so as to have proper strength of stuff when KI is
equal to a A), set one foot on o as a centre, and with
the other foot describe the quadrantal arc A c. Then,
without altering the compasses, set one foot on £ as a
centre, and with the other foot describe the quadrant
B. All the other quadrants in the figure must be
described in the same manner, and with the same open¬
ing of the compasses, on their centres e f i k, and
no; and each quadrant divided into six equal parts,
for as many hours, as in the figure 5 each of which
parts must be subdivided into 4, for the half hours and
quarters.
At equal distances from each corner, draw the right
tines I and KI ? and M N r and O r, P sand
Q s ; to form the four angular hollows I p K, L y M,
N r O, and P s Q j making the distances between the
tips of these hollows, as I K, L M, N O, and P Q,
each equal to the radius of the quadrants $ and leaving
sufficient room within the angular points /> gr r and s,
for the equinoctial in the middle.
To divide the inside of these angles properly for the
hour spaces thereon, take the following method.
Set one foot of the compasses in the point I as a
centre, and open the other to K j and with that open¬
ing describe the arc K J ; then, without altering tb«
compasses, set one foot in K, and with the other foot
describe the arc I t. Divide each ef these arcs, from
I and K to their intersection at f, into four equal parts j
and from their centres I and K, through the points of
division, draw the right lines I 3, I 4, I 5, I 6, I 7
and K 2, K I, K 12, K II j and they will meet the
sides K p and 17? of the angle I jp K where the hour*
thereon must be placed. And these hour spaces in the
arc must be sbudivided into four equal parts, for tlwt
half hours and quarters. Do the like for the other
three angles, and draw the dotted lines, and set th«
hours in the insides where those lines meet them, as in
the figure ; and the like hour-lines will be parallel to
each other in all the quadrants and in all the angles.
Mark points for all these hours on the upper side j
and cut out all the angular hollows and the quadrantal
ones quite through the places where their four gno¬
mons must stand; and lay down the hours on their in¬
sides (as in fig. 18.), and set in their gnomons, which
must be as broad as the dial is thick ; and this breadth
and thickness must he large enough to keep the sha¬
dows of the gnomons from ever falling quite out at the
sides of the hollows, even when the sun’s declination i*
at the greatest.
Lastly, Draw the equinoctial dial at the middle, all
the hours of which are equidistant from each other and
the dial will be finished.
As the sun goes round, the broad end of the shadow
of the stile abed will show the hours in the quadrant
A c from sunrise till VI in the morning: the shadow
from the end M will show the hours on the side L q
from V to IX in the morning j the shadow of the stile
efghin the quadrant Dg (in the long days) will show
the hours from sunrise till VI in the morning j and the
shadow of the end N will show the morning hours oa
the side 0 r from III to VII.
Just as the shadow of the northern stile abed
goes off the quadrant A c, the shadow of the southern
stile i k l m begins to fall within the quadrant F /,
at VI in the morning j and shows the time, m
that quadrant, from VI till XII at noon ; and from
noon till VI in the evening in the quadrant m E.
And the shadow of the end O shows the time from
XI in the forenoon till III in the afternoon, on the
side r N; as the shadow on the end P shows the time
from IX in the morning till I o’clock in the afternoon,
on the side Q s.
At noon, when the shadow of the eastern stile ef g h
goes off the quadrant h C (in which it showed the time
from VI in the morning till noon, as it did in the qua¬
drant g D from sunrise till VI in the morning), the
shadow of the western stile n 0 p q begins to enter the
quadrant H />, and shows the hours thereon from XII at
noon till VI in the evening 5 and after that till sunset,
in the quadrant q G, and the end Q casts a shadow on
the side Ps from V in the evening till IX at night, i£
the sun be not set before that time.
The shadow of the end I shows the time on the side
K p from III till VII in the afternoon ; and the shadow
of the stile abed shows the time from VI\n the even¬
ing till the sun sets.
The shadow of the upright central wire, that sup¬
ports
DIALLING.
ports the globe at top, shows the time of the day, in
the middle or equinoctial line, all the summer half-year,
when the sun is on the north side of the equator.
Having shown how to make sun-dials by the assist¬
ance of a good globe, or of a dialling scale, we shall now
proceed to the method of constructing dials arithmeti¬
cally ; which will be more agreeable to those who have
learned the elements of trigonometry, becauses globes
and scales can .never be so accurate as the logarithms
in finding the angular distance of the hours. Yet as
a globe may be found exact enough for some other re¬
quisites in dialling, we shall take it occasionally.
The construction of sun-dials on all planes whatever
may be included in one general rule ; intelligible, if
that of a horizontal dial for any given latitude be well
understood. For there is no plane, however obliquely
situated with respect to any given place, but what is
parallel to the horizon of some other place 3 and there¬
fore, if we can find that other place by a problem on
the terrestrial globe, or by a trigonometrical calcula¬
tion, and construct a horizontal dial for it, that dial ap¬
plied to the plane where it is to serve will be a true
dial for that place. Thus, an erect direct south dial in
5if degrees north latitude, would be a horizontal dial
on the same meridian, 90 degrees southward of 5lf de¬
grees of north latitude. But if the upright plane de¬
clines from facing the south at the given place, it would
still be a horizontal plane 90 degrees from that place,
but for a different longitude, which would alter the rec¬
koning of the hours accordingly.
Case I. 1. Let us suppose that an upright plane at
London declines 36 degrees westward from facing the
south, and that it is required to find a place on the
globe to whose horizon the said plane is parallel ; and
also the difference of longitude between London and
that place.
Rectify the globe to the latitude of London, and
bring London to the zenith under the brass meridian ;
then that point of the globe which lies in the horizon
at the given degree of declination (counted westward5
from the south point of the horizon) is the place at
which the above-mentioned plane would be horizontal.
—Now, to find the latitude and longitude of that place
keep your eye upon the place, and turn the globe east¬
ward until it cornea under the graduated edge of the
brass meridian 3 then the degree of the brass meridian
that stands directly over the place in its latitude, and
the number of degrees in the equator, which are
intercepted between the meridian of London and
the brass meridian, is the place’s difference of lonei-
tude. 0
1 bus, as the latitude of London is degrees
north, and the declination of the place is 36 degrees
West 3 elevate the north pole 5*4 degrees above the ho¬
rizon, and turn the globe until London comes to the
zenith, or under the graduated edge of the meridian 3
ihen count 36 degrees on the horizon westward from
the south point, and make a mark on that place of the
globe over which the reckoning ends, and bringing the
mark under the graduated edge of the brass meridian,
it will be found to be under 30^ degrees in south lati¬
tude 5 keeping it there, count in the equator the num¬
ber of degrees between the meridian of London and the
brazen meridian (which now becomes the meridian of
the required place), and you will find it to be 42%.
Therefore an upright plane at London, declining 36
degrees westward from the south, would be a horizon¬
tal plane at that place, whose latitude is 30^ degrees
south of the equator, and longitude 42^ degrees west of
the meridian of London.
Which difference of longitude being converted into
time, is 2 hours 51 minutes.
I he vertical dial declining westward 36 degrees at
London, is therefore to be drawn in all respects as a
horizontal dial for south latitude 3^5 degrees 3 save
only that the reckoning on the hours is to anticipate
the reckoning on the horizontal dial by 2 hours 51
minutes 3 for so much sooner will the sun come to the
meridian of London, than to the meridian of any
place whose longitude is 42^ degrees west from Lon¬
don.
2. But to be more exact than the globe will show us,
we shall use a little trigonometry.
Let NESW (fig. 12.) be the horizon of London, Plate
whose zenith is Z, and P the north pole of the sphere 3 CLXXII.
and let ZA be the position of a vertical plane at Z, de- I2*
dining westward from S (the south) by an angle of 36
degrees ; on which plane an erect dial for London at
Z is to be described. Make the semidiameter ZD
perpendicular to Z and it will cut the horizon in
D, 36 degrees west of the south S. Then a plane, on
the tangent HD, touching the sphere in D, will be pa¬
rallel to the plane Z/iy and the axis of the sphere will
be equally inclined to both these planes.
Let WQE be the equinoctial, whose elevation above
the horizon of Z (London) is 38^ degrees 3 and PRD
be the meridian of the place D, cutting the equinoctial
in R. Then it is evident, that the arc RD is the lati¬
tude of the place D (where the plane K/i would be
horizontal) and the arc RQ is the difference of longi¬
tude of the plane ZA and DH.
In the spherical triangle WDR, the arc WD is
given, for it is the complement of the plane’s declina¬
tion from S to south 3 which complement is 540 (viz.
9°°—3^°) j the angle at R, in which the meridian of
the place D cuts the equator, is a right angle 3 and
the angle RWD measures the elevation of the equinoc¬
tial above the horizon of Z, namely 38f degrees. Say
therefore, as radius is to the co-sine of the plane’s de¬
clination from the south, so is the co-sine of the lati¬
tude of Z to the sine of RD the latitude of D 5 which
is of a different denomination from the latitude of Z,
because Z and D are on different sides of the equa¬
tor.
As radius - . lo.oooco
To co-sine 36° o'=RQ 9.90796
So co-sine 510 3o'=QZ 9>794*5
To sine 30° I4'=DR (9.70211) =r the latitude of D,
whose horizon is parallel to the vertical plane Z A
at Z.
N. B. When radius is made the first term, it may
be omitted 3 and then by subtracting it mentally from
the sum of the other two, the operation will be short¬
ened. Thus, in the present case,
To
2c8
Fig. IJ.
DIAL
To the logarithmic sine of WRrr* 540 o' 9.90796
Add the logarithmic sine of RDzrt 38°307 9*794I5
Their sum—radius - - - 9.70211
gives the same solution as above. And we shall keep
to this method in the following part of this article.
To find the difference of longitude of the places D
and Z, say, As radius is to the co-sine of 38^ degrees,
the height of the equinoctial at Z, so is the co-tangent
of 36 degrees, the plane’s declination, to the co-tan¬
gent of the difference of longitudes. Thus,
To the logarithmic sine of t Sl° 3°' 9*^9354
Add the logarithmic tang, of § 540 o' 10.13874
Their sum—radius - - - 10.03228
is the nearest tangent of 470 8'=WR : which is the
co-tangent of 420 52'=:RQ, the difference of longi¬
tude sought. Which difference, being reduced to time,
is 2 hours jif minutes.
3. And thus having found the exact latitude and
longitude of the place D, to whose horizon the verti¬
cal plane at Z is parallel, we shall proceed to the con¬
struction of a horizontal dial for the place D, whose
latitude is 38® 14' south j but anticipating the time at
D by 2 hours 51 minutes (neglecting the f minute in
practice), because D is so far westward in longitude
from the meridian of London ; and this will be a
true vertical dial at London, declining westward 36
degrees.
Assume any right line CSL (fig. 13.) for the sub¬
stile of the dial, and make the angle KCP equal to the
latitude of the place (viz. 30° 14'), to whose horizon
the plane of the dial is parallel ; then CRP will be
the axis of the stile, or edge that casts the shadow on
the hours of the day, in the dial. This done, draw
the contingent line EQ, cutting the substilar line at
right angles in K ; and from K make KR perpendicu¬
lar to the axis CRP. Then KG (=KR) being made
radius, that is, equal to the chord of 6o° or tangent of
450 on a good sector, take 420 52' (the difference of
longitude of the places Z and D) from the tangents,
and having set it from K to M, draw CM for the
hour-line of XII. Take KN, equal to the tangent of
an angle less by 15 degrees than KM ; that is, the
tangent of 270 52': and through the point N draw CN
for the hour-line of I. The tangent of 12° 52' (which
is 130 less than 270 42'), set off the same way, will
give a point between K aod N, through which the
hour-line of II is to be drawn. The tangent of 2® 8',
(the difference between 450 and 52° 52') placed on
the other side of CL, will determine the point through
which the hour-line of III is to be drawn: to which
2° 8', if the tangent of 150 be added, it will make
170 8' j and this set off from K towards Q on the line
EQ, will give the point for the hour-line of IP's and
so of the rest,—The forenoon hour-lines are drawn the
same way, by the continual addition of the tangents
130, 30°, 450, &c. to 420 52' (= the tangents of
LING.
KM) for the hours of XI, X, IX, &c. as far as ne¬
cessary; that is, until there be five hours on each side
of the substile. The sixth hour, counted from that
hour or part of the hour on which the substile falls,
will be always in a line perpendicular to the substile,
and drawn through the centre C. # .
4. In all erect dials, CM, the hour-line of XII, is
perpendicular to the horizon of the place for which the
dial is to serve ; for that line is the intersection of a
vertical plane with the plane of the meridian of the
place, both which are perpendicular to the plane of the
horizon : and any line HQ or h 0, perpendicular to
CM, will be a horizontal line on the plane of the dial,
along which line the hours may be numbered ; and
CM being set perpendicular to the horizon, the dial
will have its true position.
5. If the plane of the dial had declined by an equal
angle towards the east, its description would ^have dif¬
fered only in this, that the hour-line of A// would
have fallen on the other side of the substile CL, and
the line HO would have a subcontrary position to what
it has in this figure.
6. And these two dials, with the upper points of
their stiles turned toward the north pole, will serve for
other two planes parallel to them ; the one declining
from the north toward the east, and the other from the
north toward the v/est, by the same quantity of angle.
The like holds true of all dials in general, whatever be
their declination and obliquity of their planes to the
horizon.
Case II. 7. If the plane of the dial not only de¬
clines, but also reclines, or inclines. Suppose its de¬
clination from fronting the south S (fig. 14.) be equal p}g.
to the arc SD on the horizon; and its reclination be
equal to the arc D of the vertical circle DZ : then
it is plain, that if the quadrant of altitude Z (/ D on
the globe cuts the point D in the horizon, and the re¬
clination is counted upon the quadrant from D to dj
the intersection of the hour-circle PR*/, with the equi¬
noctial WQE, will determine R d, the latitude of the
place d, whose horizon is parallel to the given plane
Z at Z ; and RQ will be the difference in longitude
of the places at d and Z.
Trigonometrically thus: Let a great circle pass
through the three points, W, </, E j and in the tri¬
angle WD d, right-angled at D, the sides WD and
D d are given; and thence the angle HW d is found,
and so is the hypothenuse W d. Again, the difference,
or the sum, of DW d and DWR, the elevation of the
equinoctial above the horizon of Z, gives the angle
JWR; and the hypothenuse of the triangle WR*Z
was just now found ; whence the sides R*/ and AYR
are found, the former being the latitude of the place
d, and the latter the complement of RQ, the difference
of longitude sought.
Thus, if the latitude of the place Z be 52 10 north ;
the declination SD of the plane Z Zi (which would be
horizontal at <Z) be 36®, and the reclination be 15®, or
equal to the arc D </ ; the south latitude of the place
d, that is, the arc Rc/, will be 150 9* > an^ ^ie
difference
* The co-sine of 36,0, or of RQ. f The co-sine of 51.30, or of QZ. % The co-sine of 38.30, or of
WDR. § The co-tangent of 36.0, or of DW.
DIAL
difference of the longitude, 36° 2'. From these data,
therefore, let the dial (fig- 15.) be described, as in the
former example-
8. There are several other things requisite in the
practice of diallings the chief of which shall be given
in the form of arithmetical rules, simple and easy to
those who have learned the elements of trigonometry.
For in practical arts of this kind, arithmetic should be
used as far as it can go j and scales never trusted to,
except in the final construction, where they are abso¬
lutely necessary in laying down the calculated hour-
distasces on the plane of the dial.
Rule I. To find the angles which the hour-lines on
any dial make with the 'substile. To the logarithmic
sine of the given latitude, or of the stile’s elevation
above the plane of the dial, add the logarithmic tangent
of the hour (*) distance from the meridian, or from
the (f) substile ; and the sum minus radius will be the
logarithmic tangent of the angle sought.
I'or IvC (fig. 13.) is to KM in theTralio compound¬
ed oi the ratio of KC to KG (czKR) and of KG to
KN; which making CK the radius 10,000000, or
10,0000, or 10, or 1, are the ratio of 10,000000, or
of 10,0000, or of 10, or of 1, to KGxKM.
Thus, in a horizontal dial, for latitude 510 30', to
find the angular distance of XI in the forenoon, or I in
the afternoon, from XII.
To the logarithmic sine of 510 30' 9*89354 t
Add the logarithmic tang, of 51° o' 9.42805
The sum—radius is - . 9.32159001116
logarithmic tangent of 110 50', or of the angle which
•the hour-line of XI or 1 makes with the hour of
XII.
And by computing in this manner, with the sine of
the latitude, and the tangents of 30, 45, 60, and 750,
for the hours of II, III, ////, and Fin the afternoon 5
or of A, IX, VIII, and VII in the forenoon 5 you will
find their angular distances from XII to be 240 18',
38* 3'* 53° 3S't a,ul 7l° 6'i which are all that there
is occasion to compute for.—And these distances may
be set oil from XII by a line of chords 5 or rather, by
taking 1000 from a scale of equal parts, and setting
that extent as a radius from C to XII; and then, ta¬
king 209 ol the same parts (which are the natural
tangent o( 110 50'), and setting them from XII to
AI and I, on the line h 0, which is perpendicular to C
All; and so for the rest of the hour lines, which, in
the table of natural tangents, against the above dis¬
tances, are 451, 782, 1355, and 2920, of such equal
parts from All, as the radius C XII contains 1000.
And lastly, set off 1257 (the natural tangent of 510
ling.
3°0 l,,r 11angle oF tile stile’s height, which is equal
to the latitude of the place.
Rule II. I he latitude of the place, the sun's declina¬
tion, and his hour distance from the meridian, being °i-
ven, to find (1.) his altitude, (2.) his azimuth. (1.)
Let d (fig. 14.) be the sun’s place, <7R his declina¬
tion 5 and in the triangle VZd, P cl, the sum, or the
dmerence, of r/R, and the quadrant PR, being given
by the supposition, as also the complement of the lati¬
tude PZ, and the angle r/PZ, which measures the ho-
raiy distance of d from the meridian} we shall (by
Case 4. of Keill’s Oblique Spheric Trigonometry) find
the base Z d, which is the sun’s distance from the ze¬
nith, or the complement of his altitude.
And (2.) as sine Z d: sine P d :: sine d¥Z : dZl3,
or of its supplement DZS, the azimuthal distance from
the south.
Or the practical rule may be as follows:
Write A for the sine of the sun’s altitude, L and l
for the sine and co-sine of the latitude, D and d for the
sine and co-sine of the sun’s declination, and II for the
sine of the horary distance from VI.
Then the relation of II to A will have three va¬
rieties-
1. W hen the declination is toward the elevated pole,
and the hour of the day is between XII and VI; it is
ArzLD -{-II / d, and 11= A~LI).
2. When the hour is after VI, it is A—LD—H/r/,
and H =
LD-f A
Id *
3. When the declination is toward the depressed pole,
we have A = H/tf—LD, and H -.A + LD
’ Id
Which theorems will be found useful, and expedi¬
tious enough for solving those problems in geography
and dialling which depend on the relations of the sun’s
altitude to the hour of the dav.
Example I. Suppose the latitude of the place to be
51I degrees north : the time 5 hours distant from
All, that is, an hour alter VI in the morning, or be¬
fore VI in the evening} and the sun’s declination 20*
north. Required the sun's altitude?
Then to log. L—log. sin. jj° 3c/ I*89354**
add log. Drrlog. sin. 20° o' M3405
Their sum 1.42759 gives
EEzrlogarith. of 0.267664, in the natural sines.
And,
209
/v 7///yatJrT°^ 1 3°> 45> ^o, 750, for the hours of I, II, III, IIII, and V, in the afternoon } and XI, X,
LA, t ill, 1 11, in the forenoon.
(f ). a.^ horizontal dials and erect north or south dials, the substile and meridian are the same } but in all
declining diais the substile line makes an angle with the meridian.
** rj0 Cas? ra(l*us CK is supposed to be divided into 10,0000 equal parts.
Here we consider the radius as unity, and not 10,0000: but which, instead of the index 9, we have —X
as above; which is of no farther use than making the work a little easier.
VoL. VII. Part I. f D d
210
DIALLING.
And, to log. H= log. sin. H 150 o' 1.41300
Clog. I— log. sin. tt 38° o' 1.794x4
|log. d= log. sin. §§ 70° o' 1.97300
add
Their sum 1.18014 gives
H / f/=logarithm of 0.151408, in the natural sines.
And these two numbers (0.267664 and o. 151408)
make 0.4I9072=A ; which, in the table, is the near¬
est natural sine of 240 47', the sun’s altitude sought.
The same hour distance being assumed on the other
side of VI, then LD—H/d is 0.116256, the sine of
6° 40^'which is the sun’s altitude at V in the morn
v a 7      # ##
ing, or VII in the evening, when his north declination
is 20°.
But when the declination is 20® south (or towards the
depressed pole) the difference H / cl—LD becomes ne¬
gative } and thereby shows, that an hour before VI
in the morning, or past VI in the evening, the sun’s
centre is 6° 404-' below the horizon.
Examp. 2. From the same data, to find the sun’s
a%imuth. If H, L, and D, are given, then (by par. 2.
of Kule II.) from H having found the altitude and its
complement Zr/; and the arc P d (the distance from
the pole) being given ; say, As the co-sine of the alti¬
tude is to the sine of the distance from the pole, so is
the sine of the hour-distance from the meridian to the
sine of the azimuth distance from the meridian.
Let the latitude be 51° 30' north, the declination
150 9' south, and the time 71 h. 24 m. in the afternoon,
when the sun begins to illuminate a vertical wall, and
it is required to find the position of the wall.
Then, by the foregoing theorems, the complement
of the altitude will be 8i° 32^', and P7 the distance
from the pole being 109° 5', and the horary distance
from the meridian, or the angle r/PZ, 36°,
The declination, inclination, and reclination of planes, 24
are frequently taken with a sufficient degree of accu-l!,1Pr.ov^
racy by an instrument called a. declinator or c€c‘inat()r
tor ij.
The construction of this instrument is as follows : p]ale
On a mahogany board ABIK, (fig. 34.) is inserted a CLXXI1
semicircular arch AGEB of ivory or box-wood, di- %-34.
vided into two quadrants of 90° each, beginning from
the middle G. On the centre C turns a vertical qua¬
drant DEE divided into 9O0, beginning from the base
E •, on which is a moveable index CF, with a small
hole at F for the sun’s rays to pass through, and form
a spot on a mark at C. The lower extremity of the
quadrant at E is pointed, to mark the linear direction
of the quadrant when applied to any other plane ; as
this quadrant takes off occasionally, and a plumb-line
P hangs at the centre on C, for taking the inclina¬
tions and reclinations of planes. At H, on the plane
of the board, is inserted a compass of points and de¬
grees, with a magnetical needle turning on a pivot
over it. The addition of the moveable quadrant and
index considerably extend tbe utility of the declinator,
by rendering it convenient for taking equal altitudes
of the sun, the sun’s altitude and bearing, at the same
time, &c. . . 25
To apply this instrument in taking the declination To take bj
To log. sin. 740 51'
Add log. sin. 36° o'
1.98464
1.76922
And from the sum
Take the log. sin. 8x° 32P
I-99525
Remains 1.75861:=:^. sin.
350, the azimuth distance sought.
find from thence the
When the altitude rs given
hour, and proceed as above..
This praxis is of singular use on many occasions-
in finding the declination of vertical planes more ex¬
actly than in the common way, especially if the tran¬
sits of the sun’s centre are observed by applying a ruler
with sights, either plain or telescopical, to the wall or
plane whose declination is required :—in drawing a me¬
ridian line, and finding the magnetic variation :—in
finding the bearings of places in terrestrial surveys 5 the
transits of the sun over any place, or his horizontal di¬
stance from it, being observed, together with the alti¬
tude and hour j and thence determining small differ¬
ences of longitude :—in observing the variations at
tea, &c.
of a wall or plane : Place the side ACB in a horizon-xtt^e-
tal direction to the plane proposed, and observe what
degree or point of the compass the N part of the needle a m_
stands over from the north or the south, and it will be ridian line
the declination of the plane from the north or south ac¬
cordingly. In this case allowance must be made for
tbe variation of the needle (if any) at the place $ and
which, if not previously known, will render this ope¬
ration very inaccurate. At London it is now 20° 30'
to the west.
Another way more exact may be used, when the
sun shines out half an hour before noon. The side
ACB being placed against the plane, the quadrant must
be so moved on the semicircle AGB, and the index
CF on DE, till the sun’s rays passing through the
hole at F fall exactly on the mark at G, and conti¬
nued so till the sun requires the index to be raised no
higher: you will then have the meridian or greatest
altitude of the sun; and the angle contained between
G and E will be the declination required. The posi-
finn nf r,F to mpridiun or 11 o’clock line. But
(it:
tion of CE is the meridian or 12 o’clock line. Bet
the most exact way for taking the declination of a
plane, or finding a meridian line, by this instrument,
is, in the forenoon, about two or three hours before
12 o’clock, to observe two or three heights or altitudes
EF of the sun ; and at the same time the respective an¬
gular polar distance GE from G ; write them down j
and in the afternoon watch for the same, or one of the
same altitudes, and mark the angular distances or di¬
stance on the quadrant AG. Now, the division or
degree exactly between the two noted angular distances
will be the true meridian, and the distance at which
it may fall from the C of the divisions at G will be
the declination of the plane. The reason for observing
two
ft The distance of one hour from VI,
f § The co-declination of the sun..
if The co-latitude of the place.
211
DIALLING.
two or three altitudes and angles in the morning is,
that in case there should be clouds in the afternoon,
you may have the chance of one corresponding alti¬
tude.
The quadrant occasionally takes off at C, in order
to place it on the surface of a pedestal or plane intend¬
ed for an horizontal dial ; and thereby from equal al¬
titudes of the sun, as above, draw a meridian or 12
o’clock line to set the dial by.
The base ABIK serves to take the inclination and
reclination of planes. In this case, the quadrant is
taken off, and the plummet P is fitted on a pin at the
centre C: then the side IGK being applied to the
plane proposed, as QL (fig. 35.) if the plumb-line cuts
the semicircle in the point G, the plane is horizontal;
or if it cut the quadrant in any point at S, then will
GCS be the angle of inclination. Lastly, if applying
the side ACB to the plane, the plummet cuts G, the
plane is vertical j or if it cuts either of the quadrants,
it is accordingly the angle of reclination. Hence, if
the quantity of the angle of inclination be compared
with the elevation of the pole and equator, it is easily
known whether the plane be inclined or reclined.
Of the double Horizontal Dial, and the Babylonian
and Italian Dials.
To the gnomonic projection, there is sometimes add¬
ed a stereographic projection of the hour-circles, and
the parallels of the sun’s declination, on the same hori¬
zontal plane; the upright side of the gnomon being
sloped into an edge, standing perpendicularly over the
centre of the projection; so that the dial, being in its
due position, the shadow of that perpendicular edge is
a vertical circle passing through the sun, in the stereo¬
graphic projection.
The months being duly marked on this dial, the
sun’s declination, and the length of the day at any
time, are had by inspection (as also his latitude, by
means of a scale of tangents). But its chief property
is, that it may be placed true, whenever the sun shines,
without the help of any other instrument.
Mate -ket d (fig. 14.) be the sun’s place in the stereogra-
UXII. phic projection, xdyz the parallel of the sun’s decli-
J-14- nation, X.d •&, vertical circle through the sun’s centre,
P d the hour-circle ; and it is evident, that the diame¬
ter NS of this projection being placed duly north and
south, these three circles will pass through the point
d. And therefore, to give the dial its due position,
we have only to turn its gnomon toward the sun, on a
horizontal plane, until the. hour on the common gno¬
monic projection coincides with that marked by the
hour-circle P d, which passes through the intersection
of the shadow Z.d with the circle of the sun’s present
declination.
The Babylonian and Italian dials reckon the hours,
not from the meridian as with us, but from the sun’s
rising and setting. Thus, in Italy, an hour before
sunset is reckoned the 23d hour ; two hours before sun¬
set the 22d hour ; and so of the rest. And the shadow
that marks them on the hour-lines, is that of the point
of a stile. This occasions a perpetual variation be¬
tween their dials and clocks, which they must correct
from time to time, before it arises to any sensible quan-
tity, by setting their clocks so much faster or slower.
And in Italy, they begin their day, and regulate their
clocks, not from sunset, but from about mid-twilight,
when the Ave-Mana is said ; which corrects the dif¬
ference that would otherwise be between the clock and
the dial.
The improvements which have been made in all
sorts of instruments and machines for measuring time,
have rendered such dials of little account. Yet, as
the theory of them is ingenious, and they are really,
in some respects, the best contrived of any for vulgar
use, a general idea of their description may not be un¬
acceptable.
Let fig. 16. represent an erect direct south wall, on
which a Babylonian dial is to be drawn, showing the
hours from sun-rising ; the latitude of the place, whose
horizon is parallel to the wall, being equal to the angle
KCR. Make, as for a common dial, KG=KR (which
is perpendicular to CR) the radius of the equinoctial
iEQ, and draw RS perpendicular to CK for the stile
of the dial; the shadow of whose point R is to mark
the hours, when SR is set upright on the plane of the
dial.
Then it is evident, that in the contingent line iEQ,
the spaces K 1, K 2, K 3, &c. being taken equal to
the tangents of the hour-distances from the meridian,
to the radius IvG, one, two, three, &c. hours after
sun-rising, on the equinoctial day ; the shadow of the
point R will be found, at these times, respectively in
the points 1, 2, 3, &c.
Draw, for the like hours after sun-rising, when the
sun is in the tropic of Capricorn V, the like com¬
mon lines CD, CE, CF, &c. and at these hours the
shadow of the point R will be found in those lines re¬
spectively. I ind the sun’s altitudes above the plane
of the dial at these hours ; and with their co-tangents
S d, tt e, Sy| &c. to radius SR, describe arcs intersect¬
ing the hour-lines in the points d, e, f, &c. so shall the
right lines 1 d, 2 <?, 3/, &c. be the lines of I, II, III,
&c. hours after sun-rising.
The construction is the same in every other case ;
due regard being had to the difference of longitude of
the place at which the dial would be horizontal, and
the place for which it is to serve ; and likewise, taking
care to draw no lines but what are necessary; which
may be done partly by the rules already given for de¬
termining the time that the sun shines on any plane;
and partly from this, that on the tropical days, the hy¬
perbola described by the shadow of the point R limits
the extent of all the hour-lines.
Of the right placing of Dials, and having a true Meri¬
dian Line for the regulating of Clocks and Watches.
The plane on which the dial is to rest being duly
prepared, and every thing necessary for fixing it, you
may find the hour tolerably exact by a large equinoc¬
tial ring-dial, and set your watch to it. And then the
dial may be fixed by the watch at your leisure.
If you would be more exact, take the sun’s altitude
by a good quadrant, noting the precise time of obser¬
vation by a clock or watch. Then compute the time
for the altitude observed ; and set the watch to agree
with that time, according to the sun. A Hadley’s
quadrant is very convenient for this purpose : for by
it you may take the angle between the sun and his
image reflected from a bason of water; the half of
which angle, subtracting the refraction, is the altitude
D d a required.
212
DIAL
required. This is best done in summer j and the near¬
er the sun is to tiie prime vertical (the east or west
azimuth) when the observation is made, so much the
better.
Or, in summer, take two equal altitudes of the sun
in the same day j one any time between 7 and 10 in
the morning, the other between 2 and 5 in the after¬
noon } noting the moments of these two observations
by a clock, or watch : and if the watch shows the ob¬
servations to be at equal distances from noon, it agrees
exactly with the sun ; if not, the watch must be cor¬
rected by half the difference of the forenoon and after¬
noon intervals 5 and then the dial may be set true by
the watch..
Thus, for example, suppose you had taken the sun’s
altitude when it was 20 minutes past VIII in the morn¬
ing by the watch \ and found, by observing in the af¬
ternoon, that the sun had the same altitude 10 minutes
before Till; then it is plain that the watch was 5 mi¬
nutes too fast for the sun : for 5 minutes after XII is
the middle time between VJIIh. 20 m. in the morn¬
ing, and Illh. 50 m. in the afternoon ; and therefore,
to make the watch agree with the sun, it must be set
back five minutes.
A good meridian line, for regulating clocks or
watches, may be had by the following method.
Make a round hole, almost a quarter of an inch dia¬
meter, in a thin plate of metal ; and fix the plate in
the top of a south window, in such a manner that it may
recline from the zenith at an angle equal to the colati¬
tude of your place, as nearly as you can guess : for then
the plate will face the sun directly at noon on the equi¬
noctial days. Let the sun shine freely through the
bole into the room ; and hang a plumb-line to the ceil¬
ing of the room, at least five or six feet from the win¬
dow, in such a place as that the sun’s rays, transmitted
through the hole, may fall upon the line when it is
noon by the clock } and having marked the said place
on the ceiling, take away the line.
Having adjusted a sliding bar to a dove-tail groove,
in a piece of wood about 18 inches long, and fixed a
hook into the middle of the bar, nail the wood to
the above-mentioned place on the ceiling parallel to
the side of the room in which the window is ; the
groove and the bar being towards the floor : Then
hang the plumb-line upon the hook in tlm bar,, the
weight or plummet reaching almost to the floor j and
the whole will be prepared for further and proper ad¬
justment.
This done, find the true solar time by either of the
two last methods, and thereby regulate your clock.
Then, at the moment of the next noon by the clock,
when the sun shines, move the sliding-bar in the groove,
until the shadow of the plumb-line bisects the image of
the sun (made by his rays transmitted through the hole)
on the floor, wall, or on a white screen placed on the
north side of the line •, the plummet or weight at the
end of the line hanging freely in a pail of water placed
below it on the floor.—But because this may not be
quite correct for the first time, on account that the
plummet will not settle immediately, even in water \
it may be farther corrected on the following days, by
the above method, with the sun and clock j and so
brought to a very great exactness..
LING.
N! B. The rays transmitted through the hole will
cast but a faint’image of the sun, even on a white
screen, unless the room be so darkened that no sun¬
shine may be allowed to enter but what comes through
the small hole in the plate. And always, for some
time before the observation is made, the plummet
ought to be immersed in a jar of water, where it may-
hang freely •, by which means the line will soon be¬
come steady, which otherwise would be apt to continue
swinging.
Description of two New Instruments for facilitating
the practice of Dialling.
I. The Dialling Sector, contrived by the late Mr
Benjamin Martin, is an instrument by which dials are
drawn in a more easy, expeditious, and accurate man¬
ner. The principal lines on it are the line of latitudes
and the line of hours (fig* 32.) They are found onT'S' 32-
most of the common plane scales and sectors-, but in a
manner that greatly confines and diminishes their use ;
for the first, they are of a fixed length; and secondly,
too small for any degree of accuracy. But in this new
sector, the line of latitudes is laid down, as it i» called*
sector-wise, viz. one line of latitudes upon each leg of
the sector, beginning in the centre of the joint, and
diverging to the end (as upon other sectors), where the
extremes of the two lines at 90° and 90° are nearly
one inch apart, and their length lit inches: which
length admits of great exactness ; for at the 70th de¬
gree of latitude, the divisions are to quarters of a de¬
gree or 15 minutes. This accuracy of the division ad¬
mits of a peculiar advantage, namely, that it may be
equally communicated to any length from 1 to 23 inches,
by taking the parallel distances (see fig. 33.), viz. from
10 to 10, 20 to 20, 30 to 30, and so on, as is done in
like cases on the lines of sines, tangents, &c. Hence
its universal use for drawing dials of any proposed size.
The line of hours for this end is adapted and placed
contiguous to it on the sector, and of a size large
enough for the very minutes to be distinct on the part
where they are smallest, which is on each side ol the
hour of HI.
From the construction of the line of hours before
shown, the divisions on each side of the hour III are
the same to each end, so that the hour-line properly is
only a double line of three hours. Hence a line of 3
hours answers all the purposes of a line of 6, by taking
the double extent of 3, which is the reason why upon
the sector the line of hours extends only to 4i.
To make use of the line of latitude and line of hours
on the sector : As single scales only, they will be found
more accurate than those placed on the common scales
and sectors, in which the hours are usually subdivided,
but into 3 minutes, and the line of latitudes into whole
degrees. But it is shown above how much more ac¬
curately these lines are divided on the dialling sector.
As an example of the great exactness with which hori¬
zontal and other dials may be drawn by it, on account
of this new sectoral disposition of these scales, and how
all the advantages of their great length are preserved
in any lesser length of the VI o’clock line c e and a f,
(fig. 30) : Apply either of the distances of c e or a j to Fig 3L'
the line of latitude at the given latitude of London, sup¬
pose 510 32/ on one line to 510 32' on the other, in the
manner shown in fig. 5. and then taking all the hours,
quarters,
213
DIALLING,
quarters, &c. from the hour scale by similar parallel
extents, you apply them upon the lines e d and j b ^
before described.
As the hour-lines on the sector extend to but 4*-,
the double distance of the hour 3, when used either
singly or sectoral/y, must be taken, to be first applied
from 510 32' on the latitudes, to its contact on the
XII o’clock line, before the several hours are laid oft’.
The method of drawing a vertical north or south dial
is perfectly the same as for the above horizontal one 5
only reversing the hours as in fig. 1. and making the
angle of the stile’s height equal to the complement of
the latitude 38° 28'.
The method of drawing a vertical declining dial by
the sector, is almost evident from what has been al¬
ready said in dialling. But more fullj> to comprehend
the matter, it must be considered there will be a varia¬
tion of particulars as follows : 1. Of the subtile or line
over which the stile is to be placed 5 2. The height of
the stile above the plane ; 3. The dift’erence between the
meridian of the place and that of the plane, or their
difference of longitude. From the given latitude of the
place, and declination oj the plane, you calculate the
three requisites just mentioned, as in the following ex¬
ample. Let it be required to make an erect south dial,
declining from the meridian westward 28° 43', in the
latitude of London 51° 32'. The first thing to he
found is the distance of the substiiar line GB (fig. 31.)
from the meridian of the plane G XII. The analogy
from this is : As radius is to the sine of the declination,
so is the co-tangent of the latitude to the tangent of the
distance sought, viz. As radius : 28° 43' :: tang. 38°
28' : tangent 20° 55'. This and the following analogy
may be as accurately worked on the Gunter’s line of
sines, tangents, &c. properly placed on the sector, as
by the common way from logarithms. Next, to find
the plane’s difference of longitude. As the sine of the
latitude is to radius, so is the tangent of the declination
to the tangent of the difference of longitude, viz. As
s 51° 32' : radius :: tang. 28° 43' : tang. 350o'. Last¬
ly, to find the height of the stile : As radius is to the
co-sine of the latitude, so is the co-sine of the declination
to the sine of the stile's height, viz. Badius : s 38°
28':: s 65° 17': s 350 5'.
The three requisites thus obtained, the dial is drawn
in the following manner: Upon the meridian line G
XII, with any radius GC describe the arch of a circle,
upon which set off 28° 55' from C to B, and draw GB,
which will he the substiiar line, over which the stile of
the dial must be placed.
At right angles to this line GB, draw AQ inde¬
finitely through the point G : then from the scale of
latitude take the height of the stile 330 5', and set it
each way from G to A and Q. Lastly, take the
double length of 3 on the hour-line in your compasses,
and setting one foot in A or Q, with the other foot
mark the line GB in D, and join ADQD, and then
the triangle ADQ is completed upon the substile
GB.
To lay off the hours, the plane’s dift’erence of longi¬
tude being 350, equal to 2 h. 20 min. in time, allow-
ing 150 to an hour, so that there will be 2 h. 20' be¬
tween the point D, and the meridian G XII, in the
line AD. Therefore, take the first 2o' of the hour-
2
scale in your compasses, and set off from B to 2 ; then
take 1 h. 20', and set off from D to 1 ; 2 h. 2o', and
set off from D to 12 ; 3 h. 20', from D to 11 $ 4 h.
2o' from I) to 10 ; and 5 h. 20' from D to 9, which
will he 40' from A.
Ihcn, on the other side of the substiiar line GB,
you take 40' from the beginning of the scale, and set
oft from D to 3 ; then take 1 h. 4c', and set oft from I)
to 4 ; also 2 h. 40', and set oft from I) to 5 ; and so on
to 8, which will be lor from Q. Then from G the
centre, through the several points 2, 1, 12, 11, 10, o,
on one side, and 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, on the other, you
draw the hour-lines, as in the figure they appear. The
hour of VIII need only he drawn lor the morning }
for the sun goes oft’ from this west decline)' 20' before
VIII in the evening.—The quarters, &c. are all set
off in the same manner from the hour-scale as the
above hours were.
The next thing is fixing the stile or gnomon, which
is always placed in the substiiar line GB, and which
is already drawn. The stile above the plane has been
found to be 330 y'j therefore with any radius GB
describe an obscure arch, upon which set off 330 f
from B to S, and draw GS, and the angle SGB will
be the true height of the gnomon above the substile GB.
II. The Hialling Trigon is another new instrument
of great utility in the practice of dialling j and was also
contrived by the late Mr Martin. It is composed of
two graduated scales and a plane one. On the scale All
(fig. 36.) is graduated the line of latitudes 5 and on Fig. 36.
the scale AC, the line of hours: these properly con¬
joined with the plane scale BD, as shown in the figure,
truly represent the gnomonical triangle, and is pro¬
perly called a dialling trigon. The hour-scale AC is
here of its full length 5 so that the hours, halves, quax--
ters, See. and every single minute (if required) may
be immediately set off by a steel point ; and from what
has before been observed in regard to the sector, it
must appear that this method by the trigon is the most
expeditious way of drawing dials that any mechanism
of this sort can afford. As an example of the application
of the trigon in the construction of an horizontal dial
for the latitude of London 510 32', you must proceed
as follows : Apply the trigon to the 6 o’clock line a f
(fig. 29.) on the morning side, so that the line of la- ^
titudes may coincide with the 6 o’clock line, and the
beginning of the divisions coincide with the centre a;
and at 510 32' of the line of latitudes place the 6 o’clock
edge of the line of hours, and the other end or begin¬
ning of the scale close against the plane scale c d, as
by the figure at d, and fastening these bars down by the
several pins placed in them to the paper and board,
then the hours, quarters, &c. are all marked off with a.
steel point instantly, and the hour lines dx’awn through
them as before, and as shown in the figure. When this-
is done for the side af or morning hours,.you move
the scale of latitudes and hours to the other side, c e,
or afternoon side, and place the hour-scale to 510 32'
as before, and push down the hours, quarters, &c. and
draw the lines through them for the afternoon hours,
which is clearly represented in the figure.
In like manner is an erect north or south dial drawn
(see fig. 30.), the operation being just the same, only
reversing the hours as in the figure, and marking the
angles
214
Fis
angles of the stile’s height eqtial to the complement of
the latitude.
The trlgon may be likewise used for drawing verti¬
cal declining dials (fig. 31.) as It is with the same facility
applied to the lines AQ, GB, and the hours and quar¬
ters marked off as before directed.
DIALLING.
On the scale BD of the trigon is graduated a line
of chords, which is found useful for laying off the neces¬
sary angles of the stile’s height. The scales of this tri¬
gon, when not in use, lie very close together, and pack
up into a portable case for the pocket.
D I A
oiallin,r Dialling Lines, or Scales, are graduated lines, pla-
L.ines0 ced on rules, or the edges of quadrants, and other in-
ij struments, to expedite the construction of dials. See
Dialogue. plate CLXXI.
v ' DiALUNG-Sector. See Dialling, p. 212. and
Plate CLXXIV.
Dialling-Sphere, is an instrument made of brass,
with several semicircles sliding over one another, on a
moving horizon, to demonstrate the nature of the doc¬
trine of spherical triangles, and to give a true idea of
the drawing of dials on all manner of planes.
DiALLiNG-Trigon. See Dialling, p. 213, and
Plate CLXXIV. . . L
Dialling, in a mine, called also Flamming, is the
using of a compass (which they call dial'), and a long
line, to know which way the load or vein of ore in¬
clines, or where to shift an air-shaft, or bring an adit
to a desired place.
DIALOGISM, in Rhetoric, is used for the solilo¬
quy of persons deliberating with themselves. See So¬
liloquy.
DIALOGUE, in matters of literature, a conversa¬
tion between two or more persons either by writing or
bv word of mouth.
Composition and Style of written Dialogue. As the
end of speech is conversation, no kind of writing can be
more natural than dialogue, which represents this.
And accordingly we find it was introduced very early,
for there are several instances of it in the Mosaic his¬
tory. The ancient Greek writers also fell very much
into it, especially the philosophers, as the most conve¬
nient and agreeable method of communicating then-
sentiments and instructions to mankind. And indeed
it seems to be attended with very considerable advan¬
tages, if well and judiciously managed. For it is capable
to°make the driest subjects entertaining and pleasant,
bv its variety, and the different characters ol the
speakers. Besides, things may be canvassed moie mi
nutely, and many lesser matters, which serve to clear
up a subject, may be introduced with a better grace,
by questions and answers, objections and replies, than
can be conveniently done in a continued discourse.
There is likewise a further advantage in this way of
writing, that the author is at liberty to choose his
speakers : and therefore, as Cicero has well observed,
when we imagine that we have persons of an establish¬
ed reputation for wisdom and knowledge talking to¬
gether, it necessarily adds a weight and authority to the
discourse, and more closely engages the attention. Fhe
subject matter of it is very extensive ; lor whatever is
a proper argument of discourse, public or private, se¬
rious or jocose ; whatever is fit for wise and ingenious
D I A
men to talk upon, either for improvement or diversion, Dialogu*
is suitable for a dialogue. ^ ~
From this general account of the nature of dialogue,
it is easy to perceive what kind of style best suits it.
Its affinity with Epistles, shows there ought to be
no great difference between them in this respect. In¬
deed, some have been of opinion, that it ought rather
to sink below that of an epistle, because dialogues
should in all respects represent the freedom of conver¬
sation ; whereas epistles ought sometimes to be compo¬
sed with care and accuracy, especially when written to
superiors. But there seems to be little weight in this
argument, since the design of an epistle is to say the
same things, and in the same manner, as the writer-
judges would be most fit and proper for him to speak,
if present. And the very same thing is designed in a
dialogue, with respect to the several persons concerned
in it. Upon the whole, therefore, the like plain, easy,
and simple style, suited to the nature of the subject,
and the particular characters of the persons concerned,
seems to agree to both. _ . * . .
But as greater skill is required in writing dialogues
than letters, we shall give a more particular account of
the principal things necessary to be regarded in their
composition, and illustrate them chiefly from Cicero’s
excellent dialogues concerning an orator.—A dia¬
logue, then consists of two parts j an introduction, and
the body of the discourse.
1. The introduction acquaints us with the place, time,
persons, and occasion of the conversation. Thus Ci¬
cero places the scene of his dialogues atCrassus’s coun¬
try seat 5 a very proper recess, both for such a debate
and the parties engaged in it. And as they were per¬
sons of the first rank, and employed in the greatest af¬
fairs of state, and the discourse held them for two days $
he represents it to have happened at the time of a ies-
tival, when there was no business done at Borne, which
gave them an opportunity to be absent.
And because the greatest regard is to be had in the
choice of the persons, who ought to be such as are
well acquainted with the subject upon which they dis¬
course ; in these dialogues of Cicero, the two principal
disputants are Crassus and Antony, the greatest ora¬
tors of that age, and therefore the most proper persons
to dispute upon the qualifications necessary for their art.
One would think it scarce necessary to observe, that
the conference should be held by persons who lived at
the same time, and so were capable to converse toge¬
ther. But yet some good writers have run into the
impropriety of feigning dialogues between persons who
lived at distant times. Plato took this methoo, in
which he has been followed by Macrobius. But others,
who
Fig. J.
DIALLING.
PLATE CLXXJ
Fig. 3.
Fig. 6
Fief. 4.
LinF of Chords
I Jo .V^j^ Si'.i/s ofLa/ihidt
^ l Y7-T^Si Scale ofJL
Fui. 8.
Fig. 7-
Shadow Line
Gnomon i
SiJS
n iu: air
Hours
° The Line of Chords
o 60710:0 The Line of Latitudes
VT The Line of Hours
Selkirk sculf
vc/ /
/H /
X \sv^ x
X /
/ \ \
. /
/-vt\ ^\K''\ \
- //, ^
-''''A XtA \
jii \ V ^ J
^ 
, - I 
/ T
1 ^Z
A
\\Vii//
\*
J3 O
DIALLING
PLATE CLXXm.
Tuj.Zl.
Enqmvcil by Wsbrc/ubabl Edin.
D I A [2
alogub. who have been willing to bring persons to discourse
•'■Y—'-' together, who lived in different ages, without such in¬
consistency, have wrote dialogues of the dead. Lucian
has made himself most remarkable in this way. As to
the number of persons in a dialogue, they may be more
er less ; so many as can conveniently carry on a con¬
versation without disorder or confusion may be ad¬
mitted. Some of Cicero’s dialogues have only two,
others three or more, and those concerning an orator
seven. And it is convenient they should all, in some
respects, be persons of different characters and abilities;
which contributes both to the variety and beauty of
the discourse, like the different attitudes of figures in
picture. Thus, in Cicero’s dialogues last-mentioned,
Crassus excelled in art, Antony principally for the force
of his genius, Catullus for the purity of his stile, Sce-
vola for his skill in the law, Csesar for wit and humour;
and through Sulpitius and Cotta, who were young men,
were both excellent orators, yet they differed in their
manner. But there should be always one chief person,
who is to have the main part of the conversation ; like
the hero in an epic poem or a tragedy, who excels the
rest in action ; or the principal figure in a picture,
which is most conspicuous. In Plato’s dialogues, this
is Socrates ; and Crassus in those of Cicero above-
mentioned.
It is usual likewise, in the introductions, to acquaint
us with the occasion of the discourse. Indeed this is
not always mentioned ; as in Cicero’s dialogue of the
parts of oratory, where the son begins immediately
with desiring his father to instruct him in the art. But
it is generally taken notice of, and most commonly
represented as accidental. The reason of which may
be, that such discourses appear most natural ; and
may likewise afford some kind of apology for the
writer in managing his different characters, since the
greatest men may be supposed not always to speak with
the utmost exactness in an accidental conversation.
Thus Cicero, in his dialogues concerning an orator,
makes Crassus occasionally fall upon the subject of
oratory, to divert the company from the melancholy
thoughts of what they had been discoursing of before,
with relation to the public disorders, and the dangers
which threatened their country. But the introduction
ought not to be too long and tedious. Mr Addison
complains of this fault in some authors of this kind.
“ For though (as he says) some of the finest treatises
of the most polite Latin and Greek writers are in dia¬
logue, as many very valuable pieces of French, Italian,
and English, appear in the same dress; yet in some of
them there is so much time taken up in ceremony, that,
before they enter on their subject, the dialogue is half
over.”
2. We come now to the body of the discourse, in
which some things relating to the persons,, and others to
the subject, are proper to be remarked.
And as to the persons, the principal thing to be at¬
tended to is to keep up a justness of character through
the whole. And the distinct characters ought to be
so perfectly observed, that from the very words them¬
selves, it may be always known who is the speaker.
This makes dialogue more difficult than single descrip¬
tion, by reason of the number and variety of characters
which are to be drawn at the same time, and each of
them managed with the greatest propriety. The prin-
15] D I A
cipal speaker should appear to be a person of great Dialogae.
sense and wisdom, and best acquainted with the sub-  mj
ject. No question ought to be asked him, or objection
started to what he says, but what he should fairly an¬
swer. And what is said by the rest should principally
tend to promote his discourse, and carry it through in
the most artiul and agreeable manner. When the ar¬
gument is attended with difficulties, one other person or
more may be introduced, of equal reputation or near
it, but of different sentiments, to oppose him, and main¬
tain the contrary side of the question. This gives op¬
portunity for a thorough examination of the point on
both sides and answering all objections. But if the
combatants are not pretty equally matched, and ma¬
sters of the subject, they will treat it but superficially.
And through the whole debate there ought not to be
the least wrangling, peevishness, or obstinacy ; nothing
but the appearance of good humour and good breeding,
the gentleman and the friend, with a readiness to submit
to conviction and the force of truth, as the evidence shall
appear on one side or the other. In Cicero, these two
characters are Crassus and Antony. And from them
Mr Addision seems to have taken his Philander and 1
Cynthio in his Dialogues upon the usefulness of ancient
medals, which are formed pretty much on Cicero’s
plan. When younger persons are present, or such
who are not equally acquainted with the subject, they
should be rather upon the inquiry than dispute : And
the questions they ask should be neither too long nor
too frequent, that they may not too much interrupt
the debate, or appear over talkative before wiser and
more experienced persons. Sulpitius and Cotta sustain
this character in Cicero, and Eugenius in Mr Addison.
And it is very convenient there should be one person
of a witty and jocose humour, to enliven the discourse
at proper seasons, and make it the more entertaining,
especially when the dialogue is drawn out to any con¬
siderable length. Caesar has this part in Cicero. And
in Mr Addison, Cynthio is a person of this turn, and
opposes Philander in a merry way. Mr Addison’s sub--
ject admitted of this: but the seriousness and gravity
of Cicero’s argument required a different speaker for
the jocose part. Many persons ought not to speak im¬
mediately after one another. Horace’s rule for plays is:
To crowd the stage is odious and absurd.
Let no fourth actor strive to speak a word.
Though Scaliger and others think a fourth person may
sometimes be permitted to speak in the same scene with¬
out confusion. However, if this is not commonly to be
allowed upon the stage, where the actors are present,
and maybe distinguished by. their voice and habit;
much less in a dialogue, where you have only their
names to distinguish them.
With regard to the subject, all the arguments should
appear probable at least, and nothing be advanced '
which may seem weak or trivial. . There ought also to <
be an union in dialogue, that the discourse may not
ramble, but keep up to the main design. Indeed, short
and pleasant digressions are sometimes allowable for
the ease and entertainment of the reader. But every
thing thould be so managed, that he may still be able
to carry on the thread of the discourse in his mind, and
keep the main argument in view, till the whole is fi¬
nished. The writers of dialogue have not confined
their
il
Dii masti-
gosis.
D I A [ 21
t-lieif (H&courses to any certain space of time ; but ei¬
ther concluded them with the day, or brone Oil when
their speakers have been tired, and reassumed them
again the next day. Tims Cicero allows two days for
his three dialogues concerning an orator j but Mr Ad¬
dison extends his to three days,, allowing a day for
each. Nor has the same method always been observed
in composing dialogues. For sometimes the writer,
bv way of narrative, relates a discourse which passed
between other persons. Such are the dialogues of Ci¬
cero and Mr Addison last mentioned, and many others
both of the ancients and moderns. But, at other times,
the speakers are introduced in person, as talking to
each other. This, as Cicero observes, prevents the
frequent repetition of those words, he send, and he
replied; and by placing the hearer, as it were, in the
conversation, gives him a more lively representation of
the discourse, which makes it the more affecting. And
therefore Cicero, who wrote his dialogue of old age in
this manner, in which Cato, who was then in years,
largely recounts the satisfaction of life which may be
enjoyed in old age, tells lus friend Atticus, he was
himself so affected with that discourse, that when he
reviewed it sometimes, he fancied they were not lus own
words, but Cato’s. There are some other dialogues of
Cicero, written in the same way j as that Of friendship
and Of the parts of Oratory. And both Plato and
liucian generally chose this method.
Dialogue, in dramatic composition. See Poetry,
chap. ii. 22, 23.
DIALTHiEA, in Fhmmacy, an unguent formerly
much used as a resolvent j so called from Alihaia, or
marshmallows, which is the principal ingredient in it.
DIALYSIS, in Grammar, a mark or character, con¬
sisting of two points, ", placed over two vowels of a
word, in order to separate them, because otherwise they
would make them a diphthong, as Mosaic, &c.
DIAMASTIGOSIS, a festival at Sparta in honour
of Diana Orthia, which received that name tow
pxnyevi, from whipping, because boys were whipped
before the altar of the goddess. These boys, ^ called
Bomonicae, were originally free-born Spartans, but in
the more delicate ages they were of mean birth, and
generally of a slavish origin. This operation was per¬
formed by an officer in a severe and unfeeling manner ;
and that no compassion should be raised, the priest
stood near the altar with a small light statue of the god¬
dess, which suddenly became heavy and insupportable
if the lash of the whip was more lenient or less rigo¬
rous. The parents of the children attended the solem¬
nity, and exhorted them not to commit any thing either
by fear or groans, that might be unworthy of Laconian
education. These flagellations were so severe, that the
blood gushed in profuse torrents, and many expired
under the lash of the whip, without uttering a groan,
or betraying any marks of fear. Such a death was
reckoned very honourable ; and the corpse was buried
with much solemnity with a garland of flowers on its
head. The origin of this festival is unknown. Some
suppose that Lycurgus first instituted it to inure the
youth of Lacedaemon to bear labour and fatigue, and
render them insensible to pain and wounds. Others
maintain, that it is a mitigation of an oracle, which
ordered that human blood should be shed on Diana’s
altar j and according to their opinion? Orestes first iu-
6 ] D I A
troduced that barbarous custom, after he had brought D;.tllia5U
the statue of Diana Taurica into Greece. There is gosis
another tradition which mentions, that Pausanias, as (]
he was offering up prayers and sacrifices to the gods, Dlat"°^
before he engaged with Mardonius, was suddenly at-
tacked by a number of Lydians, who disturbed the sa¬
crifice, and were at last repelled with staves and stones,
the only weapons with which the Lacedeemonians were
provided at that moment. In commemoration of this,
therefore, that whipping of boys was instituted at
Sparta, and after that the Lydian procession.
DIAMETER, in Geometry, a right line passing
through the centre of a circle, and terminated at
each side by the circumference thereof. See Geo¬
metry.
DIAMOND, the most highly valued of precious
stones. The finest diamonds are perfectly transparent
and colourless, of a regular form, and entirely free from
flaws and veins. They have been distinguished by la¬
pidaries into oriental and occidental. But these terms
are not expressive of the country from which they are
brought, but merely of their qualities and value, the
oriental being reckoned the finest and hardest, and the
occidental of inferior value. See Chemistry and Mi-
NERALOGY Index.
Cornish Diamond, a name given by many to the
rock crystals found in the tin mines of Cornwall. These
crystals are usually bright and clear, and aie found
most frequently in the form of an hexangular co¬
lumn terminated at each end by an hexangular pyra-
mid.
Rose Diamond is one that is quite flat underneath,
with its upper part cut in divers little faces, usually tri¬
angles, the uppermost of which terminate in a point.—
In^rose diamonds, the depth of the stone from the base
to the point must be half the breadth of the diameter
of the base of the stone. The diameter of the crown
must be f of the diameter of the base. The perpen¬
dicular, from the base to the crown, must be | of the
diameter of the stone. The lozenges which appear in
all circular rose diamonds, will he equally divided by
the ribs that form the crown ; and the upper angles or
facets will terminate in the extreme point of the stone,
and the lower in the base or girdle.
Ron a-h Diamond, is the stone as nature produces it
O b 1
in the mines.
A rough diamond must be chosen uniform, of a good
shape, transparent, not quite white, and free of flaws
and shivers. Black, rugged, dirty, flawey, veiny stones,
and all such as are not fit for cutting, they use to pound
in a steel mortar made for that purpose ; and when pul¬
verized, they serve to saw, cut, and polish the rest.
Shivers are occasioned in diamonds by this, That the
miners, to get them more easily out of the vein, which
winds between two rocks, break the rocks with huge
iron levers, which shakes, and fills the stone with cracks
and shivers. The ancients had two mistaken notions
with regard to the diamond : th®-first, fhat it became
soft, by steeping it in hot goats blood j and the second,
that it is malleable, and bears the hammer. Experience
shows us the contrary ; there being nothing capable qrf
mollifying the hardness of this stone ; though its hard¬
ness be not such, that it will endure being struck at
pleasure with the hammer.
Factitious Diamonds. Attempts have been made to
produc*
r> i a [2
iamoad, produce artificial diamonds, but with no great success.
Oian*. —Those made in France called temple diamonds, on
■ »' ' account of the Temple at Paris, fvhere the best,of them
are made, fall vastly short of the genuine ones $ accor¬
dingly they are but little valued, though the consump¬
tion be pretty considerable for the habits of the actors
on the stage, &c. See Pastes.
Diamond, in the glass trade, an instrument used for
squaring the large plates or pieces j and, among gla¬
ziers, for cutting their glass.
These sorts of diamonds are differently fitted up.
That used for large pieces, as looking-glasses, &c. is
set in an iron ferril, about two inches long, and a quar¬
ter of an inch in diameter ; the cavity of the ferril be¬
ing filled up with lead, to keep the diamond firm :
there is also a handle of box or ebony fitted to the fer¬
ril, for holding it by.
Diamond, in Heraldry, a term used for expressing
the black colour in the achievements of peerage.
Guillim does not approve of blazoning the coats of
peers by precious stones instead of metals and colours 5
but the English practice allows it. Morgan says the
diamond is an emblem of fortitude.
DIANA, the goddess of hunting According to
Cicero, there were three of this name j a daughter of
Jupiter and Proserpine, who became mother of Cupid j
a daughter of Jupiter and Latona j and a daughter of
Upis and Glauce. The second is the most celebrated,
and to her all the ancients allude. She was born at
the same birth as Apollo : and the pains which she saw
her mother suffer during her labour gave her such an
aversion to marriage, that she obtained of her father to
live in perpetual celibacy, and to preside over the tra¬
vails of women. To shun the society of men, she de¬
voted herself to hunting j and was always accompanied
by a number of chosen virgins, who, like herself, ab¬
jured the use of marriage. She is presented with a
quiver and attended with dogs, and sometimes drawn
in a chariot by two white stags. Sometimes she ap¬
pears with wings, holding a lion in one hand, and a
panther in the other, with a chariot drawn by two
heifers, or two horses of different colours. She is re¬
presented as tall ; her face has something manly 5 her
legs are bare, well shaped, and strong; and her feet are
covered with a buskin worn by huntresses among the
ancients. She received many surnames, particularly
from the places where her worship was established, and
from the functions over which she presided. She was
called llythia, or Juno Pronuba, when invoked
by women in childbed j and Trivia when worshipped
in the cross-ways, where her statues were generally
erected. She was supposed to be the same as the moon
and Proserpme or Hecate, and from that circumstance
she was called Triformis ; and some of her statues re¬
presented her with three heads, that of a horse, a dog,
and a boar. Her power and functions under these three
characters have been beautifully expressed in these two
verses :
Terret, lustrat, agit, Proserpina, Luna, Diana,
Ima, supremo, feras, sceptro, fulgore, sagitta.
She was also called Agrotera, Orithia, Taurica,Delia,
Cynthia, Aricia, &c. She was supposed to be the same
as the Isis of the Egyptians, whose worship was intro-
duced into Greece with that of Osiris under the name
VOL. VII. Part I. i
17 ] r> i a
of Apollo. When Typhon waged war against the gods, Diana
Diana metamorphosed herself into a cat to avoid his II
fury. She is generally known, in the figures that re- .*)ianll>ll*\
present her, by the crescent on her head, by the dogs '
which attend her, and by her hunting habit. The
most famous of her temples was that of Ephesus, which
W’as one of the seven wonders of the world : (See Ephe¬
sus). She was there represented with a great number
of bieasts, and other symbols, which signified the earth
or Cybele. T. hough she was the patroness of chastity,
yet she forgot her dignity to enjoy the company of
Endymion, and the very familiar favours which she
granted to Pan and Orion are well known: (See En¬
dymion, Pan, Orion). The inhabitants of Taurica
were particularly attached to the worship of this god¬
dess, and they cruelly offered on her altar all the
strangers that were shipwrecked on their coasts. Pier
temple in Africa was served by a priest who had always
murdered his predecessor $ and the P^acedaemonians
yearly ofiered her human victims till the age of Lycur-
gus, who changed this barbarous custom for the sacri¬
fice of flagellation. The Athenians generally offered
her goats ; and others a white kid, and sometimes a
boar pig or an ox. Among plants, the poppy and
the dittany were sacred to her. She, as well as her
brother Apollo, had some oracles ; among which those
Egypt, Cilicia, and Ephesus, are the most known.
DIANAS arbor, or Arbor Lunje, in Chemistry,
the beautiful arborescent form of silver, dissolved in
nitric acid, and precipitated by another metal j so
called from its resembling the trunk, branches, leaves,
&c. of a tree. See Silver, Chemistry Index.
Dianjs Fanum, in Ancient Geography, a promon¬
tory of Bithynia : now Scutari, a citadel opposite to
Constantinople, on the east side of the Bosphorus
Th racius.
Diana! Portus, a port of Corsica, situated between
Aleria and Mariana, on the east side.
DIANDKIA (from ?<f, twice, and a.y^, a man), the
name of the second class in Linnaeus’s sexual system,
consisting of hermaphrodite plants : which, as the
name imports, have flowers with two stamina or male
organs.
The orders in this class are three, derived from the
number of styles or female parts. Most plants with
two stamina have one style; as jessamine, lilac, pri¬
vet, veronica, and bastard alaternus : vernal grass has
two styles ; pepper, three.
DIANIUM, in Ancient Geography, a town of the
Contestani, in the Plither Spain j famous for a temple
of Diana, whence the name : now Denia, a small
town of Valencia, on the Mediterranean. Also a
promontory near Dianium : now El Cabo Martin,
four leagues from Denia, running out into the Medi¬
terranean.
DIANTHERA, a genus of plants belonging to the
diandria class, and in the natural method ranking un¬
der the 40th order, Personatce. See Botany Index.
DIANTHUS, Clove Gilliflower, Carnation,
Pink, Sweet-william, &c. a genus of plants be¬
longing to the decandria class, and in the natural me¬
thod ranking under the 22d order. Caryophyllei. See
Botany Index.
There is a great number of species ; but not more
than four that have any considerable beauty as garden
E e flowers,
D I A [ 218 ]
Dianthns. flower?, each of which furnishes some beautiful yarie-
* v—1 ,.i ties. 1. The caryophyllus, or clove gilliflower, inclu¬
ding all the varieties of carnation. It rises with many
short trailing shoots from the root, garnished with long,
very narrow, evergreen leaves 5 and amidst them up¬
right slender flower-stalks, from one to three feet high,
emitting many side shoots j all of which, as well as the
main stalk, are terminated by large solitary flowers,
having short oval scales to the calyx, and crenated pe¬
tals. The varieties of this are very numerous, and un¬
limited in the diversity of flowers. 2. The del-
toides, or common pink, rises with numerous short
leafy shoots, crowning the root, in a tutted head close
to the ground, closely garnished with small narrow
leaves; and from the ends of the shoots many erect
flower-stalks, from about 6 to 15 inches high, termi¬
nated by solitary flowers of diflerent colours, single
and double, and sometimes finely variegated. This
species is perennial, as all the varieties of it commonly
cultivated also are. 3. The Chinensis, Chinese or In¬
dian pink, is an annual plant with upright firm flower-
stalks, blanching erect on every side, a foot or 15
inches high, having all the branches terminated by so¬
litary flowers of different colours and variegations, ap¬
pearing from July to November. 4. The barbatus,
or bearded dianthus, commonly called sweet-tvtlham.
This rises with many thick leafy shoots, crowning the
root in a cluster close to the ground ; garnished with
spear-shaped evergreen leaves, from half an inch to
two inches broad. The stems are upright and firm,
branching erect two or three feet high, having all
the branches and main stem crowned by numerous
flowers in aggregate clusters of diflerent colours and
variegations.
Culture. Though the carnations grow freely in al¬
most any garden earth, and in it produce beautiful
flowers, yet they are generally superior in that of a
light loamy nature ; and of this kind of soil the florists
generally prepare a kind of compost in the following
manner, especially for those fine varieties which they
keep in pots. A quantity of loamy earth must be
provided, of a light sandy temperature, from an up¬
land or dry pasture field or common, taking the top
spit turf and all, which must be laid in a heap for a
year, and turned over frequently. It must then be
mixed with about one-third of rotten dung of old hot¬
beds, or rotten neats dung, and a little sea-sand, form¬
ing the whole into a heap again, to lie three, four, or
six months, at which time it will be excellent for use ;
and if one parcel or heap was mixed with one of these
kinds of dungs, and another parcel with the other, it
will make a change, and may be found very beneficial
in promoting the size of the flowers. This compost,
or any other made use of for the purpose, should not
be sifted, but only well broken with the spade and
hands.—"When great quantities of carnations are re¬
quired, either to furnish large grounds, or for market,
or when it is intended to raise new varieties, it is easily
effected by sowing some seed annually in spring, in
common e'arth, from which the plants will rise abun¬
dantly. Several good varieties may also be expected
from the plants of each sowing ; and possibly not one
exactly like those from which the seed was saved. The
single flowers are always more numerous than the double
ones; but it is from the latter only that we are to se-
D I A
lect our varieties. The season for sowing the »eed is Diantb;
any time from the 20th of March to the 15th of'—r*
April.—The plants generally come up in a month af¬
ter sowing 1 they must be occasionally weeded and wa¬
tered till July, when they will be fit for transplanting
into the nursery beds. Jbese beds must be made
about three feet wide, in an open situation ; and ta¬
king advantage of moist weather, prick the plants
therein four inches asunder, and finish with a gentle
watering, which repeat occasionally till the plants have
taken good root. Here they must remain till Septem¬
ber, when they will be so well advanced in growth as
to require more room ; and should then have their
final transplantation into other three feet wide beds of
good earth, in rows 9 inches asunder, where they are
to be placed in the order of quincunx. Here they are
to remain all winter, until they flower, and have ob¬
tained an increase of the approved varieties of doubles
by layers: and until this period, all the culture they
require is, that if the winter should prove very severe,
an occasional shelter of mats will be of advantage. In
spring, the ground must be loosened with a hoe ; they
must be kept clear from weeds : and when the flower-
stalks advance they are to be tied up to sticks, espe¬
cially all those that promise by their large flower-pods
to be doubles. . ,
The only certain method of propagating the double
varieties is by layers. rI he proper parts for layers are
those leafy shoots arising near the crown of the root,
which, when about five, six, or eight inches long, are
of a proper degree of growth for layers. The general
season for this work is June, July, and the beginning of
August, as then the shoots will be arrived at a proper
growth for that operation ; and the sooner it is done
after the shoots are ready the better, that they may
have sufficient time to acquire strength before winter ;
these laid in June and July will be fit to take off
in August and September, so will form fine planta m
the month of October. The method of performing
the work is as follows. First provide a quantity
of small hooked sticks for pegs. They must be three
or four inches long; and their use is to peg the layers
down to the ground. Get ready also in a barrow a
quantity of light rich mould, to raise the earth, if
necessary, round each plant, and provide also a sharp
penknife. The work is begun by stripping off all the
leaves from the body of the shoots, and shortening
those at top an inch or two evenly. Ihen choose a
strong joint on the middle of the shoot or thereabouts,
and on the back or under side thereof, cut with the
penknife the joint half way through, directing your
knife upwards so as to slit the joint up the middle, al¬
most to the next joint above, by which you form a
kind of tongue on the back of the shoot ; observing
that the swelling skinny part of the joint remaining at
the bottom of the tongue must be trimmed off, tnat
nothing may obstruct the issue of the fibres ; for the
layers always form their roots at that part. This done,
loosen the earth about the plant; and, il necessary, a
some fresh mould, to raise it for the more ready recep¬
tion of the layers ; then with your finger make a hol¬
low or drill in the earth to receive the layer ; which
bend horizontally into the opening, raising the top up
right, so as to keep the gash or slit part of the layer
open ; and, with one of the hooked sticks, peg
D I A [2
mihuB, the body of the layer, to secure it in its proper place
,ipasoa. antl position, still preserving the top erect and the slit
open, and draw the earth over it an inch or two, bring¬
ing it close about the erect part of the shoot $ and
when all the shoots of each plant are thus laid, rr>ve
directly some water to settle the earth clojGj and the
work is finished. In dry weather the waterings must
be often repeated, and in five or six weeks the layers
will have formed good roots. They must then be se¬
parated with a knife from the old plant, gently raised
out of the earth with the point of a knife or trowel, in
order to preserve the fibrous roots of the layers as en¬
tire as possible j and when thus taken up, cut off the
naked sticky part at bottom close to the root, and trim
the tops of the leaves a little. They are then ready
for planting either into beds or pots. In November
the fine varieties in pots should be removed to a sunny
sheltered situation for the winter; and if placed in a
frame, to have occasional protection from hard frost, it
will be of much advantage. In the latter end of Fe¬
bruary, or some time in March, the layers in the small
pots, or such as are in beds, should be transplanted with
balls into the large pots, where they are to remain for
flower. To have as large flowers as possible, curious
florists clear oil all side shoots from the flower stem, suf¬
fering only the main or top buds to remain for flower¬
ing. When the flowers begin to open, attendance
should be given to assist the fine varieties, to promote
their regular expansion, particularly the largest kinds
called bursters, whose flowers are sometimes three or
four inches diameter. Unless these are assisted by art,
they are apt to burst open on one side, in which case
the flower will become very irregular } therefore, at¬
tending every day at that period, observe, as soon as
the calyx begins to break, to cut it a little open at two
other places in the indenting at top with narrow-point¬
ed scissars, and hereby the more regular expansion of
the petals will be promoted : observing, if one side of any
flower comes out faster than another, to turn the pot
about, that the other side of the flower may be next the
sun, which will also greatly promote its regular expan¬
sion. When any fine flower is to be blown as large and
spreading as possible, florists place spreading paper col¬
lars round the bottom of the flowers, on which they
may spread their petals to the utmost expansion. These
collars are made of stiff white paper, cut circular about
three or four inches over, having a hole in the middle
to receive the bottom of the flower, and one side cut
open to admit it. This is to be placed round the bot¬
tom of the petals in the inside of the calyx, the leaves
of which are made to spread flat for its support. The
petals must then be drawn out and spread upon the col¬
lar to their full width and extent j the longest ones un¬
dermost, and the next longest upon these, and so on 5
observing that the collar must nowhere appear wider
than the flower $ and thus a carnation may be render¬
ed very large and handsome.
These directions will answer equally well for the pro¬
pagation of the pinks and sweet-williams, though nei¬
ther of these require such nicety in their culture as the
carnations.
DIAPASON, in Music, a musical interval, by which
most authors who have written on the theory of music
use to express the octave of the Greeks.
Diapason, among the musical-instrument-makers, a
tliaphore-
$U.
r9 ] 33 I A
kind of rule or scale whereby they adjust the pipes of Di-mason
organs, and cut the holes of hautboys, flutes, &c. in "
due proportion for performing the tones, semitones, and
concords, with precision.
Diapason Diuex, in Music, a kind of compound
concord, whereof there are two sorts ; the greater,
which is in the proportion of 10-3 ; and the lesser, in
that of 16-5.
Diapason Diapente, in Music, a compound conso¬
nance in a triple ratio, as 3-9. This interval, says
Martianus Capella, consists of 9 tones and a semitone;
19 semitones, and 38 dieses. It is a symphony made
when the voice proceeds from the first to the twelfth
sound.
Diapason Diatessaron, in Music, a compound con¬
cord founded on the proportion of 8 to 3. To this in¬
terval Martianus Capella allows 8 tones and a semi¬
tone j 17 semitones, and 34 dieses. This is when the
voice proceeds from its first to its eleventh sound. The
moderns would rather call it the eleventh.
Diapason Ditone, in Music, a compound concord,
whose terms are as 10-4, or as 5-2.
Diapason Semiditone, in Music, a compound con¬
cord, whose terms are in the proportion of 12-5.
DIAPEDESIS, in Medicine, a transudation of the
fluids through the sides of the vessels that contain them,
occasioned by the blood’s becoming too much attenua¬
ted, or the pores becoming too patent.
DIAPENSIA, a genus of plants belonging to the
pentandria class. See Botany Index.
. DIAPENTE, in ancient music, an interval mark¬
ing the second of the concords, and with the diatessaron
an octave ; and in modern music is called & fifth.
DIAPER, a kind of cloth on which are formed va¬
rious figures, and which is chiefly employed for table-
linen.
DIAPHANOUS, an appellation given to all trans¬
parent bodies, or such as transmit the rays of light.
DIAPHORESIS, in Medicine, an elimination of
the humours in any part of the body through the pores
of the skin. See Perspiration.
. DIAPHORETICS, among physicians, all, niedi*-
cines which promote perspiration.
DIAPHRAGM, {Diaphragma,') in Anatomy, a part
vu gaily called the midriff, and by anatomists septum
transversum. It is a strong muscular substance, sepa-
lating the breast or thorax from the abdomen or lower
venter, and serving as a partition between the abdomi¬
nal and the thoracic viscera. See Anatomy Index.
Plato, as Galen informs us, first called it diaphragm,
from the verb to separate or be between two.
lill his time it had been called typing, from a notion
that an inflammation of this part produced phrenzy 5
winch is not more warranted by experience than ano¬
ther tradition, that a transverse section of the diaphragm
with a sword causes the patient to die laughing.
DIAPHORESIS, (Aix$6£t)<ris), in Rhetoric, is used
to express the hesitation or uncertainty of the speaker.
We have an example in Homer, where Ulysses, go¬
ing to relate his sufferings to Alcinous, begins thus ;
Tt TTguroi ti y iTriilec, Tt y vrartov KxrxXt^u ?
Quidprimum, quid deinde, quid postremo alloquar $
This figure is most naturally placed in the exordium
or introduction to a discourse. See Doubting.
E e 2 DIARBECK,
Diai beck,
D I A [
DIAEBECK, or Diarbf.KR, an extensive pro¬
vince of Eastern Asiatic Turkey *, comprehending, in
its latest extent, Diarbehr, properly so called, ierof A: or
Chaldea, and Curdistan, which were the ancient coun¬
tries of Mesopotamia, Chaldea, and Assyria, with Ba¬
bylon. It is called Diarbeck, Dmrbeker, or Diarbekr,
as signifying tlfe “duke’s country,” from the word dhijar
“ a duke,” and bck?', “ country.” It extends along the
banks of the Tigris and Euphrates from north-north¬
west to south-east, that is, from Mount Taurus, which
divides it from Turcomania on the north, to the inmost
recess of the Persian gulf on the south, about. 600
miles •, and from east to west, that is, from Persia on
the east to Syria and Arabia Deserta on the west, in
some places 200, and in others about 300 miles,
but in the southern or lower parts not above 150. As
extending also from the 30th to the 38th degree of
latitude, it lies under part of the fifth and sixth cli¬
mates, whose longest day is about 14 hours and a halt,
and so in proportion, and consequently enjoys a good
temperature of air, as well as, in the greater part ol it,
a rich and fertile soil. There are indeed, as in all hot
countries, some large deserts in it, which produce no
sustenance for men or cattle, nor have any inhabitants.
Beiug a considerable frontier towards the kingdom of
Persia, it is very well guarded and fortified.; but as tor
those many cities once so renowned for their greatness
and opulence, they are at present almost dwindled into
heaps of ruins. 'Bagdad, Moussul, Caramed, and a
few more, indeed continue to be populous and wealthy ;
but the rest can scarce be called by any other name
than that of sorry places. The rivers Euphrates
and Tigris have almost their whole course through this
Diarbeck Proper is bounded on the north by Turco¬
mania, on the west by Syria, on the south by part of
Arabia Deserla and Irack Proper, and on the east
by Curdistan. It was named by Vlases Padan-Aram,
the latter being the general name of Syria; and the
former signifying fruitful, a proper epithet for this
country, which is really so to a very high degree,
especially on the northern side, where it yields corn,
wine, oil, fruits, and all necessaries of life in great abun¬
dance. Formerly it was the residence of many famed
patriarchs, yet was overrun with the grossest idolatry,
r,ot only in the time of Abraham’s coming out of it,
and Jacob’s sojourning in it, but likewise during the
time it continued under the dominion of the Assyrians,
Babylonians, Medes, Persians, and Romans, it re¬
ceived indeed the light of the gospel soon after our
Saviour’s ascension, from St Thaddseus, who is said
to have been sent thither by St Thomas, at the request
of Abgarus king of Edessa^ I his account, together
with that monarch’s letter to Jesus Christ, we have
from Eusebius, who took it from the archives of that
city; and the whole had passed current and uncon-
tradicted for many ages, till more enlightened mo¬
derns found reasons to condemn it; but whether right
or wrong, it plainly appears that Christianity flourish¬
ed here in a most eminent manner, till its purity was
sullied about the beginning ot the sixth century by
the heresy of the Jacobites, whoso patriarch still re-
here! with a jurisdiction over all that sect m the
Turkish dominions. . . ,
Diarbeck Proper is a beglerbegate, . under which
220 ] I) I A
are reckoned twelve sangiacs ; and the piincipal towns Diarheeb
in it are, Diarbekir or Caramed, Rika, Moussul, Orsa Diarkkn
or Edessa, Elbir, Nisibis, Gezir Merdin, Zibin, Ur of'1
the Chaldees, Amad, and Carasara; but all now of
little note excepting Diarbekir and Moussul.
DIAKBEKIR, the capital of the above district, is
situated on a delightful plain, on the banks and near
the head of the Tigris, about 155 miles, or 15 cara¬
van days journey north-east horn Aleppo, in latitude
37° 35'> t'ast i°ngitiule 4°° J0'- Tiie bridge 10
arches over the said river is said to have been built by
the order of Alexander the Great. It is one of the
richest and most mercantile cities in all Asiatic Turkey ;
and is well fortified, being encompassed with a double
wall, the outermost of which is flanked with 72 towers,
said to have been raised in memory of our Saviour’s
72 disciples.' It has several stately piazzas or market¬
places, well stored with all kinds ot rich merchandise,
and 12 magnificent mosques, said to have been formerly
Christian churches. Its chief manufacture is the dres¬
sing, tanning, and dying of goats skins, commonly
called Turkey leather, of which the vent is almost in¬
credible in many parts of Europe and Asia : beside*
this, there is another of dyed fine linen and cotton
cloths, which are nearly in the same request. The
waters of the Tigris are reckoned extraordinary for
those two branches of trade, and give red leather a
finer grain and colour than any other. There is a
good number of large and convenient inns on both
sides of the river, for the caravans that go to and from
Persia; and on the road near the town is a chapel with
a cupola, where Job is said to he buned.. Ibis place
is much frequented by pilgrims of all nations and re¬
ligions, and a Turkish hermit has a cell close to.it.
The fair sex, who, in most other parts of the Turkish
empire, are kept quite immured, and considered as
mere slaves, enjoy here an extraordinary liberty, and
are commonly seen on the public walks of the city in
company with the Christian women, and live in great
friendship and familiarity with them. The same is
said of the men, who are polite, affable, and courteous,
and very different from what they aflect to be, espe¬
cially the Turks, in other cities of this empire. The
city is under the government of a basha, who has great
power and very large dominions. He has commonly
a body of 20,000 horse under him, for repelling the
frequent incursions of the Guides and Tartars, who
always go on horseback to rob the caravans. The ad¬
jacent territory is very rich and beautiful; the bread,
wine, and flesh are excellent, the fruits exquisite, and,
the pigeons better and larger than any in Europe. .
Mr Ives, who passed through this city in 1758, in¬
forms us, that “ about two years ago it was very po¬
pulous, its inhabitants amounting to 400,000 souls;
but in the last year 300,000 died either by cold or
famine. The Christians residing in the city before
this calamity were reckoned to amount to 26,000, of
whom 20,000 died. This account he had from one
of the French missionaries, a Capuchin, who also said,
that before the famine the city contained 60,000 fight-
ing men, but that now they are not able to muster
jo,ooo. He assures us, that the houses and streets,
nay the very mosques, were filled with dead ; that
every part of the city exhibited a dreadful image ot
death ; and that the surviving inhabitants not only
greedily
I) I A [221
ubekir greedily devoured all kinds of beasts, brutes, and rep-
|) tiles, but also were obliged to feed on human bodies,
f i*stole. Yet, in the midst of this scene of horror, the grandees
"’of the city-had every thing in plenty j for they had
taken care to monopolize vast quantities of corn, which
they sold out to the other inhabitants at most extra¬
vagant prices, and thereby acquired for themselves im¬
mense fortunes. Corn rose from two piastres a mea¬
sure to 50, 60, and even 70, in the space of six months.
The father added, that the very severe winter of 1736,
and the locusts in 1757, were the causes of this dread¬
ful visitation ; for by reason of the former, there were
but few acres of land sown with corn ; and by the lat¬
er, the small crop they bad was in a great measure
destroyed. He spoke of the severity of that winter in
terms almost incredible: that it was common to see the
people fall down dead in the streets ; that he himself
once on quitting a warm room, and going into the
open air, fell down motionless; and that his brother, in
attempting to assist him, met with the same fate.
This account of the effects of cold in the city of Hi-
arbekir, which lies ohly in about 38° north, seems at
first very surprising ; but considering that the place
stands on a rising ground in the midst of an extensive
plain, and that the high Curdistan mountains lie to
the south and east of it, and the Armenian or Turco-
manian to the north, whose heads are always covered
with snow, and even now in July supply the city with
ice ; it will not appear at all improbable, that in a very
severe winter, such as that was in 1756, the inhabi¬
tants of this city should so severely feel the effects of it.
This account of the missionary i, most probably ex¬
aggerated in many particulars. General Gardanne
reckons the population at 80,000, and Mr M‘Donald
Kinneir at no more than 38,000. The truth probably
lies between these statements.
DIARRHOEA, or Looseness, in Medicine, is a
frequent and copious evacuation of liquid excrement by
stool. See Medicine Index.
DIARTHROSIS, in Anatomy, a kind of articula¬
tion or juncture of the bones ; which being pretty lax
affords room for a manifest motion. The word comes
from iix, and juncture, assemblage. It is oppos¬
ed to synarthrosis, wherein the articulation is so close
that there is no sensible motion at all. See Anatomy,
N° 2.
DIARY, a term sometimes used for a journal or day¬
book, containing an account of every day’s proceedings.
Thus we say, diaries of the weather, &c.
Diary Fever, is a fever of one day. See Ephe¬
mera.
DIASCHISM, among musicians, denotes the differ¬
ence between the comma and enharmonic diesis, com¬
monly called the lesser comma.
DIASCORDIUM, in Fharmacy, a celebrated com¬
position, so called from scordium,ane of its ingredients.
See Pharmacy.
DIASTOLE, among physicians, signifies the dila¬
tation of the heart, auricles, and arteries; and stands
opposed to the systole, or contraction of the same
parts. See Anatomy Index.
Diastole, in Grammar, a figure in prosody where¬
by a syllable naturally short is made long. Such is the
first syllable of Friamides in the following verse of
Virgil :
] DIG
Atque hie Friamides ! nihil 6 tibi, amice, relictum.
DIASYRMUS, in Rhetoric, a kind of hyperbole, rMchondra
being an exaggeration of some low, ridiculous thing. v
DIAI ESSARON, among ancient musicians, a con¬
cord or harmonical interval, composed of a greater tone,
a less tone, and one greater semitone; its proportion in
numbers is as 4 : 3.
DIA I ONICK, in Music, (compounded of two
Greek words, viz. the preposition signifying a tran¬
sition from one thing to another, and'the substantive
rovof, importing a given degree of tension or musical
note), is indifferently applied to a scale or gammut, to
intervals of a certain kind, or to a species of music,
whether in melody or harmony, composed of these in¬
tervals. Ihus we say the diatonick series, a diatonick
interval, diatonick melody or harmony. As the diato¬
nick scale forms the system of diatonick music, and
consists ol diatonick intervals, it will be necessary, (or
understanding the former, that we should explain the
latter. See Interval.
DIA1 RAGACAN 1H, in Fharmacy, a name ap¬
plied to certain powders, of which gum tragacanth is
the chief ingredient.
DIBBLE, or Dibber, a simple but useful instru¬
ment in gardening, used for planting out ail sorts of
young plants, &c.
DIBBLING wheat. See Agriculture Index.
DIBIO, or Divio, in Ancient Geography, the Di-
vionense Castrum and the Divionum ot the lower age:
a town of the Lingones, in Gallia Belgica : Dibionenses
the people. Now Dijon the capital of Burgundy. E.
Long. 5. 5. N. Lat. 47. 15.
DICE, among gamesters, certain cubical pieces of
bone or ivory, marked with dots on each of their
faces, from one to six, according to the number of
faces.
Sharpers have several ways of falsifying dice. 1. By
sticking a hog’s bristle in them, so as to make them
run high or low as they please. 2. By drilling and
loading them with quicksilver; which cheat is found
out by holding them gently by two diagonal corners :
for if false, the heavy sides will turn always down.
3. By filing and rounding them. But all these ways
fall far short of the art of the dice-makers ; some of
whom are so dexterous this way, that your sharping
gamester will give any money for them.
Dice formerly paid 5s. every pair imported, with an
additional duty of 4s. 9TVoA for every 203. value upon
oath ; but are now prohibited to be imported.
DICyEARCHUS, a scholar of Aristotle, compos¬
ed a great number of books which were much esteem¬
ed. Cicero and his friend Pomponius Atticus valued
him highly. He wrote a book to prove, that men
suffer more mischief from one another than from all
evils beside. And the work he composed concerning
the republic of Lacedemon was extremely honoured,
and read every year before the youth in the assembly
of the ephori. Geography was one of his principal
studies, on which science there is a fragment of a trea¬
tise of his still extant, and preserved among the Vcteris
geographies scriptorcs minorcs.
DICHONDRA, a genus of plants belonging to the
pentandria class ; and in the natural method ranking
under the order Cumpanaccce. See Botany Index.
DICHOTOMOUS,
Dichoto¬
mous
II
Dictator.
DIG [2*
DICHOTOMOUS, in Botany. See Botany Index.
DICHOTOMY, a terra used by astronomers for that
phasis or appearance of the moon, wherein she is bisect¬
ed, or shows just half her disk. In this situation the
moon is said to be in a quadrate aspect, or to be in her
quadrature. „
DICKER, in old writers, denotes the quantity ot
ten hides of skins whereof 20 made a last: also 10 pair
of gloves, ten bars of iron, and the like, are sometimes
expressed bv the term dicker. ,
DICKINSON, Edmund, a celebrated English phy¬
sician and chemist, was born in 1624. He studied and
took his degrees at Merton college, Oxford 5 and in
16 SO published his DelphiFhxmcfzantes, &c. m which
he attempted to prove, that the Greeks borrowed the
storv of the Pythian Apollo, and all that rendered the
oracle at Delphos famous, from the Holy Scriptures,
and the book of Joshua in particular : a work that pro¬
cured him great reputation both at home and abroad.
He practised physic first at Oxford ; but removing to
London in 1684, his good fortune in recovering the
earl of Arlington from a dangerous sickness, procured
his promotion to be physician in ordinary to Charles U.
and to his household. As that prince understood and
loved chemistry, Mr Dickinson grew into great favour
at court, and was continued in his appointments under
James II. After the abdication, he retired from prac¬
tice, and died in 1707. He published many other
things, particularly Physica vetus^ et vera% 5cc. con-
taining a system of philosophy, chiefly framed on pim-
ciples collected from the Mosaic history.
dicranum, a genus of mosses, including various
species, brought together from the and Bryum,
chiefly, and partly from the Hypmm of Linnaeus, bee
Smith’s Flora Britannica. ,
DICTAMNUS, White Dittany, or Fraxmella}
a genus of plants belonging to the decandria class-,
and in the natural method ranking under the 2tu *
order, Multisiliquce, See BOTANY Index.
DICTATOR, a magistrate at Rome invested vyith
legal authority. This officer was first chosen during
the Roman wars against the Latins. The consms be¬
ing unable to raise forces for the defence of the state,
because the plebeians refused to inlist if they were not
discharged of all the debts they had contracted with
the patneians, the senate found it necessary to elect a
new magistrate with absolute and uncontrollable power
to take care of the state. The dictator remained in
office for six months, after which he was again elected
if the affairs of the state seemed to be desperate ; out
if tranquillity was re-established, he generally laid down
Ms power before the time was expired. He knew no
superior in the republic, and even the laws were sub-
iecteci to him. He was called dictator, because dictus,
Hamed by the consul, or qwniatn dictis ejusparebat po>
nulus. because the people implicitly obeyed his com¬
mand. He was named by the consul m the night
viva voce, and his election was confirmed by the au¬
gurs. As his power was absolute, he could proclaim
war” lew forces, conduct them against an enemy, and
disband them at his pleasure. He punished as he pleased,
and from his decision there lay no appeal, at least till
latter times. He was preceded by 24 hetors with the
fasces ; during his administration, all other officers, ex-
*cept the tribunes of the people, were suspended, anu
2 ] DIG
he was the master of the republic. But amidst all tins Dictm j
independence, he was not permitted to go beyond J|
the borders of Italy ; he was always obliged to march Plctl»E |
on foot in his expeditions j he never could ride in HI
difficult and laborious marches without previously ob¬
taining a formal leave from the people. He was cho¬
sen only when the state was in imminent danger from
foreign enemies or inward seditious. In the time- of
a pestilence, a dictator was sometimes elected, as also
to hold the comitia or to celebrate the public festivals,
or drive a nail into the capitol, by which superstitious
ceremony the Romans believed that a plague could
be averted or the progress of an enemy stopped. This
effice, so respectable and illustrious in the first ages of
the republic, became odious by the perpetual usiupa-
tions of Sylla and Julius Caesar-, and after the death of
the latter, the Roman senate passed a decree which for
ever after forbade a dictator to exist in Rome. The
dictator, as soon as elected, chose a subordinate of¬
ficer called his master of horse, magister equitum. This
officer was respectable : but he was totally subservient
to the will of the dictator, and could do nothing with¬
out his express order. This subordination, however,
was some time after removed) and during the second
Punic wav the master of the horse was invested with a
power equal to that of the dictator. A second dicta¬
tor was also chosen for the election of magistrates at
Rome after the battle of Cannae. The dictatorship
was originally confined to the patricians } but the ple¬
beians were afterwards admitted to share it. Titus
Lartius Flavus was the first dictator in the year of
Rome, 253. . .ir
DICTION, the phrase, elocution or style, ot a
writer or speaker. See Oratory, is 99
DICTIONARY, in its original acceptation, is the
arranging all the words of a language according to the
order of the alphabet, and annexing a definition or ex¬
planation to each word. When arts and sciences began
to be improved and extended, the multiplicity of tech¬
nical terms rendered it necessary to compile dictiona¬
ries, either of science in general, or of particular sci¬
ences, according to the views of the compiler.
Dictionary of the English Language. The design
of every dictionary of language is to explain, in the
most accurate manner, the meaning of every word }
and to show the various ways in which it can be com-
bined with others, in as far as this tends to alter its
meaning. The dictionary which does this in the most
accurate manner is the most complete. Therefore the
principal study of a lexicographer ought to be, to dis¬
cover a method which will be best adapted for that
purpose. Dr Johnson, with great labour, has col¬
lected the various meanings of every word, and quoted
the authorities : but, would it not have been an im¬
provement if he had given an accurate definition of
the precise meaning of every word 5 pointed out the
way in which it ought to be employed with the
greatest propriety ; showed the various deviations from
that original meaning, which custom had so far esta¬
blished as to render allowable ; and fixed the precise
limits beyond which it could not be employed with¬
out becoming a vicious expression ? With this view, it
would have been necessary to exhibit the nice di¬
stinctions that take place between words which are
nearlv synonymous. Without this, many words can
1) I c
r only be defined in such a manner, as that they must
be considered as exactly synonymous. We omit giv¬
ing any quotations from Johnson, to point out these
defects; and shall content ourselves with giving a
few examples, to show how, according to our idea, a
dictionary of the English language ought to be com¬
piled.
IMMEDIATELY, adv.oftime.
I. Instantly, without delay. Always employed to
denote future time, and never past. Thus, we
may say, 1 will come immediatehj ; but not I am
immediately cotne from such a place. See Pre¬
sently.
2. Without the intervention of any cause or event j
as opposed to mediately.
PRESENTLY, adv. of time.
I. Instantly, without delay. Exactly synonymous
with immediately ; being never with propriety em¬
ployed to denote any thing but future time.
2. Formerly it was employed to express present time.
Thus, The house presently possessed by such a one,
was often used : but this is now become a vicious
expression ; and we ought to say, The house pos¬
sessed at present. It differs from immediately in
this, that even in the most corrupt phrases it ne¬
ver can denote past time.
FORM, subst. The external appearance of any ob¬
ject, when considered only with respect to shape
or figure. This term therefore, in the literal
sense, can only be applied to the objects of the
sight and touch j and is nearly synonymous with
fgure : but they differ in some respects. Form
may be employed to denote more rude and unfi¬
nished shapes ; figure, those which are more per¬
fect and regular. Form can never be employed
without denoting matter j whereas may be
employed in the abstract; thus, we say a square
or a tringular ; but not a square or trian¬
gular form. And in the same manner we say, the
figure of a house ; but we must denote the sub¬
stance which forms that figure, if we use the word
form; as, a cloud of the fot'm of a house, &c.
See Figure.
2. In ontrast to irregularity or confusion. As
beauty cannot exist without order, it is by a figure
of speech employed to denote beauty, order, &c.
3. Affirm respects only the external appearance
°f bodies, without regard to their internal qua¬
lities, it is, by a figure of speech, employed in
contrast to these qualities, to denote empty show,
without essential qualities. In this sense it is
often taken when applied to religious ceremonies,
&c.
4. As form is employed to denote the external ap¬
pearance of bodies j so, in a figurative sense, it is
applied to reasoning, denoting the particular mode
or manner in which this is conducted ; as, the
form of a syllogism, &c.
5. In the same manner it is employed to denote the
particular mode of procedure established in courts
of law ; as, the forms of law, religion, &c.
6. Form is sometimes, although improperly, used to
denote the different circumstances of the same bo¬
dy ; as, water in a fluid or a solid form. But as
this phrase regards the internal qualities rather
D I C
than the external figure, it is improper ♦, and Dictionary,
ought to be, water in a fluid or a solid state. ' f— •'
7. But when bodies of different kinds are compared
with one another, this term may be employed to
denote other circumstances than shape or figure :
for we may say, a juice exsuding from a tree in
the form of wax or resin ; although, in this case,
the consistence, colour, &c. and not the exter¬
nal arrangement of parts, constitutes the resem¬
blance.
8. From the regular appearance of a number of per¬
sons arranged in one long seat, such persons so
arranged are sometimes called a fortn ; as, a form
of students, &c. And,
9. By an easy transition, the seat itself has also ac¬
quired that name.
GREAT, adj. A relative word, denoting large¬
ness of quantity, number, &c. serving to aug¬
ment the value of those terms with which it is
combined, and opposed to small or little. The
principal circumstances in which this word can be
employed are the following :
1. When merely inanimate objects are considered
with regard to quantity, great is with propriety
employed, to denote that the quantity is consi¬
derable j as, a great mountain, great house, &c.
and it is here contrasted with small. When great
is thus employed, we have no other word that is
exactly synonymous.
2. When ^animate objects are considered with re¬
gard to their extent, this term is sometimes em¬
ployed, although with less propriety ; as, a great
plain, a great field, &c. And in this sense it is
nearly synonymous with large; and they were of¬
ten used indiscriminately, but with some differ¬
ence of meaning: for, as large is a term chiefly
employed to denote extent of superficies, and as
great more particularly regards the quantity of
matter ; therefore, when large is applied to any
object which is not merely superficial, it denotes
that it is the extent of surface that is there meant
to be considered, without regard to the other di¬
mensions : whereas when the term great is em¬
ployed, it has reference to the whole contents.
If, therefore, we say, a large house, or a large
river, we express that the house, the river, have
a surface of great extent, without having any ne¬
cessary connexion with the size in other respects.
But if we say, a great house, or a great river, it
at once denotes that they have not only a large
surface, but are also of great size in every re¬
spect.
3. Great, when applied to the human species, never
denotes the size or largeness of body, but is ap¬
plied solely to the qualities of the mind. Thus,
when we say that Socrates was a great man, we
do not mean that he was a man of great size, but
that he was a man who excelled in the endow¬
ments of the mind. The terms which denote
largeness of size in the human body, are big,
bulky, huge, &c.
4. Great is sometimes applied to the human species,
as denoting high rank. In this case it is oftener
used in the plural number than otherwise. Th us,
we say simply the great, meaning the whole body
of
[ 223 ]
D I C
[ 224-
Dictionary.
5
of men in high station, as opposed to mean. It
should seldom be employed in this sense, as. it
tends to confound dignity of rank with elevation
of mind. *
As this is a general term of augmentation, it may
be joined with all nouns which denote quantity,
quality, number, excellence, or defects ; or such as
imply praise, blame, anger, contempt, or any other
affection of the mind.
6. It is employed to denote every step of ascending
or descending consanguinity ; as great-grandfa¬
ther, great-grandson, &c.
HIGH. adj. Exalted in a perpendicular direction
at a distance from the surface of the earth. Op¬
posed to low.
1. High is a term altogether indefinite, and is em¬
ployed to express the degree of elevation of any
inanimate body. Thus, we say a high mountain,
a high house, steeple, tower, pillar, &c. Nor is
there any other word that can here be considered
as synonymous ; lofty being employed only to de¬
note a very eminent degree of elevation.
2. To express the perpendicular elevation of vege¬
tables either high or tall may be employed, as
being in this case nearly synonymus. We may
therefore say, a high or tall tree, a high or tall
must, &c. but with this difference between these
two expressions, that tall can be more properly
applied to those that are much elevated and of
small dimensions j and high, to such as are more
bulky, and of greater size.
,, The perpendicular height of man can never be
expressed by the word high; tall being here the
proper expression. And although high is sometimes
used to express the height of other animals, yet it
seems to be an improper expression. See Tall.
4. High, when applied to the human species, al¬
ways refers to the mind j and denotes haughtiness,
stateliness, pride, &c. and, when combined with
the expressions of any energy of the mind, it de¬
notes that in a higher degree. In this sense, it
is opposed to meanness, abjectness, and humility.
c. As this is an indefinite term, tending to denote
any thing that is elevated above us, it may be com¬
bined with almost every noun which admits of this
elevation. And as objects high above us are al¬
ways out of our reach, it is in a metaphorical
sense used to denote any thing that seems to be
above the ordinary condition of mankind ; or those
qualities or endowments of mind that are not ea¬
sily acquired ; as, dignity av elevation of sentiment;
dignity of‘rank ; acuteness in reasoning on difficult
subjects"; pride, haughtiness, or any other qua¬
lity which seems beyond the ordinary level of
mankind j dearness of price, &c.
6. In the same manner we apply this term to time.j
* which having a metaphorical resemblance to a ri¬
ver flowing on with an unceasing current through
all successive ages, any thing of remote antiquity
is denoted by the term high. <
*7. Likewise those degrees of latitudes far removed
from the line, where the pole becomes more ele¬
vated. . .
8. And to some particular crimes, as being at-
3
] D I C
tended with peculiar degrees of guilt} as, high Diction^
treason. # ‘ 'r>“
TALL. adj. Something elevated to a considerable
degree in a perpendicular direction. Opposed to
low.
1. This term is chiefly employed to express the
height of man and other animals : and is applied
to denote the height of the body only,, without
having any reference to the mind. W hen ap-
. plied to man, no other word can be substituted
in its stead : when applied to other animals, high
is sometimes considered as nearly synonymous.
See High.
2. It is likewise employed to denote the perpendicu¬
lar height of vegetablesand in this case, it is
nearly synonymous with high. See High.
3. It can in no case be employed to express th«
height of merely inanimate objects *, as we can ne¬
ver say a tall steeple, tower, or pillar, but a high
steeple, &c. For the distinctions in these cases,
see High.
LONG. adj. A relative term, denoting the distance
between the extremes of any body, which is ex¬
tended more in one of its geometrical dimensions
than another. Opposed to short.
I. This term may be applied to all inanimate ob¬
jects, of whatever kind, whose dimensions in one
way’exceed the other, and when not in an erect
posture, whatever be the other circumstances at¬
tending them } whether it relates to superficies
alone, or to solid bodies 5 whether these be bound¬
ed or open, straight or crooked, flexible or rigid,
or in any other circumstances whatever : thus we
say, a long or short line, a long or short ridge,
street, ditch, rope, chain, staff, &c. But it is.to
be observed, that although long is in the strict
sense only opposed to short ; yet as it expresses
the extension of matter in one of its geometrical
proportions, it is often contrasted by those words
which express the other proportions when we
mean only to describe the several proportions:
as, a table long and broad. And as these several
dimensions are expressed by different words, ac¬
cording to the various forms, modifications, and
circumstances, in which bodies are found, there¬
fore it is in this sense contrasted by a great di¬
versity of terms : as, a long and broad or wide,
narrow or strait, street or lane ; a long and thick,
or small rope, chain, staff For the distinction*
in these cases, see Broad, Wide, &c.
2. Objects necessarily fixed in an erect position can
never have this term applied to them ; and there¬
fore we cannot say a long, but a high, tower or
steeple. And for the same reason, while trees are
growing and fixed in an erect position, we cannot
apply this term to them •, but when they are fell¬
ed and laid upon the ground, it is quite proper
and necessary. Thus, we do not say a long, but
o tall or high tree, while it is growing j but we
say a long, not a tall log of wood; in the same
manner v\;e say a tall mast, when it is fixed in the
ship; hute^long mast, while it lies upon the beach.
See Tall and High.
a. Those vegetables which are of a tender pliant na-
3 ture,
Jlriiin
DlC [ 225 ] DIG
til re, or so weak as not to be able to retain a fixt
position, being considered as of a middle nature
between erect and prostrate bodies, admit of either
the terms long, tall, or high; as a long or tall
rush or willow wand, or a long, tall, or high stalk
of corn. See High and Tall.
4. The parts of vegetables, when considered as di¬
stinct from the whole, even when growing and
erect, assume the term long: for we do not say
a tall, but a long shoot of a tree ; and a tree with
a long stem, in preference to a tree with a high
stem.
5. For the same reason, a staff, and pole, even when
fixed in a perpendicular direction, assume the word
long, in preference to tall or high.
6. With regard to animals, the general rule is ap¬
plied, without any exceptions: tall, and not long,
being employed to denote the height of the hu¬
man body, when in an erect posture $ and long,
and not tall, to denote its length when in an in¬
cumbent situation. Long applied to all other
animals which do not walk erect, always denotes
their greatest length in a horizontal position from
head to tail.
7. In a figurative sense, it denotes, with regard to
time, any thing at a great distance from us.
8. As also, any thing that takes up much time before
it is finished j as 0 long discourse, a protracted
note in music, &c.
BROAD, adj. The distance between the two near¬
est sides of any body, whose geometrical dimen¬
sions are larger in one direction than in another;
and has a reference to superficies only, and never
to the solid contents. Opposed to narrow.
1. Broad, in the strictest acceptation, is applied to
denote those bodies only whose sides are altoge¬
ther open and unconfined j as a broad table, a
broad wheel, &c. and in these cases it is invaria¬
bly contrasted by the word narrow; nor is there
any other word which in these cases can be con-
eidered as synonymous with it, or used in its
stead.
2. When any object is in some sort bounded on the
sides, although not quite closed up, as a road,
street, ditch, &c. either broad or wide may be
employed, but with some difference of significa¬
tion j broad being most properly used for those
that are more open, and wide for those which are
more confined: nor can this term be ever applied
to such objects as are close bounded all around, as
a house, a church, &c. wide being here employed,
lor the more accurate distinctions in these cases,
see the article Wide.
WIDE. adj. A term employed to denote relative
extent in certain circumstances. Opposed to nar-
t'ow and strait.
I. This term is in its proper sense applied only to
denote the space contained within any body closed
all round on every side j as a house, gate, &c. :
and differs from broad in this, that it never re¬
lates to the superficies of solid objects, but is em¬
ployed to express the capaciousness of any body
which containeth vacant space ; nor can capaci¬
ousness in this sense be expressed by any other
word but wide, -f
VOL. VII, Part I.
2. As many bodies may be considered either with Dictionary.
respect to the capaciousness or superficial ex- 1 v 
tent ; in all these cases, either the term broad or
wide may be used ; as a broad or wide street or
ditch, &c. but with a greater or less degree of
propriety, according to the circumstances of the
object, or the idea we wish to convey. In a street
where the houses are low and the boundaries
open, or in a ditch of small depth and large super¬
ficies, as this largeness of superficies bears the
principal proportion, broad would be more pro¬
per ; but if the houses are of great height, or the
ditch of great depth, and capaciousness is the prin¬
cipal property that affects the mind, we would
naturally say a wide street or ditch ; and the same
may be said of all similar cases. But there are
some cases in which both these terms are applied,
with a greater difference of meaning j thus we
say a broad or a wide gate: But as the gate is em¬
ployed to denote either the aperture in the wall,
or the matter which closes that aperture, these
terms are each of them used to denote that parti¬
cular quality to which they are generally applied :
and as the opening itself can never be considered
as a superficies, the term wide, in this, case, de¬
notes the distance between the sides of the aper¬
ture 5 while on the contrary, broad denotes the
extent of matter fitted to close that aperture ; nor
can these two terms in any case be substituted for
one another.
3. As a figurative expression, it is used as a cant
phrase for a mistake : as, you are wide of the
mark ; that is, not near the truth.
NARROW. adj. A relative term, denoting a pro¬
portional smallness of distance between the sides
of the superficies of plain bodies. Opposed to
broad.
1. As this is only applied to superficies, it is exact¬
ly contrasted by broad, and is applied in all cases
where the term broad can be used, (see Broad);
and in no other case but as a contrast to it, except
the following.
2. It sometimes is employed to describe the small¬
ness of space circumscribed between certain boun¬
daries, as opposed to wide, and nearly synony¬
mous with straight; as we sny a wide ax a narrow
house, church, &c. For the necessary distinc¬
tions here, see the article Strait.
3. In a figurative sense it fexwias par simony, poverty,
confined sentiments, &c.
STRAIT, adj. A relative term, denoting the extent
of space in certain circumstances. Opposed to
wide ; see Wide.
1. This term is employed, in its proper sense, to de¬
note only space, as contained between surround¬
ing bodies in such circumstances as to denote
some degree of confinement; and is exactly oppo¬
sed to wide; as a wide ox a strait gate, &c. See
Wide.
2. So necessary is it that the idea of confinement
should be connected with this word, that in all
those cases where the space contained is large, as
in a church, or house, we cannot express a smaller
proportional width by this term. And as we
have no other word to express space in these cir-
F f cumstancee,
Dictionary.
DIG [226
cumstances, we have been obliged to force the
word narrow from its natural signification, and
make it express this. See Narrow.
5. In some particular cases, narrow or strait may
be applied to the same object: as, a narrow or a
strait line : but here strait is never employed but
where an idea of confinement is suggested, and
where it is exactly contrasted to wide: nor can
narrow be employed but in such circumstances
where broad would be a perfect contrast to it.
Therefore these two terms may be always used
in the same circumstances as those which contrast
them may be. For an account of which see
Wide. -
4. The term strait is likewise in a peculiar manner
used to denote the smallness of the internal dia¬
meter of those small bodies which are fitted to re¬
ceive or contain others, as any kind of bag, tube,
body clothes, mortoises, and others of the same
kind j and in all these cases this term may be em¬
ployed to denote the smallness of their lesser dia¬
meter, and never the term narrow. But in cer¬
tain circumstances the word tight may be substi¬
tuted for it. See Tight.
5. Strait, in a figurative sense, denotes any sort of
confinement of sentiment or disposition.^
TIGHT, adj. A term employed in certain circum¬
stances to denote the internal capacity ol particu¬
lar bodies. Nearly synonymous with strait.
This term is confined entirely to denote the small¬
ness of the internal dimensions of such objects, as
are formed to cover or to receive or contain other
solid bodies, and can be employed in no other case.
And although it agrees with strait, in always de¬
noting confinement, and by being applicable to
the same species of objects, yet it differs in the
following respects : 1. It there be any difference
of the diameter of the objects to which the term
strait can be applied, it always has reference to
the smaller •, yet tight may be applied to any
sort of confinement, whether it regards the length
or breadth. 2. Strait can be applied to aU bo¬
dies of capacity when of small diameter, without
any sort of reference to the nature of the sub¬
stance which it may be capable ot containing.
For we can say a strait bag, a strait sleeve, a
strait mortoise, a strait gate, &c. whereas tight
can only be applied to any body when it is consi¬
dered as having reference to another body which
is intended to be contained in it, and is pinched
from want of room. rIhus we say, the sleeve of a
coat is too tight for the arm, the mortoise is too
tight for the tenon, &c.: but we cannot say the
bag or the gate is too tight, because they are fitted
to receive any sort ot objects. And hence it hap¬
pens that in many cases the dimensions of the same
body may be expressed by tight or strait when
considered in different circumstances. Thus we
may say, this sleeve is too strait, when we look at
a coat when lying on the table and consider its
proportions j but it is not till we have tiled it up¬
on the arm that it is intended to cover, that we
call it tight. And we may say, agate is too strait
or too tight: but in this first case we consider it as
being too confined for admitting objects to pass
] DIG
through it} and in the last, as being too confined ]yjc^oaary
with respect to the leaves that are to shut the a-v—“
perture, not allowing them space to mo\c with
freedom.
These examples may serve to give some idea of the
plan of an English Dictionary composed upon philoso¬
phical principles : But, besides the circumstances above
enumerated, there are many others which would ic-
quire particular attention in the execution ol a woik of
this kind. In the English language, a great variety of
terms occur, which denote matter under certain gene¬
ral forms or circumstances, without regarding the mi¬
nute diversities that may take place 5 as the word cloth,
which denotes matter as manufactured into a particu¬
lar form, including under it all the variety of stuffs
manufactured in that particular way, ol whatever ma¬
terials, colour, texture or fineness, they may be. I he
same may be said of wood, iron, yarn, and a gieat va¬
riety of terms of the same nature, some ot which can¬
not assume any plural while others admit of it in
all cases, and others admit ov refuse it according to
the different circumstances in which they are consi¬
dered.
In a dictionary, therefore, all this variety ol cases
ought to be clearly and distinctly pointed out under
each particular article : this is the more necessary, as
some of these words have others formed from them
which might be readily mistaken for their pluials, al¬
though they have a very different signification ; as
clothes, which does not denote any number of pieces of
different kinds of cloth, but wearing apparel. The fol¬
lowing example will illustrate this head.
WOOD, subst. A solid substance of which the trunks
and branches of trees consist,
j. This term is employed to denote the solid parts of
vegetables of all kinds, in whatever form or cir¬
cumstances they are found. Nor does this term
admit of plural with propriety, unless in the cir¬
cumstances after mentioned : for we say, many
different kinds of wood, in preference to many
kinds of woods ; or we say, oak, ash, or elm wood,
not woods.
2, But where we want to contrast wood of one qua-^
lity or country with that of another, it admits of
a plural: for we say, white ivoods are in general
softer than red ; or Vest Indian woods are in ge¬
neral of greater specif c gravity than the European
ivoods: But unless where the colour, or some qua¬
lity which distinguishes it from growing wood, is
mentioned, this plural ought as much as possible^
to be avoided, as it always suggests an idea of
growing wood.
3. Vood likewise denotes a number of trees growing
near one another’, being nearly synonymouo with
forest: See Forest. In this sense it always ad¬
mits of a plural j as, Ye woods and wilds whose
solitary gloom, &c.
A dictionary cannot be reckoned complete without
explaining obsolete words j and if the terms of the se¬
veral provincial dialects were likewise given, it would
be of great utility : nor would this take much time y.
because a number of these words needs no other expla¬
nation than to mark along with them the words which
had come in their place, when there happened to be
one perfectly synonymous : and in those cases where
f;,w
D I C
tionary. the same idea could not be expressed in modern lan-
* guage without a periphrasis, it would be of use to ex¬
plain them distinctly j so that, when a writer found
himself at a loss for a term, and obliged to search for
one beyond the bounds of our own language, he might
take one of these, when he found that it was expressive
and energetic, in preference to another drawn from a
foreign language. This would at least have one good
effect: it would make our language more fixed and
stable ; not to say more accurate and precise, than by
borrowing from foreign languages. The following ex¬
amples may serve to give some idea of the manner of
treating this part of the work.
MOE, or mo. acfj. An obsolete term still employed
in the Scotch dialect, and by them pronounced
mae ; denoting a greater number, and nearly sy¬
nonymous with more: but it differs in this respect,
that in the Scotch dialect, mae and mair (Eng¬
lish more), are each employed in their distinct
sphere, without encroaching upon one another:
mae being employed to denote number, but never
quantity or quality ; and mair, to denote quanti¬
ty and quality, but never number: thus they say
mae, not mair, apples, men, &c. and they say
mair, not mae, doth, earth, courage, &c. See
Mair. Both of these terms are supplied by the
word 7nore ; which in the English language is ap¬
plied indiscriminately to denote quantity, quality,
and number. See More.
THIR.pron. Obsolete 3 still employed in the Scotch
dialect: the plural of this; and contrasted to
these, in the same manner as that is to this.
As there is no word in the English language equi¬
valent to this, w'e thus show the manner in which
it is employed. In the English language we say,
that stone or house, pointing at one at a distance,
is larger or more commodious than this stone or
this house, which is supposed to be at hand. In
the same manner, in the Scotch dialect, they say,
these (or, as it is pronounced, thae) stones are
whiter than thir stones ; denoting, that the former
are at a distance, and the latter at hand. And,
in the same manner, it is invariably applied to de¬
note any present object in the plural manner, as
opposed to these: as these or thir apples, as at
hand, or at a distance 3 these, or thir trees, &c. 3
but never in the singular number, as it is always
this or that tree, house, &c.
As the English language is so exceedingly irregular
in the pronunciation, the same letter in the same situa¬
tion often assuming sounds totally different in different
words, it is impossible to establish any general rules, on
this subject, which do not admit of many exceptions :
therefore, a dictionary is the best means of ascertaining
and pointing out the proper pronunciations of words.
For, if the writer first pointed out all the different
sounds that the same letter could ever be made to ex¬
press, and assigned to every particular sound which
each letter could be made to assume, a particular mark,
which was appropriated to denote that particular sound
of the letter whenever it occurred ; by placing these
particular marks above the letters in the dictionary,
the sound of each letter would be pointed out in all
cases with the utmost certainty. It would be impos-
D I D
sible for us to illustrate this by examples, without first Dictionary
ascertaining all the sounds of each letter} which would (] '
lead us into a discussion too long for this place. Didactic.
We shall only further observe, That, besides having'"""V J
the accented syllable of every word distinguish¬
ed in a dictionary to assist in the pronunciation, the
English language requires another essential improve¬
ment, viz. the use of accents to distinguish the mean¬
ing of and phrases: which, although, it is not
so properly confined to a lexicographer, yet it is not
quite without his sphere. Thus the word as admits of
two very diff’erent sounds, as well as different significa¬
tions } as in this example, “ Cicero was nearly as elo¬
quent as Demosthenesin which the first as is pro¬
nounced ass, and the last is pronounced a%. Now, it
often happens, that, in reading, the particular way in
which it ought to be understood is not pointed out by
the. context, till after the word itself is pronounced,
which has an equal chance at least of being pronoun¬
ced wrong } whereas, if it were always accented when
employed in the one sense, and not in the other, it
would free the reader from this perplexity. There are
other cases in which the use of proper accents in writ¬
ing would be of great consequence } as at the beginning
of a sentence, when it was put as a question, or used
ironically, &c. the want of which every one must have
observed. But as this does not so properly belong to
the lexicographer as the grammarian, we shall here take
no further notice of it.
. The above examples, we hope, will be sufficient to
give the reader some idea of the plan that we would
propose} and enable him to determine, whether or not
a dictionary, executed upon this plan, would convey
to his mind a more perfect knowledge of the English
language, than those dictionaries that have been hi¬
therto published. These examples were given rather
with a view to show the manner in which a work of
this kind might be conducted, than as perfect and
unexceptionable explanations of the several articles
there enumerated } and therefore we did not think
it necessary to produce any authorities, although
we are sensible that they would be requisite in such a
work.
DICTYMNIA, or Dictynnia, in Mythology,
were feasts celebrated at Lacedaemon and in Crete, in
honour of Diana Dictymnia or Dictynnia, or of a
nymph taken for her, who, having plunged her¬
self into the sea, to escape the passion of Minos, was
caught in a fisherman’s net or ?<*rv«y, whence the
name.
DIC11S Cretensis, a very ancient historian, who
serving under Idomeneus king of Crete in the Trojan
war, wrote the history of that expedition in nine books }
and Tzetzes tells us, that Homer formed his Iliad up¬
on the plan of that history. It is however maintained,
that the Latin history of Dictys which we have at pre¬
sent is spurious.
DIDACTIC, in the schools, signifies the manner of
speaking or writing, adapted to teach or explain the
nature of things. The word is formed from the Greek
doceo, “ I teach.”
There are many words which are only used in the di¬
dactic and dogmatic way } and there are many works,
ancient and modern, both in prose and verse, written
F f 2 after
[ 227 ]
D I
Didactic
after this method : such — - - , ^ „
Lucretius’s poem De Rerum Natura, and Pope s Ls-
Diderot. savs on Criticism and on Man, &c. &c.
 V—'DIDAPPER. See Colymbus, Ornithology In-
^ DIDELPHIS, or Opossum, a genus of quadrupeds
belonging to the order of ferse. See Mammalia Index.
DIDEROT, Denys, an eminent French writer,
was the son of a cutler, and born at Langres in the
year I7I3* He received his education among the
Jesuits, and being destined for the church by one of
his uncles, who had a canonry to bestow upon him, he
had received the tonsure. But he discovered so little
inclination for the ecclesiastical profession, that his fa¬
ther sent him to Paris to prosecute his studies, and af¬
terwards placed him with an attorney. It soon appear¬
ed, however, that he was more attached to different
departments of literature and science, than disposed to
submit to the drudgeries of the profession to which his
father had destined him j and having thus neglected
his business, his allowance was withheld, which obliged
him to make provision for himself. The studies to
which Diderot devoted his attention were extremely
various. Physics, geometry, metaphysics, moral phi¬
losophy, and belles lettres, were at different times the
objects of his pursuit. He even indulged in poetry
and works of invention ; but attached himself chiefly
to more serious studies. He possessed a ready flow and
great animation of language in conversation ; and these
qualities, with a decisive tone and manner, procured for
him partizans and protectors.
One of the first of his publications was a translation
of “ Stanyan’s History of Greece.” In the year 1745
he published “ Principles of Moral Philosophy,” i2mo,
a work by which he obtained some reputation. But
the year following, when he published a piece entitled
Fensees Philo sop hiques, he acquired considerable cele¬
brity. This work was highly commended by the par-
tizans of the new philosophy, among whom he had now
enlisted himself, and became one of its most zealous dis¬
ciples. The same work was afterwards reprinted un¬
der the title of Etrennes aux Espnts Foi'ts. It was
greatly read, and it is supposed contributed much to
the diffusion of those free opinions which had now be¬
come so prevalent in France. Soon after this period,
in conjunction with his friend D’Alembert the plan
of the 'vast undertaking, the Dictionaire Ency dope clique,
was laid. The professed object of this work was to
become a magazine for every branch of human know¬
ledge : but at the same time, it has been alleged that
it was also intended by the authors and editors as. the
great engine by means of which the established opinions,
whether of a religious or political nature, which they
supposed had their origin in fraud and superstition,
should be subverted. The province of this work which
was entrusted to Diderot was the description of Arts and
Trades (Artset Metiers). But, besides, he contributed
many o’ther articles in various departments of science.
His writings in the Dictionary have been considered as
extremely verbose and diffuse ; and in all of them he is
too fond of metaphysical subtleties and the pompous
parade of scientific language. The first edition of the
Dictionary was completed between the years . 1751
and 1767 $ and although Diderot was occupied in this
laborious undertaking for a period of nearly 20 years.
£) [ 223 ] D ^ .
are the Georgies of Virgil, the recompense which he obtained is said to have been
Didercii
extremely small.
During this time he composed various other works.
Among these he published, “ A letter on the Blind, for
the use of those who see.” This work made a good
deal of noise, and in consequence of some of the senti¬
ments which it contained, had given offence.to the go¬
vernment, for which the author was kept in confine¬
ment for six months at Vincennes. This piece was
soon followed by another, entitled “ A letter on the
Deaf and Dumb, for the use of those who hear and
speak,” 2 vols i2mo, 1751. “The sixth Sense,” pub¬
lished in 1752; “Thoughts on the interpretation of
Nature,” 1754 ; “ The Code of Nature,” ^J^resi-
milar works, and may be ranked in the same class. His-
moral character was considerably affected by the pub¬
lication of Bijoux Indiscrets, 2 vols 1 2mo •, which is
a collection of licentious tales $ for this indeed he made
some kind of compensation, when he published two
prose comedies, Le Fils Naturel, 1757 j ani^
Pere de Famille, 1758 ; which are not only interesting
as dramatic pieces, but exhibit a pure and correct mo¬
rality. The latter is considered as one of the best co¬
medies of the sentimental kind which has appeared on
the French stage. It has indeed received universal
admiration. He published afterwards a pamphlet, On
Public Education,” which contains undoubtedly some
useful hints $ but at the same time it proposes many
things which are impracticable. To the list of his
works now mentioned we may add, “ An Eulogy on
Richardson,” which is full of warmth and enthusiasm \
and “An Essay on the Life and Writings of Seneca the
Philosopher.” This was his last work, and was pub¬
lished in 1779- Among some observations on this
wmrk by the Monthly Reviewers, the author of it is
thus characterized : “ The works of M. Diderot, says
the writer, have long since disgusted the modest vota¬
ries of true philosophy, by the tone of arrogance and
self-sufficiency, and the froth and fumes of a declama¬
tory eloquence, that form their essential and distinctive
character.” “ It contains, it is farther added, like the
other writings of that author, a glaring mixture of good
and bad ; of brilliant thoughts and obscure reasonings 5
of sentences that dart from the imagination with the
energy of lightning, and cloudy periods of metaphy¬
sical rhetoric, that convey either no ideas, or false
ones.”
The character of Diderot suffered considerably from
some defamatory attacks which he made on his former
friend Rousseau, who had quarrelled with the French
philosophers and had separated himself from their school.
From the “ Confessions” of the Genevan philosopher, it
would appear that they expected some anecdotes which
would not have been much to their honour. In one
of his letters Rousseau thus speaks of Diderot. His
words are remarkable, as they are equally applicable
to his own character. “ Although born with a good
heart and an open disposition, he had an unfortunate
propensity to misinterpret the words and actions of his
friends ; and the most ingenuous explanations only sup¬
plied his subtle imagination with new interpretations
against them.” Diderot was married and had a family J
and although he possessed some irritability of temper, he
was a kind husband and a tender parent. At the con¬
clusion of the Dictionary, the state of his affairs ren¬
dered
DID [ '229 ] DIE
oiderot, defed it necessary for him to dispose of his library. It was
!Dido, purchased by the empress of Russia, who, with the king
•"v " of Prussia, was at that time the great encourager and
promoter of literature and literary men. These sove¬
reigns were also considered as disciples of the French
school. The price which Diderot received for his libra¬
ry was 50,000 livres j and he was to have the use of it
during his life. Some of his biographers, with what
truth we pretend not to say, have not hesitated to charge
him with disposing of it a second time; and when some
person commissioned by the empress wished to see it, the
philosopher declined the visit by excuses till he had
time to fill it with books borrowed from booksellers.
The examination, it is obvious, must have been extreme¬
ly superficial, otherwise the truth would have been at
once detected. Diderot had been admitted a member
of the Academy of Sciences at Berlin. He died sud¬
denly, as he rose from table, on July 31st, 1784. His
literary and philosophical works have been collected
and published in 6 vols 8vo.
DIDO, called also Elisa, a daughter of Belus
king of Tyre, who married Sichaeus or Sicharbas her
uncle, who was priest of Hercules. Pygmalion, who
succeeded to the throne of Tyre after Belus, murdered
Sichaeus to get possession of the immense riches which
he had ; and Dido, disconsolate for the loss of her
husband, whom she tenderly loved, and by whom she
was equally esteemed, set sail in quest of a settlement
with a number of Tyrians, to whom the cruelty of the
tyrant became odious. According to some accounts,
she threw into the sea the riches of her husband which
Pygmalion so greedily desired, and by that artifice
compelled the ships to fly with her that had come by
order of the tyrant to obtain the riches of Sichaeus.
During her voyage, Dido visited the coast of Cyprus ;
where she carried away 50 women who prostituted
themselves on the sea-shore, and gave them as wives to
her Tyrian followers. A storm drove her fleet on the
African coast, and she bought of the inhabitants as
much land as could be covered by a bull’s hide cut in¬
to thongs. Upon this piece of land she built a cita¬
del called Byrsa; and the increase of population, and
the rising commerce among her subjects, soon obliged
her to enlarge her city and the boundaries of her do¬
minions. Her beauty as well as the fame of her en¬
terprise, gained her many admirers ; and her subjects
wished to compel her to marry larbas king of Maurita¬
nia, who threatened them with a dreadful war. Dido
begged three months to give her decisive answer : and
during that time she erected a funeral pile, as if wish¬
ing by a solemn sacrifice to appease the manes of Si¬
chaeus, to whom she had promised eternal fidelity.
When all was prepared, she stabbed herself on the pile
in presence of her people ; and by this uncommon ac¬
tion obtained the name of Dido, “ valiant woman,”
instead of Elisa. According to Virgil and Ovid, the
death of Dido was caused by the sudden departure of
^Eneas; ol whom she was deeply enamoured, and
whom she could not obtain as a husband. This poeti¬
cal fiction represents iEneas as living in the age of Di¬
do, and introduces an anachronism of near 300 years.
Dido left Phoenicia 247 years after the Trojan war or
the age of .Eneas, that is, about 953 years before Christ.
This chronological error proceeds not from the igno¬
rance of the poets, but it is supported by the authority
of Horace. ||
. ... . . Diemen’*
Aut jarnam sequcrc, ant mbi convcnitntia fmge. land.
While \'irgil describes, in a beautiful episode, the des¬
perate love ol Dido, and the submission of Eneas to
the will of the gods, he at the same time gives an ex¬
planation ol the hatred which existed between the re-
publics of Rome and Carthage; and informs his reader,
that their mutual enmity originated in their very first
foundation, and was apparently kindled by a more re¬
mote cause than the jealousy and rivalship of two flou¬
rishing empires. Dido after her death was honoured
as a deity by her subjects.
DIDUS, or Dodo, a genus of birds belonging to
the order of gallinse. See Ornithology Index.
DIDYMUS ol Alexandria, an ecclesiastical writer
of the fourth century ; who, though he is said to have
lost his eyes at five years ol age, when he had scarcely
learned to read, yet applied so earnestly to study, that
he attained all the philosophic arts in a high degree,
and was thought worthy to fill the chair in the famous
divinity school at Alexandria. He w'as the author of
a great number of works : but all we have now remain¬
ing are, a Latin translation of his book upon the Holy
Spirit, in the works ol St Jerome, who was the transla¬
tor ; short strictures on the Canonical Epistles ; and a
book against the Manichees.
DIDYNAMIA, (from twice, and %vvctfusy
power), the name of the 14th class in Linnaeus’s sexual
method, consisting of plants with hermaphrodite flowers,
which have tour stamina or male organs, two of which
are long and two short. See Botany Index.
DIEMEN’S Land, formerly supposed to be the
southern coast or point of New Holland, but now
found to be an island, as it is separated from New' Hol¬
land by Bass’s strait, which was discovered by Mr Bass
and Lieutenant Flinders in the end of the year 1798.
The northern coast is in S. Lat. 40° 55', and between
146° 45' and 148* 15' E. Long. This coast was dis¬
covered in November 1642, by Tasman, who gave it
the name of Van Diemen's Land. Captain Furneaux
touched at it in March 1773, and the country has
since been further explored by other navigators. Here
is a very safe road, named by Captain Cook Adven¬
ture Bay. Two other harbours or bays were discover¬
ed or explored by Messrs Bass and Flinders, viz. Port
Dalrymple and Frederick Henry bay, and two con¬
siderable rivers, which have been called Port Dalrymple
and Derwent rivers. The parts adjoining to Adventure
bay are mostly hilly, and form an entire forest of tall
trees, rendered almost impassable by brakes of fern,
shrubs, &c. The soil on the flat land, and on the low¬
er part ol the hills, is sandy, or consists of a yellowish
earth, and in some parts of a reddish clay; but further
up the hills it is of a gray rough cast. The forest trees
are all of one kind, generally quite straight, and bearing
clusters of small white flowers. The principal plants
observed were wood-sorrel, milk-wort, cudweed, bell¬
flower, gladiolus, samphire, and several kinds of fern.
The only quadruped seen distinctly was a species of
opossum, about twice the size of a large rat. The kanga¬
roo, found farther nortlmard in New Holland, may also
be supposed to inhabit here, as some of the inhabitants
had
Diemen’s
land,
Diemer-
broek.
DIE [ 23«
had pieces of the skin of that animal. The principal
sorts of birds in the woods are brown hawks or eagles,
crows, large pigeons, yellowish paroquets, and a species
which was called motacilla cynnea, from the beauti¬
ful azure colour ol its head and neck. On the shore
were several gulls, black oyster-catchers or sea-pies,
and plovers of a stone colour. In the woods were seen
some blackish snakes of a pretty large size ; and a spe¬
cies of lizard fifteen inches long and six round, beauti¬
fully clouded with yellow and black. Among a varie¬
ty of lish caught, were some large rays, nurses, leather-
jackets, bream, soles, flounders, gurnards, and ele¬
phant iish. Upon the rocks are muscles and other
shell-fish, and upon the beach were found some pretty
Medusa’s heads. The most troublesome insects met
with were the moschettoes j and a large black ant, the
bite of which inflicts extreme pain.
The inhabitants seemed mild and cheerful, with little
of that wild appearance which savages in general have.
They are almost totally devoid of personal activity or
genius, and are nearly upon a par with the wretched
natives of Terra del Fuego. They display, however,
some contrivance in their method of cutting theii
and bodies in lines of different directions, raised
arms
above the surface of the skin. Their indifference for
presents offered them, their general inattention and
want of curiosity, were very remarkable, and testified
no acuteness of understanding. Their complexion is
a dull black, which they sometimes heighten by smut¬
ting their bodies, as was supposed from their leaving
a mark behind on any clean substance. Their hair is
perfectly woolly, and is clotted with grease and red
ochre like that of the Hottentots. Their noses are
broad and full, and the lower part of the face projects
considerably. Their eyes are of a moderate size j and
though they are not very quick or piercing, they give
the countenance a frank, cheerful, and pleasing cast.
Their teeth are not very white nor well set, and their
mouths are wide ; they wear their beards long and
clotted with paint. They are upon the whole well
proportioned, though their belly is rather protuberant.
Their favourite attitude is to stand with one side for¬
ward, and one hand grasping across the back the op¬
posite arm, which on this occasion hangs down by the
side that projects. • Q i
A British colony was established here in 1804, ami
received a considerable augmentation in 1808, when
Norfolk island was abandoned. The whole territory is
now divided into two counties, Buckingham and Corn¬
wall. Two towns, Port Dalrymple on the north, and
Hobart town, 120 miles south from it, have been built,
and some subordinate settlements made. A considerable
quantity of ground is under cultivation, and affords
more certain and abundant harvests than any of the set¬
tlements in New Holland. In 181c the number of
settlers was 13.21. A regular intercourse is kept up
with Botany Bay, and a newspaper is published every
fortnight in this remote region.
DIEMERBROEK, IsBRAND, a learned professor
of physic and anatomy at Utrecht, was born at Mont-
fort, in Holland, in 1609, where he acquired great re¬
putation by his lectures and his practice ; and died at
Utrecht in 1674. He wrote a treatise on the plague,
which is esteemed *, and several learned works in ana¬
tomy and medicine, which were printed at U trecut in
1685 in folio.
] DIE
DIEPPE, a handsome sea-port town of France, in
Upper Normandy, in the department of the lower Seine,
with a good harbour, an old castle, and two handsome
moles. The parish church of St James is an elegant
structure 5 and there is a tower from which, in fine
weather, the coast of England may be seen. The po¬
pulation amounts to 20,000. The principal trade con¬
sists in the fisheries, ivory, toys, and laces. It was bom¬
barded by the English in 1694, and it is not now so
considerable as it was formerly. It is seated at the
mouth of the river Bethune, in E. Long, 1. 4. N. Lat.
^DIES MARCHliE, was the day of congress or meet¬
ing of the English and Scots, annually appointed to be
held on the marches or borders, in order to adjust all
differences between them.
DIESIS in Music, is the division of a tone less than
a semitone ; or an interval consisting of a less or im¬
perfect semitone.
Diesis is the smallest and softest change or inflexion
of the voice imaginable ; it is called 2i faint, expressed
thus X, by a St Andrew’s cross or saltier.
DIESP1TER, in antiquity, a name given to Jupi¬
ter and signifying did pater, “ father of the day.”
St Augustin derives the name from dies, “ day,” and
partus, “ production, bringing forth $” it being Jupiter
that brings forth the day. Of which sentiment were
Servins and Macrobius ; the former adding, that in the
language of the Osci they called him Lucendus, as Dz-
espiter in Latin.
DIET, in Medicine, according to some, compre¬
hends the whole regimen or rule of life with regard to
the six non-naturals j air, meats and drinks, sleep and
watching, motion and rest, passions of the mind, reten¬
tions and excretions. Others restrain the term of diet
to what regards eating and drinking, or solid aliments
and drinks. See Food.
The natural constitution of the body of man is such,
that it can easily bear some change and irregularities
without much injury. Had it been otherwise, we
should be almost constantly put out of order by every
slight cause. This advantage arises from those won¬
derful communications of the inward parts, whereby,'
when one part is affected, another comes immediately
to its relief.
Thus, when the body is too full, nature causes eva¬
cuations through some of the outlets 3 and for this rea¬
son it is, that diseases from inanition are generally more
dangerous than from repletion 3 because we can more
expeditiously diminish than increase the juices of the
body. Upon the same account, also, though temperance
be beneficial to all men, the ancient physicians advised
persons in good health, and their own masters, to in¬
dulge a little now and then, by eating and drinking
more plentifully than usual. But, of the two, intem¬
perance in drinking is safer than in eating 3 and if a
person has committed excess in the latter, cold water
drank upon a full stomach will help digestion 3 to which
it will be of service to add lemon juice, or elixir of vi¬
triol. If he has eaten high-seasoned things, rich sauces,
&c. then let him sit up for some little time, and after¬
wards sleep. But if a man happen to be obliged to
fast, he ought to avoid all laborious work. From sa¬
tiety it is not proper to pass directly to sharp hunger,
nor from hunger to satiety 3 neither will it be safe to
indulge absolute rest immediately after excessive labour,
nor
DIE [ 231 ] DIF
I ^ nor suddenly to fall to hard work after long idleness.
j||) In a word, therefore, all changes in the way of living
jprich. should be made by degrees.-
The softer and milder kinds of aliment are proper
for children, and for youth the stronger. Old people
ought to lessen the quantity of their food, and increase
that of their drink j but yet some allowance is to be
made for custom, especially in the colder climates like
ours j for as in these the appetite is keener, so is the
digestion better performed. Mead’s Monita et Prce-
cepta.
Diet Drinks, a form in Physic, including all the
medicated wines, ales, and wheys, used in chronic cases.
They require a course or continuation to answer any
intention of moment.
Diet of Appearance, in Scots Law, the day to which
a defender is cited to appear in court j and every other-
day to which the court shall afterwards adjourn the
consideration of the question.
Diet, or Dyet, in matters of policy, is used for the
general assembly of the states or circles of the empire
of Germany and of Poland, to deliberate and concert
measures proper to be taken for the good of the
public^
The general diet of the empire is usually held at
JRatisbon. It consists of the emperor, the nine electors,
and the ecclesiastical princes j viz. the archbishops,
bishops, abbots, and abbesses j the secular princes,
who are dukes, marquises, counts, viscounts, or ba¬
rons j and the representatives of the imperial cities.—
It meets on the emperor’s summons, and any of the
princes may send their deputies thither in their stead.
The diet makes laws, raises taxes, determines differ¬
ences between the several princes and states, and can
relieve the subjects from the oppressions of their sove¬
reigns.
The diet of Poland, or the assembly of the states,
consisted of the senate and deputies, or representative of
every palatinate or county and city ; and usually met
every two years, and oftener upon extraordinary occa¬
sions, if summoned by the king, or, in his absence, by
the archbishop of Gnesna. The general diet of Po¬
land sat but six weeks, and often broke up in a tu¬
mult much sooner; for one dissenting voice prevented
; their passing any laws, or coming to any resolutions, on
what was proposed to them from the throne. Switzer¬
land has also a general diet, which is usually held every
year at Baden, and x-epresents the whole Helvetic bo¬
dy it seldom lasts longer than a month. Besides this
general diet, there are diets of the Protestant can¬
tons, and diets of the Catholic ones j the first assemble
at Araw, and are convoked by the canton of Zurich j
the second at Lucei-n, convoked by the canton of that
name.
DIETETIC, that part of physic which treats of
diet. See Diet, Food, and Drink, in this work,
and Dietetic in the Supplement.
DIETRICH, or Dietricy, Christian William
Ernest, a modern artist, who was born at Weimar
in 1712. He resided chiefly at Dx-esden, where he
was professor of the Academy of Arts. He was a
painter of very extensive abilities, and succeeded both
in histoi-y and landscape. We have by him a great
number of small subjects, to the amount of 150 or
more, which he engraved from his own compositions,
in the style (says Basan) of Ostade, of Lairesse, and Dietrich
of Salvator Rosa. Sixty of these etchings are exceed- 1|
ingly rare. Differential
DIETS, a town in the circle of the Upper Rhine [E<iu^ti0tu-
in Germany, situated on the river Lohn, 20 miles north
of Mentz, and subject to the house of Nassau-Orange.
E. Long. 7. 40. N. Lat. 50. 28.
DIEU et MON droit, i. e. God and my right, the
motto of the royal arms of England, first assumed by
King Richard I. to intimate that he did not hold his
empire in vassalage of anv mortal.
It was afterwards taken up by Edward III. and
was continued without interruption to the time of the
late King William, who used the motto Je maintien-
dray, though the former was still retained upon the
great seal. After him Queen Anne used the motto
Semper eadem, which had been before used by Queen
Elizabeth j but ever since Queen Anne, Dicu et man
droit continues to be the royal motto.
DIFF, is the name of an instrument of music among
the Arabs, serving chiefly to beat time to the voice ;
it is a hoop, sometimes with pieces of brass fixed to it
to make a jingling, over which a piece of parchment is
distended. It is beat with the fingers, and is the true
tympanum of the ancients.
DIFFARREATION, among the Romans, a ce¬
remony whereby the divorce of their priests was
solemnized. The word comes from the preposition
dis; which is used, in composition, for division or sepa¬
ration ; and fai'reatio, a ceremony with wheat, ol‘y«/-,
“ wheat.”
Diffari-eation was properly the dissolving of marriages
contracted by confarreation j which were those of the
pontifices or priests. Festus says, it was performed
with a wheaten cake. Vigenere will have confarrea¬
tion and diffareation to be the same thing.
DIFFERENCE, in Mathematics, is the remainder,
when one number or quantity is subtracted from an¬
other.
Difference, in Logic, an essential attribute, be¬
longing to some species, and not found in the genus j
being the idea that defines the species. Thus body and
spirit are the two species of substance, which in their
ideas include something more than is included in the
idea of substance. In body, for instance, is found im¬
penetrability and extension 3 in spirit, a power of think¬
ing and reasoning j so that the difference of body is
impenetrable extension, and the difference of spirit is
cogitation.
Difference, in Heraldry, a term given to a certain
figure added to coats of arms, serving to distinguish
one family from another 3 and to show how distant
younger branches are from the elder or principal
branch.
DIFFERENTIAL, {Dijferentialei) in the higher
geometry, an infinitely small quantity, or a particle of
quantity so small as to be less than any assignable one.
It is called a differential, or differential quantity, be¬
cause frequently considered as the difference of two
quantities 3 and, as such, is the foundation of the dif¬
ferential calculus : Sir Isaac Newton, and the English,,
call it a moment, as being considered as the momenta¬
ry increase of quantity. See Fluxions.
Differential liquation, is an equation involving
or containing differential quantities 3 as the equation
3 x'dx
D I F
Dift'erciitial ^Xidx-—2 axdx^-ctJ/dx-^-axdt/~0. _
Equation, ans, as Stirling, &c. have also applied the term dliter-
Differential ential equation in another sense, to certain equations
, Method- ^ defining the nature of series.
Differential Method, a method of finding quanti¬
ties by means of their successive differences. See
Differential Calculus, Supplement.
It is of very general use, especially in the construc¬
tion of tables, and the summation of series._ It was first
used, and the rules of it laid down, by Liiggs, in ns
construction of Logarithms and other Numbers, much
the same as they were afterwards taught by Cotes, in
his Constructio Tabularum per Differentias.
The method was next treated in another iorm by
Newton in the 5th Lemma of the 3d book F™n~
cipia, and in his Melhodus Diferentialis, published by
Jones in i7t 1, with the other tracts of Newton. Ihis
author here treats it as a method of describing a curve
of the parabolic kind, through any given number ot
points. He distinguishes two cases of this problem ,
the first when the ordinates drawn from the given
points to any line given in position, are at equa dis¬
tances from one another ; and the second, when these
ordinates are not at equal distances. He has given a
solution of both cases, at first without demonstration,
which was afterwards supplied by himself and otliers'
see his Methodus Differentialis above mentioned *, and
Stirling’s Explanations of the Newtonian Differential
Method, in the Phil. Trans. N 362.Cotes, He Me- seconas
thodoDifferentialiNewto?iiana, published with hisiiar- below :
Znia Mcnsurarum : Herman’s Phorononna : and Le-
Seur and Jacquier, in their Commentary on Newton
Principia. It may be observed, that the methods there
demonstrated by some of these authors extend to the
description of any algebraic curve through a given
number of points, which Newton, writing to Leibnitz,
mentions as a problem of the greatest use.
By this method, some terms of a series being given
and conceived as placed at given intervals, any inter¬
mediate term may be found nearly j which therefore
gives a method for interpolation Briggs s Anth. Log.
ubi supra: Newton, Method. Differ, prop. 5-> Stirling,
Methodus Differentialis.
Thus also may any curvilinear figure be squared
nearly, having some few of its ordinates. Newton,
S. prop. 6.t Cotes De Method. Differ.; Simpson’s
Mathematical Dissert, p. 115- .And th.UV"ay ^
matical tables be constructed by interpolation . Bngg ,
ibid. Cotes Canonotechnia.
The successive differences of the ordinates of para¬
bolic curves, becoming ultimately equal, and the inter¬
mediate ordinate required being determined by these
differences of the ordinates, is the reason for the name
Differential Method. me, _
To be a little more particular.—The first case of
Newton’s problem amounts to this A series o num¬
bers nlaced at equal intervals, being given, to find
any intermediate number of that series, when its inter-
vaf or distance from the first term of the series is given.
  Subtract each term of the series from the next fol¬
lowing term, and call the remainders first differences,
then subtract in like manner each of these differences
from the next following one, calling these remainders
2d differences 5 again, subtract each 2d difference from
3
[ 232 ] I) I F
Some mathematici- the next following, for the 3d differences ; and so on :
then if A be the 1st term ol the series,
d' the first of the 1st differences,
d" the first of the 2d differences,
d'" the first of the 3d differences,
and if a? be the interval or distance between the first
term of the series and any term sought, T, that is, let
the number of terms from A to T, both included, be
—v_j_i j then will the term sought, T, be=
Differemi!
Method
f:(ii
,11(1
X n . K X~
A -4— d -f- —
1 1 12
X X 1 X 2
■d1", &c.
Hence, if the differences of any order become equal,
that is, if any of the diffs. d", d'", &c. become = or
the above series will give a finite expression tor i the
term sought; it being evident that the series must ter¬
minate when any of the differences d , d , &c. be¬
come —o.
_ . XXX-
It is also evident that the co-efficients p-- —
&c. of the differences, are the same as to the terms o.
the binomial theorem. . , , ,
For ex. Suppose it were required to find the log.
tangent of 5' 1" 12'" 24"", or 6' i" or 5' ‘2066,
^ Take out the log. tangents to several minutes and
seconds, and take their first and second differences, as
Tan
7*1626964
7*1641417
7*1655821
7*1670178
I4453
14404
M357
d"
491.—48
—47 J
5' ' ‘
5 1 - -
5 2 - -
5 3'"
Here A= 7* 1641417 j x—tcTo > d' — M4°4 >
the mean 2d difference <*"=—48. Hence
A - - - - 7.1641417
xd' - - - - 2977
f x~~l d" - - 4
and
Tlieref. the tang, of s' l" 24'"' » 7’‘644398
Hence may he deduced a method of finding the sum.
of the terms of such a series, calling its terms A, B,
r For, conceive a new series having its ist
term =o, its 2d = A, its 3d = A + B> lts 4th —
A + B + C, its 5th = A + B +C + D and so on j
then it is plain that assigning one term of this sen ,
is finding the sum of all the terms, A, B, L, U, 6cc.
Now singce these terms are the differences of the sum ,
o A A+B, A + B+C, &c. *, and as some of the dif¬
ferences of A, B, C, &c. are = o by supposition*, it
follows that some of the differences of the sums will be
=: O
x x x—
and since in the series A + 7^+2*”3"
•«Y\
&c by which a term was assigned, A represented the
fst tenn : d' the ist of the 1st differences, and « the
interval between the first term and the last; we are o
write o instead of A, A instead of d’, d' instead of
DIG
[ 233 ]
DIG
]|[iercnlial«?/ instead of d"\ &c. also #-j-l instead of x ; which
ethod being done, the series expressing the sums will be
&c. Or, if
I 1 I 2 I 2 3
the real number of terms of the lines be called a,
that is, if or xz^z,—I, the sum of the series
2-d". &c. See
u
Oigby.
I|<V—^
will be Az-t--.—
1 1
=^'+*2=:
2 12
3
De Moivre’s Doct. of Chances, p. 59, 60 $ or his
Miscel. Analyt. p. 153.; or Simpson’s Essays, p. 95.
For ex. To find the sum of six terms of the series of
squares i-f-4-}-9-J-i6-{-25-{-36, of the natural num¬
bers.
Terms d'
I
d" dw
4
9
16
25
Here A=l, f/'=3, d"=2, d"' &c. =0, and 25=6 ;
therefore the sum is
=91 the sum required, viz. of 164-25-1-36.
A variety of examples may be seen in the places
above cited, or in Stirling’s Methodus Difftrentialis,
&c.
As to the differential method, it may be observed,
that though Newton and some others have treated it as
a method of describing an algebraic curve, at least of
the parabolic kind, through any number of given
points; yet the consideration of curves is not at all es¬
sential to it, though it may help the imagination. The
description of a parabolic curve through given points,
is the same problem as the finding of quantities from
their given differences, which may always be done by
algebra, by the resolution of simple equations. Hut¬
ton's Math. Diet.
DU FORM, Dijjbrniis, (from forma^ “ a shape”),
is a word used in opposition to uniform $ and signifies
that there is no regularity in the form or appearance
of a thing. The botanists use it as a distinction of the
flowers of several species of plants.
DIFFUSE, an epithet applied to such writings as
are wrote in a prolix manner. Among historians, Sal¬
lust is reckoned sententious, and Livy diffuse. Thus
also among the orators, Demosthenes is close and con¬
cise j Cicero, on the other hand, diffuse.
DIFFUSION, the dispersion of the subtile effluvia
of bodies into a kind of atmosphere all round them.
Thus the light diflused by the rays of the sun, issues
all round from that amazing body of fire.
DIGASTRICUS, in Anatomy, a muscle of the
lower jaw, called also Biventer. See Anatomy, Ta¬
ble of the Muscles.
•DIGBY, Sir Kenelm, an English philosopher,
was born at Gothurst in Buckinghamshire in 1603, and
became very illustrious for his virtue and learning.
He was descended of an ancient family. Jlis great¬
grandfather, accompanied by six of his brothers, fought
valiantly at Bosworth field on the side of Henry VII.
against the usurper Richard III. His father Sir
Everard Digby, was engaged in the gunpowder plot
against King James I. and for that crime was beheaded;
but his son was restored to his estate. King Charles I.
made him gentleman of the bedchamber, commissioner
V OL. VII. Part I.
of the navy, and governor of the Trinity-house. He
granted him letters of reprisal against the Venetians,
by virtue of which he took several prizes with a small1
fleet under his command. He fought the Venetians
near the port of Scanderoon, and bravely made his way
through them with his booty. He was a great lover of
learning, and translated several authors into English ;
and his “Treatise of the Nature of Bodies and the Im¬
mortality of the houl,” discovers great penetration and
extensive knowledge. He applied to chemistry 3 and
found out several useful medicines, which he gave free¬
ly away to people of all sorts, especially to the poor.
He distinguished himself particularly by his sympathe¬
tic powder for the cure of wounds at a distance 3 his
discourse concerning which made a great noise for a
while. He had conferences with Des Cartes about the
nature of the soul.
In the beginning of the civil wars, he exerted him¬
self very vigorously in the King’s cause 3 but he was
afterwards imprisoned by the parliament’s order, in
Winchester-house, and had leave to depart thence in
1643. He afterwards compounded for his estate, but
was ordered to leave the nation 3 when he went to
France, and was sent on two embassies to Pope Inno¬
cent X. from the queen, widow to Charles I. whose
chancellor he then was. On the restoration of Charles
II. he returned to London; where he died in 1663,
aged 60.
This eminent person, on account of his early talents,
and great proficiency in learning, was compared to
the celebrated Picus de Mirandola, who was one of
the wonders of human nature. His knowledge, though
various and extensive, appeared to be greater than it
really was 3 as he had all the powers of elocution
and address to recommend it. He knew how to
shine in a circle of ladies or philosophers ; and was as
much attended to when he spoke on the most trivial
subjects, as when he conversed on the most important.
It is said that one of the princes of Italy, who had no
child, was desirous that his princess should bring him
a son by Sir Kenelm, whom he esteemed a just model
of perfection.
DIGEST, (Digestum), a collection of the Roman
laws, ranged and digested under proper titles, by order
of the emperor Justinian.
That prince gave his chancellor Tribonianus a com¬
mission for this purpose 3 who, in consequence thereof,
chose sixteen jurisconsulti, or lawyers, to work upon
the same. These, accordingly, took out the best and
finest decisions from the two thousand volumes of the
ancient jurisconsulti, and reduced them all into one
body ; which was published in the year 533, under the
name of the Digest. To this the emperor gave the
force of a law, by a letter at the head of the work,
which serves it as a preface.
The Digest makes the first part of the Roman law,
and the first volume of the corpus or body of the civil
law, contained in fifty books. It was translated into
Greek under the same emperor, and called Pandecta.
See Pandects.
Cujas says, that Digest is a common name for all
books disposed in a good order and economy 3 and
hence it is that Tertullian calls the gospel of St Luke
a Digest.
Hence also abridgements of the common law are
G g denominated
Digby,
Digest.
D 1 G
[ 234 ]
DIG
denominated digests of the numerous cases, arguments,
readings, pleadings, &c. dispersed m the year books
and other reports and books of law, reduced under
proper heads or common places. I he first was ia
of Statham, which comes as low as Henry V I. lhat
of Fitzberbert was published in 1516-, Brooks in
I r-7 2, of which Hughes’s, published in 1663, is a se¬
quel Bolls, Danvers, and Nelson, have also published
Digests or abridgements of this kind, including the
cases of later days', to which may be added the New
Abridgement, Viner’s Abridgement, &c.
DIGESTION, in the animal economy, is the dis¬
solution of the aliments into such minute parts as are
fit to enter the lacteal vessels, and circulate with the
mass of blood. See Anatomy Index. <
Digestion, in Chemistry,15 an operation which con¬
sists in exposing bodies to a gentle heat, in proper ves¬
sels, and during a certain time. This operation is very
useful to favour the action of certain substances upon
each other; as, for example, of well calcined, dry,
fixed alkali upon rectified spirit of wine. W hen these
Wo substances are digested together in a matrass, with
a gentle sand-bath heat, the spirit of wine acquires a
reddish-yellow colour, and an alkaline quality. I he
spirit would not so well acquire these qualities by a
stronger and shorter heat.
DIGESTIVE, in Medicine, such remedies as
strengthen and increase the tone of the stomach, and
assist" in the digestion of foods. To this class belong
all stomachics and strengtheners or corroborants.
Digestive, in Surgery, denotes a sort of unguent,
plaster, or the like, that is supposed to ripen and prepare
the matter of wounds, &c for suppuration.
DIGGES, Leonard, an eminent mathematician
in the 16th century, was descended from an an¬
cient family, and born at Digges-court in the parish
of Barham in Kent j but in what year is not known.
He was educated for some time at Oxford, where he
laid a good foundation of learning. Betiring from thence,
he prosecuted his studies, and became an excellent ma¬
thematician, a skilful architect, and an expert surveyor
of land, &c. He composed several books r as, 1. 1 ecto-
nicum : briefly shewing the exact Measuring, and speedy
Beckoning of all manner of Lands, Squares, limber,
Stones, Steeples, &c. 1556, 4to. Augmented and pub¬
lished again by his son Thomas Digges, in I592 ? fn(J
also reprinted in 1647—2. A Geometrical Fractical
Treatise, named Pantometria, in three books. 1 his he
left in manuscript j but after his death, his son supplied
such parts of it as were obscure and imperfect, and pub¬
lished it in 1591, folio-, subjoining, “A Discourse
Geometrical of the five regular and Platonic bodies,
containing sundry theoretical and practical propositions,
arising by mutual conference of these solids, Inscrip¬
tion, Circumscription, and Transformation.”—-3. Prog¬
nostication Everlasting of right good effect: or Choice
Buies to judge the weather by the Sun, Moon, and
Stars, &c. in 4to, 1555, I5^4: corrected
and augmented by his son, with divers general tables,
and many compendious rules, in 4to, I502> Ele died
about the year 1574.
Digges, Thomas, only son of Leonard Digges,
after a liberal education from his tenderest years, went
and studied for some time at Oxford; and by the im¬
provements he made there, and the subsequent instruc¬
tions of his learned father, became one of the best ma¬
thematicians of his age. When Queen Elizabeth sent
some forces to assist the oppressed inhabitants ot the
Netherlands, Mr Digges was appointed muster-master
general of them: by which he became well skilled in
military affairs ) as his writings afterward shewed. He
died in 1595*
Mr Digges, beside revising, correcting, and enlarg¬
ing some pieces ol his lather’s already mentioned, wrote
and published the following learned works himself : viz.
l. AleesiveSealceMathematicce; or Mathematical Wings
or Ladders, 1573, 410: A book which contains seve¬
ral demonstrations for finding the parallaxes of any co¬
met, or other celestial body, with a correction ol the
errors in the use of the radius astronomicus—2. An
Arithmetical Military Treatise, containing so much of
Arithmetic as is necessary towards military discipline,
1579, 4to.—3. A Geometrical Treatise, named Stratio-
ticos, requisite for the perfection ot Soldiers, I579> 4^*
This was begun by his father, but finished by himselA
They were both reprinted together in 1590, with seve¬
ral additions and amendments, under this title : “ An
Arithmetical Warlike Treatise, named&ro/fo^cos,com-
pendiously teaching the science of Numbers, as w'ell in
Fractions as Integers, and so much of the Buies and
Equations Algebraical, and art of Numbers Cossical,
as are requisite for the profession of a Soldier. To¬
gether with the Moderne militaire discipline, offices,
lawes, and orders in every well-governed campe and
armie, inviolably to be observed.’^ At the end of this
work there are two pieces j the first,14 A briefe and true
report of the proceedings of the earle of Leycester,
for the reliefe of the town of Sluce, from his arrival at
Vlishing, about the end of June 1587, until the surren-
drie thereof 26 Julii next ensuing. Whereby it shall
plainlie appear, his excellencie was not in any fault for
the losse of that townethe second, “ A briefe dis¬
course what orders were best for repulsing of foraine
forces, if at any time they should invade us by sea in.
Kent or elsewhere.”—4. A perfect Description of the
Celestial Orbs, according to the most ancient doctrine
of the Pythagoreans, &c. This was placed at the end
of his father’s “ Prognostication Everlasting,” &c.
printed in 1592, 410—5. A humble motive for asso¬
ciation to maintain the religion established, 1601, 3vo..
To which is added, his Letter to the same purpose to
the archbishops and bishops of England.—6. England’s
Defence : . or, A Treatise concerning Invasion. This
is a tract of the same nature with that printed at the
end of his Stratioticos, and called, A briefe Discourse,
&c. It was written in 1599, but not published till
j686. 7. A Letter printed before Dr John Dee’s
Parallaticce Commentationispraxeosque nucleus quidum,
I573» 4to—Beside these, and his Nova Corpora, he
left several mathematical treatises ready for the press',
which, by reason of law suits and other avocations, he
was hindered from publishing.
DIGGING, among miners, is appropriated to the
operation of freeing any kind of ore from the bed or
stratum in which it lies, where every stroke of their
tools turns to accounts in contradistinction to t*16 °‘
penings made in search of such ore, which are called
hatches, or essay-hatches; and the operation itself, tra¬
cing of mines, or hatching.
When a bed of ore is discovered,, the beele-men, so
called
D I G[
„,;no> called from the Instrument they use, which is a kind of
|| pickaxe, free the ore from the fossils around it; and the
snily. shovel-men throw it up from one shamble to another,
till it reaches the mouth of the hatch.
In some mines, to save the expence as well as fatigue
of the shovel-men, they raise the ore by means of a
winder and two buckets, one of which goes up as the
other comes down.
DIGIT, in Astronomy, the twelfth part of the diame¬
ter of the sun and moon, used to express the quantity
of an eclipse. Thus an eclipse is said to be of six digits,
when six of these parts are hid.
Digits, or Monocles, in Arithmetic, signify any in¬
teger under 10 ; as, I, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, and by
means of which all numbers are expressed.
Digit is also a measure taken from the breadth of
the finger. It is properly three-fourths of an inch, and
contains the measure of four barley corns laid breadth¬
wise.
DIGITALIS, Fox-glove ; a genus of plants, be¬
longing to the didynamia class ; and in the natural me¬
thod ranking under the 28th order, Lurida. See Bo¬
tany Index.—Fox-glove has been employed in cases of
haemoptysis, of phthisis, and of mania, with apparent
good effects : but its use in these diseases is less com¬
mon and less efficacious than in dropsy. It should be
administered with great caution. See MEDICINE and
Materia Medic a Index.
DIGITATED, among botanists. See Botany
Index.
DIGLYPH, in Architecture, a kind of imperfect
triglyph, console, or the like ; with two channels or
engravings, either circular or angular.
DIGNE, an episcopal town in the department of the
Lower Alps, formerly Provence, in France, famous for
its hot springs. It is seated on a river called Bleonne,
30 miles S. by W. of Embrun, in E. Long. 6. 12. N.
Lat. 44. 10. The population is about 3300 souls.
DIGNITARY, in the canon law, a person who
holds a dignity, that is, a benefice which gives him
some pre-eminence over'mere priests and canons. Such
is a bishop, dean, archdeacon, prebendary, &c.
DIGNITY, as applied to the titles of noblemen,
signifies honour and authority. And dignity may be
divided into superior and inferior j as the titles of duke,
earl, baron, &c. are the highest names of dignity j and
those of baronet, knight, serjeant at law, &c. the low¬
est. Nobility only can give so high a name of dignity
as to supply the want of a surname in legal proceed¬
ings ; and as the omission of a name of dignity may be
pleaded in abatement of a writ, &c. so it may be where
a peer who has more than one name of dignity, is not
named by the most noble. No temporal dignity of any
foreign nation can give a man a higher title here than
„ that of esquire.
Dignity, in the human character, the opposite of
Meanness.
Man is endued with a SENSE of the worth and ex¬
cellence of his nature : he deems it more perfect than
that of the other beings around him; and he perceives
that the perfection of his nature consists in virtue, par¬
ticularly in virtues of the highest rank. To express
that sense, the term dignity is appropriated. Further,
to behave with dignity, and to refrain from all mean
actions, is felt to be, not a virtue only, but a duty :
DIG
it is a duty every man owes to himself. By acting in
that manner, he attracts love and esteem : by acting
meanly, or below himself, he is disapproved and con¬
temned.
This sense of the dignity of human nature reaches
even our pleasures and amusements. If they enlarge
the mind by raising grand or elevated emotions, or if
they humanize the mind by exercising our sympathy,
they are approved as suited to the dignity of our na¬
ture : if they contract the mind by fixing it on trivial
objects, they are contemned as not suited to the dignity
of our nature. Hence in general, every occupation,
whether of use or amusement, that corresponds to the
dignity of man, is termed manly ; and every occupa¬
tion below his nature, is termed childish.
To those who study human nature, there is a point
which has always appeared intricate : How comes it
that generosity and courage are more esteemed, and
bestow more dignity, than good nature, or even jus¬
tice ; though the latter contribute more than the for¬
mer to private as well as to public happiness ? This
question, bluntly proposed, might puzzle even a phi¬
losopher ; but, by means of the foregoing observa¬
tions, will easily be solved. Human virtues, like 0-
ther objects, obtain a rank in our estimation, not
from their utility, which is a subject of reflection, but
from the direct impression they make on us. Justice
and good nature are a sort of negative virtues, that
scarce make any impression but when they are trans¬
gressed : courage and generosity, on the contrary, pro¬
ducing elevated emotions, enliven the great sense of a
man’s dignity, both in himself and in others j and for
that reason, courage and generosity are in higher regard
than the other virtues mentioned j we describe them
as grand and elevated, as of greater dignity, and more
praiseworthy.
This leads us to examine more directly emotions and
passions with respect to the present subject : and it will
not be difficult to form a scale of them, beginning with
the meanest, and ascending gradually to those of the
highest rank and dignity. Pleasure felt as at the or¬
gan of sense, named corporeal pleasure, is perceived to
be low ; and when indulged to excess, is perceived al¬
so to be mean j for that reason, persons of any delicacy
dissemble the pleasure they take in eating and drink¬
ing. The pleasures of the eye and ear, having no or¬
ganic feeling, and being free from any sense of mean¬
ness, are indulged without any shame : they even rise
to a certain degree of dignity when their objects are
grand or elevated. The same is the case of the sym¬
pathetic passions: a virtuous person behaving with for¬
titude and dignity under cruel misfortunes, makes a
capital figure j and the sympathizing spectator feels in
himself the same dignity. Sympathetic distress at the
same time is never mean : on the contrary, it is agree¬
able to the nature of a social being, and has general
approbation. The rank that love possesses in the scale
depends in a great measure on its objects : it possesses a
low place when founded on external properties mere¬
ly and is mean when bestowed on a person ot inferior
rank without any extraordinary qualification-: but
when founded on the more elevated internal properties,
it assumes a considerable degree of dignity. The same
is the case of friendship. When gratitude is warm,
it animates the mind; but it scarce rises to dignity,
G g 2 Joy
[ 235 ]
DIG [236
Dignity. Joy bestows dignity when it proceeds from an elevated
]
D I I
cause, • ,
If we can depend upon induction, dignity is not a
property of any disagreeable passion : one is slight, an¬
other severe 5 one depresses the mind, another animates
if but there is no elevation, far less dignity, in any
of them. Kevenge, in particular, though it inflame
and swell the mind, is not accompanied with dignity,
not even with elevation : it is not however felt as mean
or grovelling, unless when it takes indirect measures
for gratification. Shame and remorse, though they
sink the spirits, are not mean. Pride, a disagreeable
passion, bestows no dignity in the eye of a spectator.
Vanity always appears mean j and extremely so where
founded, as commonly happens, on trivial quahhca-
We proceed to the pleasures of the understanding,
which possess a high rank in point of dignity. Ot
this every one will be sensible, when he considers the
important truths that have been laid open by science •,
such as general theorems, and the general laws that
govern the material and moral worlds. The pleasures
of the understanding are suited to man as a rational
and contemplative being, and they tend not a htt e to
ennoble his nature j even to the Dfcity he stretcheth
his contemplations, which, in the discovery of infinite
power, wisdom, and benevolence, afford delight of the
most exalted kind. Hence it appears, that the fine
arts, studied as a rational science, afford entertainment
of great dignity *, superior far to what they afford a* a
subject of taste merely. . . .. , ,, .
But contemplation, however in itself valuable, is
chiefly respected as subservient to action *, lor man is
intended to be more an active than a contemplative
bein'*. He accordingly shows more dignity in action
than in contemplation: generosity, magnanimity, he¬
roism, raise his character to the highest pitch : these
best express the dignity of his nature, and advance
him nearer to divinity than any other of his attri-
Having endeavoured to assign the efficient cause of
dignity and meanness, by unfolding the principle on
which they are founded, we proceed to explain the fi¬
nal cause of the dignity or meanness bestowed upon the
several particulars above mentioned,“ beginning with
corporeal pleasures. These, as far as useful, are, like
justice, fenced with sufficient sanctions to prevent their
being neglected: hunger and thirst are painful sensa¬
tions ; and we are incited to animal love by a vigorous
propensity : were, corporeal pleasures dignified over and
above with a place in a high class, they would infal¬
libly overturn the balance of the mind, by outweigh¬
in'* the social affections. This is a satisfactory final
cause for refusing to these pleasures any degree of dig¬
nity • and the final cause Is not less evident of their
meanness when they are indulged to excess. 'I he
more refined pleasures of external sense, conveyed by
occupations : but the mind, when it surrenders itself,
to pleasure of that kind, loses its vigour, and sinks
gradually into sloth. The place this pleasure occupies
in point of dignity is adjusted to these views : to make
it useful as a relaxation, it is not branded with mean¬
ness j to prevent its usurpation, it is removed from
that, place but a single degree : no man values himself
for that pleasure even during gratification > and it
it have engrossed more of his time than is requisite
for relaxation, he looks back with some degree of
shame. . . ,
In point of dignity, the social emotions rise above-
the selfish, and much above those of the eye and ear 5
man is by his nature a social being 5 and to qualify him
for society, it is wisely contrived that he should value
himself more for being social than selfish. . • ,
The excellency of man is chiefly discernible in the
great improvements he is susceptible of in society :
these, by perseverance, may be carried on progressive¬
ly, above any assignable limits j and even abstracting
from revelation, there is great probability that the
progress begun here will be completed in some future
state. Now, as all valuable improvements proceed
from the exercise of our rational faculties, the Author
of our nature, in order to excite us to a due use of
these faculties, hath assigned a high rank to the plea¬
sures of the understanding : their utility, with respect
to this life as well as a future, entitles them to that
ran^*
But as action is the aim of all our improvements,
virtuous actions justly possess the highest of all the
ranks. These, we find, are by nature distributed in¬
to different classes, and the first in point of dignity as¬
signed to actions that appear not the first in point of
use : generosity, for example, in the sense of mankind
is more respected than justice, though the latter is un¬
doubtedly more essential to society j and magnanimity,
heroism, undaunted courage, rise still higher m our
esteem ; the reason of which is explained above.
Dignity, in Oratory, is one of the three parts oi
general elocution ; and consists in the right use of tropes
and figures. See Oratory, N° 48. „ . .
DIGRESSION, in Oratory, is defined by Quinti¬
lian, agreeably to the etymology of the word, to be a
going off from the subject we are upon to some difler-
ent thing, which, however, may be of service to lU
See Oratory, N° 37.
DIGYNIA, (from twiee, and ytm», a woman),
the name of an order or secondary division in each of
the first 13 classes, except the 9th, in Linnaeus’s sexual
method ; consisting of plants, which to the classic cha¬
racter, whatever it is, add the circumstance of having
two styles or female organs. < f ,
DII, the divinities of the ancient inhabitants of the
earth, were very numerous. ETery object wbicli caus¬
ed terror, inspired gratitude, or bestowed affluence,
received the tribute of veneration. Man saw a supe-
nlpasiires of external sense, conveyed uv receivcu me   * 1
more refine.d “ natural obWts and from the rior agent in the stars, the elements, or the trees j and
the eye and the ear J Sunnosed that the waters which communicated fertility
fine arts, deserve a high place in our esteem, because
of their singular and extensive utility : in some cases
they rise to a considerable dignity •, and the very low¬
est pleasures of the kind are never esteemed mean or
srrovelling. The pleasure arising from wit, humour,
ridicule, or from what is simply ludicrous, is useful,
by relaxing the mind after the fatigue of more manly
J i
supposed that the waters which communicated fertility
to his fields and possessions, were under the influence
and direction of some invisible power inclined to favour
and to benefit mankind. Thus arose a train of divini¬
ties which imagination arrayed in different forms, an
armed with different powers. They were endowe
with understanding, and were actuated by the same
passions
D I J [ 237 ] D I L
1
311.
passions which daily afflict the human race ; and those
children of superstition were appeased or provoked as
the imperfect being which gave them birth. I heir
wrath was mitigated by sacrifices and incense, and
sometimes human victims bled to expiate a crime
which superstition alone supposed to exist. Ihe sun,
from his powerful influence and animating nature, first
attracted the notice and claimed the adoration of the
uncivilized inhabitants of the earth. Ihe moon also
was honoured with sacrifices and addressed in prayers ;
and after immortality had been liberally bestowed on
all the heavenly bodies, mankind classed among their
deities the brute creation, and the cat and the sow
shared equally with Jupiter himself, the father of gods
and men, the devout veneration of their votaries. This
immense number of deities has been divided into dif¬
ferent classes according to the- will and pleasure of the
mythologists. The Homans, generally speaking, rec¬
koned two classes of the gods, the dii majorum gen¬
tium, or dii consentes, and the dii minorum gentium.
The former were 12 in number, six males and six fe¬
males.' \Vid. Consentes.] In the class of the latter
were ranked all the gods which were worshipped in
different parts of the earth. Besides these there were
some called dii selecti, sometimes classed with the 12
greater gods 5 these were Janus, Saturn, the Genius,
the Moon, Pluto, and Bacchus. There were also some
called demigods, that is, who deserved immortality
by the greatness of their exploits, and for their uncom¬
mon services to mankind. Among these were Priapus,
Vertumnus, Hercules, and those whose parents were
some of the immortal gods. Besides these, all the pas¬
sions and the moral virtues were reckoned as powerful
deities, and temples were raised to a goddess of con¬
cord, peace, &c. According to the authority of He¬
siod, there were no less than 30,000 gods that inhabit¬
ed the earth, and were guardians of men, all subser¬
vient to the power of Jupiter. To these, succeeding
ages have added an almost equal number : and indeed
they were so numerous, and their functions so various,
that we find temples erected, and sacrifices offered, to
unknown gods. It is observable that all the gods of
the ancients have lived upon earth as mere mortals j
and even J upiter, who was the ruler of heaven, is re¬
presented by the mythologists as a helpless child j and
we are acquainted with all the particulars that attend¬
ed the birth and education of Juno. In process of
time, not only good and virtuous men, who had been
the patrons of learning and the supporters of liberty,
but also thieves and pirates, were admitted among the
gods, and the Roman senate courteously granted im¬
mortality to the most cruel and abandoned of their em¬
perors.
D1JAMBUS, in Poetry, the foot of a Latin verse
of four syllables j it is compounded of two iambics, as
se veritas.
DIJON, an ancient and very considerable town of
Prance ; formerly capital of Burgundy, and of the Di-
jonois j now the episcopal town of the department of
Cote d’Or. Before the revolution it had a parliament,
a mint, an university, academy of sciences, an abbey,
and a citadel. Most parts of the churches and public
structures are very beautiful, and in one of the squares
there was an equestrian statue of Louis XIV. It is
seated in a very pleasant plain, between two small ri¬
vers, which produces excellent wine. It contains 21,600 Dike
inhabitants. E. Long. 5. 7. N. Lat. 47. 19. {]
DIKE, a ditch or drain, made for the passage of Dillenia.
waters.—The word seems formed from the verb to dig ; —
though others choose to derive it from the Dutch, diik,
a dam, sea-bank, or wall.
Dike, or Dyke, also denotes a work of stone, tim¬
ber or lascines, raised to oppose the entrance or pas¬
sage of the waters of the sea, a river, lake, or the like.
—The word comes from the Flemish dyk, or diik, a heap
of earth to bound or stem the water. Junius and Menage
take the Flemish to have borrowed their word from the
Greek leiftos, wall. Guichard derives it from the He¬
brew, daghah. These dikes are usually elevations of
earth, with hurdles of stakes, stones, and other matters.
The dike of Rochelle is made with vessels fastened
to the bottom. The dikes of Holland are frequently
broke through, and drown large tracts of land.
DILAPIDATION, in Law, a wasteful destroying,
or letting buildings, especially parsonage houses, &.c.
run to decay, for want of necessary reparation. If the
clergy neglect to repair the houses belonging to their
benefices, the bishop may sequester the profits thereof
for that purpose. And in these cases, a prosecution
may be brought, either in the spiritual court or at com¬
mon law, against the incumbent himself, or against his
executor or administrator.
DILATATION, in Physics, a motion of the parts
of any body, by which it is so expanded as to occupy
a greater space. This expansive motion depends upon
the elastic power of the body j whence it appears that
dilatation is different from rarefaction, this last being,
produced by means of heat.
DILATATORES, in Anatomy, a name given to
several muscles of the human body. See Anatomy,
Tables of the Muscles.
DILATORY pleas, in Law, are such as are put
in merely for delay 5 and there may be a demurrer to
a dilatory plea, or the defendant shall be ordered to
plead better, &c. The truth of dilatory pleas is to be
made out by affidavit of the fact, &c. by stat. 4. and
5 Anne. See Plea.
DILATRIS, a genus of plants belonging to the tri-
andria class. See Botany Index.
DILEMMA, in Logic, an argument equally con¬
clusive by contrary suppositions. See Logic.
DILIGENCE, in Scots Law, signifies either that
care and attention which parties are bound to give, ia
implementing certain contracts or trusts, and which va¬
ries according to the nature of the contract j or it
signies certain forms of law, whereby the.creditor
endeavours to operate his payment, either by affecting
the person or estate of the debtor. See Law Index.
DILL. See Anethum, Botany Index.
DILLEMBURG, a town of Germany, in Wet-
teravia, and capital of a county ol the same name.
It is subject to a prince of the house of Nassau, and is
situated in E. Long. 8. 24, N. Lat. 50. 45.
DILLENGEN, a town of Germany, in the circle
of Suabia, formerly with a university, which was con.
verted into a lyceum when the town was transferred
to Bavaria in 1802. It is seated near the Danube. E.
Long. IO. 30. N. Lat. 48. 34.
DILLE,NIUS, John James, a distinguished Ger¬
man botanist,, see SUPPLEMENT.
DILUTE.-.
DIM
[ 238 ]
D I N
N° 3?-
Di,ute DILUTE. To dilute a body is to render it liquid ■,
IS or if it were liquid before, to render it moie so bj the
Dimsdale. addition of a thinner thereto. These things thus add-
J ^ gd are called diluents^ or diltitors.
DIMACHE, (from $<5, double, andlfight),
in antiquity, a kind of horsemen first instituted by A-
lexander. Their armour was lighter than that ot the
infantry, and at the same time heavier than that used
by horsemen, so that they could act as horse or foot as
occasion required.
DIMENSION, in Geometry, is either length,
breadth, or thickness : hence, a line hath one dimen¬
sions, viz. length ; a superficies two, viz. length and
breadth ; and a body, or solid, has three, viz. length,
breadth, and thickness.
DIMINUTION, in Architecture, a contraction ot
the upper part of a column, by which its diameter is
* See Ar- made less than that of the lower part. *
chitechire. Diminution, in Music, is the abating something ot
the full value or quantity of any note.
DIMINUTIVE, in Grammar, a word formed from
some other, to soften or diminish the force ot it, or to
signify a thing is little in its kind. Thus, cellule is a
diminutive oi cell, globule globe, hillock of/»//. _
DIMISSORY LETTERS, {LitercB Dimissorue), in
the canon law, a letter given by a bishop to a candi¬
date for holy orders, having a title in his diocese, di¬
rected to some other bishop, and giving leave tor the
bearer to be ordained by him.
When a person produces letters of ordination or ton-
sure conferred by any other than his own diocesan, he
must at the same time produce the letters dimissory
^iven by his own bishop, on pain of nullity.
Letters dimissory cannot be given by the chapter,
sede vacante; this being deemed an act of voluntary
jurisdiction which ought to be reserved to the sue-
cessor.
DIMOERTITE, a name given to the Apollinarists,
who at first held, that the Word only assumed a human
body, without taking a reasonable soul like ours *, but
being at length convinced by formal texts of Scripture,
they allowed, that he did assume a soul, but without
understanding *, the Word supplying the want ot that
faculty. From this way of separating the understand¬
ing from the soul, they became denominated dimcerites,
q. d. dividers, separators, of and I divide.
DIMSDALE, Thomas, Baron, greatly distinguish¬
ed for his practice of inoculation for the small-pox,
was the son of a surgeon and apothecary at Theydon
Gernon in Essex, and was born in the year 1712. Dis
family belonged to the society of Quakers 5 and his
ved the duke’s thanks, and returned to Hertford. In Ditnsdalj
1746 he married Anne lies, a relation ot his first wife, Dindymu
and by her fortune, and that which he acquired by the ' r-
death of the widow of Sir John Dimsdale of Hertford,
he retired from practice; but his family becoming
numerous, and seven of his ten children being living,
he resumed it, and took the oegree ot doctoi of me-
dine, in 1761. Having fully satisfied himself about
the new method of treating persons under inoculation
for the small-pox, he published his treatise on it in I77^»
which was soon circulated all over the continent, and
translated into all its languages, not omitting the
Russian. He concludes with .saying that, “ although
the whole process may have some share in the success,
it, in my opinion, consists chiefly in the method of in¬
oculating with recent fluid matter, and the manage¬
ment of the patients at the time of eruption. ’ This
proof of his professional knowledge occasioned his be¬
ing invited to inoculate the empress Catherine and her
son, in 1768, of which he gives a particular account in
his Tracts on Inoculation, 1781. His reward for this
was an appointment of actual counsellor of state and
physician to her imperial majesty, with an annuity ot
cool, the rank of a baron of the Russian empire, to be
borne by his eldest lawful descendant in succession, and
a black wing of the Russian eagle in a gold shield in
the middle of his arms, with the customary helmet,
adorned with the baron’s coronet, over the shield ; to
receive immediately 10,000!. and 2000I. for travelling
charges, miniature pictures of the empress and her son,
and the same title to his son, to whom the grand duke
gave a gold snuff-box, richly set with diamonds. Ihe
baron inoculated numbers of people at Moscow ; and,
resisting the empress’s invitation to reside as her physi¬
cian in Russia, he and his son vyere admitted to a pri¬
vate audience of Frederic II. king of Prussia, at Sans
Souci, and thence returned to England. In 1779, he
lost his second wife, who left him seven children. Pie
afterwards married Elizabeth daughter of William
Dimsdale, of Bishops-Stortford, who survived him.
He was elected representative of the borough of Hert¬
ford in 1780; and declined all practice, except for the
relief of the poor. He went to Russia once more, in
1781, to inoculate the late emperor and his brother
Constantine, sons of the grand duke ; and, as he pas¬
sed through Brussels, the late emperor Joseph recei¬
ved him in private, and wrote in his presence a letter,
which he was to convey to the empress of Russia. In
1700, his son, Baron Nathanael, was elected for the
borough of Hertford, on his resignation and retirement
to Bath, for several winters; but at last he fixed aito-
pin
family belonged to the society of Quakers; and his to tSatli, tor several wuici*,
grandfather accompanied William Pern, to America ; gather at Hertford and d.ed ^ed 89, D • 3 • .
but soon after returned and settled in his native village, after an tllness of abo t « " ' f „ne eve d Jlinina.
Thomas was brought up to his profession first under his
father, and afterwards he became a pupil in St Thomas
Hospital, London. He commenced his practice at
Hertford about 1734, and married the only daughter
of Nathanael Brassey, of Roxford, near that town, an
eminent banker in London, and representative of Hert¬
ford in four successive parliaments. She died in 1744,
and left no children. To relieve his mind under this
loss, he voluntarily offered his assistance to the physi¬
cians and surgeons in the army under the duke ot
Cumberland, and continued with it till after the sur¬
render of Carlisle to the king’s forces, when he recei-
before his death he felt the sight of one eye declining,
having before lost that of the other, but recovered both
by the operation ot the cataract, by Wenzel.
DINDYMA, -orum, (Virgil,) from Dindymus, -1;
a mountain allotted by many to Phrygia. Strabo has
two mountains of this name ; one in IVIysia near Cy-
zicus ; the other in Gallogrtecia near Pessinus ; ami
none in Phrygia. Ptolemy extends this ridge from
the borders of Troas, through Phrygia, to Gallogrse-
cia: though therefore there were two mountains called
Dindymus in particular, both sacred to the mother of
the gods, and none of them in Phrygia Major yet
DIO [
idyma ^iere ^)e several hills and eminences in it, on
jj which this goddess was worshipped, and therefore call-
nnpsp ed Dindyma in general. Hence Cybele is surnamed
Dindymane, (Horace.)
DINGWALL, a royal borough of Scotland in the
shire of Ross, seated on the frith of Cromarty, 15 miles
west of the town of Cromarty. Near it runs the river
Conel, famous for producing pearls. W. Long. 4. 15.
N. Lat. 57. 45. Dingwall was a Scotch barony in
the person of the duke of Ormond in right of his lady,
but forfeited in I7I5- Population 800.
DINNER, the meal taken about the middle of the
day.—The word is derived from the French disnei',
which Du Cange derives from the barbarous Latin
disnare. Henry Stephens derives it from the Gx-eek
Isotvoh; and will have it wrote dipncr. Menage dedu¬
ces it from the Italian desindre, “ to dine” 5 and that
from the Latin desinere, “ to leave off work.”
It is generally agreed to be the most salutary to
make a plentiful dinner, and to eat sparingly at supper.
This is the general practice among us. The French,
however, in imitation of the ancient Romans, defer
their good cheer to the evening ; and Bernardinus Pa-
ternus, an eminent Italian physician, maintains it to
be the most wholesome method, in a treatise expressly
on the subject.
The grand Tartar emperor of China, after he has
dined, makes publication by his heralds, that he gives
leave for all the other kings and potentates of the
earth to go to dinner; as if they waited for his leave.
DINOCRATES, a celebrated architect of Mace¬
donia, who rebuilt the temple of Ephesus, when'burnt
by Erostratus, with much more magnificence than be¬
fore. \ itruvius informs us that Dinocrates proposed
to Alexander the Great to convert Mount Athos into
the figure of a man, whose left hand should contain a
walled city, and all the rivers of the mount flow into
his right, and from thence into the sea 1 He also con¬
ceived a scheme for building the dome of the temple of
Arsinoe at Alexandria, of loadstone ; that should by its
attraction uphold her iron image in the centre, suspend¬
ed in the air ! Projects which at least showed a vast ex¬
tent of imagination.
DIO Chrysostom, that is, Golden Mouth, a cele¬
brated orator and philosopher of Greece, in the first
century, was born at Prusa in Bithynia. He attempted
to persuade Vespasian to quit the empire : was hated
by Domitian; but acquired the esteem of Trajan.
This last prince took pleasure in conversing with him,
and made him ride with him in his triumphal chariot.
There are still extant 80 of Dio’s orations, and some
other of his works ; the best edition of which is that of
Hermand Samuel Raimarus, in 1750, in folio.
or Diocess, the circuit or extent of
the jurisdiction of a Bishop. The word is formed from
the Greek government, administration ; form¬
ed which the ancient glossaries render admi-
nistro, moderor, ordino; hence tjjj tcoMus, the
administration ox government of a city.
Diocese is also used in ancient authors, &c. for the
province of a metropolitan.
Piocczsis Qiovamt), was originally a civil govern¬
ment, or prefecture, composed of divers provinces.
The first division of the empire into dioceses is or¬
dinarily ascribed to Constantine ; who distributed the
239 ] DIO
whole Roman state into four, viz. the diocese of Italy, Diocese
the diocese of Illyria, that of the East, and that of i|
Africa. And yet long before Constantine, Strabo, Dioc;1«sia-
who wrote under Tiberius, takes notice, lib. xiii. p] nils'
432. that the Romans had divided Asia into dioceses * ” ’ ^
and complains of the confusion such a division occasion¬
ed in geography, Asia being no longer divided by
people, but by dioceses, each whereof had a tribunal or
court, where justice was administered. Constantine
then was only the institutor of those large dioceses,
which comprehended several metropoles and govern¬
ments ; the former dioceses only comprehending one
jurisdiction or district, or the country that had resort
to one judge, as appears from this passage in Strabo,
and (before Strabo) from Cicero himself, lib. iii. epist.
adfamil. 9. and lib. xiii. ep. 67.
Thus, at first a province included divers dioceses ;
and afterwards a diocese came to comprise divers pro¬
vinces. In after times the Roman empire became di¬
vided into 13 dioceses or prefectures; though, in¬
cluding Rome, and the surburbicary regions, there
were 14. These 14 dioceses comprehended 120 pro¬
vinces ; each province had a proconsul, who resided in
the capital or metropolis ; and each diocese of the em¬
pire had a consul, who presided in the principal city of
the district.
On this civil constitution the ecclesiastical one was
afterwards regulated : each diocese had an ecclesiasti¬
cal vicar or primate, who judged finally of all the con^
cerns of the church within his territory.
At present there is some further alteration : for dio¬
cese does not now signify an assemblage of divers pro¬
vinces ; but is limited to a single province under a me¬
tropolitan, or more commonly to the single jurisdiction
of a bishop.
Gul. Brito affirms diocese to be properly the terri¬
tory and extent of a baptismal or parochial church ;
whence divers authors use the word to signify a simple
parish. See Parish.
DIOCLEIA, (A<e*An«), in antiquity, a solemnity
kept in the spring at Megara, in memory of the Athe¬
nian hero, who died in the defence of the youth he
loved.
DIOCLESIANUS, Caius Valerius Jovius, a
celebrated Roman emperor, born of an obscure family
in Dalmatia in 245. He was first a common soldier,
and by merit and success he gradually rose to the office
of a general ; and at the death of Numerian in 284 he
was invested with imperial power. In this high station
he rewarded the virtues and fidelity of Maximian, who
had shared with him all the subordinate offices in the
army, by making him his colleague on the throne. He
created two subordinate emperors, Constantius and Ga-
lerius, whom he called Caesars, whilst he claimed for
himself and his colleague the superior title of Augustus.
Dioclesian has been celebrated for his military virtues;
and though he was naturally unpolished by education
and study, yet he was the friend and patron of learn¬
ing and true genius. He was bold and resolute, active
and diligent, and well acquainted with the arts, which
will endear a sovereign to his people, and make him re¬
spectable even in the eyes of his enemies. His cruelty,
however, against the followers of Christianity, has been
deservedly branded with infamy. After he had reign¬
ed 22 years in the greatest prosperity, he publicly ab¬
dicated^
DIO
[ 240 ]
DIO
dicated the crown atNicomedia in 305, and retired to
a private station at Salona. Maximian lus colleague
followed his example, but not from voluntary choice j
and when he some time after endeavoured to rouse the
ambition of Dioclesian, and persuade him to reassume
the imperial purple, he received for answer, that Dio¬
clesian took now more delight in cultivating his little
garden than he formerly enjoyed in a palace, when his
power was extended over all the earth. He lived nine
vears after his abdication in the greatest security and
enjoyment at Salona, and died in 314, m the 68th
■year of his age. Dioclesian is the first sovereign who
voluntarily resigned his power. His bloody persecu¬
tion of the Christians forms a chronological era, called
the era of Dioclesian, or of the martyrs. It was for a
long time in use in theological writings, and is still fol¬
lowed by the Copts and Abyssinians. It commenced
August 29. 284. , . »
DIODATI, John, a famous minister, and protes-
sor of theology at Geneva, was born at Lucca in 1579,
and died at Geneva in 1652. He is distinguished by
translations, I. Of the Bible into Italian, with notes,
Geneva, 1607, 4to. The best edition at Geneva m
1641, folio. This is said to be more a paraphrase than
a translation, and the notes rather divine meditations
than critical reflections. 2. Of the Bible into I rench,
Geneva, 1644. 3- 0t Father Paul’S HlSt0ry °f ^
Council of Trent into French. _ ,
DIODIA, a genus of plants belonging to the te-
trandria class, and in the natural method ranking un¬
der the 47th order, Stellaiee. See Botany Index.
DIODON, or Sun-FISH, a genus of fishes belong¬
ing to the order of amphibia nantes. See Ichthyo¬
logy1 O' 7
DIODORUS, an historian, surnamed Siculus be¬
cause he was born at Argyra in Sicily. He wrote a
history of Egypt, Persia, Syria, Media, Greece, Rome
and Carthage j and it is said that he visited all th
places of which he has made mention in his history.
It was the labour of 30 years. He is, however, too
credulous in some of his narrations *, and often wanders
far from the truth. He often dwells too long upon
fabulous reports and trifling incidents; while events 0
the greatest importance to history are treated with bre¬
vity, and sometimes passed over in silence. He lived
in the age of Julius Csesar and Augustus 5 and spent
much time at Rome to procure information, and au¬
thenticate his historical narrations. Ihis important
work, which he composed in Greek, contained 40
books, of which there are only 15 remaining. I he
style is clear and neat, and very suitable to history.
The best edition is that of Amsterdam, 1743, in 2 vols
folio. . ,
DIOECIA, (from 3<f, twice, and a house or
habitation') two houses ; the name of the 22d class 111
Linnseus’s sexual method, consisting of plants which
having no hermaphrodite flowers, produce male and
female flowers on separate roots. These latter only
ripen seeds ; but require for that purpose, according to
the sexualists, the vicinity of a male plant; or the as¬
persion, that is, sprinkling of the male dust. From
the seeds of the female flowers are raised both male and
female plants. The plants then in the class dicecia are
all male and female-, not hermaphrodite, as in the
greater number of classes) nor with male and female
flowers upon one root, as in the class monoecia of the j);^
same author. See Botany Index.
DIOGENES of Apollonia, in the island of Crete,
held a considerable rank among the philosophers who
taught in Ionia before Socrates appeared at Athens.
He was the scholar and successor ot Anaximenes, and
in some measure rectified his master’s opinion concern¬
ing air being the cause of all things. It is said, that he
was the first who observed that air was capable ot con¬
densation and rarefaction. He passed for an excellent
philosopher, and died about the 450th year before the
Christian era.
Diogenes the Cynic, a famous philosopher, was
the son of a banker of Sinope in Pontus. Being ba¬
nished with his father for coining false money, he retired
to Athens, where he studied philosophy under Antis-
thenes. He added new degrees of austerity to the sect
of the Cynics, and never did any philosopher carry so
far a contempt for the conveniences of life. He was
one of those extraordinary men who run every thing to
extremity, without excepting even reason itself j and
who confirm the saying, that “ there is no great ge¬
nius without a tincture of madness.”. He lodged in a
tub ; and had no other moveables besides his stall, wal¬
let and wooden bowl, which last he threw away on
seeing a boy drink out of the hollow of his hand. He
used to call himself a vagabond, who had neither house
nor country; was obliged to beg, was ill clothed, and
lived from hand to mouth 5 and yet, says iEhan, he took
as much pride in these things as Alexander could in the
conquest of the world. He was not indeed a jot more
humble than those who are clothed in rich apparel, and
fare sumptuously every day. He looked down on al
the world with scorn ; he magisterially censured all
mankind, and thought himself unquestionably superior
to all other philosophers. Alexander one day paid him
a visit, and made him an offer of riches or any thing
else; but all that the philosopher requested ot him
was, to stand from betwixt the sun and him. As it
he had said, “ Do not deprive me of the benefits of
nature, and I leave to you those of fortune. The con¬
queror was so affected with the vigour and elevation ot
his soul, as to declare, that, “ if he was not Alexander,
he would choose to be Diogenesthat is, if he was
not in possession of all that was pompous and splendid
in life, he would, like Diogenes, heroically despise it.
Diogenes had great presence of mind, as appears from
his smart sayings and quick repartees j and Plato seem
to have hit off his true character when he called him a
Socrates run mad. He spent a great part of his life at
Corinth, and the reason of his hv.ng there was as fol¬
lows : as he was going over to the island ^£gina’J\
was taken bv pirates, who carried him into Crete, an
there exposed him to sale. He answered the ciier
who asked him what he could do that “ he knew how
To command men:” and perceiving a Corinthian who
was croing by, he shewed him to the crier, and said
“ Self me to that gentleman, for he wants a master.
Xeniades, for that was the Corinthian s name, bo g
Diogenes, and carried him with him to Conn .
appointed him tutor to his children, and intrusted h
also with the management of his house.
friends being desirous to redeem him, lou ar
fools (said he) j the lions are not the slaves of those who
feed them, but they are the servants of the
B I O
eaes
tlrereforc plainly told Xeniades, that he ought to obey
him, as people obey their governors and physicians.
Some say, that Diogenes spent the remainder of his
life in Xeniades’s family; but Dion Chrysostom asserts
that he passed the winter at Athens, and the summer
at Corinth. He died at Corinth when he was about
po years old : but authors are not agreed either as to
the time or manner of his death. The following ac¬
count, Jerome says, is the true one. As he was going
to the Olympic games, a fever seized him in the way ;
upon which he lay down under a tree, and refused the
assistance of those who accompanied him, and who of¬
fered him either a horse or a chariot. “ Go you to the
games (says he), and leave me to contend with my ill¬
ness. If l conquer, I will follow you ; if I am conquer¬
ed, I shall go to the shades below.” He despatched
himself that very night ; saying, that “ he did not so
properly die, as get rid of his fever.” He had for his
disciples Onesicritus, Phocion, Stilpo of Megara, and
several other great men. His works are lost.
, Diogenes Laertius, so called from Laerta in Cili¬
cia where he was born, an ancient Greek author, who
wrote ten books of the Lives of the Philosophers, still
extant. In what year he flourished, is not easy to de¬
termine. The oldest writers who mention him are So-
pater Alexandrinus, who lived in the time of Constan¬
tine the Great, and Hesychius Milesius, who lived un¬
der Justinian. Diogenes often speaks in terms of ap¬
probation of Plutarch and Phavorinus ; and therefore,
as Plutarch lived under Jrajan, and Phavorinus under
Hadrian, it is certain that he could not flourish before
the reigns of those emperors. Menage has fixed him
to the time of Severus ; that is, about the year of
Christ 200. From certain expressions in him, some
have fancied him to have been a Christian ; but, as
Menage observes, the immoderate praises he bestows
upon Epicurus will not suffer us to believe this, but
incline us rather to suppose that he was an Epicurean.
He divided his Lives into books, and inscribed them to
a learned lady of the Platonic school, as he himself in¬
timates in his life of Plato. Montaigne was so fond of
this author, that instead of one Laertius he wishes we
had a dozen ; and Vossius says, that his work is as pre¬
cious as gold. Without doubt we are greatly obli¬
ged to him for what we know of the ancient philoso¬
phers : and if he had been as exact in the writing part
as he was judicious in the choice of his subject, we had
been more obliged to him still. Bishop Burnet, in the
preface to his Life of Sir Matthew Hale, speaks of
him in the following proper manner : “ There is no
book the ancients have left us (says he), which might
have informed us more than Diogenes Laertius’s Lives
of the Philosophers, if he had had the art of writing
equal to that great subject which he undertook : for il’
he had given the world such an account of them as
Gassendus has done of Peiresc, how great a stock of
knowledge might we have had, which by his unskilful¬
ness is in a great measure lost! since we must now de¬
pend only on him, because we have no other and better
author who has written on that argument.” There
have been several editions of his Lives of the Philoso¬
phers ; but the best is that printed in two volumes Ato,
ap „ sten*am» I^93* . This contains the advantages
oi all the former, besides some peculiar to itself: the
VOL. VII. Part I. t
[ 241 ]
D I O
Greek text and the Latin version corrected and amend¬
ed by Meibomius ; the entire notes of Henry Stephens,
both the Casauhons, and of Menage; 24 copperplates
ot philosophers elegantly engraved : to which is added
I he History of the Female Philosophers, written by
Menage, and dedicated to Madame Dacier. Besides
111s, Laertius wrote a book of Epigrams upon illustri¬
ous Men, called Pammetrus, from Us various kinds of
metre ; but this is not extant.
DIOMEDIA, a genus of birds belonging to the
order ol anseres. See Ornithology Index.
K I>I?]Vi?1?.ES’ °f Ty{leus and Deiphyle, was
King or/Gtolia, and one of the bravest of the Grecian
chiefs in the Trojan war. He often engaged Hector
and /Eneas, and obtained much military glory. He
went with Ulysses to steal the Palladium from the temple
of Minerva in Troy ; and assisted in murdering Ilhesus
king of Thrace, and carrying away his horses. At his
return from the siege of Troy, he lost his Way in the
darkness of night, and landed in Attica, where his
companions plundered the country and lost the Trojan
Palladium. During his long absence, bis wife zLgiale
forgot her marriage vows, and prostituted herself to
Cometes one of her servants. This lasciviousness of
the queen was attributed by some to the resentment
of Venus, whom Diomedes had severely wounded in
a battle before Troy. The infidelity of yEgiale was
highly displeasing to Diomedes. He resolved to aban¬
don his native country which was the seat of his dis¬
grace ; and the attempts of bis wife to take away his
life, according to some accounts, did not a little con¬
tribute to hasten his departure. He came to that part
of Italy, which has been called Magna Grcecia, where
he built a city, which he called Argijrippa, and married
the daughter of Daunus the king of the country. He
died there in extreme old age ; or according to a cer¬
tain tradition, he perished by the hand of his father-
in-law. His death was greatly lamented by his com¬
panions, who in the excess of their grief were changed
into birds resembling swans. These birds took flight
into a neighbouring island in the Adriatic, and be¬
came remarkable for the tameness with which they ap¬
proached the Greeks, and for the horror with which
they shunned all other nations. They are called the
birds of Diomedes. Altars were raised to Diome¬
des as to a god, one of which Strabo mentions at Ti-
mavus.
DION, a Syracusan, son of Hipparinus, famous
for his power and abilities. He was related to Dio¬
nysius, and often advised him, together with the philo¬
sopher Plato, who at his request had come to reside at
the tyrant’s court, to lay aside the supreme power.
His great popularity rendered him odious in the eyes
of the tyrant, who banished him to Greece. There
he collected a numerous force, and resolved to free his
country from tyranny. This he easily effected on ac¬
count of his uncommon popularity. He entered the
port of Syracuse only in two ships; and in three days
reduced under his power an empire which had already
subsisted for 50 years, and which was guarded by 500
ships of war, and above 100,000 troops. Tire tyrant
fled to Corinth, and Dion kept the power in his own
hands, fearful of the aspiring ambition of some of the
friends of Dionysius ; but he was shamefully betrayed
H h an{j
Diogenes
II
Dion.
D I O
Dion
and murdered by one of his .
Callicrates or Callipus, 354 years before the Christian
Dionysiaca. era>
"-"" I^ioN Cassiust a native of J'Ticsea in Bithynia. His
father’s name was Apronianus. He was raised to
the greatest offices of state in the Roman empire by
Fertinax, and his three successors. He was naturally
fond of study, and he improved himselt by unwearied
application. He was ten years in collecting materials
for a history of Rome, which he made public in 80
books, after a laborious employment ot 12 years in
composing it. This valuable history began with the
arrival of iEneas in Italy, down to the reign of the
emperor Alexander Severus. The first 34 books are
totally lost, the 20 following, that is, from the 35th to
the 54th, remain entire, the six following are mutilat¬
ed, and fragments is all that we possess ot the last 20.
In the compilation of this extensive history, Dion pro¬
posed to himself Thucydides for a model, but he is not
perfectly happy in his imitation. His style is pure and
elegant, and his narrations are judiciously managed,
and his reflections learned : but upon the whole, he is
credulous, and the bigotted slave of partiality, satire,
and flattery. He inveighs against the republican prin¬
ciples of Brutus and Cicero, and extols the cause of
Caesar. Seneca is the object of his satire, and he re¬
presents him as debauched and licentious in his mo-
DIONIS, Peter, a distinguished French surgeon,
was born in Paris. In the time of Louis XiV. he was
appointed anatomical and chirurgical demonstrator in the
royal garden, and he was the first who held that plage.
He was surgeon in ordinary to Maria Theresa of Aus¬
tria, queen "of France, and to two dauphinesses and the
royal children. He was the author of several works,
both on anatomical and surgical subjects. One of the
firstof his publications, is entitled Anatomic dell'Homme,
suivant la Circulation du Sang, 8vo, which appeared
in 1690, and has been frequently reprinted, and trans¬
lated into different languages. It was translated into
the Tartarian dialect by a Jesuit for the use ot the em¬
peror of China. This work has been considered as
a useful compendium of anatomy. In another work
which he published in 1698, entitled, Dissertation
Distorique et Physique sur la Generation de PHomme,
he supports the ovarian hypothesis. In 1707 he pub¬
lished a work on surgery, entitled Cours cPOperations
de Chirurgerie, 8vo, which was several times reprint¬
ed j and latterly it was edited with notes by La Faye
in 2 vols. This treatise was long received as a stand¬
ard book on the subject. It contains many useful and
pertinent observations detailed in plain, unaffected lan¬
guage. Dionis is tbe author of two other works ; the
first, Sur la Moi't subite, et sur la Catalepsie, publish¬
ed in 1709, and the other Traite generale des Accouche-
ments, in 17x8. But the last is little else than an
abridgement of Maur^eau’s work on the same subject.
Dionis died at Paris in 1718.
DIONiRA, Venus’s Fly-trap, a genus of plants
belonging to the decandria class. See Botany
DIONYSIA, in Grecian antiquity, solemnities in
honour of Bacchus, sometimes called by the general
name of Orgia ; and by the Romans Bacchanalia, and
Liberalia. See BACCHANALIA and BACCHUS.
DIONYSIACA, in antiquity, was a designation
3
[ 242 ] DIO
familiar friends called giveft to plays and all manner of sports acted on tbe D!oDyS;a
stao-e •, because playhouses were dedicated to IJiony- ||
sius, i. e. Bacchus, and Venus, as being the deities of Dlopha
sports and pleasure^
DIONYSIAN PERIOD. See Chronology, N 31.
DIONYSIUS I. from a private secretary became
general and tyrant of Syracuse and all Sicily. He was
likewise a poet j and having, by bribes, gained the tra¬
gedy prize at Athens, he indulged himself so immode¬
rately at table from excess of joy, that he died of the
debauch, 386 B. C. •, but some authors relate that he
was poisoned by his physicians.
Dionysius II. (his son and successor) was a great¬
er tyrant than his father j his subjects were obliged to
apply to the Corinthians for succour \ and Timoleon
their general having conquered the tyrant, he fled to
Athens, where he was obliged to keep a school for sub¬
sistence. He died 343 B. C.
Dionysius Halicarnassensis, a celebrated histori¬
an, and one of the most judicious critics of antiquity,
was born at Halicarnassus : and went to Rome after
the battle of Actium, where he staid 22 years under
the reign of Augustus. He there composed in Greek
his History of the Roman Antiquities, in 20 books,
of which the first 11 only are now remaining. There
are also still extant several of his critical works. Ihe
best edition of the works of this author is that of
Oxford, in 1704, in Greek and Latin, by Dr Hud-
son. 1 • *
Dionysius, a learned geographer, to whom is at¬
tributed a Periegesis, or Survey of the Earth, in Greek
verse. Some suppose that he lived in the time of Au¬
gustus ; but Scaliger and Saumasius place him under
the reign of Severus, or Marcus Aurelius. He wrote
many other works, but his Periegesis is the only one
we have remaining 5 the best and most useful edition
of which is that improved with notes and illustrations
by Hill. . . ,
Dionysius Areopagita, was born at Athens, and
educated there. He went afterwards to Heliopolis in
Egypt; where, if we may believe some writers of his
life, he saw that wonderful eclipse which happened at
our Saviour’s passion, and was urged by some extraor¬
dinary impulse to cry out, Aut Deus patitur, out cum
patiente dolet; “ either God himself suffers, or condoles
with him who does.” At his return to Athens he
was elected into the court of Areopagus, from whence
he derived his name of Areopagite. About the year
ro he embraced Christianity ; and, as some say, was
appointed first bishop of Athens by St Paul. Of his
conversion we have an account in the 17th chapter ot
the Acts of the Apostles.—He is supposed to have suf¬
fered martyrdom •, but whether under Domitian, ira-
ian, or Adrian, is not certain. We have nothing re¬
maining under his name, but what there is the greatest
reason to believe spurious.
Dionysius the Lesser, a Scythian, became a 0
of a monastery at Rome *, he was the first who com¬
puted time from the birth of Dionysius to Christ, and
fixed that great event, according to the vulgar era.
He was also a learned canon law writer, and died about
the year 540.
DIOPHANTINE problems, in Mathematics, cer¬
tain questions relating to square and cube numbers,
and right-angled triangles, &c. the nature pi w uc 1
was
(' iplian-
iiHC.
U-y—^
DIO t 243 ]
Was determined by Diopbantus, a mathematician of and x-\.u
Alexandria, who is believed to have lived about the
third century. We have his works, which were pub¬
lished with notes at Paris, in 1621, by Bacbet de Me-
ziriac $ and another edition in 1670, with observations
on every question by M. Fermat.
Jn these questions it is endeavoured to find commen¬
surable numbers to answer indeterminate problems j
which bring out an infinite number of incommensur¬
able quantities. For example, it is proposed to find
a right-angled triangle, whose sides, x, y, fc, are ex¬
pressed by commensurable numbers ; it is known that
f*-Fy*=2f, a ,jeing tIie supposed hypothenuse. But
it is possible to assume x and y so, that ss will be in¬
commensurable ; for if 1, and y=2,
The art of resolving such problems consists in so
managing the unknown quantity or quantities in such
a manner, that the square or higher power may vanish
out of the equation, and then by means of the unknown
quantity in its first dimension, the equation may be re¬
solved without having recourse to incommensurables;
e. g. let it be supposed to find x, y, <z, the sides of a
right-angled triangle, such as will give z*.
Suppose szr.r-py, then x2+y'=iX' -f2 .r u+u*; out of
D t O
rj. It is evident that this problem admits DiopHan-
which equation x'
vanishes, and x — - U
2 u
then as¬
suming y and u equal to any numbers at pleasure, the
* f 1/^
sides of the triangle will be y, —
2 u
and the hypothe-
, V* X KZ . „
*+u—~~2~u > y=3’antl u~li then
2 u
4>
of an infinite number of solutions,
lor the resolution of such kind of problems, see
Saunderson’s Algebra, vol. ii. book 6.
DIOPHANBUS, a celebrated mathematician of
Alexandria, has been reputed to be the inventor0of
algebia 5 at least his is the earliest work extant on
that science. It is not certain when Diophantus lived.
Some have placed him before Christ, and some after,
in the leigns ol Nero and the Antonines: but all with
equal uncertainty. It seems he is the same Diophan¬
tus who wrote the Canon Astronomicus, which Suidas
says was commented on by the celebrated Hypatia,
daughter of Theon of Alexandria. His reputation
must have been very high among the ancients, since
they ranked him with Pythagoras and Euclid in ma¬
thematical learning. Bachet, in his notes upon the jth
book Dc Anthmeticis, has collected, from Diophantus,s
epitaph in the Anthologia, the following circumstances
of his life ; namely, that he was married when he was
33 years old, and had a son born five years after; that
this son died when he was 42 years of age, and that his
father did not survive him above four years; from which
it appears, that Diophantus was 84 years old when he
died.
DIOPTER, or Dioptra, the same with the index
or alhidade of an astrolabe, or other such instrument.
Dioptra was an instrument invented by Hipparchus,
which served for several uses; as, to level water-courses;
to take the height of towers, or places at a distance; to
determine the places, magnitudes, and distances of the
planets, &c.
tine
Dioptra.
DIOPTRICS,
%
HTHAT part of Optics which treats of the laws of
refraction, and the effects which the refraction
of light has in vision. Tbe word is originally Greek,
formed of ?(*, per, “ through," and onAcpcu, I see.
As this and the other branches of Optics are fully
treated under the collective name, we shall here, 1. Just
give a summary of the general principles of the branch,
in a few plain aphorisms, with some preliminary defi¬
nitions ; and, 2. Present our readers with a set of en¬
tertaining experiments, illustrative of, or dependent
upon, those principles.
DEFINITIONS.
, 1* ^ hen a ray of light passing out of one medium
into another of a different density, is turned from that
straight line in which it would otherwise proceed into
one of a different direction, it is said to be refracted.
Thus the rays AB, AC, &c. (fig. I.) by passing out
of air into the glass BGC, are turned from their na¬
tural course into that of BF, CF, &c. and are there¬
fore said to be refracted by the lens BGC.
2. Any spherical transparent glass, that converges
or diverges the rays of light as they pass through it, is
called a lens.
3. Of lenses there are five sorts : 1. A plane or
single convex lens* which is plane on one side and con¬
vex on the other ; as AZ, fig. 2. 2. A double convex Fig,
lens, as B. 3. A plano-concave lens, that is, plane on
one side and concave on the other, as C. 4. A double
concave, as D. And, 5. A meniscus, which is convex
on one side and concave on the other, as E.
4. The point C, (fig. 2.) round which the spherical
surface of a lens, as AZ, is described, is called its cen¬
tre ; tbe line XY, drawn from that centre perpendicu¬
lar to its two surfaces, is tbe axis ; and tbe point V, to
which tbe axis is drawn, is tbe vertex of that lens.
5. When the rays of light that pass through a single
or double convex lens are brought into their smallest
compass, that point is the focus of the lens.
6. In optical instruments, that lens which is next
the object is called the object glass; and that next the
eye, the eye glass.
7. The distance between the line AB, (fig. 3.) ami pj ^
tbe perpendicular EF, is called the angle of incidence i
and the distance between tbe line BD and the perpen¬
dicular EF, is called tbe angle of refraction.
APHORISMS.
I. A ray of light passing obliquely out of one me¬
dium into another that is denser, will be refracted to¬
ward tbe perpendicular ; as tbe ray AB, by passing
out of air into glass, is refracted into BF" inclined
H h 2 •
244
rig. 4,
D I 0 P '
to the perpendicular AF. On the contrary, a ray
passing out of a denser into a rarer medium, will be
refracted from the perpendicular ; as the ray RC, pas¬
sing out of the glass GH into air, is refracted into
bi. • , .
2. The sines of the angles of incidence and refrac¬
tion, when the lines that contain them are all equal,
will have a determinate proportion to each other, in
the same, mediums j which, between air and water,
will be as 4 to 3 } between air and glass, as 3 to 2,
nearly 5 and in other mediums, in proportion to then-
densities.
3. Any object viewed through a glass, whose two sur¬
faces are parallel, will appear of its natural shape and
dimensions, provided it be only of the size of the P11?1
of the eye, and the light proceeding from it be received
directly through the glass by one eye only. In all other
situations an alteration will be perceived not only in its
apparent situation, but its dimensions also. This altera¬
tion will be greater in proportion to the thickness ot
the glass, and the obliquity of the rays ; in general, it
is so small as to be overlooked.
4. All the rays of light which fall upon a convex
lens, whether parallel, converging, or diverging to a
certain degree, will be made to meet in a focus on the
other side 5 hut if they diverge excessively, they will
not do so. Thus, if rays diverge from a point placed
before the glass, at the focal distance from it, they will
become parallel after passing through itand if the
point from which they proceed be nearer the glass than
its focal distance, they will still continue to diveige,
though in a less degree than before..
5. When parallel rays fall upon a concave lens, they
will be made to diverge after passing through it. If
they are diverging already before they fall upon the
glass, they will diverge more after passing through it •,
or even if they are converging to a certain degree, they
will diverge upon passing through a concave lens ; but
if the convergence is very great, they will converge af¬
ter passing through the glass, though to a more distant
point than that at which they would otherwise have
met."
6. When an object is viewed through two convex
lenses, its apparent diameter ought to be to its. real one
as the distance of the focus of the object glass is to that
of the eye glass j but by reason of the aberration of
the rays of light, the magnifying power will be some¬
what greater or less in proportion to the diameter of the
object.
Ry these aphorisms we are enabled to account for
the various effects of dioptric machines, as refracting
telescopes, microscopes, the camera obscura, &c. See
Optics.
ENTERTAINING EXPERIMENTS.
I. Optical Illusions.
On the bottom of the vessel ABCD, (fig. 4-) Place
three pieces of money, as a shilling, a half-crown, and
crown 5 the first at E, the second at F, and the last at
G. Then place a person at H, where he can see no
further into the vessel than I: and tell him, that by
pouring water into the vessel you will make him see
r hi c s.
three different pieces of money J bidding him observe
carefully whether any money goes in with the water.
Here you must observe to pour in the water very
gently, or contrive to fix the pieces, that they may not
move out of their places by its agitation..
When the water comes up tu K, the piece at E will
become visible j when it comes up to L, the pieces at
E and F will appear and when it rises to M, all the
three pieces will he visible.
From what has been said of the refraction of light,
the cause of this phenomenon will be evident: for while
the vessel is empty, the ray HI will naturally proceed
in a straight line t but in proportion as it becomes im¬
mersed in water, it will be necessarily refracted into
the several directions, NE, OF, PG, and consequently
the several pieces must become visible.
II. Optical Augmentation.
Take a large drinking glass of a conical figure, that
is small at bottom and wide at top 5 in which put a
shilling, and fill the glass about half full with water :
then place a plate on the top of it, and turn it quickly
over, that the water may not get out.. You will then
see on the plate, a piece of the size of a half-crown j
and somewhat higher up, another piece of the size of a
shilling. • ...
This phenomenon arises from seeing the piece
through the conical surface of the water at the side of
the glass, and through the flat surface at the top of the
water, at the same time : for the conical surface dilates
the rays, and makes the piece appear larger •, but joy
the flat surface the rays are only refracted, by which
the piece is seen higher up in the glass, but still of its
natural size. That this is the cause will be further
evident by filling the glass with water 5 for as the shil¬
ling cannot be then seen from the top, the large piece
only will be visible.
III. Optical Subtraction.
Against the wainscot of a room fix three small pieces
of paper, as A, B, G, (fig. 5.) at the height of your eye
and placing yourself directly before them, shut your
right eye and look at them with the left; when you will
see only two of those papers, suppose A and B 5 but al¬
tering the position of your eye, you will then see the
third and one of the first, suppose A 5 and by altering
your position a second time, you will see B and Cj but
never all three of them together. . *. .
The cause of this phenomenon is, that one of the
three pencils of rays that come from those objects, falls
constantly on the optic nerve at D-, whereas to pro¬
duce distinct vision, it is necessary that the rays of
light fall on some part of the retina E, F, G, H. VVe
see by this experiment, one of the uses of having two
eyes j for he that has one only,, can never see three
objects placed in this position, nor all the parts of one
object of the same extent, without altering the situation-
of his eye.
IV. Alternate Illusion.
With a convex lens of about an inch focus, look,
attentively at a silver seal, on which a cipher is eiv?
245
DIOPTRICS.
graved. It will at first appear cut In, as to the naked
eye ; hut if you continue to observe it some time, with¬
out changing your situation, it will seem to be in re¬
lief, and the lights and shades will appear the same as
they did before. If you regard it with the same atten¬
tion still longer, it will again appear to be engraved :
and so on alternately. \
If you look off the seal for a few moments, when you
view it again, instead of seeing it, as at first, engraved,
it will appear in relief. If, while you are turned to¬
ward the light, you suddenly incline the seal, while you
continue to regard it, those parts that seemed to be en¬
graved will immediately appear in relief; and if, when
you are regarding these seeming prominent parts, you
turn yourself so that the light may fall on the right
hand, you will see the shadows on the same side from
whence the light comes, which will'appear not a little
extraordinary. In like manner the shadows will ap¬
pear on the left, if the light fall on that side. If, in¬
stead of a seal, you look at a piece of money, these al¬
terations will not be visible, in whatever situation you
place yourself.
It has been suspected that this illusion arises from
the situation of the light: and, in fact, “ I have ob¬
served (says M. Guyot, from whom this article is
taken), that when I have viewed it with a candle on
the right, it has appeared engraved ; but by changing
the light to the left side, it has immediately appeared
in relief.” It still, however, remains to be explained,
why we see it alternately hollow and prominent, with¬
out either changing the situation or the light. Per¬
haps it is in the sight itself that we must look for the
cause of this phenomenon ; and this seems the more
probable, as all these appearances are not discernible by
all persons.
Mr William Jones of Holborn, has remarked to us,
that this illusion is still more extraordinary and perma¬
nent, when you look at a cavity in a seal or other ob¬
ject through the three eye glasses of a common four
glass refracting telescope : all cavities viewed through
these glasses appear constantly reliefs, in almost all si¬
tuations of the light you see them with.
V. The Dioptrical Paradox.
A new and curious optical, or what may be called
properly a dioptrical, deception, has been made by Mr
W. Jones. Its effect is, that a print, or an ornamented
drawing, with any object, such as an ace of diamonds,
&c. in the centre F, (fig. 6.) will be seen as the ace of
clubs when it is placed in the machine ABDC, and
viewed through a single glass only contained in the tube
E. The construction of this machine is truly simple.
The glass in the tube F, which brings about this sur^
prising change, is somewhat on the principle of the
common multiplying glass, as represented at G, which
by the number of its inclined surfaces, and from the
refractive power of the rays proceeding from the ob¬
jects placed before it, shows it in a multiplied state or
quantity. Its only difference is, that the sides of this
glass are flat, and diverge upwards from the base to a
point in the axis of the glass like a cone : the number
of tlie sides is six ; and each side, from its angular po¬
sition to the eye, has the property of refracting frtfm
the border of the print F such a portion of it (design¬
edly there placed), as will make a part in the compo¬
sition of the figure to be represented : for the hexa¬
gonal and conical figure of this glass prevents any
sight of the ace of diamonds in the centre being seen ;
consequently the ace of clubs being previously and me¬
chanically drawn in the circle of refraction in six dif¬
ferent parts of the border, at I, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, and art¬
fully disguised in the ornamental border' by blending
them with it, the glass in the tube at E will change
the appearance of the ace of diamonds F into the ace
of clubs G. In the same manner may other prints un¬
dergo similar changes, according to the will of an inge¬
nious draughtsman who may design them. The figure
of the glass is clearly shown at H.
VI. Camera Obscura, or Dark Chamber.
Make a circular hole in the shutter of a window,
from whence there is a prospect of the fields, or any
other object not too near; and in this hole place a con¬
vex glass, either double or single, whose focus is at the
distance of five or six feet (a). Take care that no
light enter the room but by this glass : at a distance
from it equal to that of its focus, place a pasteboard,
covered with the whitest paper; which should have a
black border, to prevent any of the side rays from di¬
sturbing the picture. Let it be two feet and a half
long, and 18 or 20 inches high : bend the length of it
inwards, to the form of part of a circle, whose diame¬
ter is equal to double the focal distance of the glass.
Then fix it on a frame of the same figure, and put it
on a moveable foot, that it may be easily fixed at that
exact distance from the glass where the objects paint
themselves to the greatest perfection. When it is thus
placed, all the objects that are in the front of the win¬
dow will be painted on the paper, in an inverted posi¬
tion (b), with the greatest regularity and in the most
natural colours.
If you place a moveable mirror without the-win¬
dow ; by turning it more or less, you will have on the
paper
(a) The distance should not be less than three feet; for if it be,, the images will be too small, and there will
not be sufficient room for the spectators to stand conveniently. On the other hand, the focus should never be
more than 15 or 20 feet, for then the images will be obscure, and the colouring faint. The best distance is
from 6 to 12 feet.
(b) This inverted position of the images may be deemed an imperfection, but is easily remedied : for if you
stand above the board on which they are received, and look down on it, they will appear in their natural posi¬
tion : or if you stand before, and placing a common mirror against your breast in an oblique direction, look
down in it, you will there see the images erect, and they will receive an additional lustre from the reflection of
the glass ; or place two lenses, in a tube that draws out; or, lastly, if you place a large concave mirror at a
proper distance before the picture, it will appear before the mirror, and in an erect position.
DIOPTRICS.
paper all the objects that are on each side of the win¬
dow (c). *
If instead of placing the mirror without the window
you place it in the room, and above the hole (which
must then be made near the top of the shutter), you
may receive the representation on a paper placed ho¬
rizontally on a table ; and draw, at your leisure, all the
objects that are there painted.
Nothing can be more pleasing than this experiment,
especially when the objects are strongly enlightened by
the sun : and not only land prospects, but a sea port,
when the water is somewhat agitated, or at the setting
of the sun, presents a very delightful appearance.
This representation affords the most perfect model
for painters, as well for the tone of colours, as that de¬
gradation of shades, occasioned by the interposition of
the air, which has been so justly expressed by some mo¬
dern painters.
It is necessary that the paper have a circular form •,
for otherwise, when the .centre of it was in the focus
of the glass, the two sides would be beyond it, and con¬
sequently the images would be confused. If the frame
were contrived of a spherical figure, and the glass
were in its centre, the representation would be still
more accurate. If the object without be at the di¬
stance of twice the focal length of the glass, the
image in the room will be of the same magnitude with
the object.
The lights, shades, and colours, in the camera ob-
scura, appear not only just, but, by the images being
reduced to a smaller compass, much stronger than in
nature. Add to this, that these pictures exceed all a-
thers, by representing the motion of the several ob¬
jects ", thus we see the animals walk, run, or fly ; the
clouds float in the air •, the leaves quiver the waves
roll, &c. •, and all in strict conformity to the laws of
nature. The best situation for a dark chamber is di¬
rectly north, and the best time of the day is noon.
VII. To show the Spots on the Sun's Disk, by its image
in the Camera Obscura.
Put the object glass of a 10 or 12 feet telescope
into the scioptric ball, and turn it about till it be di¬
rectly opposite to the sun (d). Then place the paste¬
board, mentioned in the last experiment, in the focus
of the lens •, and you will see a clear bright image of
the sun, of about an inch in diameter, in which the
spots on the sun’s surface will be exactly described.
As this image is too bright to be seen with pleasure
by the naked eye, you may view it through a lens
whose focus is at six or eight inches distance j which at
the same time that it prevents the light from being of¬
fensive, will, by magnifying both the image and the
spots, make them appear to greater advantage.
VIII. To magnify small Objects by means of the Sun's
Rays let into a Dark Chamber.
• •
Let the rays of light that pass through the lens 111
the shutter be thrown on a large concave mirror, pro¬
perly fixed in a frame. Then take a slip or thin plate
of glass •, and sticking any small object on it, hold it
in the incident rays, at a little more than the focal di¬
stance from the mirror ; and you will see on the oppo¬
site wall, amidst the reflected rays, the image of that
object, very large, and extremely clear and bright.
This experiment never fails to give the spectator the
highest satisfaction.
IX. The Portable Camera Obscura.
The great pleasure produced by the camera ohscura
in the common form, has excited several to render it
more universally useful by making it portable, easily
fixed on any spot, and adapted to every prospect. We
shall not here examine the merits of the various sorts
that have been invented ; but content ourselves with
describing of two late improved constructions, as made
and sold by the opticians of the present time, and that
appear in their construction the most convenient and
advantageous of any yet contrived.
The pocket or portable camera obscura, with a draw¬
er to draw out in the front, is represented in fig.
The images of the objects before the instrument are re¬
flected upon a glass ground rough on its upper side,
and that is placed at top of the hinder part of the
box, under the moveable cover represented in the figure.
The images represented thereon will afford a most beau¬
tiful and perfect piece of perspective or landscape of
whatever is before the camera, and more particularly
so if the sun shines upon the objects. 1 he outlines of
them may easily he traced on the glass by a black lead
pencil. There is sometimes a scale of proportions
placed in the upper surface of the drawer, by which
any particular building or other object may be drawn
in a given proportion or magnitude, and according to
the figures inserted on the scale, which are adapted to
the focus or foci of the lenses made use of in the ca¬
mera. The glasses that are made use of in this camera
are only three, and are represented in fig. 8. The con- p.
vex glass A is placed in the front of the drawer of the
camera, and is of a focus agreeable to the length of
the box. The mirror CE reclines in the box in an
angle of 45 degrees from a perpendicular situation.
The rays flowing from the object F through the con¬
vex glass A to the plane mirrbr CE will he reflected
from it, and meet in points on the glass placed hori¬
zontally in the direction CD, and will form thereon
the fore mentioned images. It on this glass and oiled
paper or any other transparent substance he placed the
fc'l There is another method of making the dark chamber) which is by a scioptric ball, that is, a hall of
wood through which a hole is made, in which hole a lens is fixed : this ball is placed in a wooden frame, in
wiffch it turns freely round. The frame is fixed to the hole in the shutter ) and the hall, by turning about,
answers, in great part, the use of the mirror, on the outside of the window. If the hole in the window be no
bigger than a pea, the object will he represented without any lens, though by no means so distinctly, or with
SUbD)!When0theSsun is directly opposite to the hole, the lens will itself be sufficient : or by means of the mir¬
ror on the outside window, as in Experiment VI. the lens will answer the purpose at any time.
D I O P
images will be clearly represented, and sufficiently so
to delineate them by a black lead pencil or crayon. In¬
stead of the glass CD, or sometimes underneath it, is
often placed a double convex lens, of a focus somewhat
shorter than the length of the box ; this alteration con¬
siderably brightens the appearance of the images, and
renders them as vivid as the objects themselves, though
not quite so accurate in their contours or outlines as
by the preceding method.
Another kind of portable camera obscura is, where
the images are formed upon white paper, and the se¬
veral parts of the camera fold up out of a box shaped
like a book or chest. This way of the images being
formed on paper is a much preferable one to the pre¬
ceding method, and admits of their being traced on
the paper with the utmost readiness. This instrument,
$is open out of its case and ready for use, is represent¬
ed in fig. 9. The front and sides fold up to the height
of about two feet from the case EFG, by means of
hinges placed at PH, &c. The head of A BCD, about
five inches square and high, containing the mirror L
and the convex lens beneath it, fits on at CD, and the
inner square tube of it is moved up and down by rack-
work and a pinion NM. This motion serves to adjust
the convex lens d to its proper focal distance from
the white paper placed within side at the bottom of
the box EFG, so that the images may be formed with
the greatest possible distinctness. In tracing these ima¬
ges the face is applied close to the hole in the front at
K, and the hand in the sleeve in the front at the bot¬
tom of FG. When the sides and front are unhooked
and folded down, they all lie close in the box EFG,
and the lid O folds down as a top on them close, and
the box remains then the common si’ze of a folio book 5
and is covered with calf leather and lettered on the
back in perfect imitation of one.
By the diagonal position of a plane mirror the cu¬
rious opera glass is constructed, by which any person
may be viewed in a theatre or public company, and yet
know nothing of it. It consists only in placing a con¬
cave glass near the plane mirror, in the end of a short
round tube, and a convex glass in a hole in the side of
the tube. Then holding the end of the tube with the
glass to the eye, all objects next to the hole in the side
will be reflected so as to appear in a direct line forward,
or in a position at right angles to the person’s situation
who is looked at. Plane glasses instead of a concave
and convex may be used ; but in this case there will be
no magnitude of the object, but it will appear brighter.
It is called by opticians the diagonal opera glass.
X. T/ie Magic Lantern.
This very remarkable machine, which is now known
oyer all the world, caused great astonishment at its ori¬
gin. It is still beheld with pleasing admiration 5 and
the spectator very frequently contents himself with
wondering at its effects, without endeavouring to in¬
vestigate their cause. The invention of this ingenious
illusion is attributed to the celebrated P. Kircher, who
has published on various sciences, works equally learn¬
ed, curious, and entertaining. Its design is to repre¬
sent at large, on a cloth or board, placed in the dark,
the images of small objects, painted with transparent
colours on plates of glass.
trigs.
The construction is as follows : Let ABCD (fig. to.) Fig-.
be the side of a tin box, eight inches high, eight inches
long, and ten broad (or any other similar dimensions),
the top of which must have a funnel, with a cover, as
represented in fig. 11.; which at the same time it gives Fig.
a passage to the smoke, prevents the light from coming
out of the box. In the middle of the bottom of the
box must be placed a low tin lamp E, which is to be
moveable. It should have three or four lights, that must
be at the height of the centre of the glasses in the
tubes N and O. In the largest of these tubes must be
placed a glass semiglobular lens N, about four inches
diameter ; and in the smaller one a double convex lens
O, about 2^ inches diameter, and six inches focus, the
length of the tubes holding them about 4^ inches each j
the inner tube containing the small lens o must be a
sliding one, in order to adjust it at a proper distance
from the painted sliders, so that the objects thereon
may be distinctly represented on the cloth or white
wall. A slit or opening between the glass N and
the front side BGDH of the box must be made large
enough to admit the sliders to be passed through, (as
in fig. 11.). The clearness of the light, and the ob¬
jects upon the cloth, will depend much upon the light
of the lamp ; it will therefore be proved best, to place,
instead of the common lamp E, a kind of the new or
Argand’s patent lamp, which will be found consider¬
ably to improve the effect of the lantern by its superior
strength of light.
From the construction of this lantern it is evident
that when the glass sliders, with the painted figures,
are placed in the groove or slit in the lantern for
that purpose, and the room darkened, a quantity of
light from the lamp at E will be collected by the lens
N, and refracted upon the cloth placed opposite, and
that by moving the sliding tube containing the small
lens o gradually in or out as occasion may require,
this lens will form images of the figures on the sliders
in their distinct colours and proportions, with the ap¬
pearance of life itself, and of any size from six inches
to seven feet, according to the distance of the lantern
from the cloth. The lantern, with one of the sliders
ready for use, is clearly represented in fig. 11. By the
aid of the new patent lamp aforementioned, consider¬
able useful improvements are made to the lantern. Mr
Jones, optician, of Holborn, has contrived an apparatus
to be applied to it, that converts it into a microscope
by night, and it shows all the variety of transparent
and many of the opaque objects magnified upon a
cloth or skreen opposite, similar to the figures above
mentioned, but not in so large a degree } about one or
two feet diameter is the utmost that can at present be
obtained.
Method of painting the Glassesfor the lantern. Draw
on a paper the subject you desire to paint, and fix
it at each end to the glass. Provide a varnish with
which you have mixed some black paint 5 and with a
fine pencil draw on the other side of the glass, with
very light touches, the design drawn on the paper. If
you are desirous of making the painting as perfect as
possible, you should draw some of the outlines in their
proper colours, provided they are the strongest tints of
these colours that are used. When the outlines are
dry, you colour the figures with their proper tints or
degradations.
247
11.
24^
DIO?
degradations, Transparent colours are most proper for
this purpose, such as carmine, lake, Prussian blue, vei-
diarise, &c. and these may be tempered mth a strong
white varnish, to prevent their peeling off. Ton are
then to shade them with black mixed with the same
varnish, or with bistre, as you find convenient. You
may also leave strong lights in some parts, without
any colours, in order to produce a more striking el-
feet. Observe, in particular, not to use more than
four or five colours, such as blue, red, green, and
yellow. You should employ, however, a great variety
of tints, to give your painting a more natural air j
without which they will represent vulgar objects which
are by no means the more pleasing because they are
2 a When the lamp in the lantern is lighted, and, by
drawing out the tube to a proper length, th? figures
painted on the glass appear bright and well define ,
the spectator cannot fail of being highly entertained
bv the succession of natural or grotesque figures that
are painted on the glasses. This piece of optics may
be rendered much more amusing, and at the same time
more marvellous, by preparing figures to which diber-
ent natural motions may be given (e), winch eveiy
one may perform according to his own taste ; either
bv movements in the figures themselves, or by painting
the subject on two glasses, and passing them at the same
time through the groove, as will be seen in the next ex¬
periment.
XI. Td represent a Tempest by a Magic Lantern.
F,V I2 Provide two plates of glass, whose frames are so
thin that they may both pass freely through the slit
or groove of the common magic lantern at the same
On one of these glasses you are to paint the ap¬
pearance of the sea from the slightest agitation to
the most violent commotion. Representing from A
to B (fig. 12.) a calm j from B to C a small agita¬
tion, with some clouds j and so on to F and G which
should exhibit a furious storm. Observe, that these re¬
presentations are not to be distinct, but run into each
other, that they may form a natural gradation ; remem-
ber also, that great part of the effect depends on the
perfection of the painting, and the picturesque appear¬
ance of the design. .
On the other glass (fig. 13-) you are to paint vessels
l*‘ 3‘ of different forms and dimensions, and in diflereiit di¬
rections, together with the appearance of clouds in the
tempestuous parts. , , . ,
You are then to pass the glass slowly through the
m oove ; and when you come to that part where the
storm begins, you are to move the glass gently up and
down, which will give it the appearance of a sea that
begins to be agitated •, and so increase the motion till
you come to the height of the storm. At the same
time you are to introduce the other glass with the ships,
and moving that in like manner, you will have a natu¬
ral representation of the sea, and of ships in a calm
and in a storm. As you draw the glasses slowly back,
T R I C S.
the tempest will seem, to subside, the sky grow clear,
and the ships glide gently over the waves.—By means
of two glasses disposed in this manner you may likewise
represent a battle or sea-fight, and numberless other
subiects, that every one will contrive according to Ins
own taste. They may also be made to represent some
remarkable or ludicrous action between difierent per¬
sons, and many other amusements that a lively imagi¬
nation vvilll easily suggest.
XII. The Nebulous Magic Lantern.
The light of the magic lantern, and the colour of
images, may not only be painted on a cloth, but also
reflected by a cloud of smoke. * a <•
Provide a box of wood or pasteboard (hg. 14.J otFig. 14
about four feet high, and of seven or eight inches square
at bottom, but diminishing as it ascends, so that its aper¬
ture at top is but six inches long, and half an inch wide.
At the bottom of this box there must be a door that
shuts quite close, by which you are to place in the box
a chafing-dish with hot coals, on which is to be thrown
incense, whose smoke goes out in a cloud at the top 0
the box. It is on this cloud that you are to throw the
light that comes out of the lantern, and which you
bring into a smaller compass by drawing out the move-
able tube. The common figures will here serve. t
is remarkable in this representation, that the motion of
the smoke does not at all change the figures •, which
appear so conspicuous, that the spectator thinks he can
grasp them with his hand.
Note. In this experiment some of the rays passing
through the smoke, the representation will be much less
vivid than on the cloth j and if care be not taken to
reduce the light to its smallest focus, it will be still
more imperfect.
XIII. To produce the Appearance of a Phantom upon
a Pedestal placed on the middle of a Table.
Enclose a common small magic lantern in a box
ABCD (fig. 15.) tfiat is large enough to contain also Fig.
an inclined mirror M, which must be moveable, that it^
may reflect the cone of light thrown on it by the lan¬
tern, in such a manner that it may pass out at the aper¬
ture made in the top of the box. _ There should be a
flap with hinges to cover the opening, that the inside ot
the box may not be seen when the experiment is making.
This aperture should likewise he oval, and of a size
adapted to the cone of light that is to pass through
it. There must be holes made in that part of the box
which is over the lantern, to let out the smoke : and
over that part must be placed a chafing-dish of an ob¬
long figure, and large enough to hold several lighted
coals. This chafing-dish may be enclosed in a painted
tin box of about a foot high, and with an aperture at
top something like fig. 14. It should stand on four short
feet, to give roorn for the smoke of the lamp to pass
out. There must also be a glass that will ascend and
descend at pleasure in a vertical groove a To this
glass let there be fixed a cord, that, going over a pul¬
ley c, passes out of the box at the side CD, by which
the Philosophical Essays of M. MaSchenbroek, different method, of performing all these
™ mechanical contrivances that are not difficult to execute.
(e) There are in
various movements, by some mechanical contrivances
DIOPTRICS.
the glass may be drawn up, and will descend by its own
weight. On this glass may be painted a spectre, or
any other more pleasing figure. Observe, that the fi¬
gures must be contracted in drawing, as the cloud of
smoke does not cut the cone of light at right angles,
and therefore the figures will appear longer than they
do on the glass.
After you have lighted the lamp in the lantern, and
put the mirror in a proper direction, you place the box
or pedestal ABCD on a table ; and putting the cha¬
fing dish in it, throw some incense in powder on the
coals. You then open a trap door, and let down the
glass slowly j and, when you perceive the smoke dimi¬
nish, you draw up the glass, that the figure may dis¬
appear, and shut the trap-door. This appearance will
occasion no small surprise, as the spectre will seem to
rise gradually out of the pedestal, and on drawing up
the glass will disappear in an instant. Observe, that
when you exhibit this experiment, you must put out
all the lights in the room ; and the box should be pla¬
ced on a high table, that the spectators may not perceive
the aperture by which the light comes out. Though
we have mentioned a small magic lantern, yet the
whole apparatus may be so enlarged, that the phantom
may appear of a formidable size.
XIV. The Magic Theatre,
By making some few additions to the magic lantern
with the square tube, used in Experiment X. various
scenes, characters, and decorations of a theatre, may
be represented in a lively manner. In this experiment
it is quite necessary to make the lantern much larger
than common, that the objects painted on the glasses,
being of a larger size, may be represented with greater
precision, and consequently their several characters
more strongly marked.
Let there be made a wooden box ABCD, fig. 16.
a foot and a half long, 15 inches high, and 10 wide.
Let it be placed on a stand EF, that must go round it,
and by which it may be fixed with two screws to a table.
Place over it a tin cover, as in the common lantern.
Make an opening in its two narrowest sides ; in one of
which place the tube H, and in the other the tube I :
let each ot them be six inches wide, and five inches
high : in each of these tubes place another that is
moveable, in order to bring the glasses, or concave
mirror, that are contained in them, to a proper di¬
stance. In the middle of the bottom of this box place
a tin lamp M ; which must be moveable in a groove,
that it may be placed at a proper distance with regard
to the glasses and mirror j this lamp should have five
or six lights, each of them about an inch long. At
the beginning of the tube H, toward the part N, make
an opening 0f an inch wide, which must cross it late¬
rally : another ol three quarters of an inch, that must
«ross it vertically, and be nearer the box than the first ;
and a third of half an inch, that must he before the
first. I he opening made laterally must have three or
four grooves, the second two, and the third one : that
different subjects of figures and decorations may he
passed, either sidewise, ascending or descending, so
that the scenes of a theatre may be the more exactly
imitated (f). Enclose these grooves between two con¬
vex rectangular glasses, of six inches long, and five
inches high, and of about 20 inches focus j one of
which must he placed at O, and the other toward P.
Have another tube Q, of about a foot long, which
must enter that marked H } and at its outward extre¬
mity place a lens of about 15 inches focus. There
must also be a third tube R, four inches long, into
winch that marked I is to enter : to the exterior end of
tins adjust a concave mirror, whose focus must be at
seven or eight inches from its reflecting surface.
The magic lantern being thus adjusted, nothing
more is necessary than to provide glasses, painted with
such subjects as you would represent, according to the
grooves they are to enter. The lamp is then to he
lighted ; and placing a glass in one of the grooves,
you draw out the moveable tubes till the object paints
itself on a cioth to the most advantage: by which you
determine the distance of the lantern and the size of
tne image, ou then make a hole in the partition of
that size, and fix it in a plate of clear glass, over which
you paste a very thin paper, which must be varnished,
that it may be as transparent as possible.
On this paper are to he exhibited the images of
all those objects, that by passing successively through
the grooves, are to represent a theatric entertain¬
ment. The exhibition will be very agreeable j because
the magic lantern being concealed behind the parti¬
tion, the cause of the illusion cannot by any means
be discovered.
In order to show more clearly in what manner a sub¬
ject of this sort should be painted, and the glasses dis¬
posed, we will here make choice of the siege of Troy
for a theatric subject; in which will be found all the
incidents necessary to the exhibition of any other sub¬
ject whatever.—In the first act the theatre may repre¬
sent, on one side, the ramparts of Troy ; toward the
back part, the Grecian camp ; and at a farther distance,
the sea, and the isle of Tenedos. We will suppose the
time to be that when the Greeks feigned to raise the
siege; and embarked, leaving behind them the wooden
horse, in which were contained the Grecian soldiers.
—On a glass, therefore, of the same width with the
aperture made in the side AC of the box, you are
to paint a deep blue curtain, lightly charged with or¬
naments, quite transparent. This glass is to be pla¬
ced in the first vertical groove ; so that by letting it
gently down, its image may appear to rise in the same
manner as the curtain of a theatre. All the glasses
that are to ascend or descend must be bordered with
thin pieces of wood, and so exactly fill the grooves,
that they may not slide down of themselves.-—You
must have several glasses of a proper size to pass through
the horizontal grooves, and of different lengths ac¬
cording to the extent of the subject. You may paint
on „
(f) In the decorations, the clouds and the palaces of the gods should descend ; caves and infernal palaces should
ascend ; earthly palaces, gardens, &c. enter at the sides.
Vol. YU. Part I. I i ‘ . f
• 249
250
DIOPTRICS.
on the first, the walls of Troy. On the Second, the
Grecian camp. On the third, the sea, the isle of Te-
nedos, and a serene sky. On the fourth, the Grecian
troops by detached figures. On the fifth, other troops,
disposed in battalions, and placed at a distance. On
the sixth, divers vessels, which as the glass advances in
the groove diminish in size. On the seventh, the
wooden horse and Sinon. On the eighth, Trojan men
and women.
These glasses being properly painted, you place m
the horizontal grooves the first, second, third, and
fourth.*. Then draw up the curtain, by letting down
the glass on which it is painted, and draw away gently
the fourth glass, and after that the second j then ad¬
vance very -gently the fifth that represents the em-
baikment, and pass it quite through. Next pass, the
opposite way, the sixth, which represents the Grecian
fleet. The objects painted on the fourth, fifth, and sixth,
quite disappearing, you are to advance the seventh, on
which is painted the wooden horse *, and at the same
time the eighth, where the Trojans will appear to draw
the horse into the city. The curtain is then to be let
down, that you may withdraw the scenes of the first
act, and place in the grooves those that are to compose
the second.—In the second act may be represented the
interior part of the city of Troy ; on one side may be
seen the wooden horse, and in the back part the temple
of Pallas. The glasses for this act may be painted in
the following manner. On the first may be palaces and
bouses, representing the inside of a city. On the se¬
cond, the temple of Pallas in the centre, with a clear
night and the moon. In the front may be seen the
wooden horse, that the Trojans have placed near the
temple of Pallas. On the third, a troop of Greeks,
with Sinon at their head, who are going to open the
gates of the city to the Grecians. On the fourth, dif¬
ferent troops of armed Greeks, painted on a long glass,
to afford variety. On the fifth, several troops of Iro-
ians. On the sixth, various appearances of fire and
smoke, so disposed, that this glass being drawn up
above the others, the objects painted on the first glass
may appear in a conflagration. .
Before you draw up the curtain, you should p ace
the first and second glasses. You then pass the whole
third glass slowly ; a little after, the fourth, on which
are painted the different bodies of armed Greeks 5 and
at the same time, from the opposite side, the sixth glass,
that represents the Trojan troops j observing to move
them slowly both in advancing and retreating, to imi¬
tate a combat (g). Then draw up, by degrees, the
sixth, on which are painted the fire, flame, and smoke,
so that the palaces and houses painted on the first glass
may appear to take fire gradually, and at last present
a general conflagration. After having represented these
incidents with the greatest attention, you let fall the
curtain to prepare for the third act. In this may be
represented the inside of Priam’s palace j where is seen
an altar, round which several Trojan princesses appear,
who have fled thither for safety. On the first glass
may be painted the palace. On the second, a view of
the'back part of the palace, with the altar. On the
third, Priam with several Trojan men and women. On
the fourth, Pyrrhus and a troop of Greeks. On the
fifth, the same actors, with the palace in flames. On
the sixth, a conflagration.—The two first glasses which
are to be drawn up, should be placed before you raise
the curtain. Then pass the third 5 next advance the
fourth •, which being drawn up, discovers on the fifth
the palace in flames •, then drawing up the sixth, let
down the first, that the palace may appear entirely de¬
stroyed by the conflagration.
The fourth act may represent the environs of Iroy,
with a distant prospect of the sea. Ihe first and third
glasses of the first act may be here used •, to which may
be added a third, representing iEneas bearing his fa¬
ther Anchises, followed by his son lulus and some
Trojans. With this glass may be represented the flight
of the Trojans ; and the embarkment of TEneas with
another glass, on which are painted certain vessels.—
To this act the following scenes may be added : The
cave of zEolus ; the back part of the cave ; yEolus ;
the winds ; Juno in her chariot.
The fifth act should represent the open sea, with the
fleet of iEneas sailing for Italy. On the first glass
must be painted the sea, as in the eleventh experiment,
or else the waves should be imitated by another glass
under the first. On the second, the Trojan fleet. On
the third, Neptune in his car. On the fourth, the pa¬
lace of Jupiter. On the fifth, the inside of the palace •,
the gods assembled in council, with Venus obtaining
leave of Jupiter for iEneas to land in Italy. After
having placed the first glass, that represents a calm sea,
the curtain is raised, and the second scene is advanced,
which contains the Trojan fleet. Ihe first is then
brought forward, to represent a violent tempest : then
raising the third glass, Neptune appears, who com¬
mands the waves to be still, which is done by making
the tempest subside by degrees. The fleet then ad¬
vances, and passes over the whole theatre 5 presently
after the fourth and fifth scenes descend, that repre¬
sent Olympus, and finish the exhibition.
Note, We must here repeat, that if you would re¬
present a subject of this sort to advantage, it is quite
necessary that the glasses be well painted j and those
that are to be in front should he in stronger and more
opaque colours, that the images of those behind may
not appear mixed with them, which will be the case
if they are all equally transparent. The glasses should
also be of different lengths j that some being placed be¬
fore the others are drawn away, their extremities may
not he perceived.
The larger these subjects are represented, the better
effect they will have : the front of the theatre should
appear to be about three feet wide; and if some parts
of the figures were moveable, it would still add to the
variety of the entertainment. mosconZAl
(G) He that moves the glasses, seeing the effect they produce, is the better able to render the representation
as natural as possible^
i’iatc Cl
X X \
BIO [ 251 ] DIP
i(;orca DIOSCOREA, a genus of plants belonging to the
jj dioecia class j and in the natural method ranking under
polftes. the nth order, Sarmentacece. See Botany Index.
The only remarkable and useful species is the bulbi-
fera or yam. The roots of it are eaten by the inhabi¬
tants of both the Indies; and are particularly serviceable
» in the West India islands, where they make the greatest
part of the negroes food. The plant is supposed to have
been brought from the East to the West Indies; for it
has never been observed to grow wild in any part of A-
merica; but in the island of Ceylon, and on the coast of
Malabar, it grows in the woods, and there are in those
places a great variety of sorts. It is propagated by
cutting the root in pieces, observing to preserve an eye
in each, as is practised in planting potatoes. One
plant will produce three or four large roots. The skin
of these roots is pretty thick, rough, unequal, covered
with many stringy fibres or filaments, and of a violet
colour approaching to black. The inside is white, and
ef the consistence of red beet. It resembles the pota¬
to in its mealiness, but is of a closer texture. When
raw, the yams are viscous and clammy ; when roasted
or boiled, they afford very nourishing food ; and are of¬
ten preferred to bread by the inhabitants of the West
Indies, on account of their lightness and facility of di¬
gestion. When first dug out of the ground, the roots
are placed in the sun to dry; after which they are ei¬
ther put into sand, dry garrets, or casks; where, ifkept
from moisture, they may be preserved whole years,
without being spoiled or diminished in their goodness.
The root commonly weighs two or three pounds;
though some yams have been found upwards of 20
pounds weight.
DIOSCORIDES, a physician of Cilicia, who lived,
as some suppose, in the age of Nero. He was origi¬
nally a soldier ; but afterwards he applied himself to
study, and wrote a book upon medicinal herbs.
DIOSCURI A ; from A<ay, Jupiter, and
infants), in antiquity, a festival in honour of the
Aiaraeugw, or Castor and Pollux, who were reputed to
be the sons of Jupiter. It was observed by the Cyre-
neans, but more especially by the Spartans, whose
country was honoured by the birth of these heroes.
The solemnity was full of mirth, being a time wherein
they shared plentifully of the gifts of Bacchus, and
diverted themselves with sports, of which wrestlino-
matches always made a part.
DIOSMA, African Spiraea, a genus of plants
belonging to the pentandria class ; and in the natural
method ranking with those of which the order is doubt¬
ful. See Botany Index.
DIOSPOLIS, in Ancient Geography, a city of the
Delta, or Lower Egypt ; to the south of the Busiri-
tic branch, before it divides into two.—Another of
Bithynia, in the territory of Heraclea.—A third,
called Magna, denoting Thebas of the Higher Egypt.
-—A fourth, Diospolis Parva, the metropolis of the
^Somos Diospolites of the Higher Egypt.—A fifth
Diospolis, of Samaria, the same with Lydda.—A sixth
Diospolis, the ancient name of Laodiceaof Phrvtria, on
the Lycus. J
DIOSrGLI i ES nomos, (Ptolemy,) a division of
Thebais or the Higher Egypt, to distinguish it from
another of the Lower Egypt or the Della; to the
south of the Nomos Thinites, on the west side of the Diosnolite*
Nile. 1]
DIOSPYROS, the Indian Date Plum ; a genus ^'ploma-
of plants belonging to the polygamia class; and in the ,
natmal method ranking under the 18th order, Picor~
nes. See Botany Index.
DIPHTHONG, in Grammar, a double vowel, or
the mixture of two vowels pronounced together, so as
to make one syllable.
The Latins pronounced the two vowels in their diph¬
thongs ae or as, oe or oe, much as we do; only that
the one was heard much weaker than the other, though
the division was made with all the delicacy imaginable.
Diphthongs, with regard to the eyes, are distinguished
from those with regard to the ears : in the former ei¬
ther the particular sound of each vowel is heard in the
pronunciation ; or the sound ol one of them is drown¬
ed; or lastly, anew sound, different from either, re¬
sults from both ; the first ol these only are real diph¬
thongs, as being such both to the eye and ear. Diph¬
thongs with regard to the ear are either formed of
two vowels meeting in the same syllabic, or whose
sounds are severally heard ; or of three vowels in the
same syllable, which only afford two sounds in the pro¬
nunciation.
English diphthongs, with regard to the eye and ear,
are ai, au, ca, ee, ei, 00, oil. Improper English diph¬
thongs, with regard to the eye only, are aa, ae, eo, eu,
ie, ei, oe, ue, ui.
DIPLOE, in Anatomy, the soft meditullium, or
medullary substance which lies between the two la¬
minae oi the bones of the cranium. See Anatomy
Index.
DIPLOMA. See Diplomatics.
In a peculiar sense, it is used for an instrument or
license given by colleges, societies, &c. to a clergy¬
man to exercise the ministerial function, or to a physi¬
cian to practise the profession, &c. after passing exa¬
mination, or admitting him to a degree.
DIPLOMATICS, the science of diplomas, or ofBdl/ield's
ancient literary monuments, public documents, &c. It Elements.
does not, however, nor can it, absolutely extend its re¬
searches to antiquity ; but is chiefly confined to the
middle age, and the first centuries of modern times.
For though the ancients were accustomed to reduce
their contracts and treaties into writing ; yet they gra¬
ved them on tables, or covered them over with wax, or
brass, copper, stone, or wood, &‘c. And all that in
the first ages were not traced on brass or marble, has
perished by the length of time, and the number of de¬
structive events.
1. The word diploma signifies properly a letter or
epistle, that is folded in the middle, and that is not
open. But, in more modern times, the title has been
given to all ancient epistles, letters, literary monuments,
and public documents, and to all those pieces of writing
which the ancients called Syngraphia Chirographa, Co~
dicilli, &c. In the middle age, and in the diplomas
themselves, these, writings are called Litter(z,Prceccpta,
Placita, C/iartce indicidce, Sagilla, and Bailee; as also
Panchartce, Pantochartce, Tractorice, Dvscriptiones,
&c. The originals of these pieces are named Exam-
plaria, or Autographa, Charter authenticee, Originalia,
&c. and the copies, Apographa, Copier, Particulee, and so
I i 2 forth.
Diploma¬
tics.
DIP [25
forth. The collections that have been made of them
are called CJwrtaria and Chartuha. I he place where
these papers and documents were kept, the ancients
named Scrinia, Tabular in m, or fEranum, words that
were derived from the tables of brass, and, according
to the Gre.ek idiom, Archeium or 'Architum.
2. In order to understand the nature ot these ancient
papers, diplomas, and manuscripts, and to distinguish
the authentic from the counterieit, it is necessary to
know that the paper ot the ancients came from Egypt)
and was formed of thin leaves or membranes, taken
from the branches of a tree named Papyrus, or Bibhnn
2£.<ryptiacimi, and which were pasted one over the other
with the slime of the Nile, and were pressed and po¬
lished with a pumice stone. This paper was very scarce j
and it was of various qualities, forms, and prices, which
they distinguished by the name of chart a hieratica, lu-
ria, auyusta, amphitheatricu, suilica, tamnca, cmporeti-
ca, &c. They cut this paper into square leaves, which
they pasted one.to the other, in order to make rolls 01
them : from whence an entire book was called vohmien,
from vdvendo; and the leaves of which it consisted,
paoince. Sometimes, also, they pasted the leaves all
together by one of their extremities, as is now prac¬
tised in binding; by this method they formed the hack
of a book, and these the learned called codices, ihey
rolled the volume round a stick, which they named
umbilicus; and the two ends that came out beyond the
paper, cornua. The title, wrote on parchment, in pur¬
ple characters, was joined to the last sheet, and served
it as a cover. They made use ol all sorts of strings
or ribbands, and even sometimes of locks, to close the
book 5 and sometimes also it was put into a case. But
there is not now to be found, in any library or cabi¬
net whatever, any one of these volumes. We have been
assured, however, by a traveller, that he had seen seve¬
ral of them in the ruins of Herculaneum J but so dama¬
ged, the paper so stiff and brittle, by the length of time,
that it was impossible to unrol them, and consequent y
to make use of any of them j for on the first touch they
fell into shatters. . .
2. We are ignorant of the precise time when our
modern paper was invented 5 and when they began to
make use of pens in writing, instead of the stalks of
reeds. The ink that the ancients used, was not made
of vitriol and galls, like the modern, but of soot. Some¬
times also they wrote with red ink made of vermilion ;
or in letters of gold, on purple or violet parchment. It
is not difficult for those who apply themselves to this
*tudy, to distinguish the parchment of the ancients
from that of the moderns, as well as their ink and va¬
rious exterior characters : but that which best distin¬
guishes the original from the counterfeit is, the writing
or character itself; which is so distinctly different from
one century to another, that we may tell with certain¬
ty, within about 40 or 50 years, when any diploma
was written. There are two works which furnish the
clearest lights on this matter, and which may serve as
sure guides in the judgments we may have occasion to
make on what are called ancient diplomas. _ I he one
is the celebrated treatise on the Diplomatic, by r.
Mabillon ; and the other, the first volume of the Lnro-
nicon Gotvicense. We there find specimens ot all the
characters, the flourishes, and different methods of writ¬
ing, of every age. For these matters, therefore, pe
2 ] DIP
must refer our readers to those authors; and shall here Diploma.
only add, that, . t’C8,
4. All the diplomas are written in Latin, and conse- *
quently the letters and characters have a resemblance
to each other: but there are certain strokes of the pen
which distinguish not only the ages, but also the different
nations; as the writings of the Lombards, trench,
Saxons, &c. The letters in the diplomas are also usually
longer, and not so strong as those of manuscripts.
There has been also introduced a kind of court hand,
of a very disproportionate length, and the letters ot
U 1 rt V V. 1 J 1 O V. -     D '
which are called Exiles litters crispce, ac protractiores.
The first line of the diploma, the signature of the so¬
vereign, that of the chancellor, notary, &c. are usually
wrote in this character.
^ The signature of a diploma consists either of the
sign of the cross, or of a monogram or cipher, com¬
posed of the letters of the names of those who sub¬
scribed it. The initial letters of the name, and some¬
times also the titles, were placed about this cross. By
degrees the custom changed, and they invented other
marks, as, for example, the sign of Charlemagne was
thus :
R
A <a
^ V
L
They sometimes also added the dates and epoch of
the signature, the feasts of the church, the days of the
kalendar, and other like matters. The successive cor¬
ruption of the Latin language, the style and ortho¬
graphy of each age, as well as their different titles and
forms; the abbreviations, accentuation, and punctuation,
and the various methods of writing the diphthongs ;
all these matters united, form so many characters and
marks by which the authenticity of a diploma is to be
known. . c
6. The seal annexed to a diploma was anciently ot
white wax, and artfully imprinted on the parchment
itself. It was afterwards pendant from the paper, and
inclosed in a box or case, which they called bulla.
There are some also that are stamped on metal, and
even on pure gold. When a diploma bears all the
characters that are requisite to the time and place
where it is supposed to be written, its authenticity is
not to be doubted : but at the same time we cannot
examine them too scrupulously, seeing that the monks
and priests of former ages have been very adroit in
making of counterfeits, and the more as they en¬
joyed &the confidence of princes and statesmen, and
were even sometimes in possession of their rings or
Sta>^’WJth regard to manuscripts that were wrote be¬
fore the invention of printing, it is necessary (1.) to
know their nature, their essential qualities, and matter;
(2.) to be able to read them freely, and without error ;
(3.) to judge of their antiquity by those characters
which we have just mentioned with regard to the di¬
plomas; and (4.) to render them of use in the sciences.
As there are scarce any of the ancient codes now re¬
maining (see par. 2.), wrote on the Egyptian paper,
or on wood, ivory, &c. we have only to consider those
that are written on parchment or vellum (membrancosj,
and such as are wrote on our paper {chartaccos). Ihe
tormer
DIP [ 253 ] DIP
ioma- fc>rmer °f tliese are in most esteem. With regard to
,ie* the character, these codes are written either in square
|| and capital letters, or in half square, or round and small
letters. Those of the first kind are the most ancient.
"v There are no intervals between the words, no letters
different from the others at the beginning of any word,
no points, nor any other distinction. The codes which
are wrote in letters that are half square, resemble those
we have in Gothic characters, as w’dl for the age as
the form of the letters. Such as are wrote in round let¬
ters are not so ancient as the former, and do not go
higher than the ninth or tenth century. These have
spaces between the words, and some punctuation. They
are likewise not so well wrote as the preceding, and
are frequently disfigured with comments. The codes
are divided, according to the country, into Lombard,
Italian, Gaulic, Franco-Gaulic, Saxon, Anglo-Saxon,
&c.
8. In the ancient Greek books, they frequently ter¬
minated the periods of a discourse, instead of all other
division, by lines 5 and these divisions were called, in
Lutm, versus, from vertendo: for which reason these
lines are still more properly named versus than linece.
At the end of a work, they put down the number of
verses of which it consisted, that the copies might be
more easily collated : and it is in this sense we are to
understand Trebonius, when he says, that the Pandects
contain 150,000peene versuum. These codes were like¬
wise velprobee vel deterioris notee, more or less perfect,
not only with regard to the calligraphy or beauty of
the character, but to the correction of the text also.
9. It is likewise necessary to observe, in ancient
codes, the abbreviations, as they have been used in dif¬
ferent centuries. Thus, for example, A. C. D. signi¬
fies Aulus Caius Decimus j Ap. Cn. Appius Cneius ;
Aug. Imp. Augustus Imperator. The characters that
are called notce, are such as are not to be found in the
alphabet j but which, notwithstanding, signify certain
words. All these matters are explained in a copious
manner by Vossius, and in the Chronicon Gotvicense.
Lastly, The learned divide all the ancient codes into
codices minus raros, rariorcs, editos, et anecdotos. The
critical art is here indispensably necessary : its re¬
searches, moreover, have no bounds j and the more, as
the use of it augments every day, by the discoveries
that are made in languages, and by the increase of
erudition.
D1PONDIUS, in the scripture language, is used
by bt Luke to signify a certain coin which was of very
little value. Our translation of the passage is, “ Are
not two sparrows sold for two farthings ?” In St Mat¬
thew, who relates the same thing, we read “ Are not
two sparrows sold lor a farthing ?” The Greek reads
assarion instead of as. Now assarion, as some say, was
worth half an as, that is to say, four French deniers
and -g-th \ and, according to others, two deniers and
7*yths. Dipondivs seems rather to signify half an as.
Calmet, Diction. Bibl. Luke xii. 6. Matt. x. 29.
Dr Arbuthnot differs in opinion from the author last
quoted. He says, that this coin was at first libralis, or
of a pound weight ; and even when diminished, it re¬
tained the name of hbel/a. So that dipondius denotes
two asses.
DIPPING, among miners, sign-ifies the interrup¬
tion or breaking off the veins of ore j an accident that
3
gives them a great deal of trouble before they can dis¬
cover the ore again. A great deal of the skill of the
miners consists in the understanding this dipping of the
veins, and knowing how to manage in it. In Corn¬
wall they have this general rule to guide them in this
respect: most of their tin-loads, which run from east
to west, constantly dip towards the north. Sometimes
they underlie ; that is, they slope down towards the
north three feet in height perpendicular. This must
carefully be observed by the miners, that they may
exactly know where to make their air-shafts when occa¬
sion requires 5 yet, in the higher mountains of Dart-
maer, there are some considerable loads, which run
north and south; these always underlie toward the east.
Four or five loads may run nearly parallel to each
other in the same hill; and yet, which is rare, they
may meet altogether in one hatch, as it were a knot,
which well tins the place, and so separate again, and
keep their former distances.
Dipping Need/e, an instrument used for observing
the quantity of inclination towards the earth, assumed
by any needle or other body after it has acquired the
magnetic virtue. This was first observed by one Ko-
bert Norman, an Englishman, and maker of compasses
for mariners, in the end of the 16th century; who
finding that he w'as always obliged to counterbalance
that end which turns to the north by a bit of wax or
such other substance, though the balance had been
ever so exact before, published an account of his dis¬
covery as a matter of importance. The subject tvas
instantly attended to; and instruments were not only
contrived for ascertaining the quantity of the dip, but
various speculations formed concerning the cause of
such a surprising phenomenon.
rIhe general phenomena of the dipping needle are:
that about the equatorial parts of the earth it remains
in a horizontal position, but depresses one end as we
recede from these; the north end, if we go towards
the north, and the south end if we proceed towards
the south pole. The farther north or south that we go,
the inclination becomes the greater; but there is no
place of the globe hitherto discovered where it points
directly downwards, though it is supposed that it would
do so in some part very near the pole. Its inclination
is likewise found to vary very considerably at different
times in different places of the earth, and by some
changes of situation, in such a manner as must appear
at first sight very unaccountable. Of all those who
have attempted the investigation of this obscure sub¬
ject, none have been more successful than M. Cavallo,
who in his Treatise on Magnetism has given particular
attention to all the phenomena, and accounted for them
upon plain and rational principles, in the following
manner :
The dip of the magnetical needle in general may bo
understood from the following easy experiment—
Lay an oblong magnet horizontally upon a table, and
over it suspend another smaller magnet (a sewing needle
to which the magnetic virtue has been communicated
will answer the purpose), in such a manner as to re¬
main in a horizontal position when not disturbed by
another magnet. Now, if this last small magnet or
sewing needle, suspended by the middle, be brought
just over the middle of the large one, it will turn itself
in such a manner that the south pole of the small mag¬
net
Dipninjr,
IJ'
Needle.
Dipping
Needle.
DIP [ 25
not will point towards tlie north pole of the large one •,
v'w * ’ * * ■ w w      l #
and if at an equal distance from both, will remain in
J a horizontal position. But it we move it nearer to
one of the poles than the other, it will readily be un¬
derstood that the corresponding end of the needle will
be attracted by the pole to which it approaches, and
of consequence inclined downwards *, the contrary end
being proportionably elevated. It is likewise evident,
that this inclination will be greater or less according
to the distance at which the small magnet is placed from
the pole of the large one } the attraction of the nearest
pole having always the greatest effect upon it. And
it is equally plain, that when brought directly over one
of the poles of the large magnet, it will turn its own
contrary one directly towards it, and thus lie exactly
in the axis of the large one.
The application of this experiment to the pheno¬
mena of the dipping needle is obvious, as nothing
more is requisite for solving the whole mystery than to
suppose the earth itself to be the large magnet, and the
magnetic needle or any other magnetic body the small
magnet in the experiment: for admitting that the north
pole of the earth possesses a south magnetism, and that
the opposite pole is possessed of a north magnetical
polarity j it appears, and the theory is confirmed by
experiment, that when a magnet is suspended properly
in the equatorial parts of the world, it must remain in
a horizontal position ; but when removed nearer, to
one of the poles, it must decline one of its extremities,
viz. that which is possessed of the contrary magnetic
polarity, and that this inclination must increase in
proportion as the magnet or magnetic needle recedes
from the equator of the earth } and, lastly, when brought
exactly upon either of the poles of the earth it must
stand perpendicular to the ground, or in the same di¬
rection with the axis of the earth.
The only difficulty in this explanation arises from
the attributing a south magnetism to the north pole
of the earth : but by this our author means only that
its magnetism is contrary to that end of the magnetic
needle which turns towards it} and in the same man¬
ner it must be understood, that the south pole of the
earth has a north magnetic polarity.
If the extremities of the axis of the earth, or the
poles about which it performs its diurnal revolution,
coincided with its magnetic poles, or even if the mag¬
netic poles vvere always at a certain distance from them,
the inclination of the needle would be always the same
at equal distances from the equator, and might be very
useful for determining the latitudes. But it would
seem, that these poles are perpetually shifting their
place, since both the inclination and horizontal direc¬
tion of the needle are continually varying even in the
same place, so that its quantity of inclination cannot
be exactly calculated. Two general remarks may be
made upon this subject, i. That the inclination of
the needle does not alter regularly in going from north
to south, or from south to north, in any meridian.—
2. That its alteration in the same place, and at differ¬
ent times, is but small. Thus, in London, about the
year i 576, the dip was 710 50' below the horizon, and
in 1775 it stood at 720 3/> tl’6 alteration in near 200
years scarce amounting to three quarters of a degree ^
which may be attributed to the errors of the instill¬
ments j as these were at first exceedingly erroneous
3
4 ] DIP
and even yet are far from being arrived at perfec-
tion. ...
The general method of constructing dipping needles
is, to pass an axis quite through the needle itself, and
to let the extremities of the axis rest upon two supports,
like the beam of a pair of scales, that the needle may
move vertically round ; and hence, when placed in the
magnetic meridian, it will naturally assume that posi¬
tion which is called the magnetic line, viz. the two ends
nearly north and south, and one ol them inclined con¬
siderably to the horizon. The degrees ol the inclina¬
tion are shown upon a graduated circle j and when the
instrument is made use ot at land it has a stand, but
at sea a ring is necessary to suspend it. When furnish¬
ed with a stand, it has also a spirit-level} and the stand
has three screws, by which the whole is adjusted in
such a manner as to let the centre ol motion in the
needle, and the mark of 90° on the lower part ot the
divided circle, be exactly in the same line perpendicu¬
lar to the horizon.
The greatest imperfections attending this instrument
are the balancing of the needle itself, and the difficul¬
ty of knowing whether, alter being made magnetic, it
be properly balanced or not. T he inaccuracy here in¬
deed can be but very small, as arising only from dust
or moisture. The method recommended by Mr Ca-
vallo to obviate these inconveniences, is first to observe
the dip of the needle ; then to reverse its magnetism
by the application of magnets, so that the end of it
which before was elevated above the horizon may now
he below it ; and, lastly, to observe its dip again ; for
a mean of the two observations will be pretty near the
truth, though the needle may not be perfectly balan¬
ced. See M agnetism and Magnet/cal Needle.
DIPSACUS, Teazel ; a genus of plants belong¬
ing to the tetrandria class , and in the natural method
ranking under the 48th order, Aggregatae. See Bo¬
tany Index.
DIPSAS, a sort of serpent, the bite of which pro¬
duces such a thirst as proves mortal ; whence its name
dipsas, which signifies thirsty. In Latin it is. called
situla, “ a pail.” Moses speaks of it in Deut. viii. 15.
DIPTEBA (from Ji?, and wr^ei’, wing), in Zoology,
an order of insects, which have only two wings, and
under each wing a style, or oblong body, terminated
by a protuberance or head, and called a balancer. See
Entomology Index.
DIPTOTES, in Grammar, are such nouns as have
only two cases, as suppetiee, svppetias, &c.
DIPTYCH A, in antiquity, a public register, where¬
in were written the names of the consuls, and other
magistrates, among the heathens ; and ot bishops, and
defunct as well as surviving brethren, among the
Christians.
The word is formed from the Creek <)<7rrv%<y*, or
and that from a masculine noun de¬
rived from Tcrvcriru, I fold or plait. I rom its futine
wtbIiw is formed a fold or plait, to which add¬
ing twice, we have ^i5rrv|, in the genitive
whence the nominative neuter q. d. a book
folded in two leaves ; though there were some in three,
and others in four or five leaves. An ingenious au¬
thor imagines this name to have been first given them,
to distinguish them from the books that were rolled,
called volumina.
Dippiri
Need!)
. II
Diptyeli
iptyclia
D 1 It [255
It is certain there were profane diptycha in the
n Greek empire, as well as sacred ones in the Greek
rection. church. The former were the matricula, or registers,
wherein the names of the magistrates were enter¬
ed : in which sense diptycha is a term in the Greek
chancery.
Sacred Diptycha. The word is plural ; diptycha
being a double catalogue, in one whereof were writ¬
ten the names of the living, and in the other those of
the dead, which were to be rehearsed during the office.
We meet with something not unlike the sacred dip¬
tycha of the Greeks, in the canon of the mass accord¬
ing to the Latin usage j where the people are enjoin¬
ed to pray once for the living, and once for the dead ;
several saints are invoked in different times, &c. In
these diptycha were entered the names of bishops, who
had govei ned their Hock aright j and these were never
expunged out of the same, unless they were convicted
of heresy, or some other gross crime. In the diptycha
were likewise entered the names of such as had done
any signal service to the church, whether they were
living or dead, and mention was made of them in the
celebration of the liturgy.
Casaubon, in his observations on Athenaeus, lib. vi.
cap. 14. supposes the Christians to have borrowed the
custom of writing names in a book, and rehearsing
them at mass, from the heathens, who entered the
names of persons they would do any signal honour to,
in the \eises ol the Sain j as was done to Germanicus
and Verus, sons of the emperor Marcus Aurelius, and
a long time before, during the age of the republic, to
Mamercus Veturius, and Lucia Volumnia, as we are
told by Tacitus, lib. ii. Spartian, Ovid, Festus, Plu¬
tarch, &c. But Fa. Rosweyd does not approve this
notion ol Casaubon. The pretended St Dionysius, a
very ancient author, says the contrary, and asserts the
first establishment of this usage to have been founded
on Scripture, 2 Tim. ii. 19. Psal. cxvi. 15. Eosweyd
adds Ecclesiastic, xliv. 1. and takes these to have been
the passages the ancient church had a view to, rather
than the Salian verses.
The profane diptycha were frequently sent as pre¬
sents to princes, &c. on which occasions they were fine-
gij.ti and embellished ; as appears from Symmachus,
lib. 11. ep. 81. Those presented were usually of ivory.
Ihe first law, De Expens. Ludor. C. Theod. forbids
all magistrates below consuls to make presents of dip¬
tycha of ivory in the public ceremonies.
DIRAE, the general name of the three furies in the
I agan system of theology. They were so called, as
being quasi Deorum ira>, the ministers of divine ven¬
geance in punishing guilty souls after death. They
were the daughters of Night and Acheron. See Fu¬
ries.
DIRCA, a genus of plants belonging to the octan-
dna class ; and in the natural method rankino- under
the 31st order,. Vepreculee. See Botany Index.
IRECT, in Arithmetic, is when the proportion of
any terms, or quantities, is in the natural or direct or-
]
D I S
pioceed according to the force impressed upon it. See
Mechanics.
Direction, in Astronomy, the motion and other
phenomena of a planet when direct.
Direction, in Astroldgy, is.a kind of calculus, by
vv 11c 1 it.is pretended to find the time in which any not¬
able accident shall befal the person whose horoscope is
drawn. 1
DIRECTOR, in commercial polity, a person who
has the management of the affairs of a trading com¬
pany: thus we say, the directors of the India Company,
booth Sea Company, &c. See Company.
The directors are considerable proprietors in the
stock of their respective companies, being chosen by
plurality of votes from among the body of proprietor/.
1 lie Dutch East India Company had formerly 60 such
directors; that of France, 21 : the British East India
Company has 24, including the chairman, who' may
be re-elected tor tour years successively. The last have
salaiies of ly^l. a-year each, and the chairman 200I.
Ihey meet at least once a-week, And commonly oftener,
being summoned as occasion requires. The directors
ot the Lank of England are 24 in number, including;
the governor and deputy-governor. ^
Director, in Surgery, * grooved probe, to direct
the edge of the knife or scissars in opening sinuses or
nstulge, that by this means the adjacent vessels, nerves,
and tendons, may remain unhurt. See Surgery*
Index.
DIRIBITORES, among the Romans, officers ap¬
pointed to distribute tablets to the people at the co-
mitia. See Comitia.
DIRIGENT, or Directrix, a term in geometry,
signifying the line of motion, along which the describ-
ent line or surface is carried in the genesis of any plane
or solid figure.
DIS, an inseparable article prefixed to divers words ;
the effect whereof is either to give them a signification
contrary to what the simple words have, as disoblige,
disobey, &c. ; or to signify a separation, detachment,
occ. as disposing, distributing.
Dis, a town of Norfolk, seated on the river Wave-
nay, on the side of a hill. It is a neat flourishing town,
with one large church, a Presbyterian and a Quaker
meeting. It has about 600 good houses ; the streets
are well paved, pretty wide, and always clean. At
the west end of the town is a large meer or lake ; but
so muddy, that the inhabitants can make no other use
of it but in catching of eels. In the town are carried
on manufactories of sail-cloth, hose, and the making of
stays. E. Long. 1. 16. N. Lat. 32. 25.
Dis, a god of the Gauls, the same as Pluto the god
of hell, ihe inhabitants of Gaul supposed themselves
descended from that deity.
DISA, a genus of plants belonging to the gynan-
dria class. See Botany Index.
DISABILITY, in Law, is when a man is disabled,
or made incapable to inherit any lands, or take that
der in which thVv "'X which otherwise he might have done : and this
which cnn • 1 fl ’ be!ng .tbe oPP0Slte to inverse, may happen four ways ; by the act of an ancestor, or
inversely.* ’ 3 ' 4 " ‘ 8 duectly j or 3 : 4 :: 8 : 6 latv. 1. Disability by the act of the ancestor, is where
t\td• it 7 • , . the ancestor is attainted of high treason. which
pathof^L® ’ ^ec^amcs> signifies the line or corrupts .he bloo.1 of his cluldkn, so that they „,ay
0 y s motion, alcng which it endeavours to not inherit his estate. 2. Disability by the act of the
party,
Diiectioa
_ I!
Disability.
D I S [251
Disability party, is where a man binds himself by obligation, that,
it upon surrender ot a lease, he will grant a new estate
Discipline.to a legsee • and afterwards he grants over the rever-
v ' sion to another, which puts it out of his power to pel-
torm it. 3. Disability by the act of God, is where a
man is von sance memonce, whereby he is incapable to
make any grant, &c. So that, if he passeth an estate
out of him, it may after his death be made void j but
it is a maxim in law, “ That a man oi full age shad
never be received to disable his own person.” 4. Dis¬
ability by the act of the law, is where a man by the
law, without any thing by him done, is rendered in¬
capable of the benefit of the law ; as an alien horn,
&c.
DISANDRIA, - a genus of plants, belonging to the
heptandria class. See Botany Index.
Islands of DISAPPOINTMENT, a cluster of
small islands, lying in S. Lat. 14. 10. W. Long. 141.
j5. They were discovered by Commodore Byron in
1765, who gave them their name from the shores af¬
fording no anchorage for his ships ; for which reason
he was obliged to quit them without landing, 01 pio
curing any refreshments for his crew', who were then
languishing with sickness. T hey are inhabited by In¬
dians, who appeared on the beach with spears in their
hands, that were at least 16 feet long. They every¬
where discovered hostile intentions, and seemed by signs
to threaten the people in the boat with death if they
came ashore. There are cocoa trees in great abund¬
ance, and the shore abounds with turtle.
DISC, in antiquity, a quoit made of stone, iron,
or copper, five or six fingers broad, and more than a
foot long, inclining to an oval figure, which they
hurled in form of a bowl, to a vast distance, by the
help of a leathern thong tied round the person’s band
who threw it, and put through a hole in the middle.
Homer has made Ajax and Ulysses great artists at this
sport.
Disc, in Astronomy, the body and face of the sun
and moon, such as they appear to us on the earth \ or
the body and face of the earth, such as it appears to a
spectator in the moon.
Disc, in Optics, is the width of the aperture of te¬
lescope glasses, whatever their form be, whether plane,
convex, concave, &c.
DISCERNING, or Discernment, a faculty of
the mind whereby it distinguishes between ideas. See
Metaphysics.
DISCIPLE, one who learns any thing from ano¬
ther : thus, the followers of any teacher, philosopher,
&c. are called disciples. In the Christian sense, they
were followers of Jesus Christ, in general : hut in a
more restrained sense, the disciples denote those alone
who were the immediate followers and attendants on his
person, of which there were 70 or 72. The names
disciples and apostles are often synonymously used in the
gospel history j but sometimes the apostles are distin-
auished from disciples, or persons selected out of the
number of disciples, to he the principal ministers of his
religion : of these there were only_i2. 1 he Latins
kept the festival of the 70 or 72 disciples on July 15th,
and the Greeks on January 4th.
DISCIPLINE, in a general sense, denotes instruc¬
tion and government, as military discipline, ecclesiasti
cal discipline, Sec.
5 ] D I S
Ecclesiastical discipline consists inputting those laws Disci|i
in execution by which the church is governed, and in- Disco|
flicting the penalties enjoined by them against the se- v-
veral sorts of offenders that profess the religion of Je¬
sus. The primitive church never pretended to exercise
discipline upon any hut such as are within her pale,
in the largest sense, by some act of their own profes¬
sion j and even upon these she never pretended to exer¬
cise her discipline so far as to cancel or disannul their
baptism : all that she pretended to was to deprive men
of the benefits of external communion, such as public
prayer, receiving the eucharist, and other acts of divine
worship. The church discipline was only confined to
the admonition of the party, and to the lesser and great¬
er excommunication.
As to the objects of ecclesiastical discipline, they
were all such delinquents as fell into great and scanda¬
lous crimes after baptism.
Discipline, in a more peculiar sense, is used for the
chastisements or bodily punishments inflicted on a reli¬
gious of the Romish church who has been found a de¬
linquent ; or even for that which the religious volun¬
tarily undergo or inflict on themselves by way of morti¬
fication.
Boole of Discipline, in the history of the church of
Scotland, is a common order, drawn up by the assem¬
bly of ministers in 1650, for the reformation and uni¬
formity to be observed in the discipline and policy of the
church. In this book the government of the church
by prelates is set aside, church sessions are established,
the superstitious observation of fast days and saints days
is condemned, and other regulations for the govern¬
ment of the church are determined. This book was
approved by the privy council, and is called the First
Book of Discipline.
DISCORD, in general, signifies disagreement, or
opposition between diflerent persons or things..
Discord, in Music, every sound which, joined with
another, forms an assemblage disagreeable to the ear •, or
rather, every interval whose extremes do not coalesce.
Now, as there are no other concords or consonances,
except those which form amongst themselves, and with
their fundamental sound, perfect chords, it follows, that
every interval must be a real dissonance or discord :
even the third and sixth were reckoned such among the
ancients, who excluded them from the number ot con¬
sonant chords.
The term dissontuice, which is.synonymous with dis¬
cord. is compounded of two words, the inseparable pie-
position dis and the verb sonare ; which, both in a lite¬
ral and metaphorical sense, signifies disagreement or
disunion. In reality, that which renders dissonances
grating, is, that the sounds which form them, far from
uniting in the ear, seem to repel.each other, and are
heard each by itself as two distinct sounds, though pro¬
duced at the same time.
This repulsion or violent oscillation of sounds is
heard more or less, as the vibrations which produce it
are more or less frequently coincident. When two
vocal strings are gradually tuned, till they approach a
consonant interval, the pulsations become slower as
the chord grows more just, till at last they are scarcely
heard, if heard at all ; from whence it appears certain,
that the pleasure produced in us by harmony results
from the more or less exact and frequent coincidence
or
t,
^ 1 s [ 257 ] D
ilscord. or vibration j though the reason why this coincidence ent account of the whole '
—v—'should give pleasure, more than any other modifica¬
tion or combination of sounds, appears to us inscru¬
table. The agreeable effects of dissonance in harmony,
no objection to this theory 5 since it is allowed,
are _ ^  ^
that the sensations excited by discord are not in them¬
selves immediately and necessarily pleasing, but only
please by auricular deception. The ear is surprised
with the shock it receives, without being able to ima¬
gine how it should have happened j and in proportion
as it is harsh and grating, we feel the pleasure of re¬
turning harmony enhanced, and the disappointment
of being artfully and insensibly extricated more agree¬
able.
The name of dissonance is given sometimes to the in¬
terval, and sometimes to each of the two sounds which
form it. But though two sounds equally form a dis¬
sonance between themselves, the name is most frequent¬
ly given to that sound in particular which is most ex¬
traneous to the chord.
1 he number of possible dissonances is indefinite j
but as in music we exclude all intervals which are not
found in tlie system received, the number of dissonances
is reduced to a very few : besides, in practice, we can
only select from those few such as are agreeable to the
species, and the mode in which we compose j and from
this last number we must exclude such as cannot be used
consistently with the rules prescribed. But what are
these rules ? Have they any foundation in nature, or
are they merely arbitrary P This is what Rousseau,
whom in this article we have followed or abandoned as
his observations appeared useful or frivolous, purposes
to investigate as its principal object.
But where does his scrutiny terminate ? Not in the
abolition of the rules prescribed. These have still sub¬
sisted, and will still subsist, while the frame of man,
and the nature of music, remain what they are. If then
the rules be permanent and universal, the principle
upon which they are founded may be latent or ambi¬
guous j but the rules themselves can never be purely
arbitrary. How else could it happen, that Rameau,
D’Alembert, and Rousseau, should admit the force and
effect of these rules, whilst each of those masters exerts
his whole genius to give a different account of their
cause and origin ? Rousseau himself, as we have seen in
a former article, inculcates the necessity of dissonances
for the completion of harmony j (see Chord). Now,
if this be true, the easiest methods of introducing and
dismissing these discords must be the most eligible, and
of consequence the rules for using them must be esta¬
blished. It is not then upon the subsistence or demoli¬
tion of any particular theory that they depend. Should
we attend to the particular objections which may be
urged against any system whatever ; where is the theory
which will be found proof against the efforts of scep¬
ticism P After all, the objections of Rousseau against
Rameau’s theory, as applied by D’Alembert to the
origin of consonances, (see Music, art. 94, 95, 96,
97> 9®» 99-)» appear to be much more frivolous than
the analogies from which he pretends this origin to be
deduced. It appears from D’Alembert’s exposition to
this theory, that, if not for all, it affords a solution
tor the most material and essential phenomena in har¬
mony ; which is sufficient for its establishment, till an¬
other can be found, which gives a rational and consist-
Vol. VII, Part I. f
I S
a discovery which has not Discord
yet been made. But whilst we acknowledge the fu- ||
tility of Rousseau’s objections against D’Alembert’s Discretion,
explication of dissonances, we must at the same time '—""V’—
admire the ingenuity with which he has deduced them
from principles purely mechanical, without departing
from the system of M. Rameau. This mechanical ex¬
plication will be found in his Musical Dictionary, un¬
der the article Dissonance.
Discord (the goddess of), in Pagan theology. She
is represented by Aristides with fiery eyes, a pale
countenance, livid lips, and wearing a dagger in her
bosom. It was she who at the marriage of Peleus and
Ihetis threw in the golden apple, whereon was written
“ To the fairest which occasioned a contention be¬
tween the goddesses Juno, Minerva, and Venus ; each
pretending a title to the apple. She was likewise call¬
ed Ate and Eris.
DISCOVERY, in dramatic poetry, a manner of
unravelling a plot or fable in tragedies, comedies, and
romances j wherein, by some unforeseen accident, a
discovery is made of the name, fortune, quality, &c.
of a principal person, which were before unknown.
See Catastrophe.
DISCOUNT, in commerce, a term among traders,
merchants, and bankers. It js used by the two former
on occasion of their buying commodities on the usual
time of credit, with a condition that the seller shall al¬
low the buyer a certain discount at the rate of so much
per cent, per annum, for the time for which the credit
is generally given, upon condition that the buyer pays
ready money for such commodities, instead of taking
the time of credit. Traders and merchants also fre¬
quently taking promissory notes for moneys due payable
to them or order at a certain time, and sometimes ha¬
ving occasion for money before the time is elapsed,
procure these notes to be discounted by bankers before
the time of payment. Bills of exchange are also dis¬
counted by bankers; and in this consists one article of
the profits of banking. See Bank.
DISCRETE, or Disjunct, Proportion, is when
the ratio of two or more pairs of numbers or quantities
is the same, but there is not the same proportion be¬
tween all the four numbers. Thus, if the numbers
3 : 6 :: 8 : 16 be considered, the ratio between 3 : 6
is the same, as that between 8:16, and therefore the
numbers are proportional : but it is only discretely or
disjunctly, for 3 is not to 6 as 6 to 8 ; that is, the
proportion is broken off between 8 and 3, and is not
continued as in the following continual proportionals,
3 : 6 :: 12 : 24.
Discrete Quantity, is such as is not continued and
joined together. Such, for instance, is any number.
DISCRETION 5 prudence, or knowledge to govern
one’s self.
There are many more shining qualities in the mind
of man, but there is none so useful as discretion ; it is
this indeed that gives a value to all the rest, which sets
them at work in their proper times and places 5 and
turns them to the advantage of the person who is pos¬
sessed of them. Without it learning is pedantry, and
wit impertinence ; virtue itself looks like weakness j
the best parts only qualify a man to be more sprightly
in errors, and active to his own prejudice.
Nor does discretion only make a man master of his
£k
own
D I S
[ 258 ]
D I S
discretion own parts, but of other men’s. The discreet man finds
II out the talents of those he converses with, and knows
Disdiaclas-hoyy to apply them to proper uses. Accordingly, if
in ciysi.i. look into particular communities and divisions of
men, we may observe that it is the discreet man, not the
witty, nor the learned, nor the brave, who guides the
conversation, and gives measures to the society. A man
with great talents, but void of discretion, is like Poly¬
phemus in the fable, strong and blind, endued with an
irresistible force, which for want of sight is of no use to
him. Though a man has all other perfections, and
wants discretion, he will be of no great consequence in
the world j but if he has this single talent in perfection,
and but a common share of others, he may do what he
pleases in his particular station of life.
It is proper, however, to distinguish between discre¬
tion and cunning, the latter being the accomplishment
only of little mean, ungenerous minds. Discretion
points out the noblest ends to us, and pursues the most
proper and laudable methods of attaining them j cun¬
ning has only private selfish aims, and sticks at nothing
which may make them succeed. Discretion has large
and extensive views, and, like a well-formed eye, com¬
mands a whole horizon : cunning is a kind of short¬
sightedness, that discovers the minutest objects which
are near at hand, but is not able to discern things at a
distance. Discretion, the more it is discovered, gives
the greater authority to the person who possesses it j
cunning, when it is once detected, loses its force, and
makes a man incapable of bringing about even those
events which he might have done, had he passed only
for a plain man. Discretion is the perfection of rea¬
son, and a guide to us in all the duties of life ; cun¬
ning is a kind of instinct, that only looks out after our
immediate interest and welfare. Discretion is only
found in men of strong sense and good understanding :
cunning is often to be met with in brutes themselves,
and in persons who are but the fewest removes from
them. In short, cunning is only the mimic of discre¬
tion, and may pass upon weak men, in the same man¬
ner as vivacity is often mistaken for wit, and gravity
for wisdom.
DISCUS, in antiquity. See Disc.
Discus, in Botany, the middle part of a radiated
compound flower, generally consisting of small florets,
with a hollow regular petal. It is commonly sur¬
rounded by large, plain, or flat, tongue-shaped petals,
in the circumference or margin j as in daisy, ground¬
sel, and leopard’s-bane ; sometimes the circumlerence
is naked, as in cotton-weed and some species of colts¬
foot.
Discus Folii, the surface of the leaf.
DISCUSSION, in matters of literature, signifies
the clear treating or handling of any particular point,
or problem, so as to shake oft’ the difficulties with
which it is embarrassed : thus we say, such a point teas
well discussed, when it was well treated of and cleared
up.
DISCUTIENTS, in Medicine, are such remedies,
as, by their subtility, dissolve a stagnating or coagulat¬
ed fluid, and dissipate the same without an external
solution of continuity.
DISDIACLASTIC crystal, in Natural History,
a name given, by Bartholine, and some others, to a
mineral substance, more usually called, from the place
whence it was first brought, Iceland crystal. See Ml-Disdiaci:
NERALOGY Index. tio crJst
DJSDIAPASON, or Bisdiapasok, in Music, a DJ^
compound concord, described by I. Par ran, in the t ^ J
quadruple ratio of 4 : 1, or 8 : 2.
DisdiapasonDiapente, a concord in a sextuple ratio
of 1 : 6.
Disdiapason Semi-Diapente, a compound concord
in the proportion of 16 : 3.
Disdiapason Ditone, a compound consonance in the
proportion of 10 : 2.
Disdiapason Semi-Ditone, a compound concord in
the proportion of 24 : 5*
DISEASE, has been variously defined by physi¬
cians, almost every founder of a new system having
given a definition of disease, diflering in some respects
from his predecessors. For a particular account of
these definitions, see Medicine.
Of all animals, man is subject to the most diseases;
and of men, the studious and speculative are most ex¬
posed thereto. Other animals have their diseases $ but
they are in smaller number : nor are plants without
them j though their maladies scarce exceed half a score.
The ancients deified their diseases. Some diseases only
impair the use of the part immediately affected j as the
ophthalmia, gout, &c. Others destroy it entirely; as
the gutta serena, palsy, &c. Some affect the whole
body *, as the fever, apoplexy, epilepsy, &c. Others
only impair a part j as the asthma, colic, dropsy, &c.
Some only affect the body j as the gout : others di¬
sturb the mind 5 as melancholy, delirium, &c. Last¬
ly, others affect both the body and mind ; as the ma¬
nia, phrensy, &c.
The colder the country, in general, the fewer and
the less violent are the diseases. Scheffer tells us that
the Laplanders know no such thing as the plague, or
fevers of the burning kind, nor are subject to half the
distempers we are. They are robust and strong, and
live to 80, 90, and many of them to more than 100
years j and at this great age they are not feeble and
decrepid as with us j but a man of 9® able to work
or travel as well as a man of 60 with us. They are
subject, however, to some diseases more than other na¬
tions j thus they have often distempers of the eyes,
which is owing to their living in smoke, or being blind¬
ed by the snow. Pleurisies and inflammations of the
lungs are also very frequent among them 5 and the
small-pox often rages with great violence. They have
one general remedy against these and all other internal
diseases : this is the root of that sort of moss, as Schef¬
fer expresses it, which they czWjerth. They make a
decoction of this root in the whey of rein-deer milk,
and drink very large doses of it warm, to keep up a
breathing sweat j if they cannot get this, they use the
stalks of angelica boiled in the same manner : they have
not so great an opinion of this as of the other remedy:
but the keeping in a sweat, and drinking plentifully of
diluting liquors, may go a great way in the cure of
their diseases, whether either the one or the other of
the drugs have any virtue or not. They cure pleuri¬
sies by this method in a very few days j and get so
well through the small-pox with it, that very few die
of it.
It has been always observed, that people of particu¬
lar places were peculiarly subject to particular diseases,
which
BIS [
which are owing to their manner of living, or to the air
and effluvia of the earth and water. Hoffman has made
some curious observations on diseases of this kind. He
observes, that swellings of the throat have alwavs been
common to the inhabitants of mountainous countries :
and the old Roman authors say, Who wonders at a
swelled throat in the Alps ? The people of Swisserland,
Carinthia, Stiria, the Hartz forest, Transylvania, and
the inhabitants of Cronstadt, he observes, are all sub¬
ject to this disease from the same cause.
The French are peculiarly troubled with fevers, with
worms, and with hydroceles and sarcoceles j and all
these disorders seem to be owing originally to their eat¬
ing very large quantities of chesnuts. The people of
our own nation are peculiarly afflicted with hoarsenesses,
catarrhs, coughs, dysenteries, consumptions, and the
scurvy; and the women with the^wor albus or whites $
and children with a disease scarce known elsewhere
which we call the rickets. In different parts of Italy
different diseases reign. At Naples the venereal disease
is more common than in any other part of the world.
At Venice, people are peculiarly subject to the bleeding
piles. At Rome, tertian agues and lethargic distem¬
pers are most common. In Tuscany the epilepsy or
falling sickness. And in Apulia they are most subject
to burning fevers, pleurisies, and to that sort of mad¬
ness which is attributed to the bite of the tarantula,
and which, it is said, is only to be cured by music.
In Spain apoplexies are common, as also melancholy,
hypochondriacal complaints, and bleeding piles. The
Dutch are peculiarly subject to the scurvy, and to the
stone in the kidneys. Denmark, Norway, Sweden,
Pomerania, and Livonia, are all terribly afflicted with
the scurvy : and it is remarkable, that in Denmark,
Sweden, and Norway, fevers are very common *, but
m Iceland, Lapland, and Finland, there is scarce ever
such a disease met with } though peripneumonies are
very common in these places, as also diseases of the
eyes and violent pains of the head. The Russians and
Tartars are afflicted with ulcers, made by the cold, of
the nature of what we call chilblains, but greatly worse 5
and in 1 oland and Lithuania there reigns a peculiar
disease, called the plica polonica, so terribly painful and
offensive, that scarce any thing can be thought of
worse. The people of Hungary are very subject to
the gout and rheumatism : they are more infested also
with lice and fleas than any other people in the world,
and they have a peculiar disease which they call cremor.
The Germans, in different parts of the empire, are
subject to different reigning diseases. In Westphalia,
they are peculiarly troubled with peripneumonies and
the itch. In Silesia, Franconia, Austria, and other
places thereabout, they are very liable to fevers of the
burning kind, to bleedings at the nose, and other hse-
morrhages; and to the gout, inflammations, and con¬
sumptions. In Misnia they have purple fevers ; and
the children are peculiarly infested with worms. In
Greece, Macedonia, and Thrace, there are very few
diseases; and what they have are principally burning
fevers and frenzies. At Constantinople the plague of¬
ten rages j and in the West Indian islands, malignant
fevers, and the most terrible colics. These diseases are
called endemic.
Diseases of Horses. See Farriery.
Diseases of Dogs. See Dogs.
] r> 1 s
UISEMBOCUF rn* Ag*I.CULTDRE !«**■ Disease* of
OLMROGUE. M hen a ship passes out of the Plants
mouth of some great gulf or bay, they call it disem- 11
boguing. 1 hey say also of a river, that at such a place, ,DlsPatch-
into the ^ea ^ S° leasue9, it; disembogues itself^ v *
DISFRANCHIZING, among civilians, signifies
the depriving a person of the rights and privileges of a
free citizen or subject. 8
DISGUISE, a counterfeit habit. Persons doing
unlawful acts in disguise are by our statutes sometimes
subjected to great penalties, and even declared felons.
lhus» ?y an act commonly called the black act, persons
appearing disguised and armed in a forest or grounds
enclosed or hunting deer, or robbing a warren or a
fish-pond, are declared felons.
DISH, in mining, is a trough made of wood, about
q 'ii r ® . 6* in wuouj aoout
28 inches long, four inches deep, and six inches wide:
by which all miners measure their ore. If any be ta¬
ken selling their ore, not first measuring it by the bar-
master s dish, and paying the king’s duty, the seller
forfeits his ore, and the buyer forfeits for every such
offence 4°s. to the lord of the field or farmer.
DISJUNCTIVE, something that separates or dis¬
joins. rus, o>, neither, &c. which in connecting a
discourse, yet separate the parts of it, are called dis¬
junctive conjunctions.
DISK. See Disc.
DISLOCATION, the putting a bone out of joint
by some violence, usually called by the physicians luxa-
.^1SMISSI0N o/c Bill in Chancery. If the plain-
Itl. .°es! atteiul on the day fixed for the hearing,
his bill is dismissed with costs. It may be also dismiss¬
ed for want of prosecution, which is in the nature of a
non-suit at law, if he suffers three terms to elapse with¬
out moving forward in the cause.
DISMOUNTING, in the military art, the act of
unhorsing. Thus, to dismount the cavalry, the dra¬
goons, or the like, is to make them alight. To dis¬
mount the cannon, is to break their carriages, wheels
and axletrees, so as to render them unfit for service.
Horses are also dismounted when they are rendered un¬
fit for service.
DISPARAGEMENT, in Law, is used for the
matching an heir, &c. in marriage, below his or her
degree or condition, or against the rules of decency.
The word is a compound of the privative particle dis
and par, “ equal.” ’
DISPART, in Gunnery, is the setting a mark upon
the muzzle ring, or thereabouts, of a piece of ordnance,
so that a sight line taken upon the top of the base ring
against the touch hole, by the mark set on or near the
muzzle, may be parallel to the axis of the concave cy¬
linder. The common way of doing this, is to take the
two diameters of the base ring, and of the place where
the dispart is to stand, and divide the difference be¬
tween them into two equal parts, one of which will be
the length of the dispart which is set on the gun with
wax or pitch, or fastened there with a piece of twine
or marlin. By means of an instrument it may be done
with all possible nicety.
DISPATCH, a letter on some affair of state, or
other business of importance, sent with care and expe¬
dition, by a courier express. The business of disl
k 2 patches
D I S
[
DUoatch patches lies on the secretaries of state and their clerks.
5 The king gives directions to his ministers abroad by dis-
Di<!pt;i'*ion patches. The word is also used for the packet 01 mail
of Mankind. containing such letters. The French, during the reign
  v   of Louis XIV had a conseil des depeckes, “ council of
dispatches,” held in the king’s presence, at which the
dauphin, the duke of Orleans, the chancellor, and tour
secretaries of stsitCj assisted#
DISPAUPER. A person suing in forma pauperis
is said to be dispaupered, if, before the suit is ended, he
has any lands or other estate fallen to him, or it he has
any thing to make him lose his privilege. See the ar¬
ticle Forma Fauperis.
DISPENSARY, or Dispensatory, denotes a bootc
containing the method of preparing the various kinds ot
medicines used in pharmacy. Such are those of Bau-
deron, Quercetan, Zwelfer, Charas, Bate, Mesue, Sal¬
mon, Lemery, Quincy, &c. ; but the latest and most
esteemed, besides the London and Edinburgh pharma¬
copoeias, is the Edinburgh New Dispensatory, being an
improvement upon that of Dr Lewis s. .
Dispensary,oris likewise a magazine
or office for selling medicines at prime cost to the poor.
The College of Physicians maintain three ot these in
London *, “one at the college itself in Warwick-lane ;
another in St Peter’s alley, Cornlnl j and a third in St
Martin’s lane. Dispensaries have also been estaffiished
in several of the principal towns in Scotland and E g
land j particularly in Edinburgh, Dundee, and Kelso ,
as also at Newcastle upon Tyne.
DISPENSATION, in Law, the granting a license
of doing some certain action that otherwise is not per-
""dISPERSION, in general, signifies the scattering
or dissipating something. Hence .
Dispersion, in Optics, is the same with the diver¬
gency of the rays of light. ... • f
Point of Dispersion, in Dioptrics, the point trom
which refracted rays begin to diverge, where their re¬
fraction renders them divergent. _
Dispersion of Inflammation, in Medicine and Sur-
gery, is the removing the inflammation, and restoring
the inflamed part to its natural state.
Dispersion of Mankind, in the history of the world,
was occasioned by the confusion of tongues, and took
place in consequence of the overthrow of Babel at the
birth of Peleg j whence he derived his name: and it
appears by the account given of his ancestors, Oen.
chap. xi. lo—16. to have happened in the 101st year
after the flood according to the Hebrew chronology,
and by the Samaritan computation in the 401st. .How¬
ever, various difficulties have been suggested by chror
nologers concerning the true era of this event, bir
John Marsham and others, in order to reconcile the
Hebrew and Egyptian chronologies, maintain a dis¬
persion of mankfnd before the birth of Peleg. Others
unable to find numbers sufficient for the plantation of
colonies in the space of 101 years, according to the
Hebrew computation, fix the dispersion towards 1
end of Peleg’s life, thus following th® comPut^l!n.h°*
the Jews. Petavius assigns the 153?/ear after the
flood •, Cumberland the I Both j and Usher, though h«
generally refers it to the time of Peleg s birth, in 0
place assigns the 131st after the flood for this eve t.
260 ] r> 1 S
Mr Shuckford supposes the dispersion to have been DispeniJ
gradual and to have commenced with the separation ofStanku
of some companies at the birth of Peleg, and to have'
been completed 31 years after. According to the cal¬
culation of Petavius, the number ot inhabitants on the
earth at the birth of Peleg amounted to 32,768 : Cum¬
berland makes them 30,000 ; Mr Mede states them at
7000 men, besides women and children : and Mr W ins¬
ton who supposes that mankind now double themselves
in 400 years, and that they doubled themselves be¬
tween the deluge and the time ot David in 60 years
at a medium, when their lives were six or seven times
as long as they have been since, by his computation
produces about 2389-, a number much too inconsider¬
able for the purposes of separating and forming distinct
nations. This difficulty induced Mr Whiston to reject
the Hebrew and to adopt the Samaritan chronology, as
many others have done •, which, by allowing an in-
terval of 401 years between the flood and the birth 01
Peleg, furnishes, by the last-mentioned mode of com¬
putation, more than 240,000 persons.
As to the manner of the dispersion of the posterity
of Noah from the plain of Shinar, it was undoubtedly
conducted with the utmost regularity and order. Ibe
sacred historian informs us, that they were divided m
their lands, every one according to his tongue, ac¬
cording to his family, and according to his nation,
Gen. x. 5, 20, 31. i and thus, as Mr Mede observes,
they were ranged according to their nations, and every
nation was ranged by their families ; so that each na¬
tion had a separate lot, and each family in every na¬
tion. The following abstract will serve to give a ge¬
neral idea of their respective settlements : Japhet,
Noah’s eldest son, had seven sons *, viz. Gorner, whose
descendants inhabited those parts of Asia which lie
upon the iEgean sea and Hellespont northward, con¬
taining Phrygia, Pontus, Bithynia, and a great part
of Galatia. The Galatians, according to Josephus,
were called Gomercei; and the Cimmeru, according to
Herodotus, occupied this tract of country •, and irom
these Gomerians, Cimmerii,|or Celts, Mr Camden de¬
rives our ancient Britons, who still retain the name
Cvmro or Cijmru. Magog, the second son of Japhet,
was probably the father of the Scythians on the east
and north-east of the Euxine sea. Madai planted
Media, though Mr Mede assigns Macedonia to his
share. Javan was the father of the Grecians about
Ionia, whose country lies along upon the Mediterra¬
nean sea; the radicles of Javan and Ionia being the
same, ay To Tubal and Mescech belonged Cappadocia
and the country which lies on the borders of the Eux¬
ine sea ; and from them, migrating over Caucasus,
it is supposed the Russians and Muscovites are de¬
scended. And Tiras occupied Thrace. The sons ot
Shem were five : Elam, whose country lay between
the Medes and Mesopotamians, and was ca led by the
Gentile writers Elemais ; and Josephus calls the Ela¬
mites the founders of the Persians : Ashur, who was
driven out of Shinar by Nimrod, afterwards settled m
Assyria, and there built Nineveh, and other cities}
Arphaxad, who gave name to the country which Pto¬
lemy calls Arraphacitis, a province of Assyria, though
Josephus makes him the father of the Chaldees j Lu
who inhabited and gave name to the country of Lydia
3
D I S
[ 261 ]
D I S
dispersion about.the river Meander, remarkable for its windings, double spondee or foot, consisting of four long svlla- n j
Mankind in Asia Minor : and Aram, the father of the Syrians, bios: as ^ ^ Disiipndee
  - - - 7    j
Mankind in Asia Minor : and Aram, the father of the Syrians.
II Ham, the youngest son of Noah, had four sons j viz.
'Pon ee', Cush, whose posterity spread into the several parts of A-
rabiaover the borders of the land of Edom, into Arabia
Felix, up to Midian and Egypt ; Mizraim, the father
of them who inhabited Egypt and other parts of A-
frica j Phut, to whom Bochart assigns the remaining
part of Africa, from the lake of Tritonides to the At¬
lantic ocean, called Libya: and Canaan, to whom be¬
longed the land of Canaan, whence the Phenicians de¬
rived their origin.
Dr Bryant has advanced a new hypothesis en this
subject, and supported it with his usual acuteness and
learning. He maintains, that the dispersion as well
as the confusion of tongues was local, and limited to
the inhabitants of the province of Babel; that the se¬
paration and distribution recorded to have taken place
in the days of Peleg, Gen. x. 25, 31, 32, which was the
result of divine appointment, occasioned a general mi¬
gration : and that all the families among the sons of men
were concerned in it. The house of Shem, from which
the Messiah was to spring, was particularly regarded in
this distribution : the portion of his children was near
the. place of separation ; they in general had Asia to
their lot 5 as Japhet had Europe, and Ham the large
continent of Africa. But the sons of Chus would not
submit to the divine dispensation : they went off under
the conduct of Nimrod, and seem to have been for a
long time in a roving state. However, at last they ar¬
rived at the plains of Shinarj and having ejected Ashur
and his sons, who were placed there by divine appoint¬
ment, seized his dominions, and laid there the foun¬
dation of a great monarchy. But afterwards fearing
lest they should be divided and scattered abroad, they
built the tower of Babel as a land-mark to which they
might repair j and probably to answer the purposes of
an idolatrous temple, or high altar, dedicated to the
host of heaven, from which they were never long to
be absent. They only, viz. the sons of Chus or the
Cuthites, and their associates from other families, who
had been guilty of rebellion against divine authority,
and of wicked ambition and tyranny, were punished
with the judgment of confounded speech through a
failure in labial utterance, and of the dispersion record¬
ed in Gen. x. 8, 9: in consequence of which they
were scattered abroad from this city and tower, with¬
out any certain place of destination. The Cuthites
invaded Egypt or the land of Mizraim in its infant
state, seized the whole country, and held it for some
ages in subjection : and they extended likewise to the
Indies and Ganges, and still farther in China and
Japan. From them the province of Cushan or Goshen
in Egypt derived its name. Here they obtained the
appellation of royal shepherds; and when they were by
torce driven out of the country, after having been in pos¬
session of it for 260 or 280 years, the land which they
had been obliged to quit was given to the Israelites,
who were also denominated shepherds, but should not
be confounded with the former or the antecedent inha¬
bitants of Goshen.
DISPLAYED, iu Heraldry, is understood of the
position of an eagle, or any other bird, when it is erect,
With its wings expanded or spread forth.
DISPONDEE, in the Greek and Latin poetry, a
bles 5 as maecenates, c5ncludenles". »}
DISPOSI1 ION, in Scots Law, is that deed orwri- h)i>siimi?a.
ting which contains the scale or grant of any subject: ( tuin'
when applied to heritable subjects, it in some cases gets ~ 'r J
the name of charter, which ditlers from a disposition in
nothing else than a few immaterial forms.
Disposition, in Architecture, the just placing the
several parts of an edifice according to their nature and
office. See Architecturk, N° 31, &c.
Disposition, in Oratory. See Oratory, Part I.
Disposition, in Painting. See Painting.
, Disi osipion, in human nature.—In every man there
is something original, that serves to distinguish him
from others, that tends to form a character, and to
make him meek or fiery, candid or deceitful, resolute
01 timorous, cheerful or morose. This original bent,
termed disposition, must be distinguished from & princi¬
ple: the latter, signifying a law of human nature, makes
pai t of the common nature of man j the former makes
part of the nature of this or that man. Propensity is
a name common to both j for it signifies a principle as
well as a disposition.
DISQUISITION (from dis, and quwro, “ I in¬
quire”), an inquiry into the nature, kinds, and cir¬
cumstances of any problem, question, or topic; in or¬
der to gain a right notion of it, and to discourse clearly
about it. 1
DISSECTION, in Anatomy, the cutting up a body
with a view of examining the structure and use of the
parts. See Anatomy.
Le Gendre observes, that the dissection of a human
body, even dead, was held a sacrilege till the time of
Francis I. And the same author assures us, he has seen
a consultation held by the diviners of Salamanca, at the
request of Charles V. to settle the question whether or
no it were lawful in point of conscience to dissect a hu¬
man body in order to learn the structure thereof.
DISSEISIN, in Law, an unlawful dispossessing a
person of his lands or tenements.
DISSEPIMENTUM, in Botany, the name by
which Linnaeus denominates the partitions which in
dry seed-vessels, as capsules and pods {siliqua), divide
the fruit internally into cells.
DISSENTERS, separatists from the service and
worship of any established church.
DISSIDENTS, a denomination applied in Poland
to those of the Lutheran, Calvinistic, and Greek pro¬
fession. The king of Poland engages by the pacta
conventa to tolerate them in the free exercise of their
religion, but they have often had reason to complain
of the violation of these promises. See {History of)
Poland.
DISSIMILITUDE, unlikeness or want of simili¬
tude. See the article Resemblance and Dissimilitude.
DISSIMULATION, in morals, the act of dissem-
bling, by fallacious appearances, or false pretensions.
Good princes regard dissimulation as a necessary
vice; but tyrants consider it as a virtue.
It is apparent that secrecy is often necessary, to
oppose those who may be willing to circumvent our
lawful intentions. But the necessity of precaution
would become very rare, were no enterprises to be
formed, but such as could be avowed openly. The
frankness with which we could then act, would
engage
D I S [ 262 ] D I S
Dissimula- engage people in our interests. Marshal Biron would
Lion have saved his life, by dealing ingenuously with Henry
li . IV.
Dissolution. Wit]i respect to dissimulation, three things are to be
observed: 1. That the characters of those are not to
be esteemed, who are reserved and cautious without
distinction. 2. Not to make secrets of unimportant
matters. 3. To conduct ourselves in such manner, as
to have as few secrets as possible.
DISSIPATION, in Physics, an insensible loss or
consumption of the minute parts of the body j or that
flux whereby they fly oft, and are lost.
Circle of Dissipation, in Optics, is used for that
circular space upon the retina, which is taken up by
one of the extreme pencils of rays issuing from an
object.
DISSOLVENT, in general, whatever dissolves or
reduces a solid body into such minute parts as to be
sustained in a fluid.
Universal Dissolvent. See the article Alkahest.
DISSOLUTION, in Physics, a discontinuation, or
analysis, of the structure of a mixed body j whereby
what was one, and contiguous, is divided into little
parts, either homogeneous or heterogeneous.
Dissolution, then, is a general name for all reductions
of concrete bodies into their smallest parts, without any
regard either to solidity or fluidity : though in the usual
acceptation of the word among authors, it is restrained
to the reduction of solid bodies into a state of fluidity }
which is more properly expressed by solution, as a branch
of dissolution.
According to the opinion of Fr. Tertius de Lams,
Boerhaave, and some other learned men, the power or
faculty of dissolving is lodged in fire alone.
According to this hypothesis, other fluids common¬
ly supposed dissolvents, only produce their effect by
means of the fiery spicula they abound with.: and even
air, which is judged a powerful menstruum, owes all its
force to the rays of light diffused therein.
Sir Isaac Newton accounts for all dissolutions, and
the several phenomena thereof, from the great piin-
ciple of attraction j and, in effect, the phenomena of
dissolution furnish a great part of the arguments and
considerations whereby he proves the reality of that
principle. The following is a specimen of that great
author’s way of philosophizing on the subject of disso¬
lution.
When salt of tartar dissolves by lying in a moist
place, is not this done by an attraction between the
particles of the salt of tartar and those of the water
which float in the air in form of vapours ? and why
does not common salt, or saltpetre, or vitriol, do the
like, but for want of such an attraction? And when
aquafortis, or spirit of vitriol, poured on steel filings,
dissolves the filings with a great heat and ebullition ;
is not this heat and ebullition effected by a violent mo¬
tion of the parts; and does not that motion argue, that
the acid parts of the liquor rush towards the parts of
the metal with violence, and run forcibly into its pores ;
till, getting between the utmost particles and the main
mass of metal, they loosen them therefrom, and set them
at liberty to float off into the water ? When a solution
of iron in aquafortis dissolves lapis calaminaris, and lets
go the iron •, or a solution of copper dissolves iron im¬
mersed in it, and lets go the copper j or a solution of
mercury m aquaiortis poured on iron, copper, tin, or Dusolutioi
lead, dissolves the metal, and lets go the mercury *,-v—"
does not this argue, that the acid particles of the aqua¬
fortis are attracted more strongly by the lapis calami¬
naris than by iron j by iron than by copper ; by cop¬
per than by silver; and by iron, tin, copper, and lead,
than by mercury ? And is it not for the same reason,
that iron requires more aquafortis to dissolve it than
copper, and copper more than the other metals ; and
that of all metals iron is dissolved most easily, and is
most apt to rust ; and next after iron, copper ? When
aquafortis dissolves silver, and not gold ; and aqua
regia dissolves gold, and not silver; may it not be said,
that aquafortis is subtile enough to penetrate the pores
of gold as well as of silver, but wants the attractive
force to give it entrance ; and the same of aqua regia
and silver? And when metals are dissolved in acid men-
struums, and the acids in conjunction with the metal
act after a different manner, so as that the taste of the
compound is milder than that of the simples, and some¬
times a sweet one ; is it not because the acids adhere to
the metallic particles, and thereby lose much of their
activity ? And if the acid be in too small a proportion
to make the compound dissoluble in water, will it not,
by adhering strongly to the metal, become inactive, and
lose its taste, and the compound become a tasteless
earth ? for such things as are not dissoluble by the
moisture of the tongue are insipid.
Dr Freind gives us a mechanical account of dissolu¬
tion, iii the instance of salt dissolved in water, which is
the most simple operation that falls under this head.
This motion he ascribes to that attractive force, which
is so very extensive in natural philosophy, that there is
no kind of matter but what is under its influence. It
may be observed, says he, that the corpuscles of salts,
which are the most simple of any, are withal very mi¬
nute, and for their bulk very solid ; and therefore
exert a very strong attractive force, which, ccetens pa¬
ribus, is proportional to the quantity of matter. Hence
it comes to pass, that the particles of water are more
strongly attracted by the saline particles than they are
by one another : the particles of water, therefore,
cohering but loosely, and being easily moveable, ap¬
proach the corpuscles of salts, and run, as it were, in¬
to their embraces ; and the motion of them is quicker
or slower, according to their less or greater distances;
the attractive force in all bodies being strongest at the
point of contact. Therefore, if salt be thrown into
the middle of a dish full of water, we shall find the
aqueous particles which are in the middle of the dish
sharp and pungent to the taste, but the water upon the
sides of the vessel almost insipid ; so that, when such
a motion once arises, the aqueous particles are carried
with an equal force towards the salts, and the moment
of them is to be estimated from the ratio of their
weight and celerity conjunctly. By the force, of this
impulse, they open to themselves a passage into the
pores of the salts, which are very numerous ; and at
length so break and divide their texture, that-all co¬
hesion of their parts is destroyed : hereupon, being se¬
parated, and removed to a convenient distance from one
another, they are dispersed, and float here and there
about the water.
The simple dissolution of saline substances of every
kind in water, may indeed be plausibly enough, ex-
“ plained
D I S [2
;so!ulion. P^a‘ne^.on hypothesis of attraction ; but where the
■ m1.1 dissolution is attended with heat, the emission of va¬
pour, &c. it seems necessary to seek for some other
principle than mere attraction to solve these phenome¬
na* When diluted oil of vitriol, for instance, is pour¬
ed upon iron filings, a great quantity of vapour arises,
which, if it was attempted to be confined, would cer¬
tainly break the containing vessel. It is impossible to
imagine any connection between attraction and the emis¬
sion ol a vapour j and what is still more unaccount¬
able, this vapour is inflammable, though neither the
oil ot vitriol nor the iron are so by themselves. Ano¬
ther very strong objection against the hypothesis of at¬
traction may be derived from the phenomena of me¬
tallic dissolutions in general j for they do not dissolve
completely in acids, as salts do in water. By dissolu¬
tion they are always decomposed, and cannot be reco¬
vered in their proper form without a good deal of
trouble. One metal, indeed, will very often preci¬
pitate another from an acid in its metalline form ; but
this is attended with the decomposition of the second
metal j so that this can by no means be reckoned a
fair experiment. But, whatever other method is used,
the dissolved metal is always recovered in form of an
earthy powder, that we could scarcely imagine capable
of ever becoming malleable, and assuming the splendid
appearance of a metal. Now, if there was a strong
attraction between this and the acid, we might very
justly conjecture, that the dissolution happened by
means of that attraction $ but so far from this, after a
metal has been dissolved by any acid, and the calx has
been separated from it, it is always difficult, and very
often impossible, to procure a dissolution of the calx
m the same acid. The action of the acid in this case
seems not unlike that of fire upon wood or any other
inflammable substance. Dry wood, thrown into the
fire, burns and flames with great violence j but the
same wood, reduced to ashes, instead of burning, extin¬
guishes fire already kindled. In like manner, a piece
of clear metal thrown into an acid, dissolves with great
violence : but the same metal, deprived of its phlo¬
gistic principle, and reduced to a calx, cannot be acted
upon by acids, in whatever manner they are applied:
at least, not without the greatest difficulty ; and the
more perfect the calx is, i. e. the more completely it
lt8 ‘“flammable principle, the greater
the difficulty is of combining it afterwards with an
acid.
Another thing in which the dissolution of metals by
an acid resembles the burning of combustibles by fire
is, that in both cases there is a separation of the prin-
c.p e of inflammability. In the case of oil of vitriol
and iron filings, this is exceedingly obvious: for there
the vapour which arises from the mixture takes fire,
and explodes with great vehemence. In all other cases
it is very easily proved; for the calx is always capable
ot bexng revived into metal by the addition of any
substance containing phlogiston. The calces prepared
y tire, and by precipitation from acids, also resemble
63 ] D 1 s
tl,at in ^cases ti":y ave scarce
Ihese considerations seem to favour the hypothesis Intension,
ol Dr Boerhaave ; and much more does the following, ' v
namely, that almost all metallic solutions produce some
t egree of sensible heat. In some metals this is very
considerab e ; but the greatest heat producible by an
aqueous solution of any substance is by dissolving quick¬
lime in the nitrous acid. The heat here greatly ex¬
ceeds that of boiling water. In some dissolutions of
inflammable matters by a mixture of the vitriolic and
nitrous acids, the heat is so great, that the whole mix¬
ture takes fire almost instantaneously. Hence the Boer-
fiaavians think they have sufficient grounds to conclude,
that fire alone is the agent by which all dissolutions are
performed.
These appearances have also been explained on the
principles of attraction j and it has been said that the
heat, &c. were owing to nothing but the violent ac¬
tion of the particles of the acid and metal upon each
other (a),
*n ^ustc’ ®ee Discord.
. J-LLABLE, among grammarians, a word con¬
sisting only of'two syllables : such are nature, science,
&c. ’
. DISTAFF, an instrument about which flax is tied
in order to be spun.
DISTANCE, in general, an interval between two
things, either with regard to time or place. See Me¬
taphysics.
Accessible Distances, in Geometry, are such as may
be measured by the chain. See Geometry.
Inaccessible Distances, are such as cannot be mea-
sured by the chain, &c. by reason of some river, or the
like, &c. which obstructs our passing from one object
to another. See Geometry.
Distance, in Astronomy. The distance of the sun,
planets, and comets, is found only from their parallax,
as it cannot be found either by eclipses or their differ¬
ent phases : for from the theory of the motions of the
earth and planets we know, at any time, the proportion
of the distances of the sun and planets from us $ and
the horizontal parallaxes are in a reciprocal proportion
to these distances. See Astronomy.
DISTASTE properly signifies an aversion or dislike
to certain foods ; and may be either constitutional, or
owing to some disorder of the stomach.
DISTEMPER, among Physicians, the same with
Disease.
Distemper, in Painting, a term used for the work¬
ing up of colours with something besides water or oil.
If the colours are prepared with water, that kind of
painting is called limning; and if with oil, it is called
painting in oil, and simply painting. If the colours are
mixed with size, whites of eggs, or any such proper
glutinous or unctuous matter, and not with oil, then
they say it is done in distemper.
DISTENSION, in general, signifies the stretching
or extending a thing to its full length or breadth. °
DISTICH,
iects hpfnrp^'6^6^'06^ °bservations, as an instance of the speculations and opinions concerning these sub
composition of wa” °f ^ ^ the°^ °f Che”lst^ "ith -gard to the oxidation of metals Ld the Se-
Dislicli
D I S [264
DISTICH, a couplet of verses making a complete
|i sense. Thus hexameter and pentameter veises are
Distiila- disposed in distichs. There are excellent morals in
. t1011 . Cato’s distichs.
* DISTICHIASIS, in Surgery, a disease of the eye¬
lids, when under the ordinary eyelashes there grows
another extraordinary row of hairs, which frequently
eradicates the former, and, pricking the membrane of
the eye, excites pain, and brings on a defluxion.—It is
cured by pulling out the second row of hairs with nip¬
pers, and cauterizing the pores out of which they
DISTILLATION. Fer the principles of this pro¬
cess, see Distillation, Supplement.
The objects of distillation, considered as a trade di¬
stinct from the other branches of chemistry, are chiefly
spirituous liquors, and those waters impregnated with
the essential oil of plants, commonly called simple di-
ni * e stilled waters. The distilling compound spirits and wa-
Seen di-ters U reckoned a different branch of onmncsn, and they
stillers and who deal in that way are commonly ca.lett recapers.
rectifiers, ^his dift'erence, however, though it exists among com¬
mercial people, is not at all founded in the nature of
the thing 5 compound spirits being made, and simple
spirits being rectified, by the very same operations by
which they are at first distilled, or with at least very
trifling alterations. , * t
The great object with every distiller ought to be, to
procure a spirit perfectly flavourless, or at least as well
freed from any particular flavour as may be j and in
this country the procuring of such a spirit is no easy
matter. The only materials for distillation that have
been used in large quantity, are malt, and molasses or
treacle. Both of these, especially the first, abound with
an oily matter, which, rising along with the spirit, com¬
municates a disagreeable flavour to it, and from which
it can scarce be freed afterwards by any means what¬
ever  Some experiments have been made upon carrots,
as a subject for the distillers j but these are not as yet
sufficiently decisive } nor is it probable that a spirit
drawn from carrots would be at all devoid of flavour,
more than one drawn from malt.—To dissipate the es¬
sential oil which gives the disagreeable flavour to malt
spirits, it has been proposed to inspissate the wort into
a'rob, or thin extract like a syrup*, afterwards to thin
it with water, and ferment it in the usual manner, ihis
certainly promises great success *, there is no subject we
know of that is possessed of any kind of essential oil, but
what will part with it by distillation or by long boil-
ino-. The inspissating of the wort, however, does not
seem to be either necessary or sate to be attempted *,
for, in this case, there is great danger of its contracting
an empyreuma, which could never be remedied. 1 he
quantity lost by evaporation, therefore, might be occa¬
sionally added, with an equal certainty of dissipating
the obnoxious oil. Whether the yield of spirit would
be as great in this case as in the other, is a question
that can by no means be discussed without further ex-
v * , periments. According to a theory adopted by some
mUy lo ne distillers, namely, that essential oils are convertible into
mdent spirits; and that the mnre o,ly any subject s,
convertible the greater quantity of spirits is obtainable horn 1 *,
into spirit. practice of dissipating the oil before fermentation must
certainly be a loss. But we are too little acquainted
with the composition of vinous spirits, to ha\e any jus
1
D I S
Spirits per¬
fectly fla¬
vourless,
how ob¬
tained.
foundation for adopting such theories. Besides, it is Distiila'.
certain, that the quantity of ardent spirit producible tion.
from anv substance, malt'for instance, very greatly ex-' y”-*
ceeds the quantity of essential oil which can by any
means be obtained from the same $ nor do we find that
those substances, which abound most in essential oil,
yield the greatest quantity of spirits. So far from this,
fine sugar, which contains little or no essential oil,
yields a great deal of ardent spirit. r 4
Previous to the operation of distilling, those of Direction
brewing and fermentation are necessary j but as these concernb
are fully treated of un.der the article Brewing, we shall^®enU'
here only observe, that unless the boiling of the wort, ' ^
before fermentation, is found to dissipate the essential
oil, so as to take away the flavour of the malt, there is
no necessity for being at the trouble of that opeiation.
The wort may be immediately cooled and fermented.
 The fermentation ought always to be carried on as
slowly as possible, and performed in vessels closely stop¬
ped ; only having at the bung a valve pressed down by
a spring, which will yield with less force than is suffi¬
cient to burst the vessel. It should even be suffered to
remain till it has become perfectly fine and transparent j
as by this means the spirit will not only be superior in
quantity, but also in fragrance, pungency, and vinosity,
to that commonly produced. < 5
With regard to performing the operation of distilling, For d“ibti
there is only one general rule that can be given, name-lation.
ly, to let the beat, in all cases, be as gentle as possible.
Accidents will be effectually prevented by having the
worm of a proper wideness, and by rectifying the spi¬
rit in a water bath *, which, if sufficiently large, will
perform the operation with all the dispatch requisite
for the most extensive business. The vessel in which
the rectification is performed, ought to he covered with
water up to the neck, and to be loadei. with .ead at
the bottom, so that it may sink in the water. Thus
the operation will go on as quickly as if it was on an
open fire, and without the least danger of a miscarriage,
nor will it ever be necessary to make the water m tli9
bath come to a boiling heat. . ... fi
As the end of rectification is to make the spirit por recj
as well as strong, or to deprive it of the essential oil asCatioii.
well as the aqueous part, it will be proper to have re¬
gard to this event in the first distillation. For this pur¬
pose, the spirit, as it first comes over, should be re¬
ceived into a quantity of cold water*, as by this means
the connexion betwixt it and the oily matter will ne
considerably lessened. For the same reason, after it
has been once rectified in the water hath, it should be
again mixed with an equal quantity of water, and di¬
stilled a second time. Thus the spirit will be freed from
most of the oily matter, even though it hath been very
much impregnated with it at first. It is necessary to
observe, however, that by using such a quantity of wa¬
ter, a considerable part of the water will he left in the
residuum of each rectification. All these residuums,
therefore, must be mixed together, and distilled on an
open fire, with a brisk heat, that the remainder of the
spirit may he got out.
After the spirit has been distilled once or twice in
this manner from water, it may he distilled in a water
bath without any addition} and this last rectification
will free it from most of the w'ater it contains. But it
it is required to be highly dephlegmated, a quantity of
1 pur
D I S [ 265
*rtit!a- pure and dry salt of tartar must be added. The at-
tioa. traction between this salt and water is greater than that
—v—/betwixt water and the spirit of wine. The salt there¬
fore imbibes the water contained in the spirit, and sinks
with it to the bottom. The spirit, by a single distilla¬
tion, may then be rendered perfectly free from water;
but there is great danger of some of the alkaline salt
rising along with it, and impregnating it with what is
called an urinous flavour. When this once happens, it
is impossible to be remedied j and the only way to pre¬
vent it is, to make the heat with which the spirit is
distilled as gentle as possible. It hath been proposed,
indeed, to prevent the rising of any thing alkaline, by
the admixture of some calcinated vitriol, sal catharticus
amarus, or other imperfect neutral salt; but this can
scarcely be supposed to answer any good purpose, as the
alkali unites itself with the oily matter of the spirit,
and forms a kind of saponaceous compound, which is
not so easily affected by the acid of the vitriol or other
salt, especially as these salts will not dissolve in the
spirit itself.
tion.
,7
imita-
] D I S
always retaining tile saccharine quality ami rich flavour n;nil.
ot the wine from whence it is drawn ; but as it grows
old, this flavour often becomes aromatic, and is not
agreeable to all palates.
Hence we see that brandies always differ accordino-
as they are extracted from different species of grapes^
Wor would there be so great a similarity as there is be¬
tween the different kinds of French brandies, were the
strongest wines used for this purpose ; but this is rarely
the oase; the weakest and lowest flavoured wines only
are distilled for their spirit, or such as prove absolutely
unfit tor any other use.
“ A large quantity of brandy is distilled in France
during the time of the vintage j for all those poor
grapes that prove unfit for wine, are usually first ga-
thered, pressed, their juice fermented, and directly di¬
stilled. This rids their hands of their poor wines at
once, and leaves their casks empty for the reception of
better. It is a general rule with them not to distil
wine that will fetch any price as wine j for, in this state,
the profits upon them are vastly greater than when re¬
duced to brandies. This large stock of small ’
Aod of shall here transcribe.—“ The general method of distil-
? idles in ^ hv?nfies in France need not be formally described,
l ice. as lt.dlfters m nothing from that practised here in
working from malt, wash, or molasses j nor are they in
the least more cleanly or exact in the operation. They
only observe more particularly to throw in a little of
the natural ley into the still along with the wine, as
finding this gives their spirit the flavour for which it is
generally admired abroad—But, though brandy is ex¬
tracted from wine, experience tells us, that there is a
great difference in the grapes from which the wine is
made. Every soil, every climate, every kind of grapes,
varies with regard to the quantity and quality of the
spirits extracted from them. There are some grapes
which are only fit for eating; others for drying, as
those ot Damascus, Corinth, Provence, and Avignon,
but not fit to make wine.—Some wines are very pro¬
per for distillation, and others much less so. The
wines of Languedoc and Provence afford a great deal
of brandy by distillation, when the operation is per¬
formed on them in their full strength. The Orleans
wines, and those of Blois, afford yet more j but the
best are those of the territories of Cogniac and An-
daye J which are, however, in the number of those the
feast drunk in France. Whereas those of Burgundy
and Champagne, though of a very fine flavour, are im¬
proper, because they yield but very little in distilla-
tion.
e •r??US-t als° be ^art^er observed, that all the wines
for distillation, as those of Spain, the Canaries, of Ali-
cant, of Cyprus, of St Peres, of Toquet, of Grave, of
Jrlungary, and others of the same kind, yield very little
mT d‘s*ddat‘on » and consequently would cost
the distiller considerably more than he could sell it
VolJ VII1 plrtT fr0m tbera 13 indeed reiy g00d’
/ 7   y
can neither export nor consume at home, which amounts
to a large quantity ; since much of the wine laid in for
their family provision is so poor as not to keep during
the time of spending.
“ Hence many of our English spirits, with proper iWbran-
management, are convertible into brandies that shall dy may be
hardly be distinguished from the foreign in many respects intt.itated in
provided the operation be neatly performed. * *t,li8 coun*
“ The common method of rectifying spirits from^
alkaline salts, destroys their vinosity, and in its stead
introduces an urinous or lixivious taste. But as it is
absolutely necessary to restore, or at least to substitute
m its room, some degree of vinosity, several methods
have been proposed, and a multitude of experiments
performed, in order to discover this great desideratum.
But none has succeeded equal to the spirit of nitre $
and accordingly this spirit, either strong or dulcified,
has been used by most distillers to give an agreeable
vinosity to their spirits. Several difficulties, however,
occur in the method of using it j the principal of which
is, its being apt to quit the liquor in a short time, and
consequently depriving the liquor of that vinosity it
was intended to give. In order to remove this diffi¬
culty, and prevent the yinosity from quitting the goods,
the dulcified spirit of nitre, which is much better than
the strong spirit, should be prepared by a previous di¬
gestion, continued for some time, with alcohol; the
longer the digestion is continued, the more intimately
will they be blended, and the compound rendered the
milder and softer.
“ After a proper digestion, the dulcified spirit should
be mixed with the brandy, by which the vinosity will
be intimately blended with the goods, and not disposed
to fly off for a very considerable time.—No general
rule can be given for the quantity of this mineral acid
requisite to be employed because different proportions
I* 1 of
Distilla-
tron
D I S [266
of it are necessary in different spirits. It should, how¬
ever, be carefully attended to, that though a small
quantity of it will undoubtedly g.ve an agreeable vi-
nositv,'resembling that naturally lound in the hne sub¬
tile spiiits drawn from wines, yet an over large dose of
it will not only cause a disagreeable flavour, but also
render the whole design abortive, by discovering the
imposition. Those, therefore, who endeavour to cover
3 foul taste in goods by large doses of dulcified spirit of
nitre, will find themselves deceived. . . f . .
« gut the best, and indeed the only method of imi¬
tating French brandies to perfection, is by an essential
oil of wine-, this being the very thing that gives the
French brandies their flavour. It must, however, be
remembered, that, in order to use even this ingredient
to advantage, a pure tasteless spirit must first be pio-
cured ; for it is ridiculous to expect that this essential
oil should be able to give the agreeable flavour of
French brandies to our fulsome malt spirit, already
loaded with its own nauseous oil, or strongly impregna¬
ted with a lixivions taste from the alkaline salts used
in rectification. How a pure insipid spirit may be 0
tained, has already been considered j it only therefore
remains to show the method of procuring this essential
nil of wine, which is this • .
“ Take some cakes of dry wine lees, such as are
used by our hatters dissolve them in six or eight times
their weight of water j distil the liquor with a slow fire,
and separate the oil with a separating glass-, reserving
for the nicest uses only that which comes over first, the
succeeding oil being coarser and more resinous.—Hay
succeeui g 1 b it raay be mixed int<
3
D I S
bered, that it is time alone that gives this property to
French brandies-, they being at first acrid, foul, and
fiery. But, witli regard to the colour, a particular me¬
thod is required to imitate it to perfection..
“ The art of colouring spirits owes its rise to obser¬
vations on foreign brandies. A piece of French brandy
that has acquired by age a great degree of softness and
ripeness, is observed at the same time to have acquired
a yellowish brown colour; and hence our distillers have
endeavoured to imitate this colour in such spirits as aie
intended to pass for French brandy. And in order to
this, a great variety of experiments have been made on
different substances. But in order to know a direct and
sure method of imitating this colour to perfection, it
is necessary we should be informed whence the French
brandies themselves acquire their colour. This disco¬
very is very easily made. The common experiment of
trying whether brandy will turn blackish with a solu¬
tion of iron, shows that the colour is owing to some of
the resinous matter of the oak cask dissolved in the spi¬
rit. There can be no difficulty, therefore, in imitating
this colour to perfection. A small quantity of the ex¬
tract of oak, or the shavings of that wood, properly
digested, will furnish us with a tincture capable of gi¬
ving the spirit any degree of colour required. But it
must be remembered, that as the tincture is extracted
from the cask by brandy, that is, alcohol and water,
it is necessary to use both in extracting the tincture;
for each of these dissolves different parts of the wood.
Let, therefore, a sufficient quantity of oak shavings be
digested in strong spirit of wine, and also at the same.
Distill;
lion.
ic
Spirits hi
coloured
succeeding oil being eoacser and mure res.no^.-mv. Xeing. be digested in water, and when
i„g procured this fine oil of wine, 1 y ^ ,t ^,iave acquired a atroug tincture from the oak
mg procured j h(V . which means it
a quintessence with pure aiconoi, uy
may be preserved a long time fully possessed of all i s
flavour and virtues; but, without such management, it
will soon grow resinous and rancid.
« When a fine essential oil of wine is thus procured,
and aFo a pure and insipid spirit, French brandies may
be imitated to perfection, with regard to the flavour.
It must however, be remembered, and carefully ad¬
verted to, that the essential oil be drawn from the same
kind of lees as the brandy to be imitated was proemed
from •„ we mean, in order to imitate Cogniac brandy, it
will be necessary to distil the essential ml from Cogniac
lees ; and the same for any other kind of brandy. I or,
as different brandies have different flavours, and as
these flavours are entirely owing to the essential oil of
the cvrape, it would be preposterous to endeavour to
imitate the flavour of Cogniac brandy with an essential
oil procured from the lees of Bourdeaux wine.-When
the flavour of the brandy is well imitated by a propel
dole of the essential oil, and the whole reduced into one
simple and homogeneous fluid, other difficulties aie still
behind: The flavour, though the essential part, is not,
however the only one -, the colour, the proof, and the
softness,’must also he regarded, before a spirit that per¬
fectly resembles brandy can be procured. With r -
lard to the proof it may be easily hit, by using a spirit
rectified above proof: which, after being intimately
mixed with the essential oil of wine, may be let down
To a proper standard with fair water. And the soft-
time otuer ohk auitviijgo wv, ...5  ---- >
the liquors have acquired a strong tincture from the oak,
let both be poured off from the shavings into different
vessels, and both placed over a gentle fire till reduced
to the consistence of treacle. In this condition let the
two extracts be intimately mixed together; which may
be effectually done by adding a small quantity of loaf-
sugar, in fine powder, and rubbing the whole well to¬
gether. By this means a liquid essential extract of oak
will be procured, and always ready to be used as occa¬
sion shall require. . .
“ There are other methods in use for colouring
brandies; but the best, besides the extract of oak
above mentioned, are treacle and burnt sugar. I he
treacle gives the spirit a fine colour, nearly resem¬
bling that of French brandy; but as its colour is di¬
lute a large quantity must be used; this is not, how¬
ever, attended with any bad consequences ; for not¬
withstanding the spirit is really weakened, by this ad¬
dition, yet the bubble proof, the general criterion ot
spirits, is greatly mended, by the tenacity imparted to
the liquor by the treacle. The spirit also acquires from
the mixture a sweetish or luscious taste, and a fulness
in the mouth ; both which properties render it very
agreeable to the palates of the common people, who are
in fact the principal consumers of these spirits. A
much smaller quantity of burnt sugar than of treacle
will be sufficient for colouring the same quantity of spi¬
rits : the taste is also very different; for instead of the
sweetness imparted by the treacle, the spirit acquires
r. .1 1   kiH-prnpss. and by
imxcu f . teiv And the sott- sweetness imparted ny me -r ^
to a proper standaid obtained by distilling from the burnt sugar an agreeable bitterness, an^.by
ness may, m a great measur , fire ^and what that means recommends itself to nicer palates, whic
and rectifying the spirit with g ,'when first are 0ffended with a luscious spirit. The burnt sugar
Lr,1m be supplied bTiime; for it must be xemem- is prepared by dissolving a proper quantity of s.gar m
3
D I S
pMui*- a little water, and scorching it over the fire till it ac¬
tion. quires a black colour. Either treacle or burnt sugar
.««—y——1 vvill nearly imitate the genuine colour of old French
brandy; but neither of them will succeed when put to
the test of the vitriolic solution.
“ The spirit distilled from molasses or treacle is very
clean or pure. It is made from common treacle dis¬
solved in water, and fermented in the same manner as
the wash for the common malt spirit. But if some par¬
ticular art is not used in distilling this spirit, it will not
prove so vinous as malt spirit, but more flat and less
pungent and acid, though otherwise much cleaner
tasted, as its essential oil is of a much less offensive fla¬
vour. Therefore, if good fresh wine lees, abounding
in tartar, be added and duly fermented with the mo¬
lasses, the spirit will acquire a much greater vinosity
and briskness, and approach much nearer to the nature
of foreign spirits. Where the molasses spirit is brought
to the common proof strength, if it is found not to have
a sufficient vinosity, it vvill be very proper to add some
good dulcified spirit of nitre ; and if the spirit be clean
worked, it may, by this addition only, be made to pass
on ordinary judges for French brandy. Great quanti¬
ties of this spirit are used in adulterating foreign bran¬
dy, rum, and arrack. Much of it is/ also used alone in
making cherry brandy and other drams by infusion ;
in all which many, and perhaps with justice, prefer it
to foreign brandies. Molasses, like all other spirits, is
entirely colourless when first extracted ; but distillers
always give it as nearly as possible the colour of foreign
n spirits.”
uiecT Princ‘plef bold good, the imitation of fo¬
reign spirits of all kinds must be an easy matter. It
will only cost the procuring of some of those substances
from which the spirit is drawn ; and distilling this with
vyater, the essential oil will always give the flavour de¬
sired. Thus, to imitate Jamaica rum, it will only be
necessary to procure some of the tops, or other useless
parts, of the sugar-canes ; from which an essential oil
being drawn, and mixed with clean molasses spirit, will
give it the true flavour. The principal difficulty must
lie in procuring a spirit totally, or nearly free of all
flavour of its own. The spirit drawn from the refuse
of a sugar-house is by our author commended as supe¬
rior to that drawn from molasses: though even this is
not entirely devoid of some kind of flavour of its own ;
nor indeed is that drawn from the best refined sugar
entirely flavourless. It is very probable, therefore, that
to procure an absolutely flavourless spirit is impossible.
The only method, therefore, of imitating foreign spi-
4instheflItS iS’ by choosIng such materials as will yield a spirit
b I mate. flavoured as much like them as possible. The materials
r* "for pro- most recommended by our author in this case, and pro-
“igpurebably the best that can be used, are raisins. Concern-
‘SH ing these he gives the following directions: “ In order
to extract this spirit, the raisins must be infused in a
proper quantity of water, and fermented in the manner
already directed. When the fermentation is completed,
the whole is to be thrown into the still, and the spirit
extracted by a strong fire. The reason why we here
direct a strong fire is, because by that means a greater
quantity of the essential oil will come over the helm
with the spirit, which will render it fitter for the di¬
stiller’s purpose : for this spirit is commonly used to
\D I S
mix with common malt goods: and it is surprising r,;..,,
now lar it will go in this respect, ten gallons of it be- * ton.'"
mg often sufficient to give adetermining flavour and '~“~v—-
agreeable vinosity to a whole piece of malt spirits. It
is therefore well worth the distiller’s while to endea¬
vour at improving the common method of extracting
spmts from raisins ; and perhaps the following hint
may merit attention. When the fermentation is com¬
pleted, and the still charged with fermented liquor as
above directed, let the whole be drawn off with as
brisk a fire as possible ; but, instead of the cask or can
generally used by distillers for a receiver, let a large
glass, called by chemists a separating glass, be placed
under the nose of the worm, and a common receiver
applied to the spout of the separating glass : by this
means the essential oil will swim upon the top of the
spirit, or rather low wine, in the separating glass, and
may be easily preserved at the end of the operation 
T he use of this limpid essential oil is well known to di¬
stillers ; for in this resides the whole flavour, and con¬
sequently may be used to the greatest advantage in giv¬
ing that distinguishing taste and true vinosity to the
common malt spirits. After the oil is separated from
the lovy wine, the liquor may be rectified in balneo
marise into a pure and almost tasteless spirit, and there¬
fore well adapted to make the finest compound cor¬
dials, 01 to imitate or mix with the finest I rench bran¬
dies, arracks, &c. In the same manner a spirit mav
be obtained from cyder. But as its particular flavour
is not so desirable as that obtained from raisins, it should
be distilled in a more gentle manner, and carefully
rectified according to the directions we have already
given.”
These directions may suffice for the distillation of Directions
any kind of simple spirits. The distillation of com-fordistilling
pound ones depends on the observation of the follow-c0.mP0Und
ing general rules, which are very easy to be learnedSpirits*
and practised.
1. The artist must always be careful to use a well
cleansed spirit, or one freed from its own essential oil.
For, as a compound water is nothing more than a spi¬
rit impregnated with the essential oil of the ingredients,
it is necessary that the spirit should have deposited its
own.
2. Eet the time of previous digestion be proportion¬
ed to the tenacity of the ingredients, or the pondero¬
sity of their oil.
3. Let the strength of the fire also be proportioned
to the ponderosity of the oil intended to be raised with
the spirit.
4. Let only a due proportion of the finest parts of
the essential oil be united with the spirit; the grosser
and less fragrant parts of the oil not giving the spirit
so agreeable a flavour, and at the same time rendering
it unsightly. This may in a great measure be effected
by leaving out the faints, and making up to proof with
fine soft water in their stead.
A careful observation of these four rules will render
this part of distillation much more perfect than it is at
present. Nor will there be any occasion for the use of
burnt alum, white of eggs, isinglass, &c. to fine down
cordial waters; for they will presently be fine, sweet,
and pleasant tasted, without any further trouble. We
shall now subjoin particular receipts for making some
L 1 2 of
[ 267 ]
Distilla¬
tion.
14-
D I S [268
of those compound waters, or spirits, that aie most
commonly to be met with, and are in the most general
- ^StrlngCinnamon Water. Take eight pounds of fine
Receipts for cjnnamon brulsed> ,7 gallons of clean rectified sp.n ,
rJi ound 'and two gallons of water. Put them intojour s II,
spirits. and digest them 24 hours with a gentle heat, alter
which draw off 16 gallons with a pretty strong heat.—
A cheaper spirit, but of an inferior qua ity, may e
obtained by using cassia lignea instead of cinnamJ)"*
If you would dulcify your cinnamon water, take doubl
refined sugar in what quantity you please •, the general
proportion is about two pounds to a gallon •, and dis¬
solve it in the spirit, after you have made it up proof
<*ith clean water. One general caution is here neces¬
sary to he added ; namely, that near the end of the
operation, you carefully watch the spirit as it runs into
the receiver, in order to prevent the faints from mix-
ino- with the goods. This you may discover by often
catching some of it as it runs from the worm in a glass
and observing whether it is fine and transparent, for
as soon as ever the faints begin to rise, the spirit wiU
have an azure or bluish cast. As soon as this alteration
in colour is perceived, the receiver must be imme¬
diately changed j for if the faints are suffered to mix
themselves with the rest, the value of the goods will
be greatly lessened. Here we may observe, that the
distillers call such goods as are made up proof, double
roods; and those below proof, single.
Clove water. Take of cloves bruised, four pounds ,
pimento, or all spice, half a pound*, proof spmt i6
gallons. Digest the mixture 12 hours in a gentle heat,
Ld then draw off 15 gallons with a pretty brisk fire
The water may be coloured red, either by st™ S
tincture of cochineal, alkanet, or
It may be dulcified at pleasure with double refined su-
Lemon water. Take of dried lemon peel, four pounds;
clean proof spirit, 10 gallons and a half, and one gal¬
lon of water. Draw off ten gallons by a gentle fire,
and dulcify with fine sugar. . c
Citron water. Take of dry yellow rinds of citrons
three pounds; of orange peel, two pounds; nutmeg,
bruised, three quarters of a pound ; clean proo P *
ten gallons and a half; water, one gallon. Digest with
a gentle heat; then draw off ten gallons m balneo ma-
rise, and dulcify with fine sugar. , .
Aniseed water. Take aniseed bruised, two pounds ,
proof spirit, 12 gallons and a half; water, one gallon.
Draw off ten gallons with a moderate fire.—This wa¬
ter should never be reduced below proof; because the
large quantity of oil with which it is impregnated,
-vill render the goods milky and foul when brought
down below proof. But if there is a necessity for do-
ing this, their transparency may be restored by hltra-
"^range water. Take of the yellow part of fresh
orange peel, five pounds ; clean proof spirit, ten gal¬
lons and a half; water, two gallons. Draw off ten gal¬
lons with a gentle fire. . p •.
Cedrat water. The cedrat is a species of citron,
and very highly esteemed in Italy, where it grows na¬
turally The fruit is difficult to be procured m this
country ; but as the essential oil is often imported from
Italy, it may be made with it according to the iol-
] D I S
lowing receipt.—Take of the finest loaf sugar reduced
to powder, a quarter of a pound ; put it into a glass
mortar, with 120 drops of the essence of cedrat ; rub
them together with a glass pestle ; and put them into
a glass alembic, with a gallon of fine proof spirits and
a quart of water. Place the alembic in balneo mariae,
and draw off one gallon, or till the faints begin to rise,
and dulcify with fine sugar This is reckoned the finest
cordial yet known ; it will therefore be necessary to be
particularly careful that the spirit is perfectly clean,
and, as much as possible, freed from any flavour of its
own.
Orange Cordial water, or Eau de Bigarade. lake
the outer or yellow part of the peels of 14 bigarades,
(a kind of orange) ; half an ounce of nutmegs, a^
quarter of an ounce of mace, a gallon of fine proof
spirit, and two quarts of water. Digest all these to¬
gether two days in a close vessel ; after which draw off
a gallon with a gentle fire, and dulcify with fine sugar..
This cordial is greatly esteemed abroad, but is not so
well known in this country.
Ros Solis. Take of the herb called llos Solis, picked
clean, four pounds; cinnamon, cloves, and nutmegs,,
of each three ounces and a half; marigold flowers, one
pound ; caraway seeds, ten ounces ; proof spirit, ten
gallons ; water, three gallons. Distil with a pretty
strong fire, till the faints begin to rise. _ Then take of
liquorice root sliced, half a pound ; raisins stoned, two
pounds ; red saunders, half a pound: digest these three
days in two quarts of water; then strain out the clear
liquor, in which dissolve three pounds of fine sugar, and
mix it with the spirit drawn by distillation.
Usquebaugh. Take nutmegs, cloves, and cinnamon,
of each two ounces ; the seeds of anise, caraway, and
coriander, of each four ounces ; of liquorice root sliced,,
half a pound. Bruise the seeds and spices; and put
them together with the liquorice, into the still with
11 gallons of proof spirits, and two gallons of water^
Distil with a pretty brisk fire till the faints begin to
rise. But, as soon as the still begins to work, fasten
to the nose of the worm two ounces of English saffron
tied up in a cloth, that the liquor may run through it,
and extract all its tincture ; and in order to this, yon
should frequently press the saffron with your fingers.
When the operation is finished, dulcify your goods
with fine sugar. . . . .
Ratafia—Is a liquor prepared from different kinds
of fruits, and is of different colours according to the
fruits made use of. Of red ratafia there are three kinds,
the fine, the dry or sharp, and the common. I he
fruits most proper for making red ratafia, are the black
heart cherry, the common red cherry, the black cherry,
the mery or honey cherry, the strawberry, the raspber¬
ry, the red gooseberry, and the mulberry. These fruits
should be gathered when in their greatest perfection,
and the largest and most beautiful of them chosen tor
the purpose.—The following is a receipt for making
red ratafia, fine and soft. Take of the black heart
cherries, 24 pounds; black cherries, four pounds,
raspberries and strawberries, of each three pounds.
Pick the fruits from their stalks, and bruise them ; m
which state let them continue 12 hours : press out the
iuice ; and to every pint of it add a quarter of a pound
of sugar. When the sugar is dissolved, run the who e
through the filtrating bag, and add to it three ^ual^
Dlstilla;
tion.
D I S [ 269 1 D I S
of clean proof spirits. Then take of cinnamon, four
ounces; of mace, one ounce; and of cloves, two
drachms. Bruise these spices j put them into an alem¬
bic with a gallon of clean proof spirits and two quarts
of water, and draw off a gallon with a brisk fire. Add
as much of this spicy spirit to your ratafia as will ren¬
der it agreeable to your palate ; about one-fourth is the
usual proportion.
Ratafia made according to the above receipt will be
of a very rich flavour and elegant colour. It may be
rendered more or less of a spicy flavour, by adding or
diminishing the quantity of spirit distilled from the
spices. Some, in making ratafia, suffer the expressed
juices of their fruits to ferment several days : by this
means the vinosity of the ratafia is increased; but, at
the same time, the elegant flavour of the fruits is
greatly diminished. Therefore, if the ratafia is desi¬
red stronger or more vinous, it may be done by adding
more spirits to the expressed juice j by which means
the flavour of the fruits may be preserved, as well as
the ratafia rendered stronger. It is also a method with
some to tie the spices in a linen bag, and suspend them
in the ratafia. But if this method is taken, it will be
necessary to augment the quantity of spirit first added
to the expressed juice. There is no great difference in
the two methods of adding the spices, except that by
suspending them in the ratafia the liquor is rendered
less transparent.
Dry or sharp Ratafia. Take cherries and goose¬
berries, of each 30 pounds $ mulberries, seven pounds j
raspberries, ten pounds. Pick all these fruits clean from
their stalks, See. bruise them, and let them stand 12
hours j but do not suffer them to ferment. Press out
the juice, and to every pint add three ounces of sugar.
When the sugar is dissolved, run it through the filtrat¬
ing bag, and to every five pints of liquor add four pints
of clean proof spirit; together with the same proportion
of spirit drawn from the spices in the foregoing compo¬
sition.
Common Ratafia. Take of nutmegs, eight ounces j
bitter almonds, ten pounds j Lisbon sugar, eight
pounds j ambergrise, ten^grains; infuse these ingredi¬
ents three days in ten gallons of clean proof spirit, and
filter through a flannel bag for use. The nutmegs and
bitter almonds, must be bruised, and the ambergrise
rubbed with the Lisbon sugar in a marble mortar, be¬
fore they are infused in the spirit.
Gold Cordial. Take of the roots of angelica, four
pounds; raisins stoned, two pounds; coriander seeds,
half a pound ; caraway seeds and cinnamon, of each
half a pound ; cloves, two ounces; figs and liquorice
root, of each one pound ; proof spirit, eleven gallons ;
water, two gallons. The angelica, liquorice, and figs,
must be sliced before they are added. Digest two
days; and draw off by a gentle heat till the faints be¬
gin to rise ; hanging in a piece of linen, fastened to
the mouth of the worm, an ounce of English saffron.
Then dissolve eight pounds of sugar in three quarts of
rose water, and add to it the distilled liquor.—This li¬
quor derives its name of gold cordial from a quantity
of leaf gold being formerly added to it; but this is
now generally disused, as it cannot possibly add any
virtue.
Cardamum or All-fours. Take of pimento, cara¬
way, and coriander seeds, and lemon peel, each three
pounds; of malt spirits, eleven gallons ; water, three
gallons. Draw oft with a gentle fire, dulcify with
common sugar, and make up to the strength desired
with clear water. This is a dram greatly used by the
poorer sort of people in some countries.
. Gcrfva' There was formerly sold in the apotheca¬
ries shops a distilled spirituous water of juniper; but
the vulgar being fond of it as a dram, the distillers sup¬
planted the apothecaries, and sold it under the name of
Geneva.' Ihe common kind, however, is not made
from jumper berries, but from oil of turpentine; and
indeed it is surprising that people should accustom
themselves to drink such liquors for pleasure. The
receipt for making this kind of spirit, sold in the gin
shops at London, is as follows: Take of the ordinary
malt spirits, ten gallons ; oil of turpentine, two ounces ;
bay salt, three handfuls. Draw off by a gentle fire
till the faints begin to rise ; and make up your goods
to the strength required with clear water.
The best kind is made by the following recipe.-—
Take of juniper berries, three pounds; proof spirit,
ten gallons; water, four gallons. Draw off by a gen¬
tle fire till the faints begin to rise, and make up your
goods to the strength required with clean water.
There is a sort of this liquor called Hollands Geneva,
from its being imported from Holland, which is greatly
esteemed. The ingredients used by the Dutch are the
same with those given in the last recipe; only, instead
of malt spirits, they use French brandy. But from
what has been already observed concerning the nature
of these kinds of spirits, it is easy to see, that by the
help of a well rectified spirit, geneva may be made in
this country at least nearly equal to the Dutch, pro¬
vided it is kept to a proper age; for all spirituous li¬
quors contract a softness and mellowness by age, im¬
possible to be imitated any other way.
DISTILLERY, the art of distilling brandy and
other spirits. This art was first brought into Europe
by the Moors of Spain, about the year 1150: they
learned it of the African Moors, who had it from the
Egyptians; and the Egyptians are said to have prac¬
tised it in the reign of the emperor Dioclesian, though
it was unknown to the ancient Greeks and Romans.
See Distillation and Fermentation.
DISTINCTOIN, in Logic, is an assemblage of two
or more words, whereby disparate things, or their con¬
ceptions, are denoted.
DISTORTION, in Medicine, is when any part of
the human body remarkably deviates from its natural
shape or position. Distortions of different parts may
arise either from a convulsion or palsy; though some¬
times a terrible distortion in the shape of the whole
body hath arisen merely from carelessness and ill ha¬
bits. Mr Winslow, in the Memoirs of the Academy
of Sciences at Paris, gives a very remarkable account
of a lady of quality, whom he had known to be per¬
fectly straight for several years ; but who taking after¬
wards to a sedentary course of life, got a custom of
dressing herself very carelessly, and of leaning as she
sat, either forwards or to a side. It was not many
months before she found it painful and troublesome to
stand or sit upright; and soon afterwards she found an
inequality in the lower part of the back bone. Alarm¬
ed at this, she consulted the gentleman who gave the
account. To prevent the increase of the malady, he
ordered'
D I S
[ 270 ]
D I S
Distoi lion,
Distress.
* Vol. i.
p. 144, &e
ordered her to wear a particular sort of jumps instead
of stays, and had a pad of proper size applied : but
this was soon neglected ; and the consequence was, that
in a little time the back bone became more and more
crooked, and at length bent itself sidewise in two con¬
trary directions, so as to represent the figure of the
Roman S; and the lady, still refusing to take the pro¬
per measures, lost a fourth part of her height ; and
continued for the remainder of her life, not only
crooked from right to left, and from left to right, but
so oddly folded together, that the first of the false ribs
on one side approached very near the crest of the^os
ilium on that side, and the viscera of the lower belly
became strangely pushed out of their regular places to
the opposite side •, and the stomach itself was so strong¬
ly compressed, that whatever she.swallowed seemed to
her to fall into two separate cavities.
DISTRESS, in its ordinary acceptation, denotes
calamity, misery, or painful suffering.
The Contemplation of Distress, a source ofpleasure.
On this subject we have a very pleasing and ingenious
essay by Dr Barnes, in the Memoirs of the Literary
and Philosophical Society of Manchester*. It is in¬
troduced with the following motto.
Suave niari magno, turbantibus evquora vent is,
E terra alterius magnum spectare periclum.
Non quia vexari quenquam est jucunda voluptas ;
Sed quibus ipse malis careas, quia cernere suave est.
Lucretius.
“The pleasure here described by the poet, and of
which he has mentioned so striking and apposite an in¬
stance, may perhaps at first seem of so singular and a-
stonishing a nature, that some may be disposed to doubt
of its existence. But that it does exist, in the case
here referred to, and in many others of a similar kind,
is an undoubted fact; and it may not appear an use¬
less or disagreeable entertainment, to trace its source
in the human breast, together with the final cause
for which it was implanted there by our benevolent
Creator.
“ Shall I, it may be said, feel complacency in be¬
holding a scene in which many of my fellow-creatures
are agonizing with terror, whilst I can neither dimi¬
nish their danger, nor, by my sympathy, divide their
anguish ? At the sight of another’s woe, does not my
bosom naturally feel pain ? Do I not share in his sensa¬
tions f And is not this strong and exquisite sensibility
intended by my Maker to urge me on to active and
immediate assistance! These sensations are indeed at¬
tended with a noble pleasure, when I can, by friendly
attention, or by benevolent communication, soothe the
sorrows of the poor mourner, snatch him from impend¬
ing danger, or supply his pressing wants. But in ge¬
neral, where my sympathy is of no avail to the wretch¬
ed sufferer, I fly from the spectacle of his misery, un¬
able or unwilling to endure a pain which is not allayed
by the sweet satisfaction of doing good.” . .
' It will be necessary, in answer to these objections, in
the first place to prove the reality of the feeling, the
cause of which, in the human constitution, we here at¬
tempt to explore.
Mr Addison, in his beautiful papers on the Pleasures
of the Imagination, has observed, “ that objects or
scenes, which, when real, give disgust or pain, in de¬
scription often become beautiful and agreeable. Thus, Distrei
even a dunghill may, by the charms of poetic imagery,1 
excite pleasure and entertainment. Scenes of this na¬
ture, dignified by apt and striking description, we re¬
gard with something of the same feelings with which
we look upon a dead monster.
— T^f'r™*’ cadaver
Protrahitur : neqmunt expleri corda tuendo
Terribiles oculos, vultum, villosaque setis
Pectora semiferi, atque exiinctosfaucibus ignes.
Virgil.
“ This (he observes) is more particularly the case,
where the description raises a ferment in the mind and
works with violence upon the passions. One would
wonder (adds he) how it comes to pass, that passions,
which are very unpleasant at all other times, are very
agreeable when excited by proper description j such as
terror, dejection, grief, &c. This pleasure arises from
the reflection we make upon ourselves, whilst reading
it, that we are not in danger from them. When we
read of wounds, death, &c. our pleasure does not rise
so properly from the grief which these melancholy de¬
scriptions give ns, as from the secret comparison we
make of ourselves with those who suffer. We should
not feel the same kind of pleasure, if we actually saw
a person lying under the tortures that we meet with in
a description.”
And yet, upon the principle assigned by this amiable
writer, we might feel the same, or even higher plea¬
sure, from the actual view of distress, than from any
description; because the comparison of ourselves with
the sufferer would be more vivid, and consequently the
feeling more intense. We would only observe that the
cause which he assigns for this pleasure is the very same
with that assigned by Lucretius in our motto. Mr
Addison applies it to the description ; the poet to the
actual contemplation of affecting scenes. In both, the
pleasure is supposed to originate in selfishness. But
wherever the social passions are deeply interested, as
they are here supposed to be, from the pathetic de¬
scription, or the still more pathetic survey, 6f the suf¬
ferings of another, the sympathetic feelings will, of
themselves, at once, and previously to all reflection,
become a source of agreeable and tender emotions.
They will thus dignify and enhance the satisfaction, if
any such be felt, arising merely from the consideration
of our own personal security. And the more entirely
we enter into the scene, by losing all ideas of its being
either past or fabulous, the more perfectly we forget
ourselves, and are absorbed in the feeling,—the more
exquisite is the sensation.
But as our subsequent speculations will chiefly turn
upon the pleasure derived trom real scenes of calamity,
and not from those which are imaginary, it may be ex¬
pected that we produce instances in proof that such
pleasure is felt by persons very different in their taste
and mental cultivation.
We shall not mention the horrid joy with which the
savage feasts his eyes upon the agonies and contortions
of his expiring prisoner—expiring in all the pains which
artificial cruelty can inflict ! Nor will we recur to the
almost equally savage sons of ancient Rome, when the
majesty of the Roman people could rush, with eager¬
ness and transport, to behold hundreds of gladiators
contending
istress
D I S [5
contending in fata] conflict, and probably more than
— half the number extended, weltering in blood and writh¬
ing in agony, upon the plain. Nor will we mention
the Spanish bull feasts ; nor the fervent acclamations
of an English mob around their fellow creatures, when
engaged in furious battle, in which it is possible that
some of the combatants may receive a mortal blow,
and be hurried in this awful state to the bar of his
Judge. Let us survey the multitudes which in every
part of the kingdom, always attend an execution. It
may perhaps be said, that in all places the vulgar have
little of the sensibility and tenderness of more polished
bosoms. But, in the last mentioned instance, an exe¬
cution, there is no exultation in the sufferings of the
poor criminal. He is regarded by every eye with the
most melting compassion. The whole assembly sym¬
pathize with him in his unhappy situation. An awful
stillness prevails at the dreadful moment. Many are
wrung with unutterable sensations : and prayer and si¬
lence declare, more loudly than any language could,
the interest they feel in his distress. Should a reprieve
come to rescue him from death, how great is the general
triumph and congratulation ! And probably in this
multitude you will find not the mere vulgar herd alone,
but the man of superior knowledge and of more refined
sensibility } who, led by some strong principle, which
we wish to explain, feels a pleasure greater than all the
pain, great and exquisite as one should imagine it to
be, from such a spectacle.
The man who condemns many of the scenes we have
already mentioned as barbarous and shocking, would
probably run with the greatest eagerness to some high
cliff, overhanging the ocean, to see it swelled into a
tempest, though a poor vessel, or even a fleet of vessels,
were to appear as one part of the dreadful scenery,
now lifted to the heavens on the foaming surge, now
plunged deep into the fathomless abyss, and now dashed
upon the rocks, where they are in a moment shivered
into fragments, and, with all their mariners, entombed
in the wave. Or, to vary the question a little $ Who
would not be forward to stand safe, on the top of some
mountain Or tower, adjoining to a field of battle, in which
two armies meet in desperate conflict, though probably
thousands may soon lie before him prostrate on the
ground, and the whole field present the most horrid
scenes of carnage and desolation ?
That in all these cases pleasure predominates in the
compounded feeling, is plain from hence, because you
continue to survey the scene ; whereas, when pain be¬
came the stronger sensation, you would certainly re¬
tire.
Cultivation may indeed have produced some minuter
differences in the taste and feelings of different minds.
Those whose sensibilities have not been refined by edu¬
cation or science, may feel the pleasure in a more gross
and brutal form. But do not the most polished natures
feel a similar, a kindred pleasure, in the deep wrought
distresses of the well imagined scene ? Here the endea¬
vour is, to introduce whatever is dreadful or pathetic,
whatever can harrow up the feelings, or extort the tear.
And the deeper and more tragical the scene becomes,
the more it agitates the several passions of terror, grief,
or pity—the more intensely it delights, even the most
polished minds. They seem to enjoy the various and
vivid emotions of contending passions. They love to
7' 3 D I S
have the tear trembling in the eye, and to feel the
who.e soul wrapt in thrilling sensations. For that mo¬
ment they seem to forget the fiction j and afterwards
commend that exhibition most, in which they most
entirely lost sight of the author, and of their own
situation, and were alive to all the unutterable vibra¬
tions oj strong or melting sensibility.
Taking it then for granted, that in the contemplation
of many scenes of distress, both imaginary and real, a
gratification is felt, let us endeavour to account for it,
by mentioning some of those principles, woven in the
web of human nature, by its benevolent Creator, on
which that gratification depends.
HrAkenside, with his accustomed strength and bril-
Jiancy of colouring, describes and accounts for it in the
following manner :
Distress.
“ Behold the ways
Of heaven’s eternal destiny to man .r
For ever just, benevolent, and wise !
Tlhat Virtue’s awful steps, howe’er pursued
By vexing fortune, and intrusive pain,
Should never be divided from her chaste,
Her fair attendant, Pleasure. Need 1 urge
Thy tardy thought through all the various round
Of this existence, that thy softening soul
At length may learn, what energy the hand
Of Virtue mingles in the bitter tide
Of Passion, swelling with distress and pain,
To mitigate the sharp, with gracious drops
Of cordial Pleasure. Ask the faithful youth
M hy the cold urn of her, whom long he lov’d,
So often fills his arm ? so often draws
His lonely footsteps, at the silent hour,
To pay the mournful tribute of his tears P
O ! he will tell thee, that the wealth of worlds
Should ne’er seduce his bosom to forego
lliat sacred hour, when stealing from the noise
Of care and envy, sweet remembrance soothes,
Mith Virtue’s kindest look, his aching breast,
And turns his tears to rapture. Ask the crowd,
Which flies impatient from the village-walk
To climb the neighb’ring cliffs, when far below
The cruel winds have hurl’d upon the coast
Some helpless bark : whilst sacred Pity melts
Ihe general eye, or Terror’s icy hand
Smites their distorted limbs, or horrent hair j
Whilst every mother closer to her breast
Catches her child j and, pointing where the waves
Foam through the shattered vessel, shrieks aloud,
As one poor wretch, that spreads his piteous arms
For succour, swallowed by the roaring surge,
As now another, dash’d against the rock,
Drops lifeless down. O deemest thou indeed
No kind endearment here, by nature given,
To mutual terror, and compassion’s tears?
No sweetly melting softness, which attracts
O’er all that edge of pain, the social powers,
To this their proper action and their end ?”
The poet pursues the sentiment in the same animated
imagery, describing the strong, but pleasurable, sen¬
sations which the soul feels in reading the sufferings
of heroes who nobly died in the cause of liberty and
their country.
Whea
D I S
“ When the pious band
t
Of youths, who fought for freedom, and their sires,
Lie side by side in gore.
Or, in the strong movements of indignation and re¬
venge against the tyrant, who invades their liberty,
and enslaves their country.
“ When the patriot’s tear
Starts from thine eye, and thy extended arm
In fancy hurls the thunderbolt of Jove,
To fire the impious wreath on Philip’s brow,
Or dash Octavius from his trophied car *,
Say—Does the sacred soul repine to taste
Thy big distress ? Or, would’st thou then exchange
Those heart-ennobling sorrows for the lot
Of him, who sits amid the gaudy herd
Of mute barbarians, bending to his nod,
And bears aloft his gold-invested front,
And says within himself, ‘‘ I am a king,
And wherefore should the clamorous voice ot woe
Intrude upon mine ear ?”
The sentiment of this charming and moral poet is,
that sympathetic feelings are virtuous, and theretore
pleasant. And from the whole, he deduces this im¬
portant conclusion *, that every virtuous emotion must
be agreeable, and that this is the sanction and the re¬
ward of virtue. The thought is amiable; the con¬
clusion noble : but still the solution appears to us to be
''"wfhave already said, that the pleasure arising from
the contemplation of distressful scenes is a compounded
feeling, arising from several distinct sources in the hu¬
man breast. The kind and degree of the sensation
must depend upon the various blendings of the several
ingredients which enter into the composition. Ihe
cause assigned by Mr Addison, the sense of our own
security, may be supposed so have some share in the
mass of feelings. That of Dr Akenside may be allow¬
ed to have a still larger proportion. Let us attempt to
trace some of the rest.
There are few principles in human nature ot more
general and important influence than that of sympa¬
thy A late ingenious writer, led by the fashionable
idea of simplifying all the springs of human nature
into one source, has in his beautiful theory of Moral
Sentiments, endeavoured to analyze a very large num¬
ber of the feelings of the heart into sympathetic vibra¬
tion. Though it appears to us most probable, that the
human mind, like the human body, possesses various
and distinct springs of action and of happiness, yet he
has shown, in an amazing diversity of instances, the
operation and importance of this principle of human na¬
ture. Let us apply it to our present subject.
We naturally sympathize with the passions of others.
But if the passions they appear to feel be not those
of mere distress alone ; if, amidst the scenes of calami¬
ty they display fortitude, generosity, and forgiveness ;
if “ rising superior to the cloud of ills which covers
them ” they nobly stand firm, collected, and patient;
here a still higher source of pleasure opens upon us,
272 ] D I S
share of that conscious integrity and peace which they ^
must enjoy. Hence, as before observed, the pleasure
will vary, both as to its nature and degree, according
to the scene and characters before us. J he shock of
contending armies in the field,—the ocean wrought to
tempest, and covered with the wreck of shattered ves¬
sels,—and a worthy family silently, yet nobly, bearing
up against a multitude of surrounding sorrows, will ex¬
cite very different emotions, because the component
parts of" the pleasurable sensation consist of very dif¬
ferent materials. They all excite admiration ; but ad¬
miration, how diversified, both as to its degree and
its cause ! These several ingredients may doubtless be
so blended together, that the pleasure shall make but
a very small part of the mixed sensation. The more
agreeable teints may bear little proportion to the ter¬
rifying red or the gloomy black.
In many of the instances which have been mention¬
ed, the pleasure must arise chiefly, if not solely, from
the circumstances or accompanyments of the scene.
The sublime feelings excited by the view of an agitat¬
ed ocean, relieve and soften those occasioned by the
shipwreck. And the awe excited by the presence of
thousands of men, acting as if with one soul, and dis¬
playing magnanimity and firmness in the most solemn
trial, tempers those sensations of horror and of pain
which would arise from the field of battle.
The gratification we are attempting to account for
depends also, in a very considerable degree, upon a
principle of human nature, implanted in it for the
wisest ends ; the exercise which it gives to the mind,
by rousing it to energy and feeling. Nothing is so in¬
supportable, as that languor and ennui, for the full
expression of which our language does not afford a
term. How agreeable is it to have the soul called
The forth to exertion and sensibility, let the gamester wit¬
ness, who, unable to endure the lassitude and sameness
of unauimated luxury, runs with eagerness to the place
where probably await him all the irritation and agony
of tumultuous passions.
Again -, it is a law of our nature, that opposite pas*
sions, when felt in succession, and above all, when
felt at the same moment, heighten and increase each
other. Ease succeeding pain, certainly after suspense,
friendship after aversion, are unspeakably stronger than
if they had not been thus contrasted. In this conflict
of feelings, the mind rises from passive to active energy.
It is roused to intense sensation $ and it enjoys that pe¬
culiar, exquisite, and complex feeling, in which, as in
many articles of our table, the acid and the sweet, the
pleasurable and painful, pungencies are so happily mix¬
ed together, as to render the united sensation amazing¬
ly more strong and delightful.
We have not yet mentioned the principle of curio¬
sity, that busy and active power, which appears so
early, continues almost unimpaired so long, and to
which, for the wisest ends, is annexed so great a sense
of enjoyment. To this principle, rather than to a
love of cruelty, would we ascribe that pleasure which
children sometimes seem to feel from torturing flies
and lesser animals. They have not yet formed an idea
of the pain they inflict. It is, indeed, of unspeakable
Distresji
fr„m complacence, fccMced a, ‘soon and
sympathy which the heart feeJs Y!"1 T • , , as eflectually as possible, because it is so important,
that they learn to" connect the ideas of p,easn,e;nd
D I S
listress, Pa*n with the motions and actions of the animal crea-
[ istribu- tion. And to this principle may we also refer no
tion. small share of that pleasure in the contemplation of
^ distressful scenes, the springs of which, in the human
heart, we are now endeavouring to open.
To curiosity, then—to sympathy—to mental exer¬
tion—to the idea of our own security—and to the
strong feelings occasioned by viewing the actions and
passions of mankind in interesting situations, do we
ascribe the gratification which the mind feels from the
survey of many scenes of sorrow. We have called it a
pleasures but it will approach towards, or recede from,
pleasure, according to the nature and proportion of the
ingredients of which the sensation is composed. In
some cases, pain will predominate. In others, there
will be exquisite enjoyment.
The final cause of this constitution of the human
mind is probably, that by means of this strong sensa¬
tion, the soul may he preserved in continual and vigo¬
rous motion—that its feelings may be kept lively and
tender—that it may learn to practise the virtues it ad¬
mires—and to assist those to whom its sympathy can
reach—and that it may thus be led, by these social
exercises of the heart, to soften with compassion—to
expand with benevolence—and generously to assist in
every case in which assistance can be given. An end
this sufficient,
-— “ To assert eternal Providence,
And justify the ways of God to man.”
Distress, in Law, the seizing or distraining any
thing for rent in arrear, or other duty unperformed.
The effect of this distress is to compel the party ei¬
ther to replevy the things distrained, and contest the
taking, in an action of trespass against the distrainer;
or rather to oblige him to compound and pay the debt
or duty for which he was so distrained.
There are likewise compulsory distresses in actions
to cause a person appear in court *, of which kind there
is a distress personal of one’s moveable goods, and the
profits of his lands, for contempt in not appearing after
summons: there is likewise distress real, of a person’s
immoveable goods. In these cases none shall be di¬
strained to answer for any thing touching their free¬
holds, but by the king’s writ.
Distress may be either finite or infinite. Finite di¬
stress is that which is limited by law, in regard to the
number of times it shall be made, in order to bring the
party to a trial of the action. Infinite distress is that
which is without any limitation, being made till the
person appear: it is farther applied to jurors that do
not appear ; as, upon a certificate of assize, the process
is venire facias, habeas corpora, and distress infinite.
It is also divided into grand distress and ordinary
distress •, of these the former extends to all the goods
and chattels that the party has within the county. A
person, of common right, may distrain for rents and all
manner of services *, and where a rent is reserved on a
gift in tail, lease for life, or years, &c. though there
be no clause of distress in the grant or lease, so as that
he has the reversion j but on a feoffment made in fee,
a distress may not be taken, unless it be expressly re¬
served in the deed.
DISTRIBUTION, in a general sense, the act of
Vol. VII. Part I.
BIT
dividing a thing into several parts, in order to the dis¬
posing each in its proper place.
Distribution, in Architecture, the dividing and dis¬
posing the several parts and pieces which compose a
building, as the plan directs. See Architfxture.
Distribution, in Rhetoric, a kind of description,
whereby an orderly division and enumeration is made
ol the principal qualities of the subject. David sup¬
plies us with an example of this kind, when in the heat
of his indignation against sinners, he gives a description
of their iniquity : “ 1 heir throat is an open sepulchre j
they flatter with their tongues j the poison of asps is
under their lips 3 their mouth is full of cursing and
lies 3 and their feet are swift to shed blood.”
Distribution, in Printing, the taking a form
asunder, separating the letters, and disposing them in
the cases again, each in its proper cell. See Print¬
ing.
DISTRICT, in Geography, a part of a province,
distinguished by peculiar magistrates, or certain privi¬
leges ; in which sense it is synonymous with hundred.
See Hundred.
DISIRINGAS, in Law, a writ commanding the
sheriff, or other officer, that he distrain a person for
debt to the king, &c. or for his appearance at a cer¬
tain day.
Distringas Juratores, a writ directed to the sheriff,
whereby he is commanded to distrain upon a jury to
appear and to return issues oh their lands, &c. for non-
appearance. This writ of distringas juratores issues for
the sheriff to have their bodies in court, &.c. at the re¬
turn of the writ.
DIICH, a common fence or enclosure in marshes, or
other wet land where there are no hedges. They al¬
low these ditches six feet wide against highways that
are broad 3 and against commons, five feet. But the
common ditches about enclosures, dug at the bottom
of the bank on which the quick is raised, are three feet
wide at the top, one at the bottom, and two feet deep.
By this means each side has a slope, which is of great ad¬
vantage ; for where this is neglected, and the ditches
dug perpendicular, the sides are always washing down :
besides, in a narrow-bottomed ditch, if cattle get down
into it, they cannot stand to turn themselves to crop the
quick : but where the ditch is four feet wide, it should
be two and a half deep : and where it is five wide, it
should be three deep 5 and so in proportion.
Ditch- JPater is often used as an object for the mi¬
croscope, and seldom fails to afford a great variety of
animalcules. This water very often appears of a yel¬
lowish, greenish, or reddish colour 3 and this is wholly-
owing to the multitudes of animals of those colours
which inhabit it. These animals are usually of the
shrimp kind : and Swammerdam, who very acurately
examined them, has called them, from the figure of
their horns, pulex aquatictis arborescens. They copu¬
late in May or June ; and are often so numerous at that
season, that the whole body of the water they are found
in, is seen to be of a red, green, or yellowish colour,
according to the colours of their bodies. The green
thin scum also, so frequently seen on the surface of
standing waters in summer, is no other than a multi¬
tude of small animalcules of this or some of the other
kinds. Dunghill water is not less full of animals than
t Mm * that
[ 273 1
Ditch-
Water
n
Ditton.
D I T [ 274 ] . D 1
that of ditches j and Is often found so thronged with the new mathematical school
animalcules, that it seems altogether alive : it is then
so very much crowded with these creatures, that it must
be diluted with clear water before they can be distinctly
viewed. There are usually in this fluid a sort of eels
which are extremely active ; and besides these and many
other of the common inhabitants of fluids, there is one
species found in this which seems peculiar to it : the
middle part of them is dark and beset with hairs, but
the ends are transparent; their tails are tapering, with
a long sprig at the extremity, and their motion is slow
and waddling. See Animalcule.
Ditch, in Fortification, called also foss and moat, a
trench dug round the rampart or wall of a fortified
place, between the scarp and counterscarp. See For¬
tification.
DITHYE,AMBUS, in ancient poetry, a hymn in ho¬
nour of Bacchus, full of transport and poetical rage.
This poetry owes its birth to Greece, and to the
transports of wine j and yet art is not quite exploded,
but delicately applied to guide and restrain the dithy-
rambic impetuosity, which is indulged only in pleasing
flights. Horace and Aristotle tell us, that the an¬
cients gave the name of dithyrambus to those verses
wherein none of the common rules or measures were
observed. As we have now no remains of the dithy-
rambus of the ancients, we cannot say exactly what
their measure was.
DITONE, in Music, an interval comprehending two
tones. The proportion of the sounds that form the
ditone is 4 : 5, and that of the semitone is 5 : 6.
DITRIHEDRIA, in Mineralogy, an old term ex¬
pressive of crystals with twice three sides, or six planes j
being formed of two trigonal pyramids joined base to
base, without any intermediate prism.
The species of ditrihedria are distinguished by the
different figures of these pyramids.
DITTANDER. See Lepidium, Botany Index.
DITTANY. See Dictamnus, Botany Index.
DITTO, in books of accounts, usually written D°,
signifies the afore-mentioned. The word is corrupted
from the Italian detto, “ the said : as in our law-phrase,
“ the said premises,” meaning the same as were afore¬
mentioned.
DITTON, Humphry, an eminent mathematician,
was born at Salisbury, May 29. 1675. Being an only
son, and his father observing in him an extraordinary
good capacity, determined to cultivate it with a good
education. For this purpose he placed him in a repu¬
table private academy ; upon quitting of which he at
the desire of his father, though against his own inclina¬
tion, engaged in the profession of divinity, and began
to exercise his function at Tunbridge in the county of
Kent, where he continued to preach some years j du¬
ring which time he married a lady of that place.
But a weak constitution and the death of his father,
induced Mr Ditton to quit that profession. And at
the persuasion of Dr Harris and Mr Whiston, both
eminent mathematicians, he engaged in the study of
mathematics ; a science to which he had always a strong
inclination. In the prosecution of this science, he was
much encouraged by the success and applause he re¬
ceived : being greatly esteemed by the chief professors
of it, and particularly by Sir Isaac Newton, by whose
ittterest and recommendation he was elected master of
   Christ’s Hospital ;
where he continued till his death, which happened inu—
1715, in the 40th year of his age, much regretted by
the philosophical world, who expected many useful and
ingenious discoveries from his assiduity, learning, and
penetrating genius.
Mr Ditton published several mathematical and other
tracts, as below.—1. Of the Tangents of Curves, &c.
Fhil. Trans, vol. xxiii.
2. A Treatise on Spherical Catoptrics, published in
the Philos. Trans, foriyojj from whence it was co¬
pied and reprinted in the Acta Fruditorum 1707, and
also in the Memoirs of the Academy of Sciences at
Paris.
3. General Laws of Nature and Motion ; 8vo, I705*
Wolfius mentions this work, and says that it illustrates
and renders easy the writings of Galileo, Huygens,
and the Principia of Newton. It is also noticed by
La Roche, in the Memoires de Literature, vol. viii.
page 46.
4. An Institution of Fluxions, containing the first
Principles, Operations, and Applications, of that admi¬
rable method, as invented by Sir Isaac Newton, 8vo,
1706. This work, with additions and alterations, was
again published by Mr John Clarke, in the year 1726.
5. In 1709 he published the Synopsis Algebraica of
John Alexander, with many additions and corrections.
6. His Treatise on Perspective was published in 1712.
In this work he explained the principles of that art
mathematically; and besides teaching the methods
then generally practised, gave the first hints of the new
method afterwards enlarged upon and improved by
Dr Brook Taylor $ and which was published in the
year I7I5*
7. In 1714, Mr Ditton published several pieces both
theological and mathematical $ particularly his Dis¬
course on the Resurrection of Jesus Christ; and The
New Law of Fluids, or a Discourse concerning the
Ascent of Liquids, in exact Geometrical Figures, be¬
tween two nearly contiguous Surfaces. To this was
annexed a tract, to demonstrate the impossibility of
thinking or perception being the result of any combi¬
nation of the parts of matter and motion : a subject
much agitated about that time. To this work, also
was added an advertisement from him and Mr Whiston,
concerning a method for discovering the longitude,
which it seems they had published about half a year
before. This attempt probably cost our author his
life •, for although it was approved and countenanced
by Sir Isaac Newton, before it was presented to the
Board of Longitude, and the method has been success¬
fully put in practice, in finding the longitude between
Paris and Vienna j yet that board then determined
against it j so that the disappointment, together with
some public ridicule (particularly in a poem written
by Dean Swift), affected his health so that he died the
ensuing year, 1715.
In an account of Mr Ditton, prefixed to the German
translation of his Discourse on the Resurrection, it is
said that he had published, in his own name only, ano¬
ther method for finding the longitude $ but which Mr
Whiston denied. However, Raphael Levi, a learned
Jew, who had studied under Leibnitz, informed the
German editor, that he well knew that Ditton and
Leibnitz had corresponded upon the subject j and that
Ditton
D I V [ 275 ] D I V
jUtMi Di^ton had sent to Leibnitz a delineation of a machine
H he had invented for that purpose j which was a piece of
tiirerai- mechanism constructed with many wheels like a clock,
, and which Leibnitz highly approved of for land use j
but doubted whether it would answer on ship board, on
account of the motion of the ship.
DIVAL, in Heraldry, the herb nightshade, used by
such as blazon by flowers and herbs instead of colours
and metals, for sable or black.
DIVALIA, in antiquity, a feast held among the
ancient Romans, on the 21st day of December, in ho¬
nour of the goddess Angerona $ whence it is also called
Angeronalia.—On the day of this feast, the pontifices
performed sacrifice in the temple of Voluptia, or the
goddess of joy and pleasure ; who, some say, was the
same with Angerona, and supposed to drive away all
the sorrows and chagrins of life.
DIVAN, a council chamber or court ofjustice among
the eastern nations, particularly the Turks.—The word
is Arabic, and signifies the same with sofa in the Turk¬
ish dialect.
There are two sorts of divans j that of the grand
signior, called the council of state, which consists of
seven of the principal officers of the empire 5 and that
of the grand vizir, composed of six other vizirs or
counsellors of state, the chancellor, and secretaries of
state, for the distribution ofjustice.
The word is also used for a hall in the private houses
of the orientals. The custom of China does not allow
the receiving of visits in the inner parts of the house,
but only at the entry, in a divan contrived on purpose
for ceremonies.
Travellers relate wonders of the silence and expedi¬
tion of the divans of the east.
DiVAXT-Beghi, the superintendant ofjustice in Per¬
sia, whose place is the last of the six ministers of the
second rank, who are all under the athemadauler or first
minister. To this tribunal of the divan-beghi lie ap¬
peals from sentences passed by the governors. He has
a fixed stipend of 50,000 crowns for administering ju¬
stice. All the serjeants, ushers, &c. of the court are
in his service. He takes cognizance of the criminal
causes of the chams, governors, and other great lords of
Persia, when accused of any fault. There are divan-
beghis not only at court and in the capital, but also in
the provinces and other cities of the empire. The Al¬
coran is the sole rule of his administration of justice,
which also he interprets at pleasure. He takes no cog¬
nizance of civil causes j but all differences arising be¬
tween the officers of the king’s household and between
foreign ministers are determined by him.
DIVANDUROW, the name of seven islands which
lie a league north of the Maldives, and 24 from the
coast ot Malabar, almost opposite to Cananor.
DIVER. See Colymbus, Ornithology Index.
DIVERGENT or Diverging Lines, in Geome-
try, are those which constantly recede from each other.
Divergent Rays, in Optics, are those which, going
from a point ol the visible object, are dispersed, and
continually depart one from another in proportion as
they are removed from the object: in which sense it is
opposed to convergent. See Optics.
> DIVERSIFYING, in Rhetoric, is of infinite ser¬
vice to the orator it is an accomplishment essential to
his character, and may fitly be called the subject of all
his tropes and figures. Vossius lays down six ways of Diversi-
diyersifying a subject. 1. By enlarging on what was tying
briefly mentioned before. 2. By a concise enumera- . U
tion of what had been insisted on at length. 3. By
adding something new to what is repeated. 4. By re- *
peating only the principal heads of what had been said.
5. By transposing the words and periods. 6. By imi¬
tating them.
DIVERSION, in military affairs, is when an ene¬
my is attacked in one place where they are weak and
unprovided, m order to draw oil their forces from ano¬
ther place where they have made or intend to make an
irruption. Thus the Romans had no other way in
their power of driving Hannibal out of Italy, but by
making a diversion in attacking Carthage.
t IM'V ESTING, properly signifies undressing or strip¬
ping off one’s garment; in contradistinction from in¬
vesting.
In law, it is used for the act of surrendering or re¬
linquishing one’s effects. By a contract of donation
or sale, the donor or seller is said to be disseised and
divested of his property in such a commodity, and
the donee or purchaser becomes invested therewith.
See Investiture.
A demise is a general divestiture which the fathers
and mothers make of all their effects in favour of their
children.
DIVIDEND, in Arithmetic, the number proposed
to be divided into equal parts. See Arithmetic.
N° 14.
Dividend of Stocks is a share or proportion of the
interest of stocks erected on the public funds, as the
South sea, &c. divided among and paid to the adven¬
turers half yearly.
DIVINA1 ION, the knowledge of things obscure
or future, which cannot be attained by any natural
means.
It was a received opinion among the heathens, that
the gods were wont to converse familiarly with some
men, whom they endowed with extraordinary powers,
and admitted to the knowledge of their councils and
designs. Plato, Aristotle, Plutarch, Cicero, and 0-
thers, divide divination into two sorts or species, viz.
natural and artificial.
The former was so called, because not attained by
any rules or precepts of art, but infused or inspired in¬
to the diviner, without his taking any further care
about it than to purify and prepare himself for the re¬
ception of the divine afflatus. Of this kind were all
those who delivered oracles, and foretold future events
by inspiration, without observing external signs or ac¬
cidents.
The second species of divination was called artificial,
because it was not obtained by immediate inspiration,
but proceeded upon certain experiments and observa¬
tions arbitrarily instituted, and mostly superstitious.
Of this sort there were various kinds, as by sacrifices,
entrails, flame, cakes, flour, wine, water, birds, lots,
verses, omens, &c.
In holy Scripture we find mention made of nine dif¬
ferent kinds of divination. The first performed by the
inspection of planets, stars, and clouds : it is supposed
to be the practisers of this whom Moses calls pijna meo-
nen, of pH anan, “ cloud,” Deuter. chap, xviii. ver. 10.
2. Those whom the prophet calls in the same place
Mm2
D I V [27
Divination, irnsn menacheseh, which the Vulgate and generality of
~v-—interpreters render augur. 3* Ihose who in the same
place are called mecascheph, which the Septuagint
and Vulgate translate “ a man given to ill practices.”
4. Such others whom Moses in the same chapter,
ver. 11. calls inn hhober. 5. Those who consult the
spirits called Ppthon; or, as Moses expresses it in the
same book, birK Dts u those who ask questions of Py*
thon.” 6. Witches or magicians, whom Moses calls
'Jin' judeoni. 7. Those who consult the dead, necro¬
mancers. 8. 1 he prophet TIosea, chap. iv. yer. 12.
mentions such as consult staves, »bpn •, which kind
of divination may be called rhabdomancy. 9. The last
kind of divination mentioned in Scripture is hepatas-
copy, or the consideration of the liver.
Divination of all kinds was necessarily made an oc¬
cult science, which naturally remained in the hands ot
the priests and priestesses, the magi, the soothsayers,
the augurs, the visionaries, the priests of the oracles,
the false prophets, and other like professors, till the
time of the coming of Jesus Christ. I he light of the
gospel, it is true, has dissipated much ol this darkness •,
but it is more difficult than is commonly conceived,
to eradicate from the human mind, a deep-rooted su¬
perstition, even though the truth be set in the strongest
light, especially when the error has been believed al¬
most from the origin of the world ; so we still find ex¬
isting among us the remains of this Pagan superstition,
in the following chimeras, which enthusiastic and de¬
signing men have formed into arts and sciences 5 though
it must be owned, to the honour of the 18th centuiy,
that the pure doctrines of Christianity, and the spirit
of philosophy, which become every day more dif¬
fused, equally concur in banishing these visionary opi¬
nions. The vogue for these pretended sciences and
arts, moreover, is past, and they can no longer be
named without exciting ridicule in all sensible people.
By relating them here, therefore, and drawing them
from their obscurity, we only mean to show their
futility, and to mark those rocks against which the
human mind, without the assistance of a pilot, might
easily run.
Tor the attaining of these supernatural qualifications,
there are still existing in the world the remains of,
1. Astrology: a conjectural science which teaches to
judge of the "effects and influences of the stars j and to
predict future events by the situation of the planets
and their different aspects. It is divided into natu¬
ral astrology, or meteorology; which is confined to the
foretelling of natural effects, as the winds, rain, hail,
and snow, frosts and tempests. In this consists one
branch of the art of almanack-makers j and by merely
confronting these predictions in the kalendar, with the
weather each day produces, every man of sense will
see what regard is to be paid to this part of astrology
The other part, which is called judicial astrology, is still
far more illusive and rash than the former : and having
been at first the wonderful art of visionaries, it after¬
wards became that of impostors j a very common fate
with all those chimerical sciences, of which we shall
here speak. This art pretends to teach the method ot
predicting all sorts of events that shall happen upon
the earth, as well such as relate to the public as to pri¬
vate persons ■, and that by the same inspection ot_ the
stars and planets and their different constellations.
3
5 ] D I V
The cabala signifies, in like manner, the knowledge of frivinnti
things that are above the moon, as the celestial bodies '—“■v-
and their influences *, and in this sense it is the same
with judicial astrology, or makes a part of it.
2. Horoscopy, which may also be considered as a part
of astrology, is the art by which they draw a figure, or
celestial scheme, containing the 12 houses, wherein
they mark the disposition of the heavens at a certain
moment ; for example, that at which a man is born, in
order to foretel his fortune, or the incidents of his life.
In a word, it is the disposition of the stars and planets
at the moment of any person’s birth. But as there
cannot be any probable or possible relation between
the constellations and the human race, all the principles
they lay down, and the prophecies they draw from
them, are chimerical, false, absurd, and a criminal im¬
position on mankind.
3. The art of augury consisted, among the ancient
Romans, in observing the flight, the singing and eat¬
ing of birds, especially such as were held sacred. See
Augury.
4. The equally deceitful art of haruspicy consisted,
on the contrary, in the inspection of the bowels of ani¬
mals, but principally of victims j and from thence pre¬
dicting grand incidents relative to the republic, and the
good or bad events of its enterprises.
5. Aeromancy was the art of divining by the air.
This vain science has also come to us from the Pagans j
but is rejected by reason as well as Christianity, as false
and absurd.
6. Pyromancy is a divination made by the inspec¬
tion of a flame, either by observing to which side it
turns, or by throwing into it some combustible matter,
or a bladder filled with wine, or any thing else from
which they imagined they were able to predict.
7. Hydromancy is the supposed art of divining by
water. The Persians, according to Varro, invented it.
Pythagoras and Numa Pompilius made use of it*, and
we still admire the like wonderful prognosticators.
8. Geomancy was a divination made by observing of
cracks or clefts in the earth. It was also performed
by points made on paper, or any other substance, at a
venture ; and they judged of future events from the
figures that resulted from thence. This was certain¬
ly’ very ridiculous ; but it is nothing less so to pre¬
tend to predict future events by the inspection of the
grounds of a dish of tea or coffee, or by cards, and
many other like matters.—Thus have designing men
made use of the four elements to deceive their credu¬
lous brethren.
9. Chiromancy is the art which teaches to know,
by inspecting the hand, not only the inclinations^ of
a man, but his future destiny also. The fools or im¬
postors who practise this art pretend that the dit-
ferent parts or the lines of the hand have a relation
to the internal parts of the body, as some to the heart,
others to the liver, spleen, &c. On this false sup¬
position, and on many others equally extravagant,
the principles of chiromancy are founded: and on
which, however, several authors, as Robert Ilud an
Englishman, Artemidorus, M. de la Chambre, John
of Indagina, and many others, have written large trea-
tises. _ . . , .
10. Physiognomy,orphysiognomancy, is a science tiia
pretends to teach the nature, the temperament, the
1 understanding,
D I V
r 277 ]
D I V
understanding, and the inclinations of men, by the in- stomed to the water from their infancy, will at length
spection of their countenances, and is therefore very be enabled, not only to stay much longer under water
little less frivolous than chiromancy ; though Aristotle, than the time above'mentioned, but put on a kind of
and a number of learned men after him, have written amphibious nature, so that they seem to have the use
express treatises concerning it. of all their faculties as well when their bodies are im-
D1 VliNL, something relating to God. The word mersed in water as when they are on dry land Most
is also used, figuratively, for any thing that is excellent, savage nations are remarkable for this According to
extraordinary, and that seems to go beyond the power the accounts of our late voyagers the inhabitants of
of nature and the capacity of mankind. In which the South sea islands are such expert divers that when
sense, the compass, telescope, clocks, &c. are said to a nail or any piece of iron was thrown overboard they
be divine inventions : Plato is called the divine author^ would instantly jump into the sea after it and’never
the divine Plato ; and the same appellation is given to faded to recover it, notwithstanding the Quick descent
Seneca: Hippocrates is called, “ the divine old man,” of the metal. Even among civilized nations many ner-
mVTOr’.f'’ , t f, , sons have been found capable of continuing a„ in„c-
DIVING, the art or act of descending under water dible length of time below water. The most remark-
to considerable depths, and abiding there a competent able instance of this kind is the. famous Sicilian diver
tl™P* r j- • -j ii • JN*icoio I esce. Ihe authenticity of the account, in-
Ihe uses ot diving are very considerable, particu- deed, depends entirely on the authority of F Ki.cher
larly in tire fishing for pearls, corals, sponges, &c. See He assures us that he had it from the archives of the
PEARL-Fishing &c. _ kings of Sicily : but, notwithstanding this assertion,
I here have been various methods proposed, and ma- the whole hath so much of the marvellous in it that
chines contrived, to render the business of diving more we believe there are few who will not look upon it to
sare and easy. Ihe great point is to furnish the diver have been exaggerated. “ In the times of Frederic
with fresh air ; without which, he must either make a king of Sicily (says Kircher), there lived a celebrated
s ort stay or perish. _ t,lver> whose name was Nicolas, and who, from his
I hose who dive for sponges in the Mediterranean, amazing skill in swimming, and his perseverance under
help themselves by carrying down sponges dipt in oil in water, was surnamed the fish. This man had from his
their mouths. But considering the small quantity of infancy been used to the sea; and earned his scanty
air that can be contained in the pores of a sponge, subsistence by diving for corals and oysters, which he
and how much that little will be contracted by the sold to the villagers on shore. His long acquaintance
pressuie of the incumbent water, such a supply cannot with the sea, at last, brought it to be almost his natu-
long subsist the diver. For it is found by experiment, ral element. He was frequently known to spend five
that a gallon of air included in a bladder, and by a days in the midst of the waves, without any other pro¬
pipe reciprocally inspired and expired by the lungs, be- visions than the fish which he caught there, and ate
comes unfit for respiration in little more than one mi- raw. He often swam over from Sicily into Calabria,
nute o time. lor though its elastic.ty be but little a tempestuous and dangerous passage, carrying letter!
aUer.d pass.ng the lu„gS> ye, loses its vivifying front the king. He was freqnentlyVnown *,0 twiin ”
PIn’fff r, I';nt'kr,“r<;"ri IT m0Dg tlle gulls of the L!Pati '“la»‘ls. noway apprelten-
In ellect, a naked diver, Dr Halley assures us, with- sive of danger ^
out a sponge cannot remain above a couple of mi- “ Some mariners out at sea, one day observed some-
nutes enclosed m water, nor much longer with one, thing at some distance from them, which they regard-
.0 r .SUfd-?tln8; "0r’ rl’0Ut- l0ng |,riCti?e' Dear ed aS “ Sea bot upon’ its Lpproach Tf was
so long , ordinary persons beginning to stifle in about known to be Nicholas, whom they took into their ship.
ab theTl. f8,', ’ tl'e„deptl’ 'f COn8i,Jer- When they asked him whither hekras going in so stor-
eyes’bLZten aid f" er H l',e Ve-SelS makeS a,ld ro"g,■ a 6'a’ a"<1 at s“d' “ JistanJfrnm land,
of blood d re(luently occasions a sp.tt.ng he showed them a packet of letters, which he was carl
Hfnrp ai i i . , rying to one of the towns of Italy, exactly done up in
lomr at tbP \ 1616 T ^eCn °?caj10n t0 cont,niie a leather bag, in such a manner as that they could not
tl ' T’ 80me,have C0ntrived d.°uble be wetted by the sea. He kept them thus company
fli . irCU.a.e au ‘ ovvn ,nt0 a cavity, enclosing for some time in their voyage, conversing, and asking
hi lV(r\iaS VVU 1 arm°ur’ both to f,,rnish air and to questions ; and after eating a hearty meal with them
h sll, r nerre °f ■,l,e."ater> al',d glve kare ^ ‘°°k hi* leave, and, jumping into the ea purs "d
his breast to dilate upon insp,ration ; the fresh air be- his voyage alone. J ^ S , P
!"?nj“raC?d dfW0 °ne 0{ptl\e P'Pes Wltb 'allows, and re- “ In order to aid these powers of enduring in the
and vein ^ ^ ° ^ t iem’ n0t un!lke to au artery deep, nature seemed to have assisted him in a very ex-
R, . . j • ^ , . . . ,, . traordinary manner: for the spaces between his fingers
13 ,m1PractlcabIe whe” the depth and toes were webbed, as in a goose; and his chest be-
llmfc i'e<i a 10ms’tbe water embracing the bare came so very capacious, that he could take in, atone
bln 1 - 0 .c ose y as to. obstruct the circulation of the inspiration, as much breath as would serve him for a
blood in them; and withal posing so strongly on all whole day.
tliejunctureswliere the armour is made tight with lea- “ The account of so extraordinary a person did not
’ ,a ’ e,t.1e ‘as!: 'n any them, fail to reach the king himself; who commanded Ni-
v\a er ius ies in, an instantly fills the whole engine, cholas to be brought before him. It was no easy mat-
to the great danger of the d ver’s lifp f . r i -vr i i i ,, ' ‘ mac-
Ti f • u . c oiver s me. tcr to find Nicholas, who generally spent Ins time in
rain, however, that people, by being accu- the solitudes of the deep; but, at last, after much
searching,
Diving-.
D I V
Diving.
searching, he was found, and brought before his ma-
' ]esty. The curiosity of this monarch had been long ex-
[ 278 ]
D I V
Divinsi
cited by the accounts he had heard of the bottom of
the gulf of Charybdis *, he now therefore conceived,
that it would be a proper opportunity to have more
certain information. He therefore commanded our
poor diver to examine the bottom of this dreadful
whirlpool; and as an incitement to his obedience, he
ordered a golden cup to be flung into it. Nicholas was
not insensible of the danger to which he was exposed }
dangers best known only to himself j and therefore he
presumed to remonstrate : but the hopes of the reward,
the desire of pleasing the king, and the pleasure of
showing his skill, at last prevailed. He instantly jump¬
ed into the gulf, and was as instantly swallowed up
in its bosom. He continued for three quarters of an
hour below, during which time the king and his at¬
tendants remained on shore, anxious for his fate ; but
he at last appeared, holding the cup in triumph in one
hand, and making his way good among the waves with
the other. It may be supposed he was received with
applause when he came on shore : the cup was made
the reward of his adventure •, the king ordered him to
be taken proper care of; and, as he was somewhat fa¬
tigued and debilitated by his labour, after a hearty
meal he was put to bed, and permitted to refresh him¬
self by sleeping.
“ When his spirits were thus restored, he was again
brought to satisfy the king’s curiosity with a narrative
of the wonders he had seen 5 and his account was to
the following effect. He would never, he said, have
obeyed the king’s commands, had he been apprised of
half the dangers that were before him. There were
four things, he said, which rendered the gulf dread¬
ful, not only to men, but to fishes themselves. 1. The
force of the water bursting up from the bottom, which
required great strength to resist. 2. The abruptness
of the rocks that on every side threatened destruc¬
tion. 3. The force of the whirlpool dashing against
those rocks. And, 4. The number and magnitude
of the polypous fish, some of which appeared as large
as a man ; and which everywhere sticking against
the rocks, projected their fibrous arms to entangle
him. Being asked how he w'as able so readily to find
the cup that had been thrown in, he replied, that it
happened to be flung by the waves into the cavity of
a rock against which he himself was urged in his de¬
scent. This account, however, did not satisfy the
king’s curiosity. Being requested to venture once
more into the gulf for further discoveries, he at first
refused : but the king, desirous of having the most
exact information possible of all things to be found
in the gulf, repeated his solicitations ; and, to give
them still greater weight, produced a larger cup than
the former, and added also a purse of gold. Upon
these considerations the unfortunate diver once again
plunged into the whirlpool, and was never heard of
more.” . ,
To obviate the inconveniencies of diving to those
who have not the extraordinary powers of the diver
above mentioned, different instruments have been con¬
trived. The chief of these is the diving-bell > which
is most conveniently made in form of a truncated cone,
the smaller base being closed, and the larger open.
It is to be poised w'ith lead j and so suspended, that
the vessel may sink full of air, with its open basis down¬
ward, and as near as may be in a situation parallel to
the horizon, so as to close with the surface of the water
all at once.
Under this covercle the diver sitting, sinks down
with the included air to the depth desired : and if the
cavity of the vessel contain a tun of water, a single
man may remain a full hour, without much inconve¬
nience, at five or six fathoms deep. But the lower
you go, still the included air contracts itself accord¬
ing to the weight of the water which compresses it: so
that at 33 feet deep the bell becomes half full of wa¬
ter, the pressure of the incumbent water being then
equal to that of the atmosphere j and at all other
depths the space occupied by the compressed air in the
upper part of the bell will be to the under part of its
capacity filled with water, as 33 feet to the surface
of the water in the bell below the common surface
thereof. And this condensed air being taken in with
the breath soon insinuates itself into all the cavities of
the body, and has no ill effect, provided the bell be
permitted to descend so slowly as to allow time for
that purpose. One inconvenience that attends it, is
found in the ears, within which there are cavities which
open only outwards, and that by pores so small as not , |
to give admission even to the air itself, unless they be
dilated and distended by a considerable force. . Hence,
on the first descent of the bell, a pressure begins to be
felt on the ear j which, by degrees, grows painful,
till the force overcoming the obstacle, what constrin-
ges these pores yields to the pressure, and letting some
condensed air slip in, presently ease ensues. The bell
descending lower, the pain is renewed, and again eased
in the same manner. But the greatest inconvenience
of this engine is, that the water entering it, contracts
the bulk of air into a small compass, it soon heats and
becomes unfit for respiration j so that there is a neces¬
sity for its being drawn up and renewed.
“ The invention of this bell, (says Professor Beck-^ ^
mann), is generally assigned to the 16th century j
and I am of opinion that it was little known before
that period, We read, however, that in the time of
Aristotle divers used a kind of kettle, to enable them
to continue longer under the water j but the man¬
ner in which it was employed is not clearly descri¬
bed. The oldest information which we have of the
use of the diving-bell in Europe, is that of Johit
Taisnier, who was born in Hainault in 1509, and had
a place at court under Charles V. whom he attended
on his voyage to Africa. He relates in what man¬
ner he saw at Toledo, in the presence of the emperor
and several thousand spectators, two Greeks let them¬
selves down under water, in a large inverted kettle,
with a burning light, and rise up again without being
wet. It appears that this art was then new to the
emperor and the Spaniards, and that the Greeks were
caused to make the experiment in order to prove the
possibility of it.” # ,
“ When the English in 1588, dispersed the Spanish
fleet, called the Invincible Armada, part of the ships
went to the bottom, near the Isle of Mull, on the west¬
ern coast of Scotland ; and some of these, according to
the account of the Spanish prisoners, contained great
riches. This information excited, from time to time,
the avarice of speculators, and gave rise to several at¬
tempts
D I V [
[Jiving: tempts to procure part of the lost treasure. In
-nr^year 1665, a person was so fortunate as to bring up
some cannon, which, however, were not sufficient to
defray the expenses. Of these attempts, and the kind
of diving-bell used in them, the reader will find an ac¬
count in a work printed at Rotterdam in 1669, and
entitled G. Sinclari Ars nova etmagna gravitatis et le-
vitatis. In the year 1680. William Phipps, a native
of America, formed a project for searching and unload¬
ing a rich Spanish ship sunk on the coast of Hispaniola j
and represented his plan-in such a plausible manner, that
King Charles II. gave him a ship, and furnished him
with every thing necessary for the undertaking. He
set sail in the year 1683 ; but being unsuccessful, re¬
turned again in great poverty, though with a firm con¬
viction of the possibility of his scheme. By a subscrip¬
tions promoted chiefly by the duke of Albemarle, the
279 ] D I V
the also to keep the water wholly out of it at any depth.
I he manner in which this was effected, he relates in
the following words:
The bell I made use of was of wood, containing
about 60 cubic feet in its concavity; and was of the
torm of a truncated cone, whose diameter at the top was
three feet, and at the bottom five. This I coated with
lead so heavy that it would sink empty j and I distri¬
buted the weight so about its bottom, that it would <r0
down in a perpendicular direction, and no other. In
the top I fixed a strong but clear glass, as a window,
to let m the light from above j and likewise a cock to
let out the hot air that had been breathed 5 and below,
about a yard under the bell, I placed a stage which
hung by three ropes, each of which was charged with
about, one hundred weight to keep it steady. This
machine I suspended from the mast of a ship by a sprit,
which was sufficiently secured by stays to the mast head*
f1* CeJ®k'5te^ ^onk» Phipps was enabled, in vfu.v-u vras suiucienuy secured by stays to the mast head
1687, to try his fortune once more, having previously and was directed by braces to carry’ it overboard clear
engaged to divide the profi according to the twenty of the ship’s side, and to bring it again within board
shares of which the subscription consisted. At first all as occasion required h
his labour proved fruitless; but at last, when his pa¬
tience was almost entirely exhausted, he was so lucky as
to bring up, from the depth of six or seven fathoms, so
much treasure, that he returned to England with the
value of two hundred thousand pounds sterling. Of
this sum he himself got about sixteen, others say twenty
thousand, and the duke ninety thousand pounds. After
became back, some persons endeavoured to persuade
the king to seize both the ship and the cargo, under
a pretence, that Phipps, when he solicited for his ma¬
jesty’s permission, had not given accurate information
respecting the business. But the king answered, with
much greatness of mind, that he knew Phipps to be an
honest man, and that he and his friends should share the
whole among them had he returned with double the
value. His majesty even conferred upon him the ho¬
nour of knighthood, to show how much he was satisfied
with his conduct. We know not the construction of
Phipps’s apparatus: but of the old figures of a diving-
machine, that which approaches nearest to the diving-
bell is in a book on fortification by Lorini j who de¬
scribes a square box bound round with iron, which is
furnished with windows, and has a stool affixed to it for
the diver. This ingenious contrivance appears, how¬
ever, to be older than that Italian j at least he does not
pretend to be the inventor of it.
“ In the year 1617, Francis Kessler gave a description
ot his water-armour, intended also for diving, but which
cannot really be used for that purpose. In the year
1071, Witsen taught, in a better manner than any of
his predecessors, the construction and use of the di¬
ving-bell } but he is much mistaken when he says that
it was invented at Amsterdam. I„ 1679 appeared,
for. the first time, Borelli’s well known work
ammahum; in which he not only described the divin<r-
beH, but also proposed another, the impracticability
ot which was shewn by James Bernoulli. When
oturm published his Collegium curiosum in 1678 he
proposed some, hints for the improvement of this ma-
^^,Ch remark8 Were made in the Journal
To obviate the difficulties of the diving-bell, Dr Hal-
ey contrived some further apparatus, whereby not on¬
ly to recruit and refresh the air from time to time, but
bring
To supply air to this bell when under water, I
caused a couple of barrels of about 36 gallons each to
be cased with lead, so as to sink empty ; each of them
having a bung-hole in its lowest parts to let in the wa¬
ter, as.the air in them condensed on their descent; and
to let it out again when they were drawn up full from
below. And to a hole in the uppermost part of these
barrels, I fixed a leathern trunk or hose well liquored
with bees wax and oil, and long enough to fall below
the bung-hole, being kept down by a weight append¬
ed : so that the air in the upper part of the barrels
could not escape, unless the lower ends of these hose
were first lifted up.
The air-barrels being thus prepared, I fitted them
with tackle proper to make them rise and fall alternate¬
ly, after the manner of two buckets in a well; which
was done with so much ease, that two men, with less
than half their strength, could perform all the labour re.
quired ; and in their descent they were directed by lines
fastened to the under edge of the bell, the which passed
through rings on both sides the leathern hose in each
barrel; so that, sliding down by these lines, they came
readily to the hand of a man who stood on the stage on
purpose to receive them, and to take up the ends of
the hose into the bell. Through these hose, as soon
as their ends came above the surface of the water in
the barrels, all the air that was included in the upper
parts of them was blown with great force into the bell,
whilst the water entered at the bung boles below, and
filled them; and as soon as the air of one barrel had
been thus received, upon a signal given, that was drawn
up, and at the same time the other descended ; and
by an alternate succession, furnished air so quick, and
in so great plenty, that I myself have been one of five
who have been together at the bottom in nine or ten
fathom water, for above an hour and a half at a time,
without any sort of ill consequence; and I might have
continued there as long as I pleased, for any thing that
appeared to the contrary. Besides, the whole cavity
of the bell was kept entirely free from water, so that I
sat on a bench which was diametrically placed near the
bottom, wholly dressed, with all my clothes on. I
only observed, that it was necessary to be let down
gradually at first, as nbout 12 feet at a time; and
then ;
D I V
[ 280 ]
D I V
then to stop and drive out the air that entered, by
receiving three or four barrels of fresh air before I
descended further. But, being arrived at the depth
designed, I then let out as much of the hot air that
had^been breathed, as each barrel would replenish
with cool, by means of the cock at the top of the bell j
through whose aperture, though very small, the
air would rush with so much violence, as to make the
surface of the sea boil, and to cover it with a
white foam, notwithstanding the weight of the water
over us. , • , .
“ Thus I found that I could do any thing that re¬
quired to be done just under us ; and that, by taking
off the stage, I could, for a space as wide as the cir¬
cuit of the bell lay the bottom of the sea so far dry,
as not to be overshoes thereon. And, by the glass
window, so much light was transmitted, that when the
sea was clear, and especially when the sun shone, I
could see perfectly well to write or read j much more
to fasten or lay hold on any thing under us that was
to be taken up. And, by the return of the air-barrels,
f often sent up orders written with an iron pen, on
small plates of lead, directing how to move us from
place to place as occasion required. At other times
when the water was troubled and thick, it would
be as dark as night below *, but in such cases I have
been able to keep a candle burning in the bell as
loner as I pleased, notwithstanding the great expence
of air necessary to maintain flame.—By an additional
contrivance, I have found it not impracticable, lor a
diver to go out of an engine to a good distance Irom
it the air being conveyed to him with a continued
stream, by small flexible pipes-, which pipes may serve
as a clue, to direct him back again when he would re¬
turn to the bell.” TT .
Plate CLXXVT. fig. I. shows Dr Halley’s diving-
bell with the divers at work. DBLKRIMP repre¬
sents the body of the bell. D, the glass which serves
as a window. B, the cock for letting out the air
which has been breathed. LM the seats. C, one ot
the air barrels. P, H, two of the divers. F, another
diver at a distance from the bell, and breathing through
the flexible tube K.—This diver is supposed to have a
head-piece qf lead, made to fit quite close about his
shoulders; this head-piece was capable of containing as
much air as would supply him for a minute or two.
When he had occasion for more air, he turned a cock
at Y by which means a communication was opened
with the air in the bell, and thus he could receive a new
supply at pleasure. # . ,
Since the invention of this diving machine, there
has been one contrived by Mr Triewald, ¥. R. S^and
military architect to the king of Sweden, which lor a
single 'person, is in some respects thought to be more
eligible than Dr Halley’s, and is constructed as. 1 o -
lows: AB is the bell, which is sunk by lead weights
DD hung to its bottom/ This hell is of copper, an
tinned all over in the inside, which is illuminated iy
three strong convex lenses, G, G,.G, with copper lids
H H H, to defend them. The iron ring or plate L
. serves’the diver to stand on when he is at work } and is
suspended at such a distance from the bottom of the
bell by the chains F, F, F, that when the diver stand,
upright, his head is just above the water m the bell,
where the air is much better than higher up, because
it is colder, and consequently more fit for respiration,
But as the diver must always be within the bell, and v~-
his head of course in the upper part, the inventor has
contrived, that even there, when he has breathed the
hot air as well as he can, he may, by means of a spi¬
ral copper tube, b c, placed close to the inside of the
bell, draw the cooler and fresher air from the lower¬
most parts } for which purpose, a flexible leather tube,
about two feet long, is fixed to the upper end of the
copper tube at bj and to the other end of this tube is
fixed an ivory mouth-piece, by which the diver draws
in the air.
The greatest improvement, however, which the di¬
ving-bell ever received, or probably can receive, was
from the late Mr Spalding of Edinburgh. A section
of his improved diving bell is represented in fig. 3.
This construction is designed to remedy some incon-
veniencies of Dr Halley’s, which are very evident, and
of very dangerous tendency. Ihese are, 1. By Dr
Halley’s construction, the sinking or rising of the bell
depends entirely on the people who are at the surface
of the water ; and as the bell even when in the water
has a very considerable weight, the raising it not only
requires a great deal of labour, but there is a possibility
of the rope breaking by which it is raised, and thus
every person in the bell would inevitably perish. .2. As
there are, in many places of the sea, rocks which lie
at a considerable depth, the figure of which cannot
possibly be perceived from above, there is danger that
some of their ragged prominences may catch hold
of one of the edges of the bell in its descent, and
thus overset it before any signal can be given to those
above, which would infallibly be attended with the
destruction of the people in the bell and as it must
always be unknown, before trial, what kind or a
bottom the sea has in any place, it is plain, that
without some contrivance to obviate this last danger,
the descent in Dr Halley’s diving-bell is not at all
el.gd
ow these inconveniences are remedied by Mr Spal¬
ding’s new construction will be easily understood from
the following description.—ABCD represents a sec¬
tion of the hell, which is made of wood ; e, <■, are iron
hooks, by means of which it is suspended by ropes
Q B F e, and Q A E R e, and Q S, as expressed in
the figure c, c, are iron hooks, to which are appended
lead weights, that keep the mouth of the hell always
parallel to the surface of the water, whether the ma¬
rine taken altogether is lighter or heavier than an
equal bulk of water. By these weights alone, how¬
ever, the bell would not sink another is therefore
added, represented at L and which can be raised
or lowered at pleasure, by means of a rope passing over
the pulley a, and fastened to one of the sides of the bell
at M As the bell descends, this weight, called by
Mr Spalding the balance-weight, hangs down a consider¬
able way below the mouth of the bell. In case the
edee of the bell is catched by any obstacle, the balance-
weight is immediately lowered down so that it may res
upon the bottom. By this means the hell is fightened,
so that all danger of oversetting is removed , lo1 b 1 ^
lighter without the balance-weight, than an equa >u
of water, it is evident that the bell will rise, as welU
the length of the rope affixed to the balance weight
will allow it. This weight, therefore, will serve a J
i
PLATE CLXXVI.
D I V [ :
j ot* anc^or to keep tbe bell at any particular depth
; which the divers may think necessary ; or by pulling it
quite op, the descent may be continued to the very
bottom.
By another very ingenious contrivance, Mr Spald¬
ing rendered it possible for the divers to raise the bell,
with all the weights appended to it, even to the sur¬
face, or to stop at any particular depth, as they think
proper; and thus they could still be safe, even though
the rope designed for pulling up the bell was broke.
For this purpose the bell is divided into two cavities,
both of which are made as tight as possible. Just
above the second bottom EF, are small slits in the sides
of the bell ; through which the water entering as the
hell descends, displaces the air originally contained in
this cavity, which flies out at the upper orifice of the
cock GH. When this is done, the divers turn the
handle G, which stops the cock ; so that if any more
air was to get into the cavity AEFD, it could not
longer be discharged through the orifice H as before.
When this cavity is full of water, the bell sinks ; but,
when a considerable quantity of air is admitted, it
rises. If, therefore, the divers have a mind to raise
themselves, they turn the small cock g, by which a
communication is made between the upper and under
cavities of tbe bell. The consequence of this is, that a
quantity ot air immediately enters tbe upper cavity,
forces out a quantity of tbe water contained in it, and
tnus lenders the bell lighter by the whole weight of
tiie water which is displaced. Fhus, ifa certain quan¬
tity of air is admitted into the upper cavity, the hell
will descend very slowly ; if a greater quantity, it will
neither ascend nor descend, but remain stationary; and
if a larger quantity of air is still admitted, it will arise
to the top. It is to be observed, however, that the
air which is thus let out into the upper cavity must be
immediately replaced from the air-barrel ; and the air
is to be let out very slowly, or the bell will rise to the
top with so great velocity that the divers will he in
danger of being shaken out of their seats. But, by
following these directions, every possible accident may
be prevented, and people may descend to great depths
without the least apprehension of danger. The bell
aiso becomes so easily manageable in the water, that it
may be conducted from one place to another by a small
boat with the greatest ease, and with perfect safety to
those who are in it. J
Instead of wooden seats used by Dr Halley, Mr
opalding made use of ropes suspended by hooks b b b ;
and on these ropes the divers may sit without any in¬
convenience. I and Jv are two windows made of thick
strong glass, for admitting light, to the divers. N re¬
presents an air-cask with its tackle, and OCP the flex¬
ible p,pe through which the air is admitted to the hell.
In the ascent and descent of this cask the pipe is kept
d0VV” by a small weight appended, as in Dr Halley’s
machine. R is a small cock by which tbe hot air is
discharged as often as it becomes troublesome. Fig. 4.
is a representation of the whole diving apparatus, which
it is hoped will be readily understood without any fur-
tjier explanation. Two air-barrels are represented in
)ls , ’ but Spalding was of opinion, that one
capable of containing 30 gallons is sufficient for an or¬
dinary machine. *
Vox.. VIE Part I. f
8l ]
D I V
M e are told of another method put in practice by
a gentleman of Devonshire. He has contrived a large
case of strong leather, perfectly water-proof, which
may hold about half a hogshead of air. This is so
contrived, that, when he shuts himself up in this case,
he may walk at the bottom of the sea, and go into anv
part of a wrecked vessel, and deliver out the goods. 
Plus method, we are told, he has practised for many
years and has thus acquired a large fortune. It
would be a considerable improvement on this machine
to condense the air in it as much as possible before the
diver descended ; as he would thus be furnished with
an atmosphere endued with elasticity sufficient to resist
the weight of the water, which otherwise would squeeze
hjs case into much less room than it originally took up.
Ihe condensed air also would serve for respiration a
much longer time than that which is in its ordinary
state. See the article Diving, in the Supplement.
DiviNG-Bladfler, a machine invented by Borelli,
and by him preferred, though without any good rea¬
son, to the diving-bell. It is a globular vessel of brass
or copper, about two feet in diameter, which contains
the diver’s head. It is fixed to a goat’s skin habit ex¬
actly fitted to his person. Within tbe vessel are pipes;
by means ol which a circulation of air is contrived ;
and the person carries an air-pump by his side by
which he can make himself heavier or lighter, as fishes
do. by contracting or dilating their air-bladder. By
this means he thought all the objections to which
other diving machines are liable were entirely obviated,
and particularly that of want of air; tbe air which had
been breathed, being, as be imagined, deprived of its
noxious qualities by circulating through tbe pipes.
.These advantages, however, it is evident, are only ima¬
ginary. Ihe diver’s limbs, being defended from the
pressure of the water only by a goat’s skin, would in¬
fallibly be crushed, if lie descended to any considerable
depth ; and from tbe discoveries now made by Dr
I riestley and others, it is abundantly evident, that air,
which is once rendered foul by breathing, cannot in
any degree be restored by circulation through pipes.
Concerning the use of copper machines in general, Mr
Spalding favoured us with the following curious ob¬
servation, namely, That when a person has breathed
in them a few minutes, he feels in his mouth a very
disagreeable brassy taste, which continues all the time
he remains in the vessel ; so that, on this account,
copper seems by no means an eligible material. This
taste most probably arises from the action of the al¬
kalescent effluvia of the body upon the copper ; for
volatile alkali is a strong dissolvent of this metal; but
how these effluvia volatilize the copper in such a man¬
ner as to make the taste of it sensible in the mouth, it
is not easy to say.
DIVINITY, properly signifies the nature, quality,
and essence of God.
Divinity is also used in the same sense with -theo-
logy.
DIV ISIBILITY, that property by which the par¬
ticles ot matter in all bodies are capable of a separation
or disunion from each other.
The Peripatetics and Cartesians hold divisibility to
be an affection of all matter. The Epicureans, again,
allow it to agree to every physical continuum ; but
N u they
Diving
1!
Ditisi-
biiitv.
Divisibi-
Plate
CLXXV.
D I V [28:
they deny that this affection agrees to all bodies, for
the primary corpuscles or atoms they maintain to be
perfectly Insecable and indivisible.
As it is evident that body is extended, so it is no
less evident that it is divisible j for since no two par¬
ticles of matter can exist in the same place, it follows,
that they are really distinct from each other 5 which is
all that is meant by being divisible. In this sense the
least conceivable particle must still be divisible, since it
will consist of parts which will be really distinct, lo
illustrate this by a familiar instance. Let the least ima¬
ginable piece of matter be conceived lying on a smooth
plain surface, it is evident the surface will not touch
it everywhere those parts, therefore, which it does not
touch may be supposed separable from the others, and
so on as far as we please *, and this is all that is meant
when we say matter is infinitely divisible.
The infinite divisibility of mathematical quantity is
demonstrated thus geometrically. Suppose the line
AC perpendicular to BL 5 and another, as GH, at a
small distance from it, also perpendicular to the same
line ; with the centres CCC, &c. describe circles cut¬
ting the line GH in the points e e e, &c. Now the.
greater the radius AC is, the less is the part eH.
But the radius may be augmented in infinitum ; so
long, therefore, the part e H may be divided into still
less portions j consequently it may be divided in infi-
nitam* . . ^ at
All that is supposed in strict geometry (says .Vlr
Maclaurin) concerning the divisibility of magnitude,
amounts to no more than that a given magnitude may
be conceived to be divided into a number of parts equal
to any given or proposed number. It is true, that the
numberof parts into which a given magnitude may be
conceived to be divided, is not to he fixed or limited,
because no given number is so great hut a greater may
be conceived and assigned ■, but there is not, therefore,
any necessity of supposing the number of parts actual¬
ly infinite j and if some have drawn very abstruse con¬
sequences from such a supposition, yet geometry ought
not to be loaded with them.
How far matter may actually be divided, may in
some measure be conceived from hence, that a piece
of wire gilt with so small a quantity as eight grains
of gold, may be drawn out to a length of 13,000 feet,
the whole surface of it still remaining covered with
gold. We have also a surprising instance of the mi¬
nuteness of some parts of matter from the nature of
light and vision. Let ja candle be lighted, and placed
in an open plain, it will then be visible two miles round 5
and consequently, was it placed two miles above the
surface of the earth, it would fill with luminous par¬
ticles a sphere whose diameter was four miles, and that
before it had lost any sensible part of its weight. A
quantity of vitriol being dissolved, and mixed with
qooo times as much water, will tinge the whole j con¬
sequently will be divided into as many parts as there
are visible portions of matter in that quantity of water.
There are perfumes, which, without a sensible dimi¬
nution of their quantity, shall fill a very large space
with their odoriferous particles •, which must therefore
be of an inconceivable smallness, since there will be a
sufficient number in every part of that space sensibly
to.affect the organ of smelling. Dr Keill demonstrates,
that any particle of matter, how small soever, and any
2 ] D I V
finite space, how large soever, being given, it is pos- T)vmk\
sible for that small particle of matter to be diffused livy,
through all that space, and to fill it in such a manner, DWisi;;
as that there shall be no pore in it whose diameter shall
exceed any given line.
The chief objections against the divisibility of mat¬
ter in infinitum are, That an infinite cannot be con¬
tained by a finite ; and that it follows from a divisibili¬
ty in infinitum, either that all bodies are equal, or that
one infinite is greater than another. But the answer
to these is easy •, for the properties of a determined
quantity are not to be attributed to an infinite consider¬
ed in a general sense *, and who has ever proved that
there could not be an infinite number of infinitely small
parts in a finite quantity, or that all infinites are equal ?
The contrary is demonstrated by mathematicians in in¬
numerable instances. See the article Infinity, and
’iS' Gravesande Elem. Mathem. 1. i. c. 4.
DIVISION, in general, is the separating a thing
into two or more parts.
Mechanical JJ/f/s/on, signifies that separation which
is occasioned in the parts of a body by help of mecha¬
nical instruments.—The mechanical division of bodies
does indeed separate them into smaller, homogeneous,
similar parts •, but this separation cannot extend to the
primary integrant molecules of any body *, and conse¬
quently is incapable of breaking what is properly call¬
ed their aggregation ; also, no union is formed betwixt
the divided and dividing bodies, in which respect di¬
vision essentially differs from dissolution.
Division is not properly a chemical operation, it
is only employed preparatorily to facilitate other ope¬
rations, and particularly solution. For this purpose it
is very useful, as it increases the quantity of surface,
and consequently the points of contact of any body.—
Different methods are used to divide bodies according
to their nature. Those which are tenacious and elastic,
as horns and gums, require to be cut, rasped, or filed.
Metals, because of their ductility, require the same
treatment: but as they are also fusible, they may be
quickly and conveniently reduced into grains small
enough for most operations, by pouring them, when
melted,.into water. All brittle bodies may be redu¬
ced conveniently into fine parts by being bruised in a
mortar with a pestle. Very hard bodies, such as glass,
crystals, stones, particularly those of the vitrifiable
kind, before they are pounded, ought to be plunged
when red hot into water, by which they are split and
cracked, and rendered more easily pulverable. Bodies
of this kind may also be bruised or ground by means
of a hard and flat stone, upon which the matter is to
be put, and bruised by another bard stone so small as
to be held and moved upon the larger stone with the
hand. The larger stone is called a porphijry, from its
being generally of that kind of stone ; and the opera¬
tion is called porphyri%ation. Instead of porphyriza-
tion, a mill may be used, composed of a bard grit mill¬
stone, moving round upon another stone of the same
kind, which must be fixed : in the upper stone is a
groove or channel, through which the matter to be
ground passes. By this method a substance may be
more quickly reduced to a fine powder than by por-
phyrization. But these mills can be only employed for
considerable quantities of matter.
These methods of mechanically dividing bodies are
attendee
iimion
Dium,
D I U [2
attended with some practical inconveniences; the most
considerable of which is, that some parts of the divid¬
ing instruments are always struck off, and mixed with
^the matter to be divided. This may greatly affect the
operations. For instance, instruments of iron and cop¬
per furnish metallic colouring particles, and copper is
very prejudicial to health. Porphyry is coloured by a
reddish brown matter, which injures the colour of
crystal glasses, enamels, and porcelains made with mat¬
ters ground upon this stone. These matters therefore
must be cleansed after their porphyrization, or else no
instruments capable of injuring the intended operations
ought to be employed. Thus, for the preparation of
ail medicines to be taken internally, no copper instru¬
ments, as mortars, pestles, &c. ought to be used ; those
made of iron are preferable : and, instead of porphyries,
rnortars, grinding stones and millstones made of hard
and white stones, ought to be employed for substances
which are to enter into the composition of enamels,
crystal glass, and porcelain, the whiteness of which is
a most necessary quality.
Division, in Algebra, See Algebra.
Division, in Arithmetic. See Arithmetic, N°
ii.
Divisions of an Army, in the military art, the
several brigades and squadrons into which it is can¬
toned.
Divisions of a Battalion, are the several platoons
Into which it is divided in marching or firing, each of
which is commanded by an officer.
Division, in sea affairs, a select number of ships in
a fleet or squadron of men of war, distinguished by a
particular flag or pendant, and usually commanded by
a general officer. A squadron is commonly ranged
into three divisions, the commanding officer of which
is always stationed in the centre.
When a fleet consists of 60 sail of the line, that is,
of ships having at least 60 cannon each, the admiral
divides it into three squadrons, each of w'hich has its
divisions and commanding officers. Each squadron
has its proper colours, according to the rank of the
admiral who commands it, and every division its proper
mast. Thus the white flag denotes the first division of
France; the white and blue the second ; and the third
is characterized by the blue. In Britain, the first ad-
mil a!, or the admiral of the fleet, displays the union flag
at the main-top-mast head; next follows the white flag
with St George’s cross; and afterwards the blue.
The private ships carry pendants of the same colour
with their respective squadrons at the mast of their
particular divisions ; so that the last ship in the division
of the blue squadron carries a blue pendant at her
mizen-top-mast head.
DIVISOR, in Arithmetic. See Arithmetic N®
ii. ’
DIUM, in Ancient Geography, a town of Chalci-
dice m Macedonia, near Mount Athos. Also a pro¬
montory of Crete, on the north side of the island. A
t urd Dium, a promontory of Euboea ; or a town of
t iat name in Euboea, near the promontory Cnaeum,
on the north-west side of the island, called also Dia.—
A fourth Dium in Pieria of Macedonia, on the west
side of the Sinus Thermaicus. Strabo and Livy place
it on the borders of Pieria to the south, at the foot of
Mount Olympus towards Thessaly. That it was a
83 ]
D I V
splendid city, appears from Polybius ; who relates, that Diim
its gymnasium and wall were overthrown by the AEto- |j
lians. From which overthrow, however, it again reco- Divon?e-
vered, Alexander adding new splendour to it, by the ' v
brass statues cast by Lysippus, and erected there in
m memory of the slain at the Granicus : an ornament
which was continued down to the time of the Romans ;
who made it a colony, called Diensis.— k fifth Diurn
beyond Jordan, near Pella in the Pirtea.
DIVODURUM, in Ancient Geography, a town of
the Mediomatrici, in Gallia Belgica"; situated on the
Moselle, on the spot where now^Metz stands; now a
city of Lorrain. E. Long. 6. O. N. Lat. 49. 16.
DIVORCE, a breach or dissolution of the bond of
marriage. See Marriage, and Law Index.
Divorce is of two kinds: the one a vinculo matri¬
monii, which alone is properly divorce; the other, d
niensa et thoro, “ a separation from bed and board.”
T-he woman divorced d vinculo matrimonii receives
all again that she brought with her: the other has a
suitable separate maintenance allowed her out of her
husband’s effects. J he first only happens through
some essential impediment, as consanguinity or affinity
within the degrees forbidden, pre-contract, impotencv,
adultery, &c. of which impediments the canon law
allows 14, comprehended in these verses:
Error, conditio, votum, eognatio, crimen,
Gultus, dispantas, vis, ordo, ligamen, honeslas,
Si sis affinis, si forte coire nequibis.
Si parochi et duplicis desit prcesentia testis,
Raptave sit mulier, nec parti reddita tut a.
Divorce is a spiritual judgment, and therefore is
passed in the spiritual court. Under the old law, the
woman divorced was to have of her husband a writing,
as St Jerome and Josephus testify, to this effect: 1 pro¬
mise, that hereafter I will lay no claim to thee ; which
was called a bill of divorce.
Divorce was allowed of in great latitude both among
the I agans and Jews. At Rome, barrenness, age,
disease, madness, and banishment, were the ordinary
causes of divorce. Spurius Carvilius, between 500 and
600 years after the building of Rome, under the con¬
sulship of M. Attilius and P. Valerius, was the first
who put away his wife because she was barren ; though
Plutarch, in his Roman Questions, maintains, that Do-
mitian was the first who permitted divorce. Justinian
afterwards added impotence, a vow of chastity, and
the profession of a monastic life, as valid reasons of di¬
vorce.
The Roman lawyers distinguish between repudium
and dimrtium ; making the former to be the breaking
of a contract or espousal, and the latter separation af¬
ter matrimony. Romulus enacted a severe law, which
suffered not a wife to leave her husband, but gave the
man the liberty of turning off his wife, either upon
poisoning her children, counterfeiting his private keys,
or for the crime of adultery ; but if the husband on
any other occasion put her away, he ordered one moiety
of his estate for the wife, and the other to the goddess
Ceres : besides an atonement to the gods of the earth.
However, in later times, the women as well as the men
might sue a divorce. The common way of divorcing
was by sending a bill to the woman, containing the rea¬
sons of separation, and the tender of all her goods which
N n a 8he
D I V
[ 284 ]
D I V
Divorce.
Palci/'tMo-
ral and Po¬
litical Phi¬
losophy,
P» ®73*
she brought with her : and this was called repudium
mi Here ; or else it was performed in her presence, and
before seven witnesses, and accompanied with the for¬
malities of tearing the writings, refunding the portion,
taking away the keys, and turning the woman out ot
The Grecian laws concerning divorces were differ¬
ent: The Cretans allowed divorce to any man that
was afraid of having too many children. The Spartans
seldom divorced their wives 5 and it was extremely
scandalous for a woman to depart from her husband.
The Athenians allowed divorce on very small grounds,
by a bill, containing the reason of the divorce, and ap¬
proved, if the party appealed, by the chief magistrate •,
and women also were allowed to leave their husbands
on just occasions. Persons divorcing their wives were
obliged to return their portions •, otherwise, the Athe¬
nian laws obliged them to pay nine oboli a month for
alimony. The terms expressing the separation of men
and women from each other were differentthe men
were said unoxtyniii or uiroXiviii, to dismiss their
wives; but wives, uTohUTrw, to leave their husbands.
“ The law of Moses (Mr Paley observes), for rea-
sons of local expediency, permitted the Jewish husband
to put away his wife •, but whether for every cause, or
for what cause, appears to have been controverted a-
mongst the interpreters of those times. Christ, the
precepts of whose religion were calculated for more
General use and observation, revokes this permission,
as given to the Jews ‘ for their hardness of heart,’ and
promulgates a law which was thenceforward to confine
divorces to the single cause of adultery in the wife :
‘ Whosoever shall put away his wife, except it be tor
fornication, and shall marry another, committeth adul¬
tery ; and whoso marrieth her which is put away, doth
commit adultery,’ Mat. xix. 9. . . .
“ Inferior causes may justify the separation ot husband
and wife, although they will not authorize such a dis¬
solution of the marriage contract as would leave either
at liberty to marry again : for it is that liberty in
which the danger and mischief of divorces generally
consist. The law of this country, in conformity to our
Saviour’s injunction, confines the dissolution ot the
marriage contract to the single case of adultery m
the wife-, and a divorce even in that case can only be
brought about by the operation of an act ot parlia¬
ment founded upon a previous sentence in the spiritual
court, and a verdict against the adulterer at common
law : which proceedings taken together compose as com¬
plete an investigation of the complaint as a cause can
receive. It has lately been proposed to the legislature to
annex a clause to these acts, restraining the offending
party from marrying with the companion of her crime,
who by the course of proceeding is always known and
convicted j for there is reason to fear, that adulterous
connections are often formed with the prospect of bring-
ina- them to this conclusion -, at least, when the seducer
has once captivated the affection of a married woman,
he may avail himself of this tempting argument to sub¬
due her scruples, and complete his victory, and the le¬
gislature, as the business is managed at present assists
by its interposition the criminal design ol the offenders,
und confers a privilege where it ought to indict a pu¬
nishment. The proposal deserved an experiment j but
something more penal, it is apprehended, will be loun
Divnt
necessary to check the progress of this alarming depra- Divorct
vity. Whether a law might not be framed, directing
the fortune of the adultress to descend as in case of her .
natural death ; reserving, however, a certain proportion
of the produce of it, by way of annuity, for her subsistence
(such annuity in no case to exceed a certain sum) j and
also so far suspending the estate in the hands of the heir,
as to preserve the inheritance to any children she might
bear to a second marriage, in case there was none to
succeed in the place of their mother by the first : whe¬
ther such a law would not render female virtue in higher
life less vincible, as well as the seducers of that virtue
less urgent in their suit, I would recommend to the de¬
liberation of those who are willing to attempt the re¬
formation of this important but most incorrigible class
of the community. A passion for splendour, for ex¬
pensive amusements and distinctions, is commonly found
in that description of women who would become the
subject of such a law, not less inordinate than their
other appetites. A severity of the kind proposed ap¬
plies immediately to that passion. And there is no
room for any complaint of injustice, since the provisions
above stated, with others which might be contrived,
confine the punishment, so far as it is possible, to the
person of the offender j suffering the estate to remain
to the heir, or within the family of the ancestor from
whom it came, or to attend the appointments of his
will.
“ Sentences of the ecclesiastical courts, which release
the parties a vinculo matrimonii, by reason of impuherty,
frigidity, consanguinity within the prohibited degrees,
prior marriage, or want of the requisite consent of pa¬
rents or guardians, are not dissolutions of the marriage
contract, but judicial declarations that there never was
any marriage , such impediment subsisting at the time
as rendered the celebration of the marriage rite a mere
nullity. And the rite itself contains an exception of
these impediments. The man and woman to be mar¬
ried are charged, “ if they know any impediment why
they may not he lawfully joined together, to confess
it:’’ and assured, “that so many as are coupled to¬
gether, otherwise than God’s word doth allow, are not
joined together by God, neither is their matrimony
lawful all which is intended by way of solemn no¬
tice to the parties, that the vow they are about to make
will bind their consciences and authorize their cohabi¬
tation only upon the supposition that no legal impedi¬
ment exist.” . .
DIURETICS (from by, and ifge», urine,) medi¬
cines which provoke a discharge by urine.
Such is water drank plentifully 5 white wine drank
in a morning j alkaline salts of all kinds j sea salt,
sal gemmae, nitre, borax, alum, tartar, sal ammoniac,
whey, sour milk, lemon juice, &c. Aqueous liquors
are generally diuretic, especially if mixed with salt,
and drank cold. Fermented liquors are the least diu¬
retic of all ; and the less so, as they are the fatter.
Sharp thin sour wines, Rhenish, &c. as also acid spirits
of vinegar, salt, sulphur, alum, vitriol, 8tc. asparagus,
bitter almonds, smallage, eryngium, eupatorium, sassa¬
fras, &c. are all diuretics.
DIURNAL, in Astronomy, something relating to
day in opposition to nocturnal, which regards the
night. .
DIVUS, Diva, in antiquity, appellations given to
DOB
men and women who had been deified, or placed in the
number of the gods. See Deification, &c.
Hence it is, that on medals struck for the consecra¬
tion of an emperor or empress, they give them the
title of divus or diva : for example, DIVUS JULIUS.
DIVO ANTONINO PIO. DIVO PIO. DIVO
CLAUDIO. DIVA FAUSTINA AUG. &c.
DIZZINESS, in Medicine. See Vertigo.
DO, in Music, a note of the Italian scale, corres¬
ponding to ut of the common gammut. See Music.
DOBSON, William, an eminent English portrait
and history painter, born at London in 1610. He
served an apprenticeship with one Peck a stationer
and picture-dealer j and owed his improvement to the
copying some pictures of Titian and Van Dyck, whose
manner he always retained. He had farther obliga¬
tions to the latter of these artists $ for it is said, that a
picture of his painting being exposed at a shop on
Snow-hill, Van Dyck passing by was struck with it
exceedingly j and inquiring after the author, found him
at work in a poor garret. Van Dyck had the gene¬
rosity to equip him in a manner suitable to his merit.
He presented him to King Charles I. who took him un¬
der his protection, kept him with him at Oxford all
the time his majesty continued in that city, and not
only sat to him several times for his picture, but caused
the prince of Wales, Prince Rupert, and most of the
lords of his court to do so too. Mr Dobson, however,
being somewhat loose and irregular iu his way of life,
was far from improving the many opportunities he had
of making his fortune; and died very poor in 1647, at
his house in St Martin’s Lane.
.DOBUNI, or Boduni ; an ancient people of Bri¬
tain, who possessed the territory which now forms the
counties of Oxford and Gloucester. Both the names
of this British nation seem to have been derived from
the low situation of a great part of the country which
they inhabited: for both Davn and Bodun signify
“ profound” or “ low,” in the ancient language of
Gaul and Britain. I he Dobuni are not mentioned
among the British nations who resisted the Romans
under Julius Coesar, which was probably owing to the
distance of their country from the scene of action ; and
before the next invasion under Claudius, they had been
so much oppressed by their ambitious neighbours the
Cattivellauni, that they submitted with pleasure to the
Romans, in order to be delivered from that oppression.
Cogidunus, who was at that time (as his name im¬
ports) prince of the Dobuni, recommended himself so
effectually to the favour of the emperor Claudius, by
his ready submission, and other means, that he was not
only continued in the government of his own territo¬
ries, but had some other states put under bis authority.
This prince lived so long, and remained so steadily a
friend and ally to the Romans, that bis subjects, be-
[ 285 ]
DOC
thirteenth iter of Antoninus, stood where the city of
Gloucester now stands ; and Abone, in the fourteenth
iter, was probably situated at Avinton on the Severn.
The country of the Dobuni was comprehended in the
Roman province Britannia Prima.
DOCEliE (from ^ukh'j, to appear'), in ecclesiasti¬
cal history, the followers of Julius Cassianus, one of the
Valentinian sect, towards the close of the second cen¬
tury, who revived a notion that bad been adopted by
a branch of the Gnostics, against whom St John, Ig¬
natius, and Polycarp, had asserted the truth of the in¬
carnation. They believed and taught, as their name
imports, that the actions and sufferings of Jesus Christ
were not in reality, but only in appearance.
DOCIMASIA, in Greek antiquity, a probation of
the magistrates and persons employed in public busi¬
ness at Athens. It was performed publicly in the fo¬
rum, where they were obliged to give account of
themselves and their past life before certain judges.
Among several questions proposed to them, we find the
following: Whether they had been dutif ul to their
parents, had served in the wars, and had a competent
estate ?
DOCIMASTIC art, a name given to the art of
essaying, by operations in small, the nature and quan¬
tity of metallic or other matters which may be obtained
from mineral or other compound bodies. See Refining
and Metallurgy.
DOCIMENUM marmor, a name given by the
ancients to a species of marble of a bright and clear
white, much used in large and sumptuous buildings,
such as temples and the like. It had its name from
Docunenos, a city of Phrygia, afterwards called Synaia;
near which it was dug, and from whence it was sent
to Rome. It was accounted little inferior to the Pa¬
rian in colour, but not capable of so elegant a polish ;
whence it was less used by the statuaries, or in other
smaller works. The emperor Adrian is said to have
used this marble in building the temple of Jupiter ;
and many of the great works of the Romans are con¬
structed of the same materials.
DOCK, in Botany. See Rumex, Botany Index.
Dock, in the manege, is used for a large case of
leather, as long as the dock of a horse’s tail, which
serves it for a cover. The French call the dock
troussequeue. It is made fast by straps to the crupper,
and has leathern thongs that pass between his thighs,
and along his flanks to the saddle straps, in order to
keep the tail tight, and to hinder it from whisking
about.
Dock, in maritime affairs, a sort of broad and deep
trench formed on the side of a harbour, or on the
banks of a river; and commodiously fitted either to
build ships or receive them to be repaired a^nd breamed
therein. These sort of docks have generally strong
ing habituated to their obedience in his time, never flood-gates to prevent the flux of the tide from enter
revolted, nor stood in need of many forts or forces to ing the dock while the ship is under repair.—Ther
keep them in subjection. This is c " ' ' 1
keep them in subjection. This is certainly the reason
that we meet with so few Roman towns and stations in
the country anciently inhabited by tbe Dobuni. The
Durocornovium of Antoninus, and the Corinium of
Ptolemy, are believed by antiquaries to have been the
same place, the capital of the Dobuni, and situated at
Cirencester in Gloucestershire, where there are many
marks of a Roman station. Clevum or Glevum, in the
are likewise docks of another kind, called wet docks,
where a ship can only be cleaned during the recess of
the tide, or in the interval between the time when the
tide left her dry aground, and the period when it a-
gain reaches her by the return of the flood. Docks
of the latter kind are not furnished with the usual flood-*
gates. See the article Dock, Supplement.
DocK-Tards, certain magazines containing all sorts
of
Duliimi
!!
Dock¬
yards.
DOC [ 286 ]
Duck-yards, of naval stores and timber for sbip-builrllng. tn Eng-
Doctor, land, the royal dock-yards are at Chatham, Portsmouth,
w v 1 p]vmouth, Deptford, Woolwich, and .Sheerness. His
majesty’s ships and vessels of war are generally moored
at these ports during the time of peace } and such as
want repairing are taken into the docks, examined, and
refitted for service.
The principal dock-yards are governed by a com¬
missioner, resident at the port 5 who superintends all
the musters of the officers, artificers, and labourers, em¬
ployed in the dock-yard and ordinary. He also con-
trouls their payments therein 5 examines their accounts j
contracts, and draw bills on the navy-office to supply
the deficiency of stores ; and, finally, regulates what¬
ever belongs to the dock-yard, maintaining due order
in the respective offices.
These yards are generally supplied from the northern
crowns with hemp, pitch, tar, rosin, canvas, oak plank,
and several other species. See the plan and fitting up
of a dock-yard. See the article Dockyards in the
Supplement.
DOCTOR, a person who has passed all the degrees
of a faculty, and is empowered to teach or practise the
same : thus we say, doctor in divinity, doctor in phy¬
sic, doctor of laws.
The establishment of the doctorate, such as now in
use among us, is ordinarily attributed to Irnerius, who
himself drew up the formulary. The first ceremony
of this kind was performed at Bologna, in the person
of Bulgarus, who began to profess the Roman law,
and on that occasion was solemnly promoted to the doc-
torax, i. e. installed juris utriiisque doctor. But the cu¬
stom was soon transferred from the faculty ot law to
that of theology •, the first instance whereof was given
in the university of Paris, where Peter Lombard and
Gilbert de la Portree, the two chief divines of those
days, were created doctors in theology, sacrce theologies
doctores.
Spelman takes the title of doctor not to have com¬
menced till after the publication of Lombard’s sen¬
tences, about the year 1140? an(! affirms, that such
as explained that work to their scholars were the first
that had the appellation of doctors. Others go much
higher, and hold Bede to have been the first doctor at
Cambridge, and John de Beverley at Oxford, which
latter died in the year 721. But Spelman will not al¬
low doctor to have been the name of any title or de¬
gree in England till the reign of King John, about the
year I2C>7« . .
' To pass doctor in divinity at Oxford, it is necessary
the candidate have been four years bachelor of divinity.
For doctor of laws, he must have been seven years in
the university to commence bachelor ot law ; five years
after which he may be admitted doctor of laws. O-
therwise, in three years after taking the degree of
master of arts, he may take the degree of bachelor.in
law *, and in four years more, that of LL. D. which
same method and time are likewise required to pass the
degree of doctor in physic. .
At Cambridge, to take the degree of doctor in di¬
vinity, it is required the candidate have been seven
years bachelor of divinity: Though in several of the
colleges the taking of the bachelor of divinity’s degree
is dispensed with, and they may go out per saltum. To
commence doctor in laws, the candidate must have
if Boddij
D O D
been five years bachelor of law, or seven years master E0ctei
of arts. To pass doctor in physic, he must have been
bachelor in physic five years, or seven years master of
arts. A doctor of the civil law may exercise ecclesi-
astical jurisdiction, though a layman, stat. 37 Hen. VII
cap. 17. sect. 4.
Doctor of the Law, a title of honour among the
Jews. The investiture, if we may so say, of this order,
was performed by putting a key and table book, in
their hands ; which is what some authors imagine our
Saviour had in view, Luke xi. 52. when, speaking of
the doctors of the law, he says, “ Wo unto you, doc¬
tors of the law, for you have taken away the key of
knowledge : you entered not in yourselves, and them
that were entering you hindered.”
Doctor of the Church, a title given to certain of the
fathers whose doctrines and opinions have been the most
generally followed and authorized. We usually reckon
four doctors of the Greek church, and three of the La¬
tin. The first are, St Athanasius, St Basil, St Gregory
Nazianzen, and St Chrysostom. The latter are St
Jerome, St Augustine, and Gregory the Great. In the
Roman breviary there is a particular office for the doc¬
tors. It only differs from that of the confessors, by the
anthem of the Magnificat, and the lessons.
Doctor, is also an appellation adjoined to several
specific epithets, expressing the merit of some of the
schoolmen : thus, Alexander Hales is called the irre¬
fragable doctor5 Thomas Aquinas, the angelic doctor}
St Bonaventure, the seraphic doctor} John Duns Sco-
tus, the subtile doctor} Raimond Lully, the illuminated
doctor} Roger Bacon, the admirable doctor, &c.
Doctor, in the Greek church, is a par¬
ticular officer, appointed to interpret part of the scrip¬
tures. He who interprets the gospels, is called doctor
of the Gospel; he who interprets St Paul’s Epistles,
doctor of the Apostles; he who interprets the Psalms,
doctor of the Psalter.
Doctors Commons. See College of Civilians.
DOCUMENT, in Law, some written monument
produced in any thing asserted.
DODARTIA, a genus of plants belonging to the
didynamia class } and in the natural method ranking
under the 40th order, Personatee. See Botany
Index.
DODD, Dr William, an unfortunate English di¬
vine, eldest son of the Rev. William Dodd, many years
vicar of Bourne in Lincolnshire, was born May 29.
1729. He was sent, at the age of 16, to the uni¬
versity of Cambridge } and admitted in the year 1745
a sizer of Clare-Hall. In 1749-50 he took the degree
of B. A. with great honour, being upon that occasion
in the list of wranglers. Leaving the university, he
imprudently married a Miss Mary Perkins in I75I»
was ordained a deacon the same year, priest in 1753,
and soon became a celebrated and popular preacher.
His first preferment was the lectureship of West-Ham.
In 1754 he also was chosen lecturer of St Olave’s,
Hart-street} and in 1757 took the degree of M. A.
at Cambridge. On the foundation of the Magdalen
Hospital in 1758, he was a strenuous supporter of that
charity, and soon after became preacher at the chapel
of it. Bv the patronage of Bishop Squire, he in 1763
obtained a prebend of Bi’econ, and by the interest of
some city friends procured himself to be appointed one
of
BOD [ 287 ] DOB
'Dodd of the king’s chaplains; soon after which he had the
II education of the earl of Chesterfield committed to
J ;ldridge j,;s care> In 1766 |ie went to Cambridge and took
* the degree of LL. D. At this period, the estima¬
tion in which he was held by the world was sufficient
to give him the expectations of preferment, and hopes
of riches and honours $ and these he might probably
have acquired had he possessed a common portion of
prudence and discretion. But, impatient of his situa¬
tion, and eager for advancement, he rashly fell upon
means which in the end were the occasion of his ruin.
On the living of St George, Hanover Square, becom¬
ing vacant, he wrote an anonymous letter to the chan¬
cellor’s lady, offering 3000 guineas, if by her assistance
he was promoted to it. This being traced to him, com¬
plaint was immediately made to the king, an d Dr Dodd
was dismissed with disgrace from his office of chaplain.
From this period he lived neglected, if not despised j
■hoVt an^ h‘s extravagance still continuing, he became in.
x'.cfotcs volved in difficulties, which tempted him to forge a
< Boyer, bond from his late pupil Lord Chesterfield, Feb. 4.
17775 for 4200I. which he actually received : but be¬
ing detected, he was tried at the Old Bailey, found
guilty, and received sentence of death ; and in spite
of every application for mercy, was executed at Ty¬
burn, June 27. 1777. Dr Dodd was a voluminous
writer, and possessed considerable abilities, with little
judgment and much vanity. An accurate list of his
various writings is prefixed to his “ Thoughts in Pri¬
son,” edit. 1781.
DODDER. See Cuscuta, Botany Index.
DODDRIDGE, Philip, D. D. an eminent Pres¬
byterian minister, was the son of Daniel Doddridge an
oilman in London, where he was born on the 26th of
June 1702*, and having completed the study of the
classics in several schools, was in 1719 placed under
the tuition of the reverend Mr John Jennings, who
kept an academy at Kilworth in Leicestershire. He
was first settled as a minister at Kilworth, where he
preached to a small congregation in an obscure village:
but, on Mr Jennings’s death, succeeded to the care of
his academy •, and soon after was chosen minister of a
large congregation of Dissenters at Northampton, to
which he removed his academy, and where the number
of his pupils increased. He instructed his pupils with
the freedom and tenderness of a father ; and never ex¬
pected nor desired that they should blindly follow his
sentiments, but encouraged them to judge for them¬
selves. He checked any appearance of bigotry and un¬
charitableness, and endeavoured to cure them by show¬
ing what might be said in defence of those principles
they disliked. He died at Lisbon, whither he went for
the recovery of his health j and his remains were inter¬
red in the burying-ground belonging to the British fac¬
tory there, and a handsome monument was erected to
his memory in the meeting-house at Northampton, at
the expence of the congregation, on which is an epitaph
written by Gilbert Meat, Esq. He wrote, 1. Free
Thoughts on the most probable means of reviving the
Dissenting Interest. 2. The Life of Colonel James
Gardiner. 3. Sermons on the Education of Children.
4. The Rise and Progress of Religion in the Soul.
5. The Family Expositor, in 6 vols 410. &c. And since
the author’s death, a volume of his hymns has been
published, and his Theological Lectures. Several of
his vvorks have been translated into Dutch, German, Doddrickv
«ind French. ||
DODECAGON, in Geometry, a regular polygon D»dona.
consisting of tYvelve equal sides and angles. y 1
DODECAHEDRON, in Geometry, one of the pla¬
tonic bodies, or regular solids, contained under twelv’e
equal and regular pentagons.
DODEC ANDRIA, (from twelve, and «vn£,
a man) ; the name ot the eleventh class in Linnseus’s
sexual system, consisting of plants with hermaphrodite
noYvers, that, according to the title, have twelve stami¬
na or male organs. This class, however, is not limited
Yvith respect to the number of stamina. Many genera
have sixteen, eighteen, and even nineteen, stamina ; the
essential character seems to be, that in the class in que¬
stion, the stamina, however numerous, are inserted into
the receptacle ; whereas in the next class, icosandria,
Yvhich is as little determined in point of number as the
piesent, they are attached to the inside of the calyx or
flower-cup.
I he orders of this class, which are six, are founded
upon the number of the styles, or female organs. A-
sarabacca, mangostan, storax, purple loosestrife, wild
Syrian rue, and purslain, have only one style ; agrimo¬
ny and heliocarpus have tYvo ; burning thorny plant,
and bastard rocket, three ; glims, five ; illicium, eight;
and house leek, twelve.
DODECAS, a genus of plants belonging to the do-
decandria class. See Botany Index.
DODECATHEON, a genus of plants belonging
to- the pentandria class $ and in the natural method
ranking under the 2ist order, Precice. See Botany
Index.
DODO. See Didus, Ornithology Index.
DODONA, a town of Thesprotia in Epirus, or
(according to others) in Thessaly. There tvas in its
neighbourhood a celebrated oracle of Jupiter. The
to\vn and temple of the god were first built by Deu¬
calion, after the universal deluge. It was supposed to
be the most ancient oracle of all Greece ; and accord¬
ing to the traditions of the Egyptians mentioned by
Herodotus, it was founded by a dove. Two black
doves, as he relates, took their flight from the city of
Thebes in Egypt ; one of which fleiv to the temple of
Jupiter Ammon, and the other to Dodona, Yvhere
Yvith a human voice they acquainted the inhabitants
of the country that Jupiter had consecrated the ground,
which in future ivould give oracles. The extensive
grove Yvhich surrounded Jupiter’s temple was endowed
Yvith the gift of prophecy ; and oracles were frequent¬
ly delivered by the sacred oaks and the doves which in¬
habited the place. This fabulous tradition of the ora¬
cular power of the doves is explained by Herodotus,
Yvho observes that some Phenicians carried away tivo
priestesses from Egypt, one of Yvhich Yvent to fix her
residence at Dodona, Yvhere the oracle Yvas established.
It may farther be observed, that the fable might have
been founded upon the double meaning of the Yvord
rtXuxi, which signifies doves in most parts of Greece,
while in the dialect of the Epirots it implies old wo¬
men. In ancient times the oracles Yvere delivered by
the murmuring of a neighbouring fountain ; but the
custom Yvas aftenvards changed. Large kettles Yvere
suspended in the air near a brazen statue, which held
a lash in its hand. When the wind blew strong, the
statue
BOD [ 288 ] DOG
itated and struck against one of the ket- man Life, a work which acquired considerable cele- Do*der
(] ties, which communicated the motion to all the rest,
Dodslcy. an(i raiSed that clattering and discordant din, which
 * ' continued for a while, and from which the artifice of
the priests drew the predictions. Some suppose that
the noise was occasioned by the shaking of the leaves
and boughs of an old oak, which the superstition of
the people frequently consulted, and from which they
pretended to receive oracles. It may be observed,
with more probability, that the oracles were delivered
by the priests, who, by artfully concealing themselves
behind the oaks, gave occasion to the superstitious
multitude to believe that the trees were endowed
with the power of prophecy. As the ship Argo was
built with some of the oaks ot the forest of Dodona,
there were some beams which gave oracles to the A1 -
gonauts, and warned them against the approach or
calamity. Within the forest of Dodona there was a
stream and a fountain of cool water which had the
power of lighting a torch as soon as it touched it.
This fountain was totally dry at noon day, and was re¬
stored to its full course at midnight, from which time
till the following noon it began to decrease, and at
the usual hour was again deprived of its waters. I he
oracles of Dodona were generally delivered by women.
DODONiEA, a genus of plants belonging to the
octandria class. See BoTANY index.
DODONIAN, {Dodonceus), in antiquity, an epi¬
thet given to Jupiter, because he was worshipped in a
temple- built in the forest of Dodona, where was
the most famous, and (it is said) the most ancient,
oracle of all Oreece. See Dodona. #
DODONIDES, the priestesses who gave oracles in
the temple of Jupiter iu Dodona. According to some
traditions the temple was originally inhabited by seven
daughters of Atlas, who nursed Bacchus. Their names
were Ambrosia, Eudora, Pasithoe, Pytho, Plexaure,
Coronis, Tythe or Tyche. In the latter ages the ora¬
cles were always delivered by three old women j which
custom was first established when Jupiter enjoyed the
company of Dione, whom he permitted to receive di¬
vine honour in his temple at Dodona. Ihe Boeotians
vyere the only people of Greece who received their ora¬
cles at Dodona from men, for reasons which Strabo,
1. 9. fully explains.
DODRANS, in antiquity, three-fourths of the as.
See the article As.
DODSLEY, Robert, an eminent bookseller, and
ingenious writer, born at Mansfield in Nottingham¬
shire, in the year 1703. He was not indebted to
education for his literary fame, being originally a li¬
very servant ; but his natural genius, and early passion
for reading, soon elevated him to a superior station.
He wrote an elegant little satirical farce called The Toy¬
shop, which was acted with applause in 1735, and which
recommended him to the patronage of Mr Pope. The
following year he produced the King and Miller of
Mansfield. The profits of these two farces enabled
him to commence bookseller, and his own merit pro¬
cured him eminence in that profession. He wrote some
other dramatic pieces, and published a collection of Ins
works jn one vol. 8vo, under the modest title of I nfies *,
which was followed by Public Virtue, a poem in 4to.
Mr Dodsley was the author of the Economy ol Hu-
brity j but ior this, it is supposed to nave neen in- ti
debted to the mistaken opinion which long prevailed ot L .
its being the production of Lord Chesterfield.
DODWELL, Henry, a very learned controversial
writer, born at Dublin, but of English extraction, in
1641. He wrote an incredible number of tracts: but
his services were so little acknowledged, that Bishop
Burnet and others accuse him of doing more hurt than
good to the cause ol Christianity, by his indiscreet love
of paradoxes and novelties, and thus exposing himself
to the scofis of unbelievers. His pamphlet on the im¬
mortality of the soul gave rise to the well known con¬
troversy between Mr Collins and Dr Clark on that sub¬
ject. He died in lyii*
DOESBURG, a town of the United Provinces, in
the county of Zutpben and province of Guelderland.
It is small, but well peopled, and very strong both by
art and nature, having the river Yssel on one side, and
a morass on the other, and is only to be approached by
a narrow neck of land. E. Long. 5. 55. N. Lat. 52. 3*
DOG, in Zoology, an animal remarkable for its
natural docility, fidelity, and affection for bis master *,
which qualities mankind are careful to improve for
their own advantage. These useful creatures guard our
houses, gardens, and cattle, with spirit and vigilance.
By their help we are enabled to take not only beasts,
but birds*, and ta pursue game both over land and
through the waters. In some northern countries, they
serve to draw sledges, and are also employed to carry
burdens. In several parts of Africa, China, and by
the West Indian negroes, dogs are eaten, and account¬
ed excellent food. Nay, we have the testimony of Mr
Forster, that dogs flesh, in taste, exactly resembles mut¬
ton *. They were also used as food by the Romans,* See^
and long before them by the Greeks, as we learn fromr!Cfl> V?
several treatises of Hippocrates. In the present times,
their skins, dressed with the hair on, are used in muffs,
made into a kind of buskins for persons in the gout,
and for other purposes. Prepared in another way, they
are used for ladies gloves, and the linings of masks, be¬
ing thought to make the skin peculiarly white and
smooth. The French import many of these skins from
Scotland, under a small duty. Here, when tanned,
they serve for upper leathers for neat pumps. Dogs
skins dressed are exported under a small, and imported
under a high duty. The French import from Denmark
large quantities of dogs hair, both white and black.
The last is esteemed the best, and is worked up in the
black list of a particular kind of woollen cloth j but is
not used, as many have supposed, in making of hats,
being entirely unfit for this purpose.
With regard to the qualities of dogs, those bred in
the island of Britain are justly reckoned superior to the
dogs bred in any other country. The swiftness of the
qreyhound is amazing *, as are also the steadiness and
perseverance of other hounds and beagles ; the boldness
of terriers in unearthing foxes, &c.; the sagacity of
pointers and setting dogs, who are taught a language
by signs as intelligible to sportsmen as speech ; and the
invincible spirit of a hull dog, which can he quelled
only by death.—All the nations in Europe not only do
justice to the superior qualities of the British dogs, hut
adopt our terms and names, and thankfully receive the
creatures
/
DOG [ :
p0jr, creatures as presents.—It is remarkable, however, that
—v——' almost every kind of British dogs degenerates in foreign
countries; nor is it possible to prevent this degeneracy
ct‘ by any art whatever.
For the natural history of the dog, see Canis, Mam¬
malia Index.
Choosing of Dogs.—In order to choose adogand bitch
for good whelps, take care that the bitch come of a
generous kind, be well proportioned, having large ribs
and flanks j and likewise that the dog be of a good
breed and young, for a young dog and an old bitch
breed excellent whelps.
The best time for hounds nitches, or bratches, to
be lined in, are the months of January, February, and
March. The bitch should be used to a kennel, that
she may like it after her whelping, and she ought to be
kept warm. Let the whelps be weaned after two
months old ; and though it be some difficulty to choose
a whelp under the dam that will prove the best of the
litter, yet some approve that which is last, and account
him to be the best. Others remove the whelps from
the kennel, and lay them severally anti apart one from
the other ; then they watch which of them the bitch
first takes and carries into her kennel again, and that
they suppose to be the best. Others again imagine
that, which weighs least when it sucks to be the best :
this is certain, that the lighter whelp will prove the
swifter. As soon as the bitch has littered, it. is proper
to choose them you intend to preserve, and drown the
rest: keep the black, brown, or of one colour ; for the
spotted are not much to be esteemed, though of hounds
the spotted are to be valued.
^ Hounds for chase are to be chosen by their colours.
The white, with black ears, and a black spot at the set¬
ting on of the tail, are the most principal to compose a
kennel of, and of good scent and condition. The black
hound, or the blacic tanned, or the all liver-coloured or
all white . the true talbots are the best of the stronger
line ; the grizzled, whether mixed or unmixed, so they
be shag-haired, are the best verminers, and a couple
of these are proper for a kennel.—In short, take these
marks of a good hound : That his head be a middle
proportion, rather long than round ; his nostrils wide,
his ears large, his back bowed $ his fillet great, his
haunches large, thighs well trussed, ham strait, tail big
near the reins, the rest slender; the leg big, the sole
of the foot dry, and in the form of that of a fox, with
large claws.
Keeping Dogs m Health.—As pointers and spaniels,
when good of their kinds and well broken, are very
valuable to a sportsman, it is worth while to take some
care to preserve them in health. This very much de¬
pends on their diet and lodging : frequent cleaning
their kennels, and giving them fresh straw to lie on, is
very necessary ; or, in summer time, deal shavings,
or sand, instead of straw, will check the breeding of
fleas. If you rub your dog with chalk, and brush
and comb him once or twice a-week, he will thrive
much the better ; the chalk will clear his skin from
ad greasiness, and he will be the less liable to be
mangy. A dog is of a very hot nature: he should
therefore never be without clean water by him, that
he may drink when he is thirsty. In regard to their
food, carrion is 1)y no means proper for them ; it must
hurt their sense of smelling, on which the excellence
>rOL. VII. Part I. v +
89 ] DOG
of these clogs greatly depends. Barley meal, the dross „ .
ol wheat flour, or both mixed together, with broth or' .’d
skimmed milk, is very proper food. For change, a Sport*.
small quantity of greaves from which the tallow is1^-
pressed by the chandlers, mixed with flour, or sheep’s
feet well baked or boiled, are a very good diet:
and when you indulge them with flesh, it should always
be boiled. In the season of hunting your dovs, it is
proper to feed them in the evening before, a°id give
them nothing in the morning you intend to take them
out except a little milk. If you stop for your own re¬
freshment in the day, you should also refresh your dogs
with a little bread and milk. It has been already ob¬
served that dogs are of a hot constitution ; the greatest
relief to them in the summer is twitch-grass or dog-
grass, which is the same thing. You should therefore
plant some of it in a place where you can turn them into
every morning : they will feed freely on it to be cured
ol the sickness they are subject to, and cured of any
extraordinary heat of blood : but unless the grass be of
this sort, it will have no effect.
Diseases of Dogs.— \. Bites and Stings. If dogs
are bitten by any venomous creatures, as snakes, ad¬
ders, &c. squeeze out the blood, and wash the place
witli salt and urine ; then lay a plaster to it made of
calamint, pounded in a mortar, with turpentine and
jellovv wax, till it come to a salve. If you give your
dog some of the juice of calamint to drink in milk, it
will be good ; or an ounce of treacle dissolved in some
sweet wine.
1. Mange.—Dogs are subject to the mange from
be.ng fed too high, and allowed no exercise or an op¬
portunity of refreshing themselves with dog-grass ; or
by being starved at home, which will cause them to
eat the vilest stufi abroad, such as carrion, or even hu¬
man excrement ; or by want of water, and sometimes
by not being kept clean in their kennel, or by founder¬
ing and melting in their grease. Either of these will
heat toe blood to a great degree, which will have a
tendency to make them mangy. The cure may be ef¬
fected by giving stone brimstone powdered fine, either
in milk or mixed up with butter, and rubbing them
well every day for a week with an ointment made of
some of the brimstone and pork lard, to which add a
small quantity of oil of turpentine. Or, boil four
ounces of quicksilver in two quarts of water to half the
quantity ; bathe them every day with this water, and
let them have some of it to lick till the cure is perfect¬
ed. Or, a small quantity of trooper’s ointment rubbed
on the parts on its first appearance will cure it. It
will also free lousy puppies from their lice. Or, take
two ounces of euphorbium ; flour of sulphur, Flan¬
ders oil of bays, and soft soap, each four ounces.
Anoint and rub your dog with it every other day;
give him warm milk, and no water. The cure will be
performed in about a week. The following receipt is
also said to be efficacious. Take two handfuls of wild
cresses, and as much elecampane, and also of the leaves
and roots of roerb and sorrel, and two pounds of the
roots of fodrels : boil all these well together in lye
and vinegar; strain the decoction, and put into it two
pounds of gray soap, and when it is melted, rub the
dog with it four or five days successively, and it will
cure him.
3. Poison.—If you suspect your dog to be poisoned
0 0 with
Sportt.
Diet.
DOG [29
with mix vomica (the poison usually employed by the
warreners, which causes convulsive fits and soon kills),
the most effectual remedy, if immediately applied, is
to give him a good deal of common salt 5 to admini¬
ster which, you may open his mouth, and put a stick,
across to prevent the shutting it, whilst you cram his
throat full of salt, at the same time holding his mouth
upwards •, and it will dissolve so that a sufficient quan¬
tity will be swallowed to purge and vomit him. When
his stomach is sufficiently cleared by a free passage
obtained by stool, give him some warm broth frequent¬
ly, to prevent his expiring from faintness 5 and he will
recover.
4. Worms.—Dogs are very frequently troubled with
worms } but more particularly whilst they are young.
Any thing bitter is so nauseous to these worms, that
they are very often voided by taking two or three
purges of aloes ; or (which is the same thing) Scots
pills, four or five being a dose for a large dog : this is
to be repeated two or three times in a week. If this
do not succeed, you may give him an ounce of powder
of tin mixed up with butter, in three doses j which sel¬
dom fails to cure. Or, of the herb savin, dried and
rubbed to powder, give about as much as will lie on a
shilling for a dose ; which will entirely destroy worms
and their seed.
r. Sore Feet.—A pointer ought not to be hunted
oftener than two or three days in a week •, and unless
you take care of his feet, and give him good lodging
as well as proper food, he will not be able to perform
that through the season. You should therefore, after a
hard day’s hunting, wash his feet with warm water and
salt*, and when dry, wash them with warm broth, or
beer and butter, which will heal their soreness, and
prevent a settled stiffness from fixing.
6. Strains, Blows, or Small Wounds.—If your dog
has received any little wounds by forcing through
hedges, or gets any lameness from a blow or strain j
bathe the wound or grieved part with salt and cold
vinegar (for warming it only evaporates the fine spi¬
rit) ; and when dry, it a wound, you may pour in it a
little friar’s balsam, which will perform the cure sooner
than any method hitherto experienced.
7. Coughs and Co/*.—Dogs are very subject to a
cough, with an extraordinary choking, which is thought
to arise generally from a cold or some inward disorder ^
and probably it is often occasioned by their eating of
fish bones. To guard against it, order your servants
to throw all such fish bones where the dogs cannot get
at them. But if the disorder be from a cold, let bleed¬
ing be repeated in small quantities if necessary, but if
it be what is called the distemper in dogs, and they ap¬
pear to be very low in spirits, the bleeding is better
omitted. Let meat broth, or milk broth warmed, be
the principal part of his diet, using at the same time
the following medicine. Take flour of sulphur, cold
drawn linseed oil, and saltpetre, of each an ounce 5 di¬
vide it into four doses, giving him one dose every other
day, and let him have plenty of clean straw to lie on j
or one spoonful of honey daily.
Dog-Madness.—Of this there are no less than seven
sorts common among dogs. The chief causes are, high
feeding, want of exercise, fulness of blood, and costive¬
ness. As for the two first, you must observe when
you hunt them, that they should be better fed than
z
3 DOG
when they rest and let them be neither too fat nor Bo*.
too lean ; but, of the two, rather fat than lean *, by ' 
which means they will not only be preserved from mad-^1*-
ness, but also from the mange and scab: which diseasesiJ,c '
they will be subject to for want of air, water, or exer¬
cise : but if you have but the knowledge to keep them
in an even temper, they may live long and continue
sound. As for water, they should be left to their own
pleasure *, but for exercise and diet, it must be, ordered
according to discretion, observing a medium. Give
them once a-week, especially in the heat of the year,
five or six spoonfuls of salad oil, which will cleanse
them : at other times, the quantity of a harel nut of
mithridate is an excellent thing to prevent diseases. It
is also very good to bleed them under the tongue, and
behind the ears.
The symptoms of madness are many and easily dis¬
cerned. When any dog separates himself contrary to
his former use, becomes melancholy or droops his head,
forbears eating, and as he runs snatches at every thing ^
if he often looks upwards, and his stem at his setting
on be a little erect, and the rest hanging down } if his
eyes be red, his breath strong, his voice hoarse, and he
drivels and foams at the mouth ; yon may be assured
he has this distemper. .
The seven sorts of madness are as follows *, of which
the two first are incurable. I. The hot burning mad¬
ness. 2. The running madness. The animals labour¬
ing under these are peculiarly dangerous j for all things
they bite and draw blood from will have the same dis¬
temper ", and they generally seize on all they meet with,,
but chiefly on dogs. Their pain is so great it soon kills
them.—The five curable madnesses are,
3. Sleeping Madness, so called from the dog’s great
drowsiness, and almost continual sleeping. I his is caused
by the little worms that breed in the mouth ot the sto¬
mach, from corrupt humours, vapours, and fumes which
ascend to the head ", for cure of which, take six ounces
of the juice of wormwood, two ounces of the powder
of hartshorn burnt, and two drams of agaric j mix all
these together in a little white wine, and give it the
dog to drink in a drenching horn.
4. Dumb Madness, lies also in the blood, and causes
the dog not to feed, but to hold his mouth always wide
open, frequently putting his feet to his mouth, as if he
had a bone in his’throat*, to cure this, take the juice of
black hellebore, the juice of spatula putrida, and of rue,
of each four ounces ; strain them well, and put thereto
two drachms of unprepared seammony, and being mix¬
ed well together, put it down the dog’s throat with a
drenching horn, keeping his head up for some time, lest
he cast it out again ", then bleed him in the mouth, y
cutting two or three veins in his gums. _
It is said, that about eight drachms of the juice of an
herb called hartshorn or dog's tooth, being given to the
dog, cures all sorts of madness. r
5. Lank Madness, is so called by reason of the dog s
leanness and pining away. For cure, give them a purge
as before directed, and also bleed them > but some say
there is no cure for it. .
6. Rheumatic or slavering madness, occasions the
dog’s head to swell, his eyes to look yellow, and he will
be always slavering and drivelling at the mouth. Io
cure which, take four ounces of the powder of the roots
of polipody of the oak, six ounces of the juice of fennel
I Dm;
H
[Ooze.
DOG [291
roots, with the like quantity of the roots of misletoe, low
and four ounces of the juice of ivy j boil all these to¬
gether in white wine, and give it to the dog as hot as
he can take it, in a drenching horn.
7. Falling madness, is so termed because it lies in the
dog’s head, and makes him reel as he goes, and to fall
down. For the cure, take four ounces of the juice of
bryony, and the same quantity of the juice of peony,
with four drachms of stavesacre pulverized ; mix these
together, and give it the dog in a drenching horn ; also
let him blood in the ears, and in the two veins that
come down his shoulders ■, and indeed bleeding is ne¬
cessary for all sorts of madness in dogs.
When a dog happens to be bit by a mad one, there
is nothing better than their licking the place with their
own tongues, if they can reach it; if not, then let it be
washed with butter and vinegar, made lukewarm, and
let it afterwards be anointed with Venice turpentine ;
] DOG
He gives audience to ambassadors j but does not Doge
give them any answer from himself, in matters of any 11
importance; only he is allowed to answer according P0it|>iat?sty.
to his own pleasure, to the compliments they make to v
the signory ; sucn answers being of no consequence.
I he doge, as being first magistrate, is bead of all the
councils ; and the credentials which the senate fur¬
nishes its ministers in foreign courts, are written in his
name : and yet he does not sign them ; but a secretary
of state signs them, and seals them with the arms of the
republic. The ambassadors direct their dispatches to
the doge, and yet he may not open them but in pre-
sence of the counsellors. The money is struck in the
doge’s name, but not with his stamp or arms. All the
magistrates rise, and salute the doge when he comes
into council ; and the doge rises to none but foreign
ambassadors. a
The doge nominates to all the benefices in the
, . . 11 ,1 * • c , ~ r    uuiuiiiaies 10 an tne benefices in the
but, above all, take the juice of the stalks of strong to- church of St Mark ; he is protector of the monastery
bacco boiled in water, and bathe the place therewith •. dell* V,'™;™ . . ... p , y
bacco boiled in water, and bathe the place therewith ;
also wash him in sea water, or water artificially made
salt ; give him likewise a little mithridate inwardly in
two or three spoonfuls of sack ; and so keep him apart;
and if you find him after some time still to droop, the
best way is to hang him.
Some have asserted their having cured several crea¬
tures that have been bit by mad dogs, with only giving
them the middle yellow bark of buckthorn ; which
must be boiled in ale for a horse or cow, and in milk
for a dog ; but that it must be boiled till it is as bitter
as you can take it.
As to the preventive of worming dogs, see Worm¬
ing.
Doa-Days. See Canicula.
Doa-Fish. See Squalus, Ichthyology Index.
Doos-Bane. See Apocynum, Botany Index.
DoG-JFood-Tree. See Piscidia, Botany Index.
DOGE, the chief magistrate in the republic of Ve¬
nice and Genoa.
The word properly signifies duke, being formed from
the Latin dux > as dogate, and dogado, from ducatus,
“ duchy.”
The dogate, or office and dignity of doge, is elec¬
tive ; at Venice the doge is elected for life; at Genoa,
only for two years. He is addressed under the title of
Serenity, which among the Venetians is superior to that
of highness.
The doge is the chief of the council, and the mouth
of the republic; yet the Venetians do not go into
mourning at his death, as not being their sovereign,
but only their first minister. In effect, the doge of Ve¬
nice is no more than the phantom or shadow of the
majesty of a prince ; all the authority being reserved
to the republic. He only lends his name to the se¬
nate ; the power is diffused throughout the whole bo¬
dy, though the answers be all made in the name of the
doge. If he gives any answers on his own account,
# / J     ~ vc A y
delle V irgine ; and bestows certain petty offices of ushers
of the household, called Commanders of the Palace. His
family is not under the jurisdiction of the master of the
ceremonies; and his children may have staff officers,
and gondoliers in livery.
His grandeur, at the same time, is tempered with
a variety of circumstances, which render it burden¬
some. He may not go out of Venice without leave
of the council; and if he does go out, he is liable to
receive affronts, without being entitled to demand sa¬
tisfaction ; and, if any disorder should happen where
he. was, it belongs not to him, but to the podesta, as
being investea with the public authority, to compose
The children and brothers of the doge are excluded
from all the chief offices of state. They may not re¬
ceive any benefice from the court of Rome ; but are
allowed to accept of the cardinalate, as being no be¬
nefice, nor including any jurisdiction. The doge may
not divest himself of his dignity, for his ease ; and af¬
ter his death, his conduct is examined by three in¬
quisitors, and five correctors, who sift it with great se¬
verity.
DOGGER, a Dutch fishing vessel navigated in the
German ocean. It is generally employed in the her¬
ring fishery ; being equipped with two masts, viz. a
main-mast and a mizen-mast, and somewhat resembling
a ketch. See the Plates at the article Ship.
. DOGGERS, in the English alum works, a name
given by the workmen to a sort of stone found in the
same mines with the true alum rock, and containing
some alum, though not near so much as the right kind.
The county of York, which abounds greatly with the
true alum rock, affords also a very considerable quantity
of these doggers; and in some places they approach so
much to the nature of the true rock, that they are
wrought to advantage.
DOGMA, a principal maxim, tenet, or settled opi-
0 v, -a-/w.n., <* priuGiprii iiidxjii), lenei, or settled opi-
y runs e very cautiously expressed, and in general nion, particularly with regard to matters of faith and
eims, otherwise he is sure to meet with a reprimand, philosophy.
q | » a * V-pi j liJdHU 9
00 that it is absolutely necessary he be of an easy and
pliable disposition.
Anciently the doges were sovereigns ; but things
are much altered; and at present, all the prerogatives
reserved to the quality of doge, are these which fol-
DOGMATICAL, something belonging to a doc¬
trine or opinion. A dogmatical philosopher is one who
asserts things positively ; in opposition to a sceptic, who
doubts of every thing.
DOGMATISTS, a sect of ancient physicians, of
O o 2 which
[ 2^2
Do in.
DOM
Dogmatist* which Hippocrates was the first author. They are also
called login, “ logicians,” from their using the rules ol
logic in subjects of their profession. Tliey laid down
definitions and divisions ; reducing diseases to certain
genera, and those genera to species, and furnishing re¬
medies for them all; supposing principles, drawing con¬
clusions, and applying those principles and conclusions
to particular diseases under consideration *, in which
sense, the dogmatists stand contradistinguished from
empirics and methodists. They reject all medicinal
virtues, that they think not reducible to manifest qua¬
lities ; but Galen hatb long ago observed of such men,
that they must either deny plain matter of fact, or as¬
sign hut very poor reasons and causes of many effects
they pretend to explain.
DOLCE, Carlo, or Carlino, a celebrated hi¬
story and portrait painter, was born at 1 lorence in 1616,
and was the disciple of C ignali. ibis great master
was particularly fond of representing pious subjects,
though he sometimes painted portraits j and his works
are easily distinguished by the peculiar delicacy with
which he perfected all his compositions, by a pleasing
tint of colour, and by a judicious management of the
chiaro scuro. His performance was remarkably slow *,
and it is reported that his brain was fatally affected by
seeing Luca Jordana despatch more business in four or
five hours than he could have done in as many months.
He died in 1686. ,
DOLE, in the Saxon and British tongue, signified
a part or portion, most commonly of a meadow where
several persons have shares. It also still signifies a dis¬
tribution or dealing of alms, or a liberal gift made by
a great man to the people.
Dole, in Scots Law, signifies a malevolent intention.
It is essential in every crime, that it be committed in¬
tentionally, or by an act of the will : hence the rule,
Crimen dolo contrahitur.
DOLLCHOS, a genus of plants belonging to the
diadelphia class, and in the natural method ranking un¬
der the 3 2d order, Papilionacece. See Botany Index.
DOLLAR, or Daller, a silver coin nearly of
the value of the Spanish piece of eight, or French
crown. Dollars are. coined in different parts of
Germany and Holland j and have their diminutions,
as semi-dollars, quarter-dollars, 8tc. See IdoNE'i
Table. t . . c
DOLLOND, John, a late eminent optician. See
Supplement. .
DOLOM1EU, D. G. S. T. a late eminent French
mineralogist and geologist. See Supplement.
DOLPHIN. See Delphinus, Cetology Index.
Dolphin of the Mast, a peculiar kind of wreath,
fomed of plaited cordage, to be fastened occasionally
round the masts, as a support to the puddening, whose
use is to sustain the weight of the fore and main yards,
in case the rigging or chains by which those yards are
' suspended should he shot away in the time of battle j a
circumstance which might render their sails useless at
a season when their assistance is extremely necessary.
See the article PUDDENING. .
DOM, or Don, a title of honour invented and
chiefly used by the Spaniards, signifying or lord.
This title, it seems, was first given to Pelayo, in the
beginning of the eighth century. In Portugal no per-
] DOM
son can assume the title of don without the permission ^
of the king, since it is looked upon as a mark of hon- ||
ui me r..ng, since 11 is iooK.eu upon as a mark ol hon (|
our and nobility. In France it is sometimes used among Domes<%
the religious. It is an abridgement of domnus, from'
dominus.
Dom and Som, in old charters, signifies full property
and jurisdiction.
DOMAIN, the inheritance, estate, or possession of
any one. See Demesne.
DOMAR, John, a celebrated French lawyer, born
in 1625, who observing the confused state of the laws,
digested them in 4 vols 410, under the title of The
Civil Laws in their natural order : for which under¬
taking, Louis XIV. settled on him a pension of 2000
livres. Domar was intimate with the famous Pascal,
who left him his private papers at his death : he him¬
self died in 1696.
DOME, in Architecture, a spherical roof, or a roof
of a spherical form, raised over the middle of a build¬
ing, as a church, hall, pavilion, vestibule, staircase, &c.
by way of crowning.
Dome, in Chemistry, the upper part of furnaces,
particularly portable ones. It has the figure of a hol¬
low hemisphere or small dome. Its use is to form a
space in the upper part of the furnace, the air of which
is continually expelled by the fire : hence the current
of air is considerably increased, which is obliged to en¬
ter by the ash-bole, and to pass through the fire, to
supply the place of the air driven from the dome.
The form of this piece renders it proper to reflect
or reverberate a part of the flame upon the matters
which are in the furnace, which has occasioned this
kind of furnace to be called a reverberating one. See
Furnace.
Dome, or Doom, signifies judgment, sentence, or de¬
cree. The homagers oath in the black hook of Here¬
ford ends thus: 44 So help me God at his holy dome,
and by my trowthe.”
DOMENICHINO, a famous Italian painter, horn
of a good family at Bologna in 1581. He was at first
a disciple of Calvart the Fleming, hut soon quitted his
school for that of the Caraccis. He always applied
himself to his work with much study and thoughtful¬
ness j and never oflered to touch lus pencil but when he
found a proper kind of enthusiasm upon him. His
great skill in architecture also procured him the ap¬
pointment of chief architect of the apostolical palace
from Pope Gregory XV. •, nor was he without a theo¬
retical knowledge in music. He died 111 1641.
DOMESDAY, or Doomsday Book, a most an¬
cient record, made in the time of William I. surnamed
the Conqueror, and containing a survey of all the lands
of England. It consists of two volumes, a greater and
a less.13 The first is a large folio, written on 382 double
pages of vellum, in a small but plain character J each
page having a double column. Some of the capital
letters and principal passages are touched with red ink j
and some have strokes of red ink run across them, as it
scratched out. This volume contains the description of
r’l counties. The other volume is in quarto, written
upon 450 double pages of vellum, but in a single co¬
lumn, and in a large but very fair character. It con¬
tains the counties of Essex, Norfolk, Suffolk, part ot
the county of Rutland, included in that of Northamp-
DOM [ 293 ] DOM
1PV]ay. ton, and part of Lancashire in the counties of York
and Chester.
This work, according to the red hook in the ex¬
chequer, was begun by order of William the Con¬
queror, with the advice of his parliament, in the year
ol our Lord 1080, and completed in the year 1086.
The reason given for taking this survey, as assigned by
several ancient records and historians, was, that very
man should be satisfied with his own right, and not
usurp with impunity what belonged to another. But,
besides this, it is said by others, that now all those
who possessed landed estates became vassals to the king,
and paid him so much money by way of fee or homage
in proportion to the lands they held. This appears
very probable, as there was at that time extant a gene¬
ral survey of the whole kingdom, made by order of
King Alfred.
Tor the execution of the survey recorded in domes-
day book, commissioners were sent into every county
and shire ; and juries summoned in each hundred, out
of all orders of freemen, from barons down to the low¬
est farmers. These commissioners were to be informed
by the inhabitants, upon oath, of the name of each
manor, and that of its owner $ also by whom it was
held in the time of Edward the Confessor j the number
of hides j the quantity of wood, of pasture, and of
meadow land j how many ploughs were in the demesne,
and how many in the tenanted part of it; how many
mills; how many fish-ponds or fisheries belonged to it;
with the value of the whole together in the time of
King Edward, as well as when granted by King Wil¬
liam, and at the time of this survey ; also whether it
was capable of improvement or of being advanced in
its value; they were likewise directed to return the te¬
nants of every degree, the quantity of lands then and
formerly held by each of them, what was the number
of villains or slaves, and also the number and kinds of
their cattle and live stock. These inquisitions being
first methodized in the county, were afterwards sent up
to the king’s exchequer.
This survey, at the time it was made, gave great
offence to the people ; and occasioned a jealousy that it
Was intended for some new imposition. But notwith¬
standing all the precaution taken by the conqueror to
have this survey faithfully and impartially executed, it
appears from indisputable authority, that a false return
was given in by some of the commissioners : and that,
as it is said, out of a pious motive. This was particu¬
larly the case with the abbey of Croyland in Lincoln¬
shire, the possessions of which were greatly underrated
both with regard to quantity and value. Perhaps more
of these pious frauds were discovered, as it is said Ralph
Flambard, minister to William Rufus, proposed the
making a fresh and more rigorous inquisition; but this
was never executed.
Notwithstanding this proof of its falsehood in some
instances, which must throw a suspicion on all others,
the authority of domesday book was never permitted
to be called in question ; and always, when it hath been
necessary to distinguish whether lands were held in an¬
cient demesne, or in any other manner, recourse was
had to domesday book, and to that only, to determine
the doubt. Frointhis definitive authority, from which,
as from the sentence pronounced at domesday or the
day of judgment, there could be no appeal, the name Domesday,
of the book is said to have been derived. But Stowe Domentie.
assigns another reason for this appellation ; namely,  v  
that domesday book is a corruption of dornus Dei book ;
a title given it because heretofore deposited in the king’s
treasuiy, in a place of the church of Westminster or
Winchester, called domus Dei. From the great care for-
mei ly taken for the preservation of this survey, we may
learn the estimation in which its importance was held.
The dialogue de Sacrariis says, “ Liber ille (domes-
day) sigilli regis comes est individuus in thesauro^
Until lately it has been kept under three diflerent locks
and keys; one in custody of the treasurer, and the
others in that of the two chamberlains of the exchequer.
It is now deposited in the chapterhouse at Westminster,
where it may be consulted on paying to the proper of¬
ficers a fee of 6s. 8d. for a search, and fourpence per
line for a transcript.
Besides the two volumes above mentioned, there is
also a third made by order of the same king; and
which differs from the others in form more than matter.
"I here is also a fourth called domesday, which is kept
in the exchequer; which, though a very large volume,
is only an abridgement of the others. In the remem¬
brancers office in the exchequer is kept a fifth book,
likewise called domesday, which is the same with the
fourth book already mentioned. King Alfred had a
roll which he called domesday; and the domesday book
made by William the Conqueror referred to the time
of Edward the Confessor, as that of King Alfred did
to the time of Ethelred. The fourth book of domes¬
day having many pictures and gilt letters in the begin¬
ning relating to the time of King Edward the Con¬
fessor, this had led some into a false opinion that
domesday book was composed in the reign of Kino-
Edward.
DOMESTIC, any man who acts under another,
serving to compose his family ; in which he lives, or is
supposed to live, as a chaplain, secretary, &c. Some¬
times domestics is applied to the wife and children ;
but very seldom to servants, such as footmen, lacquies,
porters, &c.
Domestic, adj. is sometimes opposed to foreign.-
Thus “ domestic occurrences” signify those events which
happen in our own country, in contradistinction to
those of which we receive intelligence from abroad.
In its more usual acceptation, the term implies some¬
thing peculiar to home or household. Thus we speak of
domestic happiness or pleasures: meaning the pleasures
enjoyed in the bosom of one’s family ; in opposition to
those found in the bustle of public life, or delusively
sought in the haunts of dissipation.
The solace of domestic enjoyment has been coveted
by the wisest and greatest of men. Senators and heroes
have shut out the acclamations of an applauding world,
to enjoy the prattling of their little ones, and to par¬
take the endearments of family conversation. They
knew that even their best friends, in the common inter¬
course of life, were in some degree actuated by interest¬
ed motives in displaying their affection; that many
of their followers applauded them in hopes of reward ;
and that the giddy multitude, however zealous, were
not always judicious in their approbation. But the at¬
tentions paid them at their fire side, the smiles which
exhilarated
DOM
t 294 ]
DOM
Domestic
Essays,
E9 48.
exhilarated their own table, were the genuine result of
undissembled love.
To pursue the observations of an elegant essayist:
“ The nursery has often alleviated the fatigues of the
bar and the senate-house. Nothing contributes more
to raise the gently pleasing emotions, than the view of
infant innocence, enjoying the raptures of a game at
play. All the sentiments of uncontrouled nature display
themselves to the view, and furnish matter for agreeable
reflection to the mind of the philosophical obseiver.
To partake with children in their little pleasures, is by
no means unmanly. It is one of the purest sources of
mirth. It has an influence in amending the heart,
which necessarily takes a tincture from the company
that surrounds us. Innocence as well as guilt is com¬
municated and increased by the contagion of example.
And the great Author of evangelical philosophy has
taught us to emulate the simplicity of the infantine age.
He seems indeed himself to*have been delighted with
voung children, and found in them, what he in vain
sought among those who judged themselves their supe¬
riors, unpolluted purity of heart.
“ Among the great variety of pictures which the
vivid imagination of Homer has displayed throughout
the Iliad, there is not one more pleasing than the fa¬
mily piece, which represents the parting interview be¬
tween Hector and Andromache. It deeply interests
the heart, while it delights the imagination. Tim hero
ceases to be terrible, that he may become amiable.
We admire him while he stands completely armed m
the field of battle; but we love him more while he is
taking off his helmet, that he may not frighten his
little boy with its nodding plumes. We are refreshed
with the tender scene of domestic love, while all
around breathes rage and discord. We are pleased
to see the arm, which is shortly to deal death and de-
struction among an host of foes, employed in caressing
an infant son with the embraces of paternal love. A
professed critic would attribute the pleasing effect en¬
tirely to contrast; but the heart has declared, pre¬
viously to the inquiries of criticism, that it is chiefly
derived from the satisfaction which we naturally take
in beholding great characters engaged in tender and
amiable emplovments.
“ But after'all that is said of the purity and the so¬
lidity of domestic pleasures, they unfortunately appear
to a great part of mankind, insipid, unmanly, and ca¬
pable of satisfying none but the weak, the spiritless,
the inexperienced, and the effeminate. Ihe pretend-
ers to wit and modern philosophy are often found to
renounce the received opinions of prudential conduct 5
and, while they affect a superior liberality, to regulate
their lives by the most selfish principles. Whatever ap¬
pears to have little tendency to promote personal plea¬
sure and advantage, they leave to be performed by
those simple individuals, who are dull enough, as they
say, to pursue the journey of life by the straight road
of' common sense. It is true, they will allow, that the
world must be replenished by a perpetual succession j
and it is no less true, that an offspring, once introdu¬
ced into the world, requires all the care of painful at¬
tention. But let the task be. reserved for meaner spirits.
If the passions can be gratified without the painful con¬
sequences of supporting a family, they eagerly seixe
the indulgence. But the toil of education they leave Domestis
to those whom they deem fools enough to take a plea- s—
sure in it. There will always be a suflicient number,
say they, whose folly will lead them, for the sake of a
silly passion called virtuous love, to engage in a life
of perpetual anxiety. The fool’s paradise, they add N
with derision, will never be deserted.
“ Presumptuous as are all such pretenders to newly
invented systems of life and conduct, it is not to be
supposed they will think themselves superior to Ciceros
Yet Cicero, with all his liberality of mind, felt the
tenderness of conjugal and parental attachment, and
acknowledged that, at one time, he received no satis¬
faction in any company but that of his wife, his little
daughter, and, to use his own epithet, his HONIED
young Cicero. The great Sir Thomas More, whom
nobody will suspect of narrowness of mind, who by a
very singular treatise evinced that he was capable of
thinking and of choosing for himself, has left it on re¬
cord that he devoted a great share of his time, from
the united motives of duty and delight, to the amuse¬
ment of his children.
“ It will be objected by those who pretend to have
formed their ideas of life from actual observation, that
domestic happiness, however pleasing in description,
like many a poetic dream, is but an alluring picture, de¬
signed by a good heart, and painted in glowing colours
by a lively fancy. The constant company, they urge,
even of those we love, occasions an insipidity. Insi¬
pidity grows into disgust. Disgust, long continued,
sours the temper. Peevishness is the natural conse¬
quence. The domestic circle becomes the scene of dis¬
pute. Mutual antipathy is ingenious in devising mu¬
tual torment. Sullen silence or malignant remarks fill
up every hour, till the arrival of a stranger causes a
temporary restraint, and excites that good humour
which ought to be displayed among those whom the
bonds of affection and blood have already united.
“ Experience, indeed, proves that these remarks are
sometimes verified. But that there is much domestic
misery is no argument that there is no domestic hap¬
piness, or that the evil may not be removed. Natural
stupidity, natural ill temper, acquired ill habits, want
of education, illiberal manners, and a neglect of the
common rules of discretion, will render every species
of intercourse disagreeable. When those are united by
connubial ties who were separated by natural and inhe¬
rent diversity, no wonder if that degree of happiness
which can only result from a proper union, is unknown.
In the forced alliance, which the poet of Venusium
mentions, of the serpent with the dove, of the tyger
with the lamb, there can be no love. When we expa¬
tiate on the happiness of the domestic group, we pre¬
suppose that all who compose it are originally assimi¬
lated by affection, and are still kept in union by dis¬
creet friendship. When this is not the case, the cen¬
sure must fall on the discordant disposition ot the par¬
ties, and not on the essential nature of family inter-
course. . , ,
“ To form, under the direction of prudence, and by
the impulse of virtuous love, an early conjugal attach¬
ment, is one of the best securities of virtue, as well as
the most probable means of happiness. The duties,
which are powerfully called forth by the relations o|
husband
DOM
In this species of music there are domi- Dommcni
DOM [ 295 ]
husband and father, are of that tender kind which in- the tonick.
spires goodness and humanity. He who beholds a wo- nants and tonicks, hut *110 mediant. H
man whom he loves, and a helpless infant, looking up DOMINATION, or Dominion, in Theology, the Dominiea
to him for support, will not easily be induced to in- fourth order of angels or blessed spirits in the hieraJchy  
dulge in unbecoming extravagance, or devote himself reckoning from the seraphim. See Angel. ^
to indolence. _ He who has a rising family to intro- DOMINGO, or St Domingo, the capital of the
duce into a vicious world, will be cautious of setting a island of Hispaniola in the West Indies, is seated in that
part belonging to the Spaniards on the south side of
bad example, the contagion of which, when it pro¬
ceeds from parental authority, must be irresistibly ma¬
lignant. Thus many who, in their individual and un¬
connected state, would probably have spent a life not
only useless to others, but profligate and careless in it¬
self, have become valuable members of the commu¬
nity, and have arrived at a degree of moral improve¬
ment, to which they would not otherwise have at¬
tained.
“ The contempt in which domestic pleasures have in
modern times been held, is a mark of profligacy. It
is also a proof of a prevailing ignorance of real enjoy¬
ment. It argues a defect in taste and judgment as
well as in morals. For the general voice of the expe¬
rienced has in all ages declared, that the truest happi¬
ness is to be found at home.”
DOMICILE, in Scots Law, is the dwelling place
where a person lives with an intention to remain.
DOMIFYING, in Astrology, the dividing or dis¬
tributing the heavens into 12 houses, in order to erect
a theme, or horoscope, by means of six great circles,
called circles of position.
There are various ways of domifying : that of Regio¬
montanus, which is the most common, makes the circles
of position pass through the intersections of the meri¬
dian and the horizon : others make them pass through
the poles of the zodiac.
DOMINANT (from the Latin word dominari, “ to
rule or govern”), among musicians, is used either as
an adjective or substantive ; but these different accep¬
tations are far from being indiscriminate. In both
senses it is explained by Rousseau as follows :
The dominant or sensible chord is that which is prac¬
tised upon the dominant of the tone, and which intro¬
duces a perfect cadence. Every perfect major chord
becomes a dominant chord, as soon as the seventh mi¬
nor is added to it.
Dominant (substi). Of the three notes essential to
the tone, it is that which is a fifth from the tonick.—
The tonick and the dominant fix the tone : in it they
are each of them the fundamental sound of a particular
chord ; whereas the mediant, which constitutes the
mode, has no chord peculiar to itself, and only makes
a part of the chord of the tonick.
Mr Rameau gives the name of dominant in general
to every note which carries a chord of the seventh, and
distinguishes that which carries the sensible chord by
the name ol a tonick dominant; but, on account of the
length of the word, this addition to the name has not
been adopted by artists : they continue simply to call
that note a dominant which is a fifth from the tonick ;
and they do not call the other notes which carry a
chord of the seventh dominants, but fundamentals;
which is sufficient to render their meaning plain, and
prevents confusion.
A dominant, ip that species of church music which is
called plain-chant, is that note which is most frequently
repeated or beaten, in whatever degree it may be from
the island, and has a commodious harbour. The town
is built in the Spanish manner, with a great square in
the middle ol it j about which are the cathedral and
other public buildings. From this square run the prin¬
cipal streets, in a direct line, they being crossed by
others at right angles, so that the form of the town is
almost square. The country on the north and east side
is pleasant and fruitful j and there is a large navigable
river on the west, with the ocean on the south. It is
the see of an archbishop, an ancient royal audience, and
the seat of the governor. It has several fine churches
and monasteries ; and is so well fortified, that a fleet
and army sent by Oliver Cromwell in 1654 c°uld not
take it. The inhabitants are Spaniards, Negroes, Mu-
lattoes, Mestices, and Albatraces ; of whom about a
sixth part may be Spaniards. From this town the whole
island has generally been named St Domingo. See Do¬
mingo, St, Supplement. The river on which it is seat¬
ed is called 0%ama. W. Long. 69.30. N.Lat. 18. 25.
DOMINIC de Gusman, founder of the Domini¬
can order of monks, was born at Calaroga in Old Ca¬
stile, 1170. He preached with great fury against the
Albigenses, when Pope Innocent III. made a croisade
against that unhappy people $ and was inquisitor in
Languedoc, where he founded his order, and got it
confirmed by the Lateran council in 1215. He died
at Bologna in 1221, and was afterwards canonized.
I he Dominican order has produced many illustrious
men. See Dominicans.
DOMINICA, one of the Caribbee islands, in the
West Indies, about 29 miles long and 16 broad, situat¬
ed between 6i° and 62° W. Long, and between 150
and 16° ol N. Lat. This island formerly belonged to
the r rench, but was ceded to Britain by the treaty in
1763. It contains many fertile valleys interspersed
among high and rugged mountains, some of which are
volcanic. It abounds in forests, and has several hot
springs. The value of its imports in 1809 was 161,291!.
and of its imports 315,584!. The population in 1805
consisted of 1594 whites, 2822 free persons of colour,
and 22,083 slaves.
This island was reduced, in the year 1778, by the
French, under the marquis de Bouille, governor of
Martinico. At that time the island, though very well
fortified, had been unaccountably neglected by the
British government, in such a manner as to be almost
entirely destitute of a garrison. The French com¬
mander, therefore, who made a descent with 2000 men,
found only 100 regular forces and a few companies
of militia to oppose him. All resistance therefore be¬
ing vain, the only thing the garrison could do was to
procure as favourable terms of capitulation as possible.
These were granted with such readiness as did great
honour to the character of this officer j the inhabitants
experiencing no kind of change except that of trans¬
ferring their obedience from Britain to France, being
left unmolested in the enjoyment of all their rights
both ;
Dominica
DOM [
both civil anil religious. The capitulation was strictly
observed by the marquis ; no plunder or irregularity
being allowed, and a pecuniary gratification being di¬
stributed among the soldiers and volunteers who ac¬
companied him in the expedition. An hundred and
sixty-four pieces of excellent cannon, and twenty-four
brass mortars, besides a large quantity of military stores,
were found in the place ; insomuch that the French
themselves expressed their surprise at finding so few
hands to make use of them. The marquis, however,
took care to supply this defect, by leaving a garrison
of 1500 of the best men he had with him. It was re¬
stored to Britain at the conclusion of the peace in
1783.
La Dominica, one of the Marquesas islands in
the South sea.
DOMINICAL LETTER, popularly called Sunday
Letter, one of the seven letters A B C D E F G, used
in almanacks, ephemerides, &c. to denote the Sundays
throughout the year. See Chronology, N 3G,e
word is formed from dominica or dominicus dies,
“ Lord’s day, Sunday.”
The dominical letters were introduced in the kalen-
dar by the primitive Christians in lieu ot the nundinal
letters in the Roman kalendar.
Dominical, in church history. The council of
Auxerre, held in 57^> decrees, that women communi¬
cate with their dominical. Some authors contend, that
this dominical was a linen cloth, wherein they received
the species j as not being allowed to receive them in
the bare hand. Others will have it a kind of veil,
wherewith they covered the head. The most probable
account is, that it was a sort of linen cloth or handker¬
chief wherein they received and preserved the eucha-
rist in times of persecution, to be taken on occasion at
home. This appears to have been the case by the prac¬
tice of the first Christians, and by Tertullian’s book Ad
oCOT* Ct?l •
DOMINICANS, an order of religious, called in
some places Jacobins; and in others Predicants or
Preaching Friars.
The Dominicans take their name from their founder
Dominic de Guzman, a Spanish gentleman, born in
1170, at Calaroga in Old Castile. He was first ca¬
non and archdeacon of Ossuna ; and afterwards pieach-,
ed with great zeal and vehemence against the Albigenses
in Languedoc, where he laid the first foundation of his
order. It was approved of in 1215 by Innocent III.
and confirmed in 1216 by a bull of Honorius III. un¬
der the title of St Augustine; to which Dominic added
several austere precepts and observances, obliging the
brethren to take a vow of absolute poverty, and to
abandon entirely all their revenues and possessions j and
also the title of Preaching Fi iars, beause public in¬
struction was the main end of their institution.
The first convent was founded at Thoulouse by the
bishop thereof and Simon de Montfort. Two years
afterwards they had another at Paris, near the bishop’s
house •, and some time after a third in the rue St
Jacques, (St James’s street), whence the denomination
of Jacobins.
Just before his death, Dominic sent Gilbert de I res-
ney, with twelve of the brethren, into England, where
they founded their first monastery at Oxford in the
year 1221, and soon after another at London. In
3
296 ] DO M
the year 1276 the mayor and aldermen of the city of
London gave them two whole streets by the river can;
Thames, where they erected a very commodious con- |1
vent, whence that place is still called Black Friars, Doini°
from the name by which the Dominicans were called in
England.
St Dominic, at first, only took the habit of the re¬
gular canons j that is, a black cassock and rochet:
but this he quitted in 1219, for that which they
now wear, which it is pretended was shown by the
blessed Virgin herself to the beatified Renaud d’Or-
leans.
This order is diffused throughout the whole known
world. It has forty-five provinces under the general,
who resides at Rome ; and 12 particular congregations
or reforms, governed by 1 2 vicars general.
They reckon three popes of this order, above sixty
cardinals, several patriarchs, a hundred and fifty arch¬
bishops, and about eight hundred bishops j beside ma¬
sters of the sacred palace, whose office has been con¬
stantly discharged by a religious of this order, ever
since St Dominic, who held it under Honorius III. in
1218.
Of all the monastic orders, none enjoyed a higher
degree of power and authority than the Dominican
friars, whose credit was great, and their influence uni¬
versal. But the measures they used in order to main¬
tain and extend their authority were so perfidious and
cruel, that their influence began to decline towards the
beginning of the sixteenth century. The tragic story
of Jetzer, conducted at Bern in 1509, for determining
an uninteresting dispute between them and the Fiancis-
cans, relating to the immaculate conception, will reflect
indelible infamy on this order. See an account of it
in Burnet’s Travels through France, Italy, Germany,
and Switzerland, p. 31. or Mosheim’s Eccl. Hist. vol.
iii. p. 294. 8vo. They were indeed perpetually em¬
ployed in stigmatizing with the opprobrious name of
heresy numbers of learned and pious men \ in encroach-
jpg upon the rights and properties of others, to aug¬
ment their possessions ; and in laying the most iniqui¬
tous snares and stratagems for the destruction of their
adversaries. They were the principal counsellors, by
whose instigation and advice Leo X. was determined to
the public condemnation of Luther. The papa] see
never had more active and useful abettors than this or¬
der, and that of the Jesuits.
The dogmata of the Dominicans are usually opposite
to those of the Franciscans.
There are also nuns or sisters fif this order, called in
some places Preaching Sisters. These are even more
ancient than the friars ; St Dominic having founded
a society of religious maids at Prouilles some years
before the institution of his order of men ; viz. in
There is also a third order of Dominicans, both for
men and women. #
DOMINION, {Dominium) in the civil law, sig¬
nifies the power to use or dispose of a thing as we
please. o
Dominion, or Domination. See Domination.
DOMINIS, Mark Antony de, archbishop of Spa-
latro in Dalmatia at the close of the 15th and begin¬
ning of the 16th centuries, was a man whose fickleness
in religion proved his ruin. His preferment, instead
DON [ 297 ] DON
ion.
<ninb attaching him to the church of Rome, rendered
11 him disaffected to it. Becoming acquainted with our
Bishop Bedell, while chaplain to Sir Henry Wotton,
ambassador from James I. at "Venice, he communicated
his books DeRepublica Ecclesiastica to him; which were
afterwards published at London, with Bedell’s correc¬
tions. He came to England with Bedell ; where he
was received with great respect, and preached and
wrote against the Romish religion. He is said to have
had a principal hand in publishing Father Paul’s History
tf the Council of Trent, at London, which was inscribed
to James in 1619. But on the promotion of Pope
Gregory XLV. who had been his schoolfellow and old
acquaintance, he was deluded by Gondomar the Spa¬
nish ambassador into the hopes of procuring a cardinal’s
hat, by which he fancied he should prove an instrument
of great reformation to the church. Accordingly he
returned to Rome in 1622, recanted his errors, and
was at first well received ; but he afterwards wrote let¬
ters to Pingland, repenting his recantation j which be¬
ing intercepted, he was imprisoned by Pope Urban VIII.
and died in 1625. He was also the author of the first
philosophical explanation of the rainbow, which before
his time was regarded as a prodigy.
DOMINIUM EMINENS, in Scots Law, that power
which the state or sovereign has over private property,
and by which the proprietor may be compelled to sell it
for an adequate price where public utility requires. See
Law Index.
Dominium Directum, in Scots Law, the right
which a superior retains in his lands, notwithstanding
the feudal grant to his vassal. See Law Index.
Dominium Utile, in Scots Law, the right which the
vassal acquires in the lands by the feudal grant from
his superior. See Law Index.
DOMINUS, in ancient times, a title prefixed to a
name, usually to denote the person either a knight ora
clergyman. See Vice Dominus.
The title was sometimes also given to a gentleman
not dubbed ; especially if he were lord of a manor. See
Pom, Gentleman, and Sire.
In Holland the title dominvs is still retained, to di¬
stinguish a minister of the reformed church.
DOMITIAN, the Roman emperor, son to Vespasian,
was the last of the 12 Caesars. See (History of} Rome.
DON, or Tanais, a river of Russia, which takes
its rise from the small lake of St John, near Tula, in
the government of Moscow, and passing through
part of the province of Voronetz, a small portion of
the Ukraina-Slobodskaia, and the whole province of
Azof, divides itself near Tcherkask into three streams,
and falls in these separate branches into the sea of Azof.
This river has so many windings, is in many parts so
shallow, and abounds with such numerous shoals, as to
be scarcely navigable, excepting in the spring, upon
the melting ol the snows ; and its mouth is also so
choked up with sand, that only flat-bottomed vessels,
excepting in the same season, can pass into the sea of
Azof. 1 he banks of the Don, and the rivulets which
fall into it, are clothed with large tracts of forest, whose
timber is floated down the stream to St Demetri and
Kostof, where the frigates for the sea of Azof are
chiefly constructed. The navigation of the Don, Mr
Coxe observes, may possibly hereafter be rendered high¬
ly valuable, by conveying to the Black sea, the iron of
Siberia, the Chinese goods, and the Persian merchan-
Vol. VII. Part I. f
dise : which latter commodities, as -well as the products
of India, formerly found their way into Europe through
this same channel.
Don is also the name of a river in Scotland, noticed
under the article Aberdeen j the Old Town being
situated near its mouth. See Aberdeen.
Don Martin de Mayorca, the name given by the
Spaniards to a cluster of islands in the South sea, which
were discovered in 1781 by Don F. A. Maurelle.
According to the description given of these islands, they
abound with tropical fruits and roots, are in a tolera¬
ble state of cultivation, and the inhabitants have made
some progress in civilization. Their government, man¬
ners, and dress, resemble in most points those of the
natives of the other South sea islands. In thieving,
whether in disposition or dexterity, they seemed inferior
to none. In one of these islands Don Maurelle found
a good harbour, which he places in ] 8. 36. S. Lat. and
in 177* W. Long.
DONARIA, among the ancients, in its primary
signification, was taken for the places where the obla¬
tions offered to the gods were kept : but afterwards
was used to denote the offerings themselves j and some¬
times, though improperly, the temples.
DONAT!A, a genus of plants belonging to the
triandria class. See Botany Index.
DONATION, (Donatio), an act or contract where¬
by a man transfers to another either the property or
the use of the whole or a part of his effects as a free gift.
A donation, to be valid and complete, supposes a
capacity both in the donor and the donee ; and requires
consent, acceptance, and delivery ; and by the French
law registry also.
Donation Mortis Causa, in Law, a disposition of
property made by a person in his last sickness, who ap¬
prehending his dissolution near, delivers, or causes to
be delivered to another, the possession of any personal
goods, to keep in case of his decease. If the donor
dies, this gift needs not the consent of his executor ;
but it shall not prevail against creditors j and it is ac¬
companied with this implied trust, that, if the donor
lives, the property shall revert to himself, being only
given in prospect of death, or mortis causa. This me¬
thod of donation seems to have been conveyed to us
from the civil lawyers, who borrowed it from the Greeks.
DONATISTS, ancient schismatics in Africa, so
denominated from their leader Donatus.
This sect arose in the year 311, when, in the room
of Mensurius, who died in that year on his return to
Rome, Caecilian was elected bishop of Carthage, and
consecrated by the African bishops alone, without the
concurrence of those of Numidia. The people refused
to acknowledge him, and set up Majorinus in opposi¬
tion j who, accordingly, was ordained by Donatus
bishop of Casae Nigrae. The Donatists were con¬
demned, in a council held at Rome, two years after
their separation ; and afterwards in another at Arles,
the year following: and again at Milan, before Con¬
stantine the Great, in 316, who deprived them of
their churches, sent their seditious bishops into ba¬
nishment, and even punished some of them with death.
Their cause was espoused by another Donatus, called
the great, the principal bishop of that sect, who, with
numbers of his followers, was exiled by order of Con-
stans. Many of them were punished with great seve¬
rity. See Circumcelliones. However, after the
P p accession
DON
[ 298 ]
DON
Donatists, accession of Julian to the throne in 362, they were
Donative, permitted to return, and restored to their former h-
  v 1 berty. Gratian published several edicts against them j
and in 377 deprived them of their churches, and pio-
hibited all their assemblies. But notwithstanding the
severities they suffered, it appears that they had a very
considerable number of churches towards the close of
this century; but at this time they began to decline,
on account of a schism among themselves, occasioned
by the election of two bishops, in the room of Parme-
nian, the successor of Donatus; one party elected
Primian, and were called Pnmianists, and another Ma-
ximian, and were called Maximiamsts. I heir decline
was also precipitated by the zealous opposition of St
Augustine, and by the violent measures which were
pursued against them, by order of the emperor Uono-
rius, at the solicitation of two councils held at Car¬
thage ; the one in 404, and the other in 411. Many
of them were fined, the bishops were banished, and
some put to death. This sect revived and multiplied
under the protection of the Vandals, who invaded Afri¬
ca in 427, and took possession of this province: but it
sunk again under new severities, when their empire was
overturned in 534. Nevertheless, they remained in a
separate body till the close of this century, when Gre¬
gory, the Roman pontiff, used various methods for sup¬
pressing them ; his zeal succeeded, and there are few
traces to be found of the Donatists after this period.
They were distinguished by other appellations ; as Cir-
cumcelliones, Montenses or Mountaineers, Complies, Ru-
pites, &c. They held three councils, or concihabules ;
one at Cirta in Numidia, and two at Carthage.
* The errors of the Donatists, besides their schism,
were, 1. That baptism conferred out of the church,
that is, out of their sect, was null ; and accordingly
they rebaptized those who joined their party fj0111
other churches, and re-ordained their ministers. 2. lhat
theirs was the only true, pure, and holy church ; all the
rest of the churches they held as prostitute and fallen.
Donatus seems likewise to have given into the
doctrine of the Arians, with whom he was closely
allied; and accordingly, St Epiphanius, Iheodoret,
and some others, accused the Donatists of Arianism ;
and it is probable that the charge was well founded,
because they were patronized by the Vandals, who held
that doctrine. But St Augustine, Ep. 185. to Count
Boniface, & Haer. 69. affirms, that the Donatists, in
this point, kept clear of the errors of their leader.
DONATIVE, (Donativnm), a present made by any
person; called ahogratuity.
The Romans made large donatives to their soldiers.
Julia Pia, wife of the emperor Severus, is called on
certain medals mater castrorum, because of the care she
took of the soldiery, by interposing for the augmenta¬
tion of their donatives, &c.
Donative was properly a gift made to the soldiery ;
as congiarium was that made to the people. Salma-
sius, on his notes to Lampridius, in his Life of He-
liogabalus, mentioning a donative that emperor gave
of three pieces of gold per head, observes, that this
was the common and legitimate rate of a donative.
Casaubon, in his notes on the Life of 1 ertinax by Ca¬
pitolinas, observes, that Pertinax made a promise 01
3000 denarii to each soldier; which amounts to up¬
wards of 97 pounds sterling. 1 he same author writes,
that the legal donative was 20,000 denarii ; and that DoB8i;T)(
it was not customary to give less, especially to the prte- u
torian soldiers; that the centurions had double, and Donegal:
the tribunes, &c. more in proportion.
Donative, in the canon law, a benefice given, and
collated to a person, by the founder or patron ; with¬
out either presentation, institution, or induction by the
ordinary.
If chapels founded by laymen be not approved by
the diocesan, and, as it is called, spiritualised, they
are not accounted proper benefices, neither can they
be conferred by the bishop but remain to the pious
disposition of the founders; so that the founders, and
their heirs, may give such chapels without the bishop.
Gwin observes, that the king might ot ancient time
found a free chopel, and exempt it from the jurisdic¬
tion of the diocesan ; so may be, by letters patent,
give liberty to a common person to found such a cha¬
pel, and make it donative, not presentable ; and the
chaplain, or beneficiary, shall be deprivable by the
founder or his heir, and not by the bishop. And tins
seems to be the original of donatives in England.
Donatives are witliin the statute against simony ; and
if they have cure of souls, within that against pluiali-
ties. If the patron of a donative doth not nominate
a clerk, there can he no lapse thereof, unless it be
specially provided for in the foundation ; but the bi¬
shop may compel him to do it by spiritual censures.
But if it be augmented by Queen Anne’s bounty, it
will lapse like other presentative livings. 1 Geo. I. stat.
2. cap. 10. The ordinary cannot visit a donative, and
therefore it is free from procuration, and the incum¬
bent is exempted from attendance at visitations.
All bishoprics in ancient times were donative by. the
king. Again, where a bishop has the gift of a bene¬
fice, it is properly called a donative, because he cannot
present to himself.
DONATORY, in Scots Law, that person to whom
the king bestows his right to any forfeiture that has
fallen to the crown.
DONATUS, a schismatic bishop of Carthage, foun¬
der of the sect of Donatists. His followers honour¬
ed him like a god. He died about 368.
Donatus, JElius, a famous grammarian, lived at
Rome in 354. He was one of St Jerome’s masters ; and
composed commentaries on Terence and \ irgil.
DONAWERT, a strong town of Germany. It is
situated on the left bank of the Danube, at the influx
of the Wernitz. It was formerly an imperial city, but
is now subject to Bavaria. E. Long. 10. 32. N. Lat.
48* 32. . .
DONAX, a genus of shells belonging to the bi¬
valves. See ConcholoGY Index.
DONCASTER, a market town of Yorkshire, 37
miles south of York. It has been long noted for the
manufacture of stockings, knitted waistcoats and gloves.
A theatre was erected here in 1795. It contained 6935
inhabitants in 1811. W. Long. 1. 12. N. Lat. 53-33'
DONEGAL, a county in the north-west of Ireland,
bounded by the sea on one side, and the counties of
Tyrone and Londonderry on the other. Its greatest
length is 90 miles, and breadth 45, and it contains
1,100,000 English acres. The climate is naoist, and
it abounds in bogs and mountains. Barley is the chief
grain crop, but a great part of the aSrIcultural^^°r^
t
DOR [ 299 ] DOR
performed with the spade. See Donegal, Supple-
ij MENT.
f.iria. DONNE, Dr John, an excellent poet and divine
y-y0p tjie lyth century. His parents were of tlie Romish
religion, and used their utmost efforts to keep him firm
to it; but his early examination of the controversy be¬
tween the church of Rome and the Protestants, at last
determined him to adhere to the latter. He travelled
into Italy and Spain ; where he made many useful ob¬
servations, and learned their languages to perfection.
Soon after his return to England, Sir Thomas Eger-
ton, keeper of the great seal, appointed him his secre¬
tary 5 in which post he continued five years. He mar¬
rying privately Anne the daughter of Sir George
Moore then chancellor of the garter, and niece to the
lord keeper’s lady, was dismissed from his place, and
thrown into prison. But he was reconciled to Sir
George by the good offices of Sir Francis Wolley. In
1612, he accompanied Sir Robert Drury to Paris.
During this time, many of the nobility solicited the
king for some secular employment for him. But his
majesty, who took pleasure in his conversation, had en¬
gaged him in writing his Pseudo Martyr, printed at
London in 1610 ; and he was so highly pleased with
that work, that in 1614 he prevailed with him to enter
into holy orders ; appointed him one of his chaplains,
and procured him the degree of doctor of divinity from
the university of Oxford. In 1619, he attended the
earl of Doncaster in his embassy into Germany. In
1621, he was made dean of St Paul’s ; and the vicar¬
age of St Dunstan in the West, in London, soon after
fell to him. He wrote, besides the above, 1. Devo¬
tions upon emergent occasions. 2. The ancient Hi¬
story of the Septuagint, translated from the Greek of
Aristeus, quarto. 3. Three volumes of sermons, folio.
4. A considerable number of poems : and other works.
His writings show him to be a man of incomparable
wit and learning ; but his greatest excellence was satire.
He had a prodigious richness of fancy, but his thoughts
were much debased by his versification.
DONOR, in Laiu, the person who gives lands or
tenements to another in tail, &c.; as he to whom such
lands, &c. are given, is the donee.
DOOMSDAY book. See Domesday Book.
DOOR, in Architecture. See Architecture, N°
76.
DOR, the English name of the common black beetle.
Some apply it also to the dusty beetle, that flies about
hedges in the evening. See Scarajleus, Entomolo¬
gy Index.
DORADO, in Astronomy, a southern constellation,
not visible in our latitude ; it is also called xiphias.
The stars of this constellation, in Sharp’s Catalogue,
are six.
DORCHESIER, the capital of Dorsetshire, situ¬
ated on the river Frome, on a Roman road, eight miles
north of Weymouth. W. Long. 2. 45. N. Lat. 50. 40.
It sends two members to parliament ; and is a town of
great antiquity, 'the inhabitants amounted to 2^46 in
1811.
DOREE, or John Doree. See Zeus, Ichthyo¬
logy Index.
DOKIA, Andrew, a gallant Genoese sea officer,
boro in 1466. He entered into the service of Francis I.
of France 5 but preserved that spirit of independence
so natural to a sailor and a republican. When the
French attempted to render Savona, long the object Doi
of jealousy of Genoa, its rival in trade, Doria re- ' v
monstrated against the measure in a high tone ; which
bold action, represented by the malice of his courtiers
in the most odious light, irritated Francis to that de¬
gree, that he ordered his admiral Barbesieux to sail to
Genoa, then in the hands of the French troops, to ar-
iest Doria, and to seize his galleys. This rash order
Doria got timely hints of; retired with all his galleys
to a place of safety; and, while his resentment was
thus raised, he closed with the offers of the emperor
Charles V. returned his commission with the collar of
St Michael to Francis, and hoisted the Imperial colours.
To deliver his country, weary alike of the French and
Imperial yoke, from the dominion of foreigners, ivas
now Doria’s highest ambition ; and the favourable mo¬
ment offered. Genoa was afflicted with the pestilence,
the French garrison was greatly reduced and ill paid,
and the inhabitants were sufficiently disposed to second
his views. He sailed to the harbour with 13 galleys,
landed 500 men, and made himself master of the gates
and the palace with very little resistance. The French
governor with his feeble garrison retired to the citadel,
but was quickly forced to capitulate ; when the people
ran together, and levelled the citadel with the ground.
It was now in Doria’s power to have rendered him¬
self the sovereign of his country ; but with a magna¬
nimity of which there are few examples, he assembled
the people in the court before the palace, disclaimed
all pre-eminence, and recommended to them to settle
that form of government they chose to establish. The
people animated by his spirit, forgot their factions,
and fixed that form of government which has subsisted
ever since with little variation. This event happened
in 1528. Doria lived to a great age, respected and
beloved as a private citizen ; and is still celebrated in
Genoa by the most honourable of all appellations,
“ The father of his country, and the restorer of its lir
berty.”
DORIC, in general, any thing belonging to the
Dorians, an ancient people of Greece, inhabiting near
Mount Parnassus. See Doris.
Doric, in Architecture, is the second of the five or¬
ders; being that between the Tuscan and Ionic. It is
usually placed upon the Attic base, though originally
it had no base. See ARCHITECTURE, N° 43.
At its first invention it was more simple than at pre¬
sent; and when in after times it was more adorned
and enriched, the appellation Doric was restrained to
this richer manner, and the primitive simple manner
was called by a new name, the Tuscan order, which
was chiefly used in temples ; as the former being more
light and delicate, was for porticoes and theatres. The
tradition is, that Dorus, king of Acliaia, having first
built a temple of this order at Argos, which he dedicat¬
ed to Juno, occasioned it to be called Dor ic ; though
others derive its name from its being invented or used
by the Dorians.
The moderns, on account of its solidity, use it in
large strong buildings ; as in the gates of cities and ci¬
tadels, the outside of churches, and other massy works,
where delicacy of ornament would be unsuitable. The
gate of Burlington house in Piccadilly is of the Doric
order.
P p 2
The
Doric.
DOR [ 300
The most considerable ancient monuments of this or-
' tier, are the theatre of Marcellus at Rome, wherein
the capital, the height of the frize, and its projecture,
are much smaller" than in the modern architecture*,
and the Parthenion, or temple of Minerva at Athens,
in which the short and massy columns bear upon the
pavement without a base ; and the capital is a simple
torus, with its cincture, and a square, plain, and solid
abacus.
Doric Cymatium. See Cyma.
Doric Dialect, one of the five dialects, or manners
of speaking, which obtained among the Greeks.
It was first used by the Lacedaemonians, and par¬
ticularly those of Argos ; thence it passed into Epirus,
Libya, Sicily, the islands of Rhodes and Crete. In
this dialect, Archimedes and Theocritus wrote, who
were both of Syracuse ; as likewise Pindar.
In strictness, however, we should rather define Do¬
ric, the manner of speaking peculiar to the Dorians,
after their recess near Parnassus and Asopus 5 and
which afterwards came to obtain among the Lacedae¬
monians, &c. Some even distinguish between the La¬
cedemonian and Doric 3 but in reality, they were the
same 3 setting aside a few particularities in the language
of the Lacedaemonians 3 as is shown by Rulandus, in
his excellent treatise De Lingua Greece ejusque Dialec-
tis, lib. v. . . ,
Beside the authors already mentioned to have writ¬
ten in the Doric dialect, we might add Archytas of
Tarentum, Bion, Callinus, Simonides, Bacchyhdes,
Cypselas, Aleman, and Sophron.
Most of the medals of the cities of Grsecia Magna,
and Sicily, savour of the Doric dialect in their inscrip¬
tion : witness, AMBPAKIQTAN, AIIOAAftNIATAN,
AXEOPONTAN, AXYPITAN, HPAXAEDTAN, TPAXI-
NIDN, ©EPMITAN, KAYAONIATAN, KOI1IATAN,
TAYPOMENITAN, &c. Which shows the countries
wherein the Done dialect was used.
The general rules of this dialect are thus given by
the Port Royalists.
jQ’e Hret d'u grand, d't d"1* et d'* Vo. fait le Dore.
D'u fait ; d\, a ; et d'» uv fait encore.
Oste 1 de Pinfini: et pour le singulier
Se sert au feminin du nombre plurier.
But they are much better explained in the fourth book
of Rulandus 3 where he even notes the minuter differ¬
ences of the dialects of Sicily, Crete, larentum,
Rhodes, Lacedaemon, Laconia, Macedonia, and Ihes-
saly. . . . .
The &> abounds everywhere in the Doric 3 but this
dialect bears so near a conformity to the iEolic, that
many reckon them but one.
Doric M.ode, in JYbusic, the first ol the authentic
modes of the ancients. Its character is to be severe,
tempered with gravity and joy 3 and is proper upon
religious occasions, as also to be used in war. It be¬
gins D, la, sol, re. Plato admires the music of the
Doric mode, and judges it proper to preserve good
manners as being masculine 3 and on this account al¬
lows it in his commonwealth. T-he ancients had like¬
wise their subdoric or hypodoric mode, which was one
of the plagal modes. Its character was to be very
grave and solemn 3 it begins with re, a fourth lower
than the Doric.
]
DOR
DORING, or Daring, among sportsmen, a term
used to express a method of taking larks, by means of
a clap-net and a looking-glass. For this sport there
must be provided four sticks very straight and light,
about the bigness of a pike ; two of these are to be
four feet nine inches long, and all notched at the edges
or the ends. At one end of each of these sticks there
is to be fastened another of about a foot long on one
side 3 and on the other side a small wooden peg about
three inches long. Then four or more sticks are to be
prepared, each of one foot length 3 and each ot these
must have a chord ol nine feet long fastened to it at the
end. Every one should have a buckle for the com¬
modious fastening on to the respective sticks when the
net is to be spread.—A cord must also be provided,
which must have two branches. The one must be
nine feet and a half, and the other ten feet long, with
a buckle at the end of each 3 the rest, or body of the
cord, must be 24 yards long. All these cords, as well
the long ones as those about the sticks, must be well
twisted and of the bigness of one’s little finger. The
next thing to be provided is a staff of four feet long,
pointed at one end, and with a ball of wood at the other,
for the carrying these conveniences in a sack or wal¬
let. There should also be carried on this occasion,
a spade to level the ground where there may be any
little irregularities 3 and two small rods, each eighteen
inches long, and having a small rod fixed with a pack¬
thread at the larger end of the other. To these are to
be tied some pack-thread loops, which are to fasten in
the legs of some larks : and there are to be reels to
these, that the birds may fly a little way up and down.
When all this is done, the looking-glass is to be pre¬
pared in the following manner : Take a piece of wood
about an inch and a half thick, and cut it in form of a
bow, so that there may be about nine inches space be¬
tween the two ends 3 and let it have its full thickness
at the bottom ; that it may receive into it a false piece 3
in the five corners of which there are to be set in five
pieces of looking-glass. These are so fixed, that they
may dart their light upwards 3 and the. whole machine
is to be supported on a moveable pin, with the end of a
long line fixed to it, and made in the manner of the
children’s plaything of an apple and a plumbstone 3
so that the other end of the cord being carried
through a hedge, the barely pulling it may set the
whole° machine of the glass a turning. This and the
other contrivances are to be placed in the middle be¬
tween the two nets. The larks fixed to the place, and
termed calls, and the glittering of the looking glasses
as they twirl round in the sun, invite the other larks
down 3 and the cord that communicates with the nets,
and goes through the hedge, gives the person behind
an opportunity of pulling up the nets, so as to meet
over the whole, and take every thing that is between
them. The places where this sort of sporting succeeds
best are open fields remote from any trees and hedges,
except one by way of shelter for the sportsman : and
the wind should always be either in the front or back ;
for if it blows sidewise, it prevents the playing of the
net. .
DORIS, a country of Greece, between 1 liocis,
Thessaly, and Acarnania. It received its name from
Dorns the son of Deucalion, who made a settlement
there. It was called Tetravolis from the four cities of
Find us
DOR [ 3=1 ] DOR
Doris
li
j oriel-
hire.
Pindus or Dryopis, Erineum, Cytinlum, and Borium,
which it contained. To these four some add Lilaeum
and Carphia, and therefore call it Hexapolis. The
name of Doris has been common to many parts of
Greece. The Dorians in the age of Deucalion inha¬
bited Phthiotis, which they exchanged for Histiaeotis,
in the age of Dorns. From thence they were driven
hy the Cadmeans, and came to settle near the town of
Pindus. From thence they passed into Dryopis, and
afterwards into Peloponnesus. Hercules having re¬
established jEgimius king of Phthiotis or Doris, who
had been driven from his country by the Lapithae, the
grateful king appointed Hyllus the son of his patron
to be his successor, and the Heraclirlae marched from
that part of the Country to go to recover Peloponne¬
sus. The Dorians sent many colonies into different
places, which bore the same name as their native coun¬
try. The most famous of these is in Asia Minor, of
which Halicarnassus was once the capital. This part
of Asia Minor was called Hexapolis, and afterwards
Pentapolis.
Doris, a genus of animals, belonging to the order of
vermes mollusca. See Helminthology Index.
DORMANT, in Heraldry, is used for the posture
of a lion, or any other beast, lying along in a sleeping
attitude with the head on the fore paws : by which it
is distinguished from the couchant, where, though the
beast is lying, yet he holds up his head.
DORMER, in Architecture, signifies a window
made in the roof of a house, or above the entablature,
being raised upon the rafters.
DORMITORY, a gallery in convents or religious
houses, divided into several cells, in which the religious
sleep or lodge.
DORMOUSE. See Mus and Sciurus, Mam¬
malia Index.
DORONICUM, Leppard’s Bane j a genus of
plants belonging to the syngenesia class $ and in the
natural method ranking under the 49th order, Compo-
sitce. See Botany Index.
DORSAL, an appellation given to whatever belongs
to the back. See Dorsum.
DORSET, Thomas Sackville, Lord Buckhurst.
See Sackville.
Dorset, Charles Sackville, earl of. See Sack¬
ville.
DORSETSHIRE, a county of England, bounded
on the south by the English channel, on the north by
Somersetshire and Wiltshire, on the east by Hampshire,
and on the west by Devonshire and some part of So¬
mersetshire. It is between 40 and 50 miles long from
east to west, and 34 broad from south to north, and
contains 248 parishes, and about 775,000 acres. This
country enjoys a mild, pleasant, and wholesome air,
and a deep, rich, and fertile soil, finely diversified.
Towards the north it is level, under the high lands
that divide it from Somersetshire, where there are fine
arable grounds that will yield large crops of different
kinds of grain. But on the south, from the borders of
Hampshire by the sea cost, for an extent of almost 20
miles in length, and in some places four or five in
breadth, is a heathy common, which renders this county
less populous tfian it otherwise would be. From east
to west runs a ridge of hills called the Downs, abound¬
ing with sweet and short herbage, which nourishes a
3
vast number of sheep equally esteemed for their flesh Dorsei-
and fleece, 'i he country is also very plentifully water- shire
ed ; and in all respects so well suited both for plea- R
sure and profit, that it was distinguished by the Ro- , ^'>It-
mans above all others. They had more stations and
summer camps in Dorsetshire than in any other county.
1 hat the Saxons had the same regard for it, is evident
from the number of palaces they had in it, the stately
minsters they built, and the express directions they
gave that their bodies should be interred in those mo¬
numents of their piety. This country yields many and
very valuable commodities. The quarries in Purbeck
and Portland supply stones of diflerent qualities, suited
to various uses, and in prodigious quantities, together
with some very rich and beautiful marble. The best
tobacco-pipe clay in England is also found in this
county. The number of inhabitants in 1811 was
124,693. See Dorsetshire, Supplement.
DORSIFEROUS plants, among botanists, such
as are of the capillary kind, without stalks, and which
bear their seeds on the hack side of their leaves.
DORSTENIA, Contrayerva; a genus of plants
belonging to the tetrandria class ; and in the natural
method ranking under the 53d order, Scabridce. See
Botany Index.
DORSUM, the Back, in Anatomy, comprehends
all the posterior part of the trunk of the body from the
neck to the buttocks. See Anatomy Index.
DORT, or Dordrecht, a city of Holland, which
held the first rank in the assembly of the states. It is
seated in a small island formed by the rivers Meuse,
Merue, Rhine, and Linghe. The Meuse, on which it
stands, gives it a good harbour, and separates it from
the islands of Isselmonde and Ablas. It is divided from
Beyerland hy a canal. The harbour is very commo¬
dious for the merchandises which come down the
Rhine and the Meuse, which keep it in a flourishing
condition. Its strength consists in being surrounded
with water. Its walls are old, and defended by round
towers. It is very rich, and well built with brick, and
had formerly the exclusive right of coining money. It
is at present the staple town for wines, particularly
Rhenish. It was detached from the main land in 1421,
on the 17th of November, by a flood occasioned by
the bi’eaking down of the dike, which overwhelmed 70
villages, and about 100,coo persons. However, by
time and the industry of the inhabitants, a great part
of the land is recovered. It has two principal canals,
namely, the New and Old Haven, by which heavy
loaded vessels may enter into the city. Over the Old
Haven is a large bridge w’ell built with brick.
Dort was almost reduced to ashes in the year 14575
there being then consumed 2000 houses, with the halls,
hospital, and church of Notre Dame : but they are
now well provided with fire engines and watchmen to
prevent the like disaster. This city is famous for the
meeting of the clergy called the Synod of Dort, in
which the Calvinists obtained a sentence against the
Arminians, wdio were called the Remonstrants. The
dispute between the contending parties occasioned
strange disorders, skirmishes and murders, in most of
the principal cities. Those ministers who would not
subscribe to the decree of the synod were banished, of
whom there were above 100. E. Long. 4. 36. N. Lat.
51* 39-
Synod
DOS
[
302 ] u u u
,, , , n „T , 3vnoJ suraraoned by au- lished by Piiotius. In that decree, Euloglns accuses DMitlMi
Synod of Dort, a national syno , t-nr 11 a nnelfWnn nf iniuriouslv treating the ancient patriarchs 11
tborjly of the states-general, the provtnces ot Hoi and Dos,then „ r ^ ,,lmself tl,Pe spirit of DI(.
Qttccht andOverysselercepted and held a Don P^et^akcs 1]iln c0*temp„ra,.y ,v„h Simon--V-J
Scotland, Switzerland, Bremen, Hessia, and the 1 a-
latinate, assembled on this occasion, in order to decide
the controversy between the Gomarists or Calvinists,
and Arminians ; the latter of whom were declared cor¬
rupters of the true religion. But the authority °‘
synod was far from being universally acknowledged
either in Holland or in England. The provinces ot
Friesland, Zealand, Utrecht, Guelderland, and Gro¬
ningen, could not be persuaded to adopt their deci¬
sions ; and they were opposed by the authority ot Arch¬
bishop Laud and King James I. in England 1 he re¬
formed churches in France, though at first disposed to
give a favourable reception to the doctrines ot this ta-
nious synod, in process of time espoused doctrines very
different from those of the Gomarists j and the churches
of Brandenburgh and Bremen would not sutfer then-
doctors to be tied down to the opinions and tenets ot
the Dutch divines. The liberty of private judgment
with respect to the doctrine of predestination and grace,
which the spirit that prevailed among the divines ot
Dort seemed so much adapted to discourage and sup¬
press, acquired new vigour in consequence of the arbi¬
trary proceedings of this assembly. _
DORTMUND, a city of Germany, in the circle ot
"Westphalia. It is pretty large, but not well built.
Formerly it was one of the Hanse towns. Its terri¬
tory also was formerly a county, and had lords ot its
own. It was afterwards an imperial city, but in 1015
was delivered over to Prussia.
DQRYPHORI (from spear, and <pt^, 1 bear),
an appellation given to the life-guard-men of the Ro¬
man emperors. They were held in such high estima¬
tion, as frequently to have the command of armies con¬
ferred on them.—It was usual also for chief com¬
manders to have their doryphori or life guard to attend
them. . r
DOSE, in Pharmacy, Sec. the quantity ot a medi¬
cine to be taken at one time. The word is formed
from the Greek 3o<nf, which signifies gift, or a thing
given *, from do, “ I give.”
DOSITHEANS, {Dosithei), an ancient sect a-
mong the Samaritans in the first century ot the Uhn-
Mention is made in Origen, Epiphanius, Jerome,
and divers other Greek and Latin fathers, of one Uo-
sitheus the chief of a faction among the Samaritans;
but the learned are not at all agreed as to the time
wherein he lived. St Jerome, in his dialogue against
the Luctferians, places him before our Saviour ; where¬
in he is followed by Drusius, who in his answer to
Serrarius places him about the time of Sennacherib
kino- of Assyria. But Scaliger will have him posterior
to our Saviour’s time: And in effect Or,gen intimates
him to have been contemporary with the apostles ,
where he observes, that he endeavoured to persuade
the Samaritans, that he was the Messiah foretold by
, M IK'had many followers; and his sect was still sub¬
sisting at Alexandria in the time of the patnaieh Eu-
logius, as appears from a decree of that patnarej pub-
in divers places, and of composing several books direct¬
ly contrary to the law of God.
Archbishop Usher takes Dositheus to be the author
of all the changes made in the Samaritan Pentateuch,
which he argues from the authority of Eulogius. But
all we can justly gather from the testimony of Eulogius
is, that Dositheus corrupted the Samaritan copies since
used by that sect; but that corruption did not pass into
all the copies of the Samaritan Pentateuch now in use
among us, which vary but little from the Jewish Pen¬
tateuch : And in this sense we are to understand that
passage in a Samaritan chronicle, where it is said that
Dousis, i. e. Dositheus, altered several things in the law
of Moses. The author of that chronicle, who was a
Samaritan by religion, adds, that their high-priest sent
several Samaritans to seize Dousis and his corrupted
copy of the Pentateuch.
Epiphanius takes Dositheus to have been a Jew by
birth, and to have abandoned the Jewish party for that
of the Samaritans. He imagines him likewise to have
been the author of the seed of the Sadducees : W hich
seems inconsistent with his being later than our Savi¬
our ; and jet the Jesuit Serrarius agrees to make Dosi¬
theus the master of Sadoc, from whom the Sadducees
are derived. .
Tertullian, making mention of the same Dositheus,
observes, that he was the first who dared to reject the
authority of the prophets by denying their inspiration.
But he charges that as a crime peculiar to that sectary,
which in reality is common to the whole sect, who
have never allowed any but the five books of Moses
for divine. . ,
DOSSER, a sort of basket to be carried on the
shoulders of men. It is used in carrying the overplus
earth from one part of a fortification to another where
it is wanted. There are likewise small carts and wheel¬
barrows, for the same use. _
DOSSIL, in Surgery, is lint made into a cylindne
form, or resembling the shape of dates or olive stones.
Dossils are sometimes secured by a thread tied round
their middle.
DOTTEREL. See Charadrius, Ornithology
Index.
DOU, or Douw, Gerard. See Douw.
DOUAY, or DOWAY, a large and strong city of
the French Netherlands, situated in E. Long. 3. 0.
N. Lat. 50. 25. It is situated on the river Scarpe, m
a very fertile and pleasant country. The town is large
and well fortified, and contains 18,000 inhabitants.
You enter it by six gates, and the streets trom
each of these gates lead to the market-place. Here
is a venerable old town-house, adorned with the sta¬
tues of the ear! of Flanders, in which the magis¬
trates used to assemble. Here also were held seve¬
ral country courts for the dependencies of Douay,
which contained about 30 villages. The parliament ot
Douay was at first only a supreme council, established
at Tournay in 1668, and erected into a parliament m
1686. But Tournay being taken by the allies m 1709,
the parliament was removed to Cambray; ana upon
D O U
■'siny,
mible.
tlie yielding of Tournay to the Austrians by the treaty
of Utrecht, the parliament was removed to Douay,
where it still continues. This city was erected into an
university like that of Louvain by Philip II. because
of its being in the middle of so many great cities, and
Louvain at so great a distance, that the children on
that side of the country were generally sent for their
education into France. Before the French revolution
it contained 14 colleges, all governed and settled af¬
ter the manner of those at Louvain ; and the schools
[ ]
D O U
of philosophy, canon and civil law, and physic, were
(1 is nosed also after the same manner. There was a
disposed also after the same manner. There „
considerable seminary here of English Roman Catholics,
founded by Philip II. of Spain about the year 1560.
There were also a great number of convents ; and
amongst the rest two English, one of Franciscan friars,
the other of Benedictine monks. Douay was taken
from the Spaniards by the French king in person in
1667, after a short resistance. That prince made it
very strong, and built a fort about a cannon shot be¬
low it upon the Scarpe, with sluices, by which the ad¬
jacent country could be drowned. The allies laid
siege to it in 17x0, under the command of the duke
of Marlborough j and after a vigorous defence, the
town and Fort Scarpe surrendered upon honourable
terms. It was retaken by the French in 1712, after
the suspension of arms between Great Britain and
France.
DOUBLE ; two of a sort, one corresponding to the
other.
Double Children, Double Cats, Double Pears, &c.
Instances of these are frequent in the Philosoph. Trans.
and elsewhere. See Monster.
Sir John Floyer, in the same Transactions, giving an
account of a double turkey, furnishes some reflections on
the production of double animals in general. Two tur¬
keys, he relates, were taken out of an egg of the com¬
mon size, when the rest were all hatched, which grew
together by the flesh of the breast-bone, but in all
other parts were distinct. They seemed less than the
ordinary size, as wanting bulk, nutriment, and room
for their growth ; which latter, too, was apparently
the occasion of their cohesion. For having two di¬
stinct cavities in their bodies, and two hearts, they
must have arisen from two cicatriculas *, and, conse¬
quently, the egg had two yolks j which is no uncom¬
mon accident. He mentions a dried double chicken in
his possession, which, though it had four legs, four
wings, &c. had hut one cavity in the body, one heart,
and one head ; and, consequently, was produced from
one cicatricula.
So, Paraeus mentions a double infont, with only one
heart, in which case, the original or stamen of the in¬
fant was one, and the vessels regular; only> the nerves
and arteries towards the extremities dividing into more
branches than ordinary, produced double parts.
The same is the case in the double flowers of plants,
occasioned by the richness of the soil. So it is in the
eggs of quadrupeds, &c.
There are, therefore, two reasons of duplicity in em¬
bryos : 1. Ihe conjoining or connection of two perfect
animals j and, 2. An extraordinary division and ramifi¬
cation of the original vessels, nerves, arteries, &c.
Double Employment, in Mihic, a name given by
M. Rameau to the two difterent manners in which the
chord of the sub-dominant may be regarded and treated,
viz. as the fundamental chord of the sixth superadded
or as the chord of the great sixth, inverted from a fun¬
damental chord of the seventh. In reality, the chords
carry exactly the same notes, are figured in the same
manner, are employed upon the same chord of the tone,
m such a manner, that frequently we cannot discern
which of the two chords the author employs, but by the
assistance of the subsequent chord, which resolves it,
and which is different in these different cases.
To make this distinction, we must consider the dia¬
tonic progress of the two notes which form the fifth
and tlie sixth, and which, constituting between them
the interval of a second, must one or the other consti¬
tute the dissonance of the chord. Now this progress is
determined by the motion of the bass. Of these two
notes, then, if the superior be the dissonance, it will
iise by one gradation into the subsequent chord, the
lower note will keep its place, and the higher note
will be a superadded sixth. If the lower be the disso¬
nance, it will descend into the subsequent chord, the
higher will remain in its place, and the chord will be
that of the great sixth. See the two cases of the double
employment in Rousseau’s Musical Dictionary, Plate
D, fig. 12.
With respect to the composer, the use which he may
make (if the double employment, is to consider the
chord in its difterent points of view, that from thence
he may know how to make his entrance to it, and his
exit from it; so that having arrived, for instance, at
the chord of the superadded sixth, he may resolve it as
a chord of the great sixth, and reciprocally.
M. D’Alembert has shown, that one of the chief
uses of the double employment is, that we be able to
cany the diatonic succession ol the gamut even to an
octave, without changing the mode, at least whilst we
rise $ for in descending we must change it. Of this
gamut and its fundamental bass, an example will be
found in Rousseau’s Musical Dictionary, Plate 1), fig.
13. It is evident, according to the system of M. Ra¬
meau, that all the harmonic successions which result
from it, are in the same tone: for, in strictness, no
other chords are there employed but three, that of the
tonic, that of the dominant, and that of the sub-domi¬
nant ; as this last, in the double employment, consti¬
tutes the seventh from the second note, which is em¬
ployed upon the sixth.
With respect to what M. D’Alembert adds in his
Elements of Music, p. 70. and which he repeats in the
Encyclopedic, article Double emplai, viz. that the
chord of the seventh re fo la vt, though we should
even regard it only as inversion of fo, la, ut, re, can¬
not be followed by the chord ut mi sol ut; “ I cannot
(says Rousseau) be of his opinion in this point.
The proof which he gives for it is, that the disso¬
nance ut of the first cannot be resolved in the second j
and this is true, since it remains in its place : but in
this chord of the seventh re fo la ut, inverted from this
chord of the superadded sixth,yi* la ut re, it is not the
ut, bat the re, which is the dissonance j which, of con¬
sequence, ought to be resolved in ascending upon ?«/', as
it really does in the subsequent cliord j so that this pro¬
cedure in the bass itself is forced, which, from re, can¬
not without an error return to ut, but ought to ascend
to mi, in order to resolve the dissonance.
“ M.
Double
D O U t 3°4
“ M. D’Alembert afterwards shows, that this chord
it re fa la ut, when preceded and followed by that of
Doublet. t|ie tonic, cannot be authorized by the double employ-
 v   ment, and this is likewise very true ; because this
chord, though figured with a 7, is not treated as a
chord of the seventh, neither when we make our en-
trance to it, nor our exit from it j or at least that it is
not necessary to treat it as such, but simply as an inver¬
sion of the superadded sixth, ot which the dissonance is
the bass: in which case we ought by no means to for¬
get, that this dissonance is never prepared. Thus,
though in such a transition the double employment is
not in question, though the chord ot the seventh be no
more than apparent, and impossible to be resolved by
the rules, this does not hinder the transition from be¬
ing proper and regular, as I have just proved to theo¬
rists. I shall immediately prove to practical artists,
bv an instance of this transition : which certainly will
not be condemned by any one of them, nor justified by
any other fundamental bass except my own. f ee t ic
Musical Dictionary, Plate D, fig. 14.).
“ I acknowledge, that this inversion of the chord ot
the sixth superadded, which transfers the dissonance to
the bass, has been censured by M. Rameau, 'ibis au¬
thor, taking for a fundamental chord the chord ot the
seventh, which results from it, rather chose to make
the fundamental bass descend diatonically, and resolve
one seventh bv another, than to unfold this seventh by
an inversion.' I had dissipated this error, and many
others, in some papers which long ago had passed into
the hands of M. D’Alembert, when he was compo-
simr his Elements of Music j so that it is not his senti¬
ments which I attack, but my own opinion which 1 de¬
fend.’
For what remains, the double employment cannot be
used with too much reserve, and the greatest masters
are the most temperate in putting it in practice.
Double Fichy, or Fiche, in Heraldry, the denomi¬
nation of a cross, when the extremity has two points;
in contradistinction to fiche, where the extremity is
sharpened away to one point. , . ~
Double Octave, in Music, an interval composed ot
fifteen notes in diatonic progression ; and which, tor
that reason, is called zfifteenth. “ It is (says Rous-
seau) an interval composed of two octaves, called by
the Greeks disdiapason. , . .
It deserves, however, to be remarked, that in inter¬
vals less distant and compounded, as in the third, the
fifth, the simple octave, &c. the lowest and highest ex¬
tremes are included in the number from whence the
interval takes its name. But, in the double octave,
when termed a fifteenth, the simple number of which
it is composed gives the name. This is by no means
analogical, and may occasion some contusion. We
should rather choose, therefore, to run any hazard
which might occur from uniformly including all the
terms of which the component intervals consist, and
call the double octave a sixteenth, according to the ge¬
neral analogy. See INTERVAL. ...
DOUBLET, among lapidaries, implies a counter¬
feit stone, composed of two pieces of crystal, and some¬
times glass softened, together with proper colours be¬
tween them ; so that they make the same appearance
to the eye as if the whole substance of the crystal had
been tinged with these colours.
] D 0 IT
The impracticability of imparting tinges to the bo¬
dy of crystals, while in their proper and natural state,
and the softness of glass, which renders ornaments
made of it greatly inferior in wear to crystal, give in¬
ducements to the introduction of colouring the surface
of crystal wrought in a proper form, in such a manner,
that the surfaces of two pieces so coloured being laid
together, the effect might appear the same as it the
whole surface of the crystal had been colouied. T-he
crystals, and sometimes white transparent glass so
treated, were called doublets/ and at one time prevail¬
ed greatly in use, on account ot the advantages, with
respect to wear, such doublets had, when made ot cry¬
stal, over glass, and the brightness of the colours which
could with certainty be given to counterfeit stones this
wav, when coloured glass could not be procured, or at
least not without a much greater ex pence. Doublets
have not indeed the property which the others have, of
bearing to be set transparent, as is frequently required
in drops of ear-rings and other ornaments : but when
mounted in rings, or used in such manner that the sides
of the pieces where the joint is made, cannot be in¬
spected, they have, when formed of crystal, the title to
a preference to the coloured glass ; and the ai t of ma¬
naging them is therefore, in some degree, of the same
importance with that of preparing glass for the coun¬
terfeiting gems ; and is therefore properly an appen¬
dage to it, as being entirely subservient to the same
intention. The manner of making doublets is as fol-
lows : ., .
Let the crystal or glass be first cut by the lapidaries
in the manner of a brilliant, except that, in this case,
the figure must be composed from two separate stones,
or parts of stones, formed in the manner of the upper
and under parts of a brilliant, if it was divided into
a horizontal direction, a little lower than the middle.
After the two plates of the intended stone are thus cut,
and fitted so exactly that no division can appear when
they are laid together, the upper part must be polished
ready for setting ; and then the colour must be put be¬
twixt the two plates by this method. “ Take of > e-
nice or Cyprus turpentine two scruples; and add to it
one scruple of the grains of mastich chosen perfectly
pure, free from foulness, and previously powdered.
Melt them together in a small silver or brass spoon,
ladle, or other vessel, and put to them gradually any
of the coloured substances mentioned below, being first
well powdered ; stirring them together as the colour is
put in, that they may be thoroughly commixed. Warm
then the doublets to the same degree of heat as the
melted mixture ; and paint the upper surface of the
lower part, and put the upper one instantly upon it,
pressing them to each other, but taking care that they
may be conjoined in the most perfectly even manner.
■When the cement or paint is quite cold and set, the re¬
dundant part of it, which has been pressed out of the
mint of the two pieces, should be gently scraped ot.
the side, till there be no appearance of any colour on
the outside of the doublets ; and they should then be
skilfully set ; observing to carry the mounting over the
joint, that the upper piece may be well secured from
separating from the under one. ,
The colour of the ruby may be best imitated, by
mixing a fourth part of carmine with some of the finest
crimson lake that can be procured.
Doublci
0 u C 305 ] D O V
oiiiilet sa.pphire may be counterfeited with very bright
| Prussian blue, mixed with a little of the above-men-
iibling. tioned crimson lake, to give it a cast of the purple.
The Prussian blue should not be very deep coloured,
or but little of it should be used : for otherwise, it will
give a black shade that will be injurious to the lustre
of the doublets.
The emerald may be well counterfeited with distill¬
ed verdigrise, to which is added a little powdered aloes.
But the mixture should not be strongly heated, or kept
long over the fire after the verdigrise is added : for the
colour is apt to be soon impaired by it.
The resemblance of the garnet may be made with
dragon’s blood-, which, if it cannot be procured of suf¬
ficient brightness, may be helped by a very small quan¬
tity of carmine.
The amethyst may be imitated with the mixture of
some Prussian blue with the crimson lake; but the pro¬
portions can only be regulated, by direction, as differ¬
ent parcels of the lake and Prussian blue vary extreme¬
ly in the degree of strength of the colour.
The yellow topazes may be counterfeited by mixinir
the powdered aloes with a little dragon’s blood, or by
good Spanish anotto ; but the colour must be very spa¬
ringly used, or the tinge will be too strong for the ap¬
pearance of that stone.
The chrysolite, hyacinth, vinegar garnet, aigue ma¬
rine, and other such weaker or more diluted colours,
may be formed in the same manner, by lessening the
proportions of the colours, or by compounding them
together correspondently to the hue of the stone to be
imitated; to which end it is proper to have an original
stone, or an exact imitation of one, at hand when the
mixture is made, in order to the more certain adapting
the colours to the effect desired : and when these pre¬
cautions are taken, and the operation is well conducted,
it is practicable to bring the doublets to so near a re¬
semblance of the true stone, that even the best judges
cannot distinguish them, when well set, without a pecu¬
liar manner of inspection.
There is, however, an easy method of distinguishing
doublets, which is only to behold them betwixt the eye
and light, in such a position, that the light may pass
through the upper part and corners of the stone; when
it will easily be perceived that there is no colour in the
body of the stone.
DOUBLETS, a game on dice within tables ; the
men, which are only 15, being placed thus : Upon the
sice, cinque, and quatre points, there stand three men
a-piece ; and upon the trey, duce, and ace, only two.
He that throws highest hath the benefit of throwing
first, and what he throws he lays down, and so doth
the oilier ; what the one throws, and hath not, the
other lays down for him, but on his own account ; and
thus they do till all the men are down, and then they
bear. lie that is down first, bears first; and will doubt¬
less win the game, if the other throws not doublets to
oveitake him : which he is sure to do, since he advances
or bears as many as the doublets make, viz. eight for
two fours.
DOUBLING, in the military art, is the putting
two ranks or files of soldiers into one. Thus, when
the word of command is double your ranks, the second,
fourth, and six ranks march into the first, third, and
anh, so that the six ranks are reduced to three, and
Vol. VII. Part I. +
the intervals between the ranks become double what
they were before.
Doubling, among hunters, who say that a hare
doubles, when she keeps in plain fields, and winds about
to deceive the hounds.
Doubling, in the manege, a term applied to a horse,
w 10 is said to double bis reins, when be leaps several
times together, to throw bis rider; thus it is said, the
ramingue doubles his reins, and makes pontlevis.
Doubling, in Navigation, the art of sailing round,
or passing beyond, a cape or promontory, so as that
the cape or point of land separates the ship from her
former situation, or lies between her and any distant
observer.
Doubling Upon, in Naval Tactics, the act of enclo¬
sing any part of a hostile fleet between two fires, or of
cannonading it on both sides.
It is usually performed by the van or rear of that
fleet which is superior in number, taking the advantage
of the wind, 01 of its situation, and taking or veering
round the van or rear of the enemy, who can scarcely
avoid being thrown into general confusion.
DOUBLON, or Dubloon, a Spanish and Portu¬
guese coin, being the double of a Pistole.
DOUBS, the name of a river of France, which has
its source in the mountains of Jura, and falls into the
Saone ; and also the name of a department which is
nearly surrounded by that river.
DOUBTING, the act of withholding our assent from
any proposition, on suspicion that we are not thoroughly
apprised of the merits thereof, or from not being able
peremptorily to decide between the reasons for and
against it. Doubting is distinguished by the schoolmen
into two kinds, dubitatio stenlis, and dubitatio ej/tcax.
The former is that where no determination ensues : in
this manner the Sceptics and Academics doubt, who
withhold their assent from every thing. See SCEPTICS,
&c. I he latter is followed by judgment, which dis¬
tinguishes truth from falsehood: such is the doubting
of the Peripatetics and Cartesians. The last in par¬
ticular perpetually inculcate the deceitfulness of our
senses, and tell us that we are to doubt of every one of
their reports, till they have been examined and con¬
firmed by reason. On the other hand, the Epicureans
teach, that our senses always tell truth ; and that, if
you go ever so little from them, you come within the
province of doubting. See Cartesians, Epicure¬
ans, &c.
Doubting, in Rhetoric, a figure wherein the orator
appears some time fluctuating, and undetermined what
to do or say. Tacitus furnishes us with an instance of
doubting, almost to a degree of distraction, in those
words of Tiberius written to the senate : Quid scribam,
P. S. aut quomodo scribam, out quid omnino non scr i-
bam hoc tempore, dii me dcceque pejus perdant quarn
perire quotidie sentio, si scio.
DOUCETS, or Doulcets, among sportsmen, de¬
note the testes of a deer or stag.
DOUCINE, in Architecture, a moulding concave
above and convex below, serving commonly as a ey-
matium to a delicate corniche. It is likewise called
Gula.
DOVE. See Columba, Ornithology Index.
DovE-Tuiling, in carpentry, is the manner of fast¬
ening boards together by letting one piece into ano-
Q q ther
Doubling
Dove¬
tailing
Dove¬
tailing
n
Dover
Straits.
* Arctie
Zooiogy,
vol. i. In-
trod . p. ii.
D O V [ 3o6
tlier in tlie form of tlie tail of a dove. The dove-tail is
the strongest of the assemblages or joinings j because
the tenon, or piece of wood which is put into the other,
goes widening to the extreme, so that it cannot be
drawn out again, by reason the extreme or tip is bigger
than the hole. - ^ ,
DOVER, a borough and port town ot England,
in the county of Kent, situated in E. Long. o. 25.
N. Lat. 51. 10. It sends two members to parliament,
styled barons of the Cinque ports, whereof Dover is the
chief. The number of voters is about 1600. It con¬
tained 14,845 inhabitants in 1801, and 19,128 in
1 By the Romans this town was named Dubris, and
by the Saxons Dofra, probably from the British word
Dour, which signifies water. The convenience of its
situation drew the attention of the Roman governors,
who ruled here while they possessed this part of the
island; and there still remain indubitable testimonies
of their care and respect for this important place. For
the defence of the town, the Romans, or, according
to some, Arviragus, a British king, their confederate,
by cuttincr out walls with infinite labour m the solid
rock, constructed a stony fortress ; and, as its vener¬
able remains still prove, erected also a light-house, lor
the benefit of navigation. The Saxons, Danes, and
Normans, had a very high opinion of this place ; and
when the barons invited over the young Pn»ce, after¬
wards Louis VIII. of France, his father Philip Au¬
gustus conceived a bad opinion of the expedition, be¬
cause the castle and port of Dover were he d for King
John, though a great part of the kingdom had submit¬
ted to Louis. In its most flourishing state, the for¬
tress was impregnable, and the town a very opulent
emporium. It had 21 wards, each of which furnish¬
ed a ship for the public service, 10 gates, 7 parish-
churches, many religious houses, hospitals, and other
public edifices. The decay of the town was brought
on by that of the harbour. To recover this, Hen¬
ry VIII. spent no less than 63,000k in constructing
piers ; and 5000I. in building a castle between this
and Folkstone, called Sandgate, where the shore was
flat, and the landing easy. Notwithstanding all this
expence, however, it was again choked up in the
reio-n of Queen Elizabeth, by whom it was again clear¬
ed °at a vast expenee, so that ships of some hundred
tons could enter it. After that time it again de¬
clined, notwithstanding of many efforts for its relief,
and great assistance from time to time given by par¬
liament for this purpose. At present the harbour is
capable of receiving vessels of 400 or 500 tons;
and as the packets to France and Flanders are sta¬
tioned here in time of peace, it is still a place of some
consequence, and the people are active and industn-
OUDover Straits, the narrow channel between Dover
and Calais, which separates our island from the opposite
continent. Britain is supposed by many to have been
once peninsulated, the present straits occupying the site
of the isthmus which joined it to Gaul. “ No certain
cause (says Mr Pennant*) can be given for the mighty
convulsion which tore us from this continent; whether
it was rent by an earthquake, or whether it was worn
through by the continual dashing of the waters, no
Pythagoras is left to solve t\\e fot'tuna locorutn .
2
] D O V
Vidi es;o, quodfuerat quondam solidissima tettus
Esse freturn.
But it is most probable, that the great philosopher al- ^
luded to the partial destruction of the Atlantica insula,
mentioned by Plato as a distant tradition in his days.
It was effected by an earthquake and a deluge, which
might have rent asunder the narrow isthmus in question,
and left Britain, large as it seems at present, the mere
wreck of its original size. J he Scilly isles, the He¬
brides, Orkneys, Shetlands, and perhaps the Feroe
islands, may possibly be no more than fragments of the
once far-extended region. I have no quarrel about the
word island. The little isthmus, compared to the whole,
might have been a junction never attended to in the li¬
mited navigations of very early times. The peninsula
had never been wholly explored, and it passed with tlm
ancients for a genuine island. The correspondency of
strata on part of the opposite shores of Britain and
France, leaves no room to doubt but that they were
united. The chalky cliffs of Blancnez between
Dom
Strain,
Dover,
Calais and Boulogne, and those to the westward of Do¬
ver, exactly tally: the last are vast and continued ; the
former short, and the termination of the immense bed.
Between Boulogne and Folkstone (about six miles from
the latter) is another memorial of the junction of the
two countries ; a narrow submarine hill, caked the_Z?r)?-
raps, about a quarter of a mile broad, and ten miles
long, extending eastwards towards the Goodwin sands.
Its^materials are boulderstones, adventitious to many
strata. The depth of water on it, in very low ebbs during
spring tides, is only fourteen feet. The fishermen from
Folkstone have often touched it with a fifteen feet oar ;
so that it is justly the dread of navigators. Many a tall
ship has perished on it, and sunk instantly into twenty-
one fathoms water. In July 1782, the Belleisle of six¬
ty-four guns struck, and lay on it during three hours;
but, by starting her beer and water, got clear off.
“ These celebrated straits are only twenty-one miles
wide in the narrowest part. From the pier at Dover
to that at Calais is twenty-four. It is conjectured,
that their breadth lessens, and that they are two miles
narrower than they were in ancient times. An accu¬
rate observer of fifty years remarks to me, that R16 ‘jl-'
creased height of water, from a decrease of breadth,
has been apparent even in that space. The depth of
the channel at a medium in highest spring tides is
about twenty-five fathoms. The bottom either coarse
sand or rugged scars, which have for ages unknown re¬
sisted the attrition of the currents. From the straits
both eastward and westward is a gradual increase of depth
through the channel to a hundred fathoms, till sound¬
ings are totally lost or unattended to. The spring tides
in the straits rise on an average twenty-four leet, the
neap tides fifteen. The tide flows from the German
sea, passes the straits, and meets, with a great rippling,
the western tide from the ocean between Fairleigh near
Hastings and Boulogne ; a proof that, if the separation
of the land was effected by the seas, it must have been
by the overpowering weight of those of the north.
Dover, a town of Delaware in North America. It
is the chief town of the county of Kent in the Dela¬
ware state, and is the seat of government. It stands
on Jones’s creek, a few miles from the Delaware river,
and consists of about 100 houses, principally ot bnc •
Four streets intersect each other at right
D O U [307
,07er) centre of the town, whose incidencies form a spacious
ouglas. parade, on the east side of which is an elegant state-
■■''v -_l ‘ house of brick. The town has a lively appearance,
and drives on a considerable trade with Philadelphia.
Wheat is the principal article of export. The landing
is five or six miles from the town of Dover.
DOUGLAS, Lord. See {History of) Scot¬
land.
Douglas, Gavin, bishop of Dunkeld in Scotland,
was the third son of Archibald earl of Angus, and
born in the year 1474. Where he was educated, is
not known $ but it is certain that he studied theology :
a study, however, which did not estrange him from the
muses ; for he employed himself at intervals in trans¬
lating into beautiful verse the poem of Ovid cle Remedio
Amort's. The advantages of foreign travel, and the
conversation of the most learned men in France and
Germany, to whom his merit produced the readiest ac¬
cess, completed his education. With his superior re¬
commendations and worth, it was impossible he could
remain unnoticed. His first preferment was to be pro¬
vost of the collegiate church of St Giles in Edinburgh j
a place at that time of great dignity and revenue. In
the year 1514, the queen mother, then regent of Scot¬
land, appointed Douglas abbot of Aberbrothock, and
soon after archbishop of St Andrew’s j but the queen’s
power not being sufficient to establish him in the pos¬
session of that dignity, he relinquished his claim in fa¬
vour of his competitor Foreman, who was supported
by the pope. In 1515, he was by the queen appoint¬
ed bishop of Dunkeld ; and that appointment was soon
after confirmed by his holiness Leo X. Nevertheless
it was some time before he could obtain peaceable pos¬
session of his see. The duke of Albany, who in this
year was declared regent, opposed him because he was
supported by the queen j and, in order to deprive him
of his bishopric, accused him of acting contrary to law
in receiving bulls from Rome. On this accusation he
was committed to the castle of Edinburgh, where he
continued in confinement above a year j but the re¬
gent and the queen being at last reconciled, he obtain¬
ed his liberty, and was consecrated bishop of Dunkeld.
In 15171 he attended the duke of Albany to France j
but returned soon after to Scotland. In 1521, the
disputes between the earls of Arran and Angus having
thrown the kingdom into violent commotion, our pre¬
late retired to England, where he became intimately
acquainted with Polydore Virgil the historian. He
died in London of the plague in 1522; and was bu¬
ried in the Savoy. He wrote, 1. The Palace of Ho¬
nour: a most ingenious poem under the similitude of a
vision ; in which he paints the vanity and inconstancy
of all worldly glory. It. abounds with incidents, and
a very rich vein of poetry. The palace of happiness,
in the picture of Cebes, seems to be the groundwork
of it. 2. Aurece Narrationes : a performance now lost;
in which, it is said, he explained, in a most agreeable
manner, the mythology of the poetical fictions of the
ancients. 3. Comcndice aliquot sacra;: None of which
are now to be found. 4. Thirteen Bukes of Eneades,
of the famose poet Virgil, translatet out of Latin verses
into Scottish metre, every buke having its particular
prologe. Imprinted at London 1553, in 4U) 5 and
reprinted at Edinburgh 1710, in folio. The last is
the most esteemed of all bis works. He undertook it
]
D o u
at the desire of Lord Henry Sinclair, a munificent pa. Douglas
tron of arts in those times : and he completed it in 18 Douw.
months j a circumstance which his admirers are too  v~—
fond of repeating to his advantage. David Hume of
Godscroft, an author of uncommon merit, and an ad¬
mirable judge of poetry, gives the following testimony
in his favour. “ He wrote (says he) in his native
tongue divers things $ but his chiefest work is his
translation of Virgil, yet extant, in verse : in which he
ties himself so strictly as is possible j and yet it is so
well expressed, that whosoever will essay to do the like
will find it a hard piece of work to go through with
it. In his prologues before every book, where he hath
his liberty, he showeth a natural and ample vein of poe¬
try, so pure, pleasant, and judicious, thatj believe there
is none that hath written before or since but cometh
short of him.” It has been said, that he compiled an
historical treatise De Rebus Scotia's ; but no remain of
it hath descended to the present times.
Douglas, the principal town of the isle of Man,
and which has lately increased both in trade and build¬
ings. 'Ihe harbour, for ships of a tolerable burden, is
the safest in the island, and is much improved by a fine
mole that has been built. Population 2631. W. Long.
3. 25. N. Lat. 54. 7.
DOUW, Gerhard, a celebrated painter, was born
at Leyden in 16x3 ; and received his first instructions
in drawing and design from Bartholomew Dolendo an
engraver, and also from Peter Kouwhoorn a painter
on glass j but at the age of fifteen he became a disciple
of Rembrandt. In that famous school he continued for
three years 5 and then found himself qualified to study
nature, the most unerring director.
From Rembrandt he learned the true principles of
colouring, and obtained a complete^ knowledge of the
chiaro-scuro : but to that knowledge he added a deli¬
cacy of pencil, and a patience in working up his co¬
lours to the highest degree of neatness, superior to any
other master. He therefore was more pleased with
those pictures of Rembrandt which were painted in
his youth than those by which he was distinguished in
his more advanced age $ because the first seemed finish¬
ed with more care and attention, the latter with more
boldness, freedom, and negligence, which was quite
opposite to the taste of Douw. But although his man¬
ner appears so difl’erent from that of his master, yet it
was to Rembrandt alone that he owed all that excel¬
lence in colouring by which he triumphed over all the
artists of his own country.
His pictures are usually of a small size, with figures
so exquisitely touched, so transparent, so wonderfully
delicate, as to excite astonishment as well as pleasure.
He designed every object after nature, and with an ex¬
actness so singular, that each object appears as perfect
as nature itself, in respect to colour, freshness and
force. His general manner of painting portraits, was
by the aid of a concave mirror, and sometimes by
looking at the object through a frame with many exact
squares of fine silk. But the latter custom is disused,
as the eye of a good artist seems a more competent
rule, though the use of the former is still practised by
painters in miniature.
It is almost incredible what vast sums have been given
and are given at this day for thb pictures of Douw,
even in his own country; as also in Italy and every
Q q 2 polite
DOW
[ 303 ]
DOW
Dou* polite part of Europe : for he was exceedingly curious
jj in finishing them, ami patiently assiduous beyond ex-
Dowager. ample. Of that patience Sandrart gives a strong proor
' v-—' a circumstance which he mentions relative to this
artist He says, that having once, in company with
Bamboccio, visited Gerhard Douw, they could not
forbear to admire the prodigious neatness of a picture
which he was then painting, in which they took par¬
ticular notice of a broom ; and expressing their sur¬
prise at the excessive neatness of the finishing that mi¬
nute object, Douw told them he should spend three
days more in working on that broom before he should
account it entirely complete. In a iamily picture ot
Mrs Spiering, the same author observes, that the lady
sat five days for the finishing one of her hands that
leaned on an arm chair. For that reason not many
would sit to him for their portraits and he therefore
indulged himself mostly in works of fancy, in which he
could”introduce objects of still life, and employ as much
time on them as suited his own inclination. Hou-
braken testifies, that his great patron Mr Spiering al¬
lowed him a thousand guilders a-year, and paid beside
whatever he demanded for his pictures, and purchased
gome of them for their weight in silver; but Sandrart,
with more probability, assures us, that the thousand
guilders a-year were paid to Gerhard, on no other con¬
sideration than that the artist should give his benefac¬
tor the option of every picture he painted, for which he
was immediately to receive the utmost of his demand.
This great master died in 1674, aged 61.
Douw appears incontestably to he the most wonder¬
ful in his finishing of all the Flemish masters. Every
thing that came from his pencil is precious, and his
colouring hath exactly the true and the lovely tints of
nature ; nor do his colours appear tortured, nor is their
•vigour lessened by his patient pencil; for whatever pains
he may have taken, there is no look of labour or stiff¬
ness : and his pictures are remarkable, not only for re¬
taining their original lustre, but for having the same
beautiful effect at a proper distance as they have when
brought to the nearest view.
At Turin are several pictures by Gerhard Douw,
wonderfully beautiful; especially one, of a doctor at¬
tending a sick woman, and surveying an urinal. Ihe
execution of that painting is astonishingly fine, and
although the shadows appear a little too dark, tue
whole has an inexpressible effect. In the gallery at
Florence there is a night-piece by candle light, which
is exquisitely finished; and in the same apartment, a
mountebank attended by a number of figures, which it
seems impossible either sufficiently to commend or to
describe. , . . . , . ,
DOULEIA, (AovXim), among the Athenians, a kind
of punishment by which the criminal was reduced
into the condition of a slave. It was never inflicted
upon any but the ctr.uot, sojourners ^ freed servants.
To DOUSE, in sea language, is to lovyer suddenly,
or slacken ; and it is applied to a sail in a squall ot
wind, an extended hawser, &c.
DOWAGER, Dotisca (<7. d. a widow endowed,
or that has a jointure), a title, or addition, applied to
the widows of princes, dukes, earls^ and persons ot
high rank only.
Dows.
Queen Dowager, is the widow of the king, and as Dcwagtr
such enjoys most of the privileges belonging to her as n
queen consort: but it is not high treason to violate her ^
chastity or conspire her death, because the succession
is not endangered thereby ; hut no man can marry her
without special license from the king, on pain of for¬
feiting his lands and goods. See Queen.
DOWER, {Dotarium, Doarium, or Dos), a portion
of lands or tenements which a widow enjoys for term
of life from her husband, in case she survives him ; and
which, at her death, descends to their children. But
she must have been the wife of the party at the time
of his decease ; or not divorced a vinculo matrimonii:
if she has eloped from her husband, and lives with
nor,   r
an adulterer, shall she be entitled to dower, unless her
husband be voluntarily reconciled to her. The widows
of traitors are also barred of their dower by 5 and 6
Edw. VI. cap. II. but not the widows ot felons. An
alien cannot be endowed, unless she be queen consort.
And if a woman levies a fine with her husband, or if
a common recovery be had with the husband and wife
of the husband’s lands, she is barred of her dower.—
A widow, clear of these impediments, is by law entitled
to be endowed of all lands and tenements, of which
her husband was seised in fee-simple or fee-tail at
any time during the coverture ; and of which any issue
she might have had might by possibility have been heir.
See Jointure.
DOWN, a county of Ireland in the province of
Ulster; hounded on the east and south by St George’s
channel ; on the west by the county of Armagh ; and
on the north by the county of Antrim. It lies oppo¬
site to the isle of Man, Cumberland, and Westmore¬
land ; and the north part of it fronts the Mull of Gal¬
loway in Scotland, and is about 44 miles from it.—
It is about 44 miles in length and 30 in breadth, and
contains about English acres. Ihe county of
Down contains 60 parishes, and in 1813 the popula¬
tion amounted to 204,500 souls.
This county is rough and full ot hills ; but the
air is temperate and healthy. 1 he soil naturally pro¬
duces wood, unless constantly kept open and ploughed ;
and the low grounds degenerate into bogs and moss,
where the drains are neglected. But by the industry
of the inhabitants it produces good crops of corn,
particularly oats; and, where marl is found, barley*
This last is exported from Killogh to Dublin. The
staple commodity of this county is ti e linen manu¬
facture. See Down, Supplement.
Down, or Down-Patrick, a town of Ireland, in the
county of Down, is one ot the most ancient in that
kingdom. It is a market town and a bishopric, said
to be erected in the fifth century by St Patrick, but
is now united to the see of Connor. Within 200 paces
of the town, on the ascent ot a hiil, aie the ruins 01
an old cathedral, remarkable for the tomb of St Pa¬
trick the founder, in which they say the bodies of St
Bridget and St Columb are also laid. rl he town,
which is seated on the south corner of Lough Coin,
now called the lake of Strangford, is adorned with se¬
veral handsome public buildings. Among the hills,
and in many islands, are flights of swans and other
water fowl; and the lough abounds with salmon, mul-
-s
D o X [ 309 ] D R A
own lets, and other sea fish. About a mile from this town
|j is St Patrick’s well, which many people frequent to
lology. drink at some seasons of the year, and others to per-
v form a penance enjoined them by the Popish priests.—
The linen manufacture is carried on here, as it is in
several places in this county. The population is about
5000. W. Long. 5. 50. N. Lat. 54. 23.
Down, the fine leathers from the breasts of several
birds, particularly of the duck kind.—That of the
eider duck is the most valuable. These birds pluck it
from their breasts and line their nests with it. We
are told that the quantity of down found in one nest
more than filled the crown of a hat, yet weighed no
more than three quarters of an ounce. Br. Zool.
—Three pounds ol this down may be compressed into
a space scarce bigger than one’s fist; yet it is after¬
wards so dilatable as to fill a quilt five feet square.
Salem. Orn. p. 416.—That found in the nests is
most valued, and termed live down; it is infinitely
more elastic than that plucked from the dead bird,
which is little esteemed in Iceland. The best sort is
sold at 45 fish per pound when cleansed, and at 16
when not cleansed. There are generally exported
every year, on the company’s account, fifteen hundred
or two thousand pounds of both sorts, exclusively of
what is privately exported by foreigners. In 1750 the
Iceland company sold as much in quantity of this ar¬
ticle as amounted to three thousand seven hundred and
forty-five banco dollars, besides what was sent directly
to Gluckstadt.— Von Trail, p. 146.
Down, or hair of plants. See Hair.
DOWNETON, a borough town of Wiltshire, five
miles south of Salisbury. It contained 2624 inhabi¬
tants in 1 Sir, and sends two members to parliament.
DOWNHAM, a market town of Norfolk, 10
miles south ot Lynn, famous for its good butter 5 there
, being 1000, and sometimes 2000, firkins bought here
every Monday, and sent up the river Ouse to Cam¬
bridge, and thence to London. Population 1771 in
i8ir.
DOWNS, a bank or elevation of sand, which the
sea gathers and forms along its shores ; and which
serves it as a barrier. The word is formed from the
French dune, ot the Celtic dum, a “ mountain.”
Charles de Visch, in his Compend. Chronolog. Exord.
et Progress. Abbot. Cluriss. B. Maria, de Danis, says,
Vallem repent arenarum collibus (ejuos incolee Duynen
vacant} undique vinctam.
Downs is particularly used for a famous road for
ships, along the eastern coast of the county of Kent,
from Dover to the North 1'oreland; where both the
outward and homeward bound ships frequently make
some stay j and squadrons of men ot war rendezvous in
time of war.
It affords excellent anchorage ; and is defended by
the castles ot Deal, Dover, and Sandwich.
DOWRY, the money or fortune which the wife
brings her husband in marriage $ it is otherwise called
mantagium, marriage goods, and difl'ers from dower.
See Dower.
DOXOLOGY, a hymn used in praise of the Al-
mightyj distinguished by the title of greater and lesser.
The lesser doxology was anciently only a single sen¬
tence, without response, running in these words, Glory
be ta the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Ghost, Doxo]o„
world without end. Amen. Part of the latter clause, As \\ ^
it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, was Re¬
inserted some time after the first composition. Some v ’
read this ancient hymn, Glory be to the Father, and to
the bon with the Holy Ghost. Others, Glory be to the
Father in or by the Son, and by the Holy Ghost. This
difference of expression occasioned no dispute in the
church, till the rise ot the Arian heresy 5 but when
the followers of Arius began to make use of the lat¬
ter as a distinguishing character of their party, it was
entirely laid aside by the Catholics, and the use of it
was enough to bring any one under suspicion of hetero¬
doxy.
The doxology was used at the close of every solemn
office. The western church repeated it at the end of
every psalm, and the eastern church at the end of
the last psalm. Many of their prayers were also con¬
cluded with it, particularly the solemn thanksgiving or
consecration prayer at the eucharist. It was also the
ordinary conclusion of their sermons.
.The greater doxology, or angelic hymn, was like¬
wise of great note in the ancient church. It began
with these words, which the angels sung at our Savi¬
our’s birth, Glory be to God on high, &c. It was chiefly
used in communion service, and in men’s private devo¬
tions. Both the doxologies have a place in the church
of England, the former being repeated after every
psalm, and the latter used in the communion service.
DRABA, a genus of plants belonging to the te-
tradynamia class; and in the natural method ranking
under the 39th order, Siliquosce. See Botany Index.
DRABLER, in the sea-language, a small sail in a
ship, which is the same to a bonnet as a bonnet is
to a course, and is only used when the course and bon¬
net are too shoal to clothe the mast. See Bonnet and
Course.
DRABLING, in Angling, is a method of catching
barbels. Take a strong line of six yards ; which, be¬
fore you fasten it to your rod, must be put through a
piece of lead, that if the fish bite, it may slip to and
fro, and that the water may something move it on the
ground ; bait with a lob worm well secured, and so
by its motion the barbel will be enticed into the danger
without suspicion. The best places are in running wa¬
ter near piles, or under wooden bridges, supported with
oaks floated and slimy.
DRABS, in the salt works, a kind of wooden boxes
for holding the salt when taken out of the boiling pan ;
the bottoms of which are made shelving or inclining
forwards, that the briny moisture of the salt may drain
off.
DRAG, an imaginary being, much dreaded by the
country people in many parts of France. The dracs
are supposed to be malicious or at least tricksome de¬
mons ; but, which is very rare, if one of them happens
to take a fancy to a man or woman, they are sure to be
the better for it. They are still said to lay gold cups
and rings on the surface over pits and rivers, as baits to
draw women and children in ; though their usual dwell¬
ing is some old empty house, whence they make excur¬
sions in human form, visible or invisible as best suits
their purpose. The country folks shudder at the very
name of the drac. Some are positive that they have
seen
D R A
t 310 ]
D R A
nft»e seen him j for happy indeed is that village in which
J! there is not a house execrated as the lurking place ot
Dracona. ^jg tremendous drac.
tl«^ / DKACiENA, Dragon-tree 5 a genus ot plants
v belonging to the hexandria class. See Botany
DRACHM, a Grecian coin, of the value of seven-
pence three farthings. Drachm is also a weight used
by our physicians > containing just sixty grains, or three
scruples, or the eighth part of an ounce.
DRACO, a celebrated lawgiver ol Athens. Y\ nen
he exercised the office of archon, he made a code of
laws for the use of his citizens, which, on account ot
their severity, were said to be written in letters ot
blood By them idleness was punished with as much
severity as murder, and death was denounced against
the one as well as the other. Such a code ot rigorous
laws gave occasion to a certain Athenian to ask ot the
legislator, why he was so severe in his punishments? and
Draco gave for answer, that as the smallest transgres¬
sion had appeared to him deserving death, he could not
find any punishment more rigorous tor more atrocious
crimes These laws were at first enforced, but they
were often neglected on account of their extreme seve¬
rity ; and Solon totally abolished them, except that
one which punished a murderer with death, Po¬
pularity of Draco was uncommon, but the gratitude
of his admirers proved fatal to him. When once he
appeared on the theatre, he was received with repeated
applause *, and the people, according to the custom ot
the Athenians, showed their respect to their lawgiver
by throwing garments upon him. This was done in
such profusion, that Draco was soon hid under them,
and smothered by the too great veneration of his citi-
zenS. He lived about 624 years before the Christian
Dragon
—-y-.
era.
Draco, the Dragon, a genus of reptiles belonging
to the class of amphibia. See ErpETOLOGY Index
Draco Volans, in Meteorology, * fiery exhalation,
frequent in marshy and cold countries.
It is most common in summer j and though princi¬
pally seen playing near the banks of rivers, or in oggy
places, yet sometimes mounts up to a considerable
height in the air, to the no small terror of the amazed
beholders: it appearance being that of an oblong,
sometimes roundish, fiery body, with a long tail. It is
entirely harmless, frequently sticking to the hands and
clothes of people without injuring them in the least.
Draco in Astronomy, a constellation ot the northern
hemisphere •, whose stars, according to Ptolemy, are
81 : according to Tycho, 32 j according to Hevehus,
40 • according to Bayer, 33 J and according to Mr
Flamstead, 80. See Astronomy, N 406.
DRACOCEPHALUM, Dragon’s Head •, a ge¬
nus of plants belonging to the didynamia class. See
Botany Index.
DRACONARIUS, in antiquity, Dragon-bearer.
Several nations, as the Persians, Parthians, Scythians,
&c bore dragons on their standards j whence the stand-
„d's tli.mselves were called draconc, “
Romans borrowed the same custom from the Parthians ,
or, as Casaubon has it, from the Daci; or, as Codin,
from the Assyrians.
The Roman dracones were figures of dragons paint¬
ed in red on the flags, as appears from Ammianus
Marcellinus: but among the Persians and Parthians Dracotw
they were, like the Roman eagle, figures in full relievo j rim
so that the Romans were frequently deceived, and took "
them for real dragons. —
The soldier who bore the dragon or standard was
called by the Romans draconarius; and by the Greeks
dgctKoyxgios and dgctKonTintpogos j for the emperois carried
the custom with them to Constantinople.
DRAC0NT1C month, the time of the revolution
of the moon from her ascending node, called caput dru-
conis, to her return thither.
DRACONTIUM, Dragons j a genus of plants
belonging to the gynandria class j and in the natural
method ranking under the first order, Palnue. See
Botany Index.
DRACCNCULI, in Medicine, a peculiar eruption,
which was supposed to be worms in the muscular parts
of the arms and legs, called Guinea worms. These worms
were removed by the point of a needle j and to pie-
vent their forming again, the usual custom is to wash
the parts with wine and vinegar, with alum, nitre, or
common salt, or with a strong lixivium of oak ashes,
and afterwards anoint them with an ointment of the
common kind used for scorbutic eruptions, with a small
mixture of quicksilver*
DRACUNCULUS. See Arum, Botany Index.
DRAFF, a name given in some places to the wash
given to hogs, and the grain given to cows.
DRAG, in building. A door is said to drag when
in opening or shutting it hangs or grates upon the
floor. . . .
Drag, in sea language, is a machine consisting ot
a sharp, square, iron ring, encircled with a net, and
commonly used to take the wheel off from the plat¬
form or bottom of the decks.
DRAGOMAN, or Drogman, a term of general
use through the east for an interpreter, whose office is
to facilitate commerce between the orientals and occi¬
dentals. These are kept by the ambassadors of Chri¬
stian nations residing at the Porte for this purpose.
The word is formed from the Arabic targeman or
targiman, of the verb taragem, “ he has interpreted.’’
From dragoman the Italians formed dragomano and,
with a nearer relation to its Arabic etymology, turci-
manno ; whence the French and our trucheman, as well
as dragoman and drogman.
DRAGON, in Astronomy. See Draco.
Dragon's Head and Tail {caput et cauda dracoms),
are the nodes of the planets 5 or the two points where¬
in the ecliptic is intersected by the orbits of the planets
and particularly that of the moon j making with it
angles of five degrees and eighteen minutes. One ot
these points looks northward j the moon beginning
then to have north latitude, and the other south¬
ward, where she commences south. Thus her deviation
from the ecliptic seems (according to the fancy 0
some) to make a figure like that of a dragon, whose
belly is where she has the greatest latitude ; the inter¬
section representing the head and tail, from which re-
semblance the denomination arises. #
But note, that these points abide not always m one
place, but have a motion of their own in the zodiac,
and retrograde-wise, 3 minutes 11 seconds per day ,
completing their circle in 18 years 225 daysj so t a
P
JTS
I 'agon
» ,
H^onee.
U»'fy 1
^ R A l 3
the moon can he but twice in the ecliptic during her
monthly period, hut at all other times she will have a
latitude or declination from the ecliptic.
It is about these points of intersection that all eclip¬
ses happen. They are usually denoted by these cha¬
racters, Sb dragon’s head, 1$ dragon’s tail.
Dragon, in Zoology. See Draco.
Dragon's-Blood, a gummi-resinous substancebronght
from the East Indies, either in oval drops wrapped up
in flag leaves, or in large masses composed of smaller
tears. It is said to be obtained from the palmijuncus
draco, the calamus rotang, the dracama draco, the
pterocarpus draco, and several other vegetables.
The writers on the materia medica in general give
the preference to the former, though the others are
not unfrequently of equal goodness. The fine dragon’s
blood of either sort breaks smooth, free from any visible
impurities, of a dark red colour, which changes upon
being powdered into an elegant bright crimson. Seve¬
ral artificial compositions, coloured with the true dra¬
gon’s blood, or Brazil wood, are sometimes sold in the
room of this commodity. Some of these dissolve like
gums in water ; others crackle in the fire without prov¬
ing inflammable j whilst the genuine sanguis draconis
readily melts and catches flame, and is not acted on by
vyatery liquors. It totally dissolves in pure spirit, and
tinges a large quantity of the menstruum of a deep red
colour. It is likewise soluble in expressed oils, and
gives them a red hue, less beautiful than that commu¬
nicated by anchusa. rIhis drug in substance has no
sensible smell or taste ; when dissolved, it discovers
some degree of warmth and pungency. It is usually,
but without foundation, looked upon as a gentle astrin¬
gent y and sometimes directed as such in extempora¬
neous prescription against seminal gleets, the fluor al-
bus, and other fluxes. In these cases, it is supposed
to produce the general effects of resinous bodies, light¬
ly incrassating the fluids, and somewhat strengthening
the solids. But in the present practice it is very little
used either externally or internally.
A solution of dragon’s blood in spirit of wine is used
for staining marble, to which it gives a red tinge, which
penetrates more or less deeply according to the heat of
the marble during the time of application. But as it
spreads at the same time that it sinks deep, for fine de¬
signs the marble should be cold. M. Dufay says, that
by adding pitch to this solution the colour may be ren¬
dered deeper. J
Dragon Fisk, or Dragonet. See Callionymus,
Ichthyology Index.
Dragon Fly. See Libellula, Entomology In¬
dex.
Dragon Shell, in Natural History, a name given by
wme to a species of concamerated patella or limpet.
Hus has a top very much bent; and is of an ash co¬
lour on the outside, but of an elegant and bright flesh-
colour within. . This has been found sticking on the
back of a tortoise, as the common limpets do en the
si es of rocks j and some have been found affixed to
arge shells of the pinna marina brought from the East
Indies at different times.
See JDRacontium, Botany Index.
AGONET, or Dragon Fish. See Calliony¬
mus, Ichthyology Index.
DKAGONNE'E, in Heraldry. A lion dragonee
I I
] bra
is where the upper half resembles a lion, the other half rwn ,
going off like the hinder part of a dragon. The same rai01*9
may be said of any other beast as well as a lion. Dragoon-
UKAGOON, in military affairs, a musqueteer, in£-
mounted on horseback, who sometimes fights or marches '
on root, as occasion requires.
Menage derives the word dragoon from the Latin
draconarius, which in Vegetius is used to signify sol¬
dier. But it is more probably derived from the Ger-
man.tragen or dragen, which signifies to carry; as be¬
ing infantry carried on horseback.
Dragoons are divided into brigades as the cavalry
and each regiment into troops j each troop having a
captain, lieutenant, cornet, quarter-master, two Ser¬
jeants three corporals, and two drums. Some regi-
ments have hautboys. They are very useful on any
expedition that requires despatch j for they can keep
pace with the cavalry, and do the duty of infantry ;
they encamp generally on the wings of the army, or at
the passes leading to the camp; and sometimes they
are brought to cover the general’s quarters: they march
in the front and rear of the army.
The first regiment of dragoons raised in England
was in 1681, and called the regiment of dragoons of
JNorth Britain. In battle or attacks they generally
hght sword in hand after the first fire. Their arms
are, a sword, firelock, and bayonet. In the French
service, when the dragoons march on foot, their officers
bear the pike and the serjeants the halbert, neither of
which are used in the English service.
DRAGOONING, one of the methods used by Pa¬
pists for converting refractory heretics, and bringing
them within the pale of the true church.
The following method of dragooning the French
Protestants, after the revocation of the edict of Nantz
under Louis XIV. is taken from a French work trans¬
lated in 1686.
“ The troopers, soldiers, and dragoons, went into
the Protestants houses, where they marred and defaced
then household stuff, broke their looking glasses, and
other utensils and ornaments, let their wine run about
their cellars, and threw about their corn and spoiled
it. And as to those things which they could not de¬
stroy in this manner, such as furniture of beds, linen,
wearing apparel, plate, &c. they carried them to the
market place, and sold them to the Jesuits and other
Roman Catholics. By these means the Protestants in
Montaubon alone were, in four or five days, stripped
of above a million of money. But this was not the
worst.
“ They turned the dining rooms of gentlemen into
stables for their horses ; and treated the owners of the
houses where they quartered with the highest indigni¬
ty and cruelty, lashing them about from one to ano¬
ther, day and night, without intermission, not suffering
them to eat or drink ; and when they began to sink
under the fatigue and pains they had undergone, they
laid them on a bed, and when they thought them
somewhat recovered, made them rise, and repeated the
tortures. When they saw the blood and sweat
run down their faces and other parts of their bodies,
they sluiced them with water, and putting over their
heads kettle drums, turned upside down, they made
a continual din upon them till these unhappy crea¬
tures lost their senses. When one party of these tor¬
mentors
D It A [3*
Dragoon- mentors were weary, they were relieved by another,
]
DBA
who practised the same cruelties with fresh vigour
“ At Neereplisse, a town near Montaubon, they
hung up Isaac Favin, a Protestant citizen of that
place, by his armpits, and tormented him a whole
night by pinching and tearing off his flesh with pincers.
Thev made a great fire round a boy of about 12 years
old, Who with his hands and eyes lifted up to heaven
cried out “ My God, help me !” And when they found
the youth resolved to die rather than renounce his reli¬
gion, they snatched him from the fire just as he was on
the point of being burnt.
“ In several places the soldiers applied red-hot irons
to the hands and feet of men and breasts of women.
At Nantz they hung up several women and maids by
their feet, and others by their armpits, and thus ex¬
posed them to public view stark naked. They bound
to posts mothers that gave suck, and let their suck¬
ing infants lie languishing in their sight for several
days and nights, crying, mourning, and gasping for
life. Some they hound before a great tire, and being
half roasted, let them go : a punishment worse than
death. Amidst a thousand hideous cries and a thou¬
sand blasphemies, they hung up men and women by
the hair, and some by their feet, on hooks in chim¬
neys, and smoked them with wisps of wet hay till
they were suffocated. I hey tied some under the aims
with ropes, and plunged them again and again into
wells ; they bound others like criminals, put them
to the torture, and with a funnel filled them with
wine till the fumes of it took away their reason, when
they made them say, they consented to be Catholics.
They stripped them naked, and after a thousand indig¬
nities, stuck them with pins and needles from head to
foot. They cut and slashed them with knives } and
sometimes with red-hot pincers took hold of them by
the nose and other parts of the body, and dragged them
about the rooms till they made them promise to be Ca¬
tholics, or till the cries of these miserable wretches,
calling upon God for help, forced them to let them go.
They beat them with staves, and thus bruised, and
with broken bones, dragged them to church, where their
forced presence was taken for an abjuration. In some
places they tied fathers and husbands to their bed-posts,
and before their eyes ravished their wives and daugh¬
ters with impunity. They blew up men and women
with bellows till they burst them. If any to escape
these barbarities endeavoured to save themselves by
flight, they pursued them into the fields and woods,
where they shot at them like wild beasts, and prohibit¬
ed them from departing the kingdom (a cruelty never
practised by Nero or Dioclesian) upon pain of confis¬
cation of effects, the galleys, the lash, and perpetual
imprisonment j insomuch that the prisons o{ the sea¬
port towns were crammed with men, women, and chil¬
dren who endeavoured to save themselves by flight
from’ their dreadful persecution. With these scenes
of desolation and horror, the Popish clergy feasted their
eyes, and made them only a matter of laughter and
SP°‘‘Though my heart aches (says the writer of the piece
from which we are transcribing) whilst I am relating
these barbarities, yet for a perpetual memorial of the
infernal cruelty practised by these monsters I oeg t.ie
reader’s patience to lav before him two othei m-
3
stance?, which, if he hath a heart like mine, he will Dragoov
not be able to read without watering these sheets with kg,
his tears. #
“ The first is of a young woman, who being brought
before the council, upon refusing to abjure her re¬
ligion, was ordered to prison. I here they shaved
her head, singed off the hair from other parts of her
body •, and having stripped her stark naked, led her
through the streets of the city, where many a blow
was given her, and stones flung at her ; then they set
her up to the neck in a tub full of water, where, after
she had been for a while, they took her out, and put
on her a shift dipt in wine, which, as it dried and
stuck to her sore and bruised body, they snatched off
again, and then had another ready dipt in wine to
clap on her. This they repeated six times, thereby
making her body exceeding raw and sore. When all
these cruelties could not shake her constancy, they
fastened her by her feet in a kind of gibbet, and let her
hang in that posture, with her head downward, till she
expired.
“ The other is of a man in whose house were quar¬
tered some of these missionary dragoons. One day,
having drank plentifully of his wine, and broken their
glasses at every health, they filled the floor with the
fragments, and by often walking over them reduced
them to very small pieces. This done, in the insolence
of their mirth, they resolved on a dance, and told
their Protestant host that he must be one of their com-
but as he would not be of their religion, he
pany, — ---   - ,
must dance quite barefoot ; and thus barefoot they
drove him about the room, treading on the sharp points
of the broken glasses. When he was no longer able
to stand, they laid him on a bed, and, in a short time,
stripped him stark naked, and rolled him from one
end of the room to the other, till every part of his
body was full of the fragments of glass. After this
they dragged him to his bed, and having sent for a
surgeon, obliged him to cut out the pieces of glass
with his instruments, thereby putting him to the most
exquisite and horrible pains that can possibly be con-
eeived.
“ These, fellow Protestants, were the methods used
by the most Christian king’s apostolic dragoons to con¬
vert his heretical subjects to the Roman Catholic faith.
These, and many other of the like nature, were the
torments to which Louis XlV. delivered them over to
bring them to his own church ! and as Popery is un¬
changeably the same, these are the tortures prepared
for you, if ever that religion should be permitted to
become settled amongst you; the consideration 0
which made Luther say of it, what every man that
knows any thing of Christianity must agree w.th him
in ‘ If you had no other reason to go out of the liu-
man church, this alone would suffice, that you see ami
hear, how contrary te the law of God, they sb^d inno¬
cent blood. This single circumstance shall, Godunli-
intr, ever separate me from the Papacy. And it I was
now subject to it, and could blame nothing m any 0
their doctrines ; yet for this crime of cruelty, I womd
fly from her communion, as from a den of thieves an
murderers.” .
DRAGS, in the sea language, are whatever I anss
over the ship in the sea, as shirts, coats, or the like ,
and boats, when towed, or whatever else that alter
D R A
[ 3
this manner may hinder the ship’s way when she sails
are called drags.
DRAIN, a cut or ditch for carrying off water from
the soil, to improve it lor the purposes of agriculture.
In the fen countries of England drains are 20, 30
and sometimes 40 feet wide, carried through the
marshy ground to some river or other place capable of
discharging the water which they carry out of the fen
lands.
DRAINING. For the different methods, see A-
GRICULTURE Index.
DRAKE, the male of the duck kind. See Anas
Ornithology Index. *
Drake, Sir Francis, a celebrated English admi¬
ral, was the son of Edmund Drake a sailor, and born
near lavistock in Devonshire, in the year IC45. He
was brought up at the expence, and under the care of,
bir John Hawkins, who was his kinsman } and, at the
age of 18, was purser of a ship trading to Biscay. At
20, he made a voyage to Guinea 5 and, at 22, had the
honour to be made captain of the Judith. In that ca¬
pacity he was in the harbour of St John de Ulloa, in
the gulf of Mexico, where he behaved most gallantly
m the glorious actions under Sir John Hawkins, and
returned with him to England with great reputation,
though not worth a groat. Upon this he projected
a design against the Spaniards in the West Indies:
which he no sooner published, than he had volunteers
enough ready to accompany him. In 1570, he made
his hrst expedition with two ships; and the next year
with only one, in which he returned safe, if not with
such advantages, as he expected. He made another
expedition in 1572, wherein he did the Spaniards
some mischief, and gained considerable booties. In
these expeditions he was much assisted by a nation of
Indians, who then were, and have been ever since, en¬
gaged in perpetual wars with the Spaniards. The
prince of these people was named Pedro-, to whom
Drake presented a fine cutlass from his side, which he
saw the Indian greatly admired. Pedro, in return
gave him four large wedges of gold ; which Drake
threw into the common stock, saying, That he thought
it but just that such as bore the charge of so uncertain
a voyage on his credit, should share the utmost advan¬
tage that voyage produced. Then, embarking his
men with all the wealth he had obtained, which was
very considerable, he bore away for England, where
he arrived in August 1573.
His success in this expedition, joined to his honour¬
able behaviour towards his owners, gained him high
leputation ; and the use he made of his riches, a still
greater. I'or, fitting out three stout frigates at his
«wn expence, he sailed with them to Ireland ; where,
under \\ alter earl oi Essex, the father of the famous
unfortunate earl, he served as a volunteer, and did many
g.onous actions. ^ After the death of his noble patron,
be, returned to England ; where Sir Christopher Hat-
°n intloduced him to her majesty, and procured him
countenance and protection at court. BV this means
be acquired a capacity of undertaking that grand ex¬
pedition which will render his name immortal. The
“iln8 ,he Proposed wa< a voyage into the South
seas through the straits of Magellan ; which was what
mtberto no Englishman had ever attempted. This pro-
^VoTVn P^fr' 31 C°Urt: the qUeen fu,'nished
bra
!3 ]
him with means ; and his own fame quickly drew to¬
gether a sufficient force. The fleet with which he
sailed on tins extraordinary undertaking, consisted only
oi five vessels, small when compared with modern ships
and no more than 164 able men. He sailed on the!
13th of December 1577; on the 25th fell in with the
coast of Barbary, and on the 29th with Cape Verd. On
the 18th of March he passed the equinoctial, made the
coast of Brazil on the 5th of April, and entered the
nver de la Plata, where he lost the company of two
oi his ships; but meeting them again, and taking out
Uieirpimv'sions, he turned them adrift. On the 20th
of May he entered the port of St Julian’s, where he
continued two months for the sake of laying in provi¬
sions; on the 20th of August he entered the straits of
Magellan, and on the 25th of September passed them
having then only his own ship. On the 25th of No-’
vember he came to Macao, which he had appointed
tor a place of rendezvous in case his ships separated :
but Captain Winter his vice admiral having repassed
the straits, was returned to England. Thence he con¬
tinued his voyage along the coast of Chili and Peru
taking all opportunities of seizing Spanish ships, and*
attacking them on shore, till his men were sated with
plunder; and then, coasting America to the height of
48 degrees, he endeavoured to find a passage that way
back into our seas, but could not. However he land-
ed, and called the country New Albion, taking posses¬
sion of it in the name and for the use of Queen Eliza¬
beth ; and having careened his ship, set sail from thence
on the 29th September 1579, the Moluccas.
He is supposed to have chosen this passage round
partly to avoid being attacked by the Spaniards at a
disadvantage, and partly from the lateness of the sea¬
son, whence dangerous storms and hurricanes were ap¬
prehended. On the 13th of October he fell in with
certain islands inhabited by the most barbarous people
he had met with in all his voyage: on the 4th of No¬
vember he bad sight of the Moluccas; and, coming to
iernate, was extremely well received by the king
thereof, who appears from the most authentic relations
of this voyage to have been a wise and politic prince.
On the 10th of December he made Celebes; where
his ship unfortunately ran upon a rock, the 9th of Janu¬
ary following; from which, beyond all expectation, and
in a manner miraculously, they got off, and continued
their course. On the 16th of March he arrived at Java
Major; and from thence he intended to have directed
his course to Malacca; but found himself obliged to
alter his purpose, and to think of returning home. On
the 2jth of March 1580, he put this design in execu¬
tion • — ‘L - r T   -
anc on the Ijtn of June he doubled the Cape of
Good Hope, having then on board 57 men, and but
three casks of water. On the 12th of July he passed
the line, reached the coast ol Guinea on the idth, and
there watered. On the lith of September he made
the island ol Tercera; and on the 3d of November
entered the harbour of Plymoufh. Ibis voyage round
the world was performed in two years and about ten
months. Shortly after bis arrival, the queen going to
Deptfoid went on board his ship ; where, after dinner
she conferred on him the order of knighthood, and de!
dared her absolute approbation of all be had done. She
likewise gave directions for the preservation of his ship,
that it might remain a monument of his cwn and hi!
^ r country’s
Drake.
Drake.
D R A [3«
country’s glory. This celebrated ship, which had been
contemplated many years at Deptford, at length de¬
caving, it was broke up, and a chair, made out ot the
planks, was presented to the university of Oxford *, up¬
on which the famous Abraham Cowley made the iol-
lowing verses :
To this great ship, which round the world has run,
And match’d in race the chariot of the sun :
This Pythagorean ship (for it may claim
Without presumption, so deserv’d a name,
Bv knowledge once, and transformation now)
In her new shape this sacred port allow.
Drake and his ship could not have wished, from fate,
A happier station, or more blest estate :
For lo ! a seat of endless rest is given,
To her in Oxford, and to him in heaven.
Works, Vol. II.
In the year 1585, he sailed with a fleet to the West
Indies, and took the cities of St Jago, St Domingo,
Carthagena, and St Augustine. In 1587, he went to
Lisbon with a fleet of 30 sail j and having intelligence
of a great fleet assembled in the bay of Cadiz, which
was to have made part of the armada, he with great
courage entered that port, and burnt there upwards of
10,000 tons of shipping: which he afterwards merrily
called burning the king of Spain's beard. _ In 1588, when
the armada from Spain was approaching our coasts,
Sir Francis Drake was appointed vice-admiral under
Charles Lord Howard of Effingham, high admiral of
England, where fortune favoured hirn as remarkably
as ever : for he made prize of a very large galleon,
commanded by Don Pedro de Valdez, who was reputed
the projector of this invasion. This aflair happened
in the following manner: On the 22d of July, Sir
Francis observing a great Spanish ship floating at a di¬
stance from both fleets, sent his pinnace to summon
the commander to yield. Valdez replied, with much
Spanish solemnity, that they were 450 strong j that he
himself was Don'Pedro, and stood much upon Ins ho¬
nour ; and thereupon propounded several conditions,
upon which he was willing to yield. But the vice-ad¬
miral replied, that he had no leisure to parley, but
if he thought fit instantly to yield, he might *, if not,
he should soon find that Drake was no coward. Pedro,
hearing the name of Drake, immediately yielded, and
with 46 of his attendants came on board Drake’s ship.
This Don Pedro remained about two years Sir Francis
Drake’s prisoner in England j and when he was re¬
leased, paid him for his own and his captain’s liberties
a ransom of 3500I. Drake’s soldiers were well recom¬
pensed with the plunder of this ship ’y for they found
iu It 55,000 ducats of gold, which were divided among
them.
A little before this formidable Spanish armament
put to sea, the ambassador of his Catholic majesty had
the confidence to propound to Queen Elizabeth, in La¬
tin verse, the terms upon which she might liope for
peace; which, with an English translation by Dr Inl-
ler, we will insert in this place, because Drake’s expe¬
dition to the West Indies makes a part of this message.
The verses are these :
Te veto ne per gas hello de fender e Belgas j
Qua Dracits eripuit nunc restituantur oportet:
4 ] D R A
Quas pater evertitjubeo te condere cellas :
lieligio Paper fac restituantur ad unguent.
These to you are our commands,
Send no help to th’ Netherlands :
Of the treasure took by Drake,
Bestitution you must make :
And those abbeys build anew,
Which your father overthrew :
If for any peace you hope,
In all points restore the pope.
The queen’s extempore return :
Ad Grcecas, bone rex,fiant mandata kalendas.
Worthy king, know this your will
At Latter Lammas we’ll fulfil.
Drake,
Draken-
torch.
In the year 1559, Sir Francis Drake commanded as
admiral the fleet sent to restore Don Antonio king ot
Portugal, the command of the land forces being given
to Sir John Norris : but they were hardly got to sea,
before the commanders diflered, and so the. attempt
proved abortive. The war with Spain continuing, a
more effectual expedition was undertaken by Sir John
Hawkins and Sir Francis Drake, against thier settle¬
ments in the West Indies, than had hitherto been made
during the whole course of it: but the commanders
here again not agreeing about the plan, this also did
not turn out so successfully as was expectec.. All.dif¬
ficulties, before these two last expeditions, had givea
way to the skill and fortune of Sir Francis Drake;
which probably was the reason why he did not bear
these disappointments so well as he otherwise would
have done. A strong sense of them is supposed to
have thrown him into a melancholy, which occasioned
a bloody flux ; and of this he died on board his own
ship, near the town of Nombre de Dios in the West
Indies, on the 28th of January 1595-6. His death
was lamented by the whole nation, and particularly y
bis countrymen ; who had great reason to love him
from the circumstance of his private life, as well as to
esteem him in his public character. He was elected
burgess for the town of Bossiny, alias Tintagal, in the
county of Cornwall, in the 27th parliament of Queen
Elizabeth ; and for Plymouth in Devonshire, m the
35th of the same reign. This town had very particu¬
lar obligations to him : for, in the year 1587, he un¬
dertook to bring water into it, through the want
of which, till then, it had been grievously distressed;
and he performed it by conducting thither a stream
from springs at eight miles distance, that is to say, in a
straight line : for in the manner he brought it, the
course of it runs upwards of 20 miles.
DR AKENBORCH, Arnold, doctor of laws. I his
celebrated literary character was a native of Utrecht,
and was born on the 1st of January 1684, and in which
city he was afterwards professor of rhetoric and hi¬
story. Grsevius and Burmann taught him the belles
lettres, and Cornelius Van Eck was his jn_eceptor
while he devoted his attention to the law. He suc¬
ceeded Professor Burmann in the year 1716, and ter¬
minated his mortal career in 1748, in the 64th year
of his age. He was an author of very considerable
eminence, as the following publications sufficiently e-
vince. His dissertation entitled, Disputatio
;)raken
borcii
!i
Draa.
D R A [3
Hist, de praefectis ui'bis, in 410, proves him to have
been an able philologist, and gave flattering indica^
tions of luture eminence. Its intrinsic merit caused
^ it to he reprinted at Frankfort-on-the-Oder, in 1750,
by Professor Uhl, accompanied with a life of its learn¬
ed author. His next work, entitled Disputatio de offi¬
cio pr&fectorum prcetorio, was published in the year
IT0? '? and ten years after his C. Silii Italici Punico¬
rum, in 17 books, to render which perfect and complete,
nothing was omitted by this great man 5 many histori¬
cal subjects being engraved for the purpose of elucida¬
ting the text, to which his own copious and learned
annotations most powerfully contributed. His splendid
edition of Livy, with a life of that eminent historian,
will render his name immortal. It is entitled T. Livii
P atavini historiarum ab urbe condita libri, qui super-
sunt, omnes. Lugd. Batav. 1738 and 17465 7 tom.
The preface to this work is very long, and replete with
erudition, giving a particular account of all the liter¬
ary characters who have at different periods comment¬
ed on the works of Livy. He took the edition of
Gronovius for his model, as being in his estimation
the most correct 5 but he made many important alter¬
ations on the authority of manuscripts which it is pro¬
bable Gronovius had either never seen, or not taken
the pains to consult. Upon the whole, this edition of
Livy is at once the most elaborate, interesting, and in¬
structive, ever given to the world, since into'it he has
introduced the criticisms of Duchier, Gronovius, Pe-
rizonxus, and Sigonius 5 in addition to his own, which
are certainly fraught with much literature and deep
discernment.
DRAMA, a poem containing some certain action,
and representing a true picture of human life, for the
delight and improvement of mankind. The principal
species of the drama are two, comedy and tragedy. See
the subject fully considered in a historical view of the
ancient and modern drama, in the article Drama
Supplement. ’
DRAMATIC, an epithet given to pieces written
for the stage. See Poetry.
Henry Francis Le, a Trench surgeon
of distinguished eminence, was born in the year 1685.
His father followed the same profession at Paris, and
was highly celebrated for his treatment of cancers.
Dran had much experience as well as abilities, although
his anatomical knowledge was rather circumscribed,
and his acquaintance with books was far from bein<^
extensive. In 1730, he published in 8vo a valuable
vvork, entitled Parallele des differentes Manures de
tirer la Pierre hors de la Vessie. In this work he takes
a comparative view of the different modes of perform¬
ing the hazardous operation of lithotomy, preferring
the lateral method which was practised by Cheselden
Li the year 1731, he published his Observations de
thirurgie, avec des Reflections, in 2 vols i2mo, which
is justly considered as a valuable performance for men
who are employed in the practice of surgery. In
F757> appeared his Traite ou Reflections tirees de la
Pratique sur les Playes d' Armes a Feu; in which he
gives the results of his own practice while in the army,
with efficacious methods for the cure of gun-shot
wounds. Gataker translated into English his Traite
des Operations de Chirurgie, to which many interest-
I) ran
T5 ] D R A
ing observations were added by Cheselden. In 176,%
were published his Consultations sur laplupart des Ma- tl
ladies qui sont du Ressort de la Chirurgie} the plan of Draught,
which is admirably calculated for the instruction of 'r~~‘
young practitioners. As at least one evidence of the
merit of Dran’s works, translations of them have been
made into various languages. If his judgment was pe¬
netrating, he was equally famed for his successful ope-
lations. He died at Paris in the year 1770, in the
85th year of his age.
DRANK,^ among farmers, a term used to denote
wild oats, which never fail to infest worn-out lands; so
that, when ploughed lands run to these weeds and
thistles, the farmer knows it is high time to fallow
them, or else to sow them with hay seed, and make
pasture of them.
DRAPERY, in Sculpture and Painting, signifies
the representation of the clothing of human figures, and
also hangings, tapestry, curtains, and most other things
that are not carnations or landscapes. See Painting
Crayon, Drawing, and Miniature.
DRASTIC, in Physic, an epithet bestowed on such
medicines as are of present efficacy, and potent in ope¬
ration ; and is commonly applied to emetics and ca-
thartics.
. DRAVE, a large navigable river, which, taking
its rise in the archbishopric of Saltzburgh, in Germany,
runs south-east through Stiria ; and continuing its
course, divides Hungary from Sclavonia, and falls into
the Danube at Esseck.
DRAUGHT, in Medicine. See Potion.
Draught, in trade, called also clojfor clouch, is a
small allowance on weighable goods, made by the king
to the importer, or by the seller to the buyer, that the
weight may hold out when the goods are weighed
again.
The king allows lit) draught for goods weighing
no less than 1 cwt. 2lb for goods weighing between
1 and 2 cwt. 3it> for goods weighing between 2 and
3 cwt. 4ft> from 3 to 10 cwt. 71b from 10 to 18 cwt.
9ft) from 18 to 30 or upwards.
Draught is also used sometimes for a bill of ex¬
change, and commonly for an order for the payment
of any sum of money due, &c. Then the person who
gives the order, is said to draw upon the other.
Draught, or, as it is pronounced, Draft, in Ar¬
chitecture, the figure of an intended building described
on paper; wherein are laid down, by scale and com¬
pass, the several divisions and partitions of the apart¬
ments, rooms, doors, passages, conveniences, &c, in
their due proportion.
It is usual, and exceedingly convenient, before a
building is begun to be raised, to have draughts of the
ichnography, or ground-plot of each floor or story : as
also of the form and fashion of each front, with the
windows, doors, ornaments, &c. in an orthography, or
upright. Sometimes the several fronts, &c. are taken,
and represented in the same draught, to show the effect
of the whole building: this is called a scenography, or
perspective.
Draught, the depth of a body of water necessary
to float a ship : hence a ship is said to draw so manV
feet of water, when she is borne up by a column of wa¬
ter of that particular depth. Thus, if it requires a
^ r 2 body
D R A [3^
Draught, body of water whose depth is equal to I 2 feet, to float
Drawback, or buoy up a ship on its surface, she is said to draw 12
—-v ’ feet water; and that this draught may be more readily
known, the feet are marked on the stem and stern post,
regularly from the keel upwards.
Draught Hooks, are large hooks of iron, fixed on
the cheeks of a cannon carriage, two on each side, one
near the trunnion-hole, and the other at the train, di¬
stinguished by the name of fore and hind draught hooks.
Large guns have draught hooks near the middle tran¬
som, to which are fixed the chains that serve to keep
the shafts of the limbers on a march. The fore and
hind hooks are used for drawing a gun backwards or
forewards, by men with strong ropes, called di'aught-
ropes, fixed to these hooks.
DuAUGHT-Horse, in farming, a sort of coarse-made
horse, destined for the service of a cart-or plough.
DRAWBACK, in commerce, certain duties, either
of the customs or of the excise, allowed upon the ex¬
portation of some of our own manufactures.; or upon
certain foreign merchandises, that have paid duty on
importation.
The oaths of the merchants importing and export¬
ing are required to obtain the drawback on foreign
goods, affirming the truth of the officers certificate on
the entry, and the due payment of the duties: and
these may be made by the agent or husband of any cor¬
poration or company ; or by the known servant of any
merchant usually employed in making his enti ies, and
paying his customs. In regard to foreign goods entered
outward, if less quantity or value be fraudulently ship¬
ped out than what is expressed in the exporter’s certi¬
ficate, the goods therein mentioned, or their value, are
forfeited, and no diawback to be allowed for the same.
Foreign goods exported by certificate in order to ob¬
tain the drawback, not shipped or exported, or reland¬
ed in Great Britain, unless in case ot distress to save
them from perishing, are to lose the benefit of the
drawback, and are forfeited, or their value, with the
vessel, horses, carriages, &c. employed in the reland¬
ing thereof; and the persons employed in the reland¬
ing them, or by whose privity they are relanded, 01
into whose hands they shall knowingly come, are to for¬
feit double the amount of the drawback. Officers of
the customs conniving at, or assisting in any fraud re^
fating to certificate goods, besides other penalties, are
; ] D R A
to forfeit their office, and suffer six months imprison - Drawback
ment without bail or mainprise ; as are also masters, [|
or persons belonging to the ships employed therein. D™™g„
Bonds given for the exportation of certificate goods to
Ireland must not be delivered up, nor drawback allow¬
ed for anv goods, till a certificate under the hands and
seals of the collector or comptroller, &c. ot the customs
be produced, testifying the landing.
DnAW-Bridge, a bridge made atter the manner of a
float, to draw up or let down, as occasions serve, before
the gate of a town or castle. See Bridge.
A draw-bridge may be made after several different
ways ; but the most common are made with plyers, twice
the length of the gate, and a foot in diameter. The
inner square is traversed with a cross, which serves tor
a counterpoise ; and the chains which hang from the
extremities of the plyers to lift up or let down the
bridge are of iron or brass.
In navigable rivers it is sometimes necessary to make
the middle arch of bridges with two moveable plat¬
forms, to be raised occasionally, in order to let the
masts and rigging of ships pass through. This kind
of draw-bridge is represented in Plate CLXVIII. where
AB is the width of the middle arch ; AL and BL,
the two piers that support the draw-bridge NO, one
of the platforms of which is raised, and the other let
down, having the beam PQ for its plyer. To NO
are suspended two moveable braces PH, F.II; which
resting on the support E, press against the bracket M,
and thereby strengthen the draw-bridge. These braces
are conducted to the rest by means of the weight S,
pulling the chain SLF.
DRAJV-Net, a kind of net for taking the larger sort
of wildfowl, which ought to be made of the best sort
of packthread, with wide meshes ; they should be about
two fathoms deep and six long, verged on each side
with a very strong cord, and stretched at each end on
long poles. It should be spread smooth and flat upon
the& ground ; and strewed over with grass, sedge, or
the like, to hide it from the fowl: and the sportsman
is to place himself in some shelter of grass, tern, or
some such thing.
DRAWING, in general, denotes the action of pul¬
ling out, or hauling along ; thus we read of tooth¬
drawing, wire-drawing, &c.
DRAWING,
THE art of representing the appearances of objects
upon a plane surface, by means of lines, shades,
and shadows, formed with certain materials adapted to
the purpose.
§ I. Of the proper Materials for Drawing, and the
manner of tising them.
The first thing necessary for a beginner is to furnish
himself with proper materials, such as black lead pen¬
cils, crayons of black, white, or red chalk, crow-
quill pens, a rule and compasses, camels hair pencils,
and Indian ink. He must accustom himself to hold
the pencil farther from the point than one does a pen
in writing ; which will give him a better command
of it, and contribute to render the strokes more free
and bold. The use of the pencil is to draw the first
sketches or outlines of the piece, as any stroke or line
that is amiss may in this be more easily rubbed out
than in any other thing ; and when he has made the
sketch as correct as he can with the pencil, he may
then draw carefully the best outline he has got, with
his
.317
D K A W I N G.
Ills crow-quill pen and ink (a) ; after which he may
discharge the pencil lines, by rubbing the piece gently
with the crumb of stale bread or Indian rubber. Ha¬
ving thus got the outline clear, his next work is to
shade the piece properly, either by drawing fine strokes
with his pen where it requires to be shaded, or by
washing it with his pencil and the Indian ink. As to
his rule and compasses, they are never, or very rarely to
be used, except in measuring the proportions of figures
after he has drawn them, to prove whether they are
right or not *, or in houses, fortifications, and other
pieces of architecture.
§ 2. Of Drawing Line si, Squares, Circles, and other
regular and irregular Figures.
Having got all these implements in readiness, the
first practice must be to draw straight and curve lines,
with ease and freedom, upwards and downwards, side-
wise to the right or left, or in any direction whatso¬
ever. He must also learn to draw, by command of
hand, squares, circles, ovals, and other geometrical
figures : for, as the alphabet, or a knowledge of the
letters, is an introduction to grammar 5 so is geometry
to drawing. The practice of drawing these simple
figures till he is master of them, will enable him to
imitate, with greater ease and accuracy, many things
both in nature and art. And here it is proper to ad¬
monish him, never to be in a hurry : but to make him¬
self perfectly master of one figure before he proceeds
to another : the advantage, and even necessity, of this,
will appear as he proceeds. Two observations more
maybe added: 1. That he accustom himself to draw
all his figures very large, which is the only way of ac¬
quiring a free bold manner of designing. 2. That he
practise drawing till he has gained a tolerable mastery
of his pencil, before he attempts to shadow any figure
or object of any kind whatever.
$ 3- °/ Drawing Eyes, Ears, Legs, Arms, Hands,
Feet, Sj'c,
As to the drawing of eyes and ears, legs and arms,
the learner will have very little more to do than to
copy carefully the examples given in Plate CLXXVII.
and CLXXVIII. taken from Sebastian le Gere’s draw¬
ing book. But the actions and postures of the hands
are so many and various, that no certain rules can be
giving for drawing them, that will universally hold
good. Yet as the hands and feet are difficult mem¬
bers to draw, it is very necessary, and well worth while,
to bestow some time and pains about them, carefullv
imitating their various postures and actions, so as not
only to avoid all lameness and imperfection, but also to
give them lile and spirit. I o arrive at this, great care,
study, and practice, are requisite 5 particularly in imi¬
tating the best prints or drawings that can be got of
hands and feet (some good examples of which are
given in Plate CLXXVIIl.) j for, as to the mechani¬
cal rules of drawing them by lines and measui’es, thev
are not only perplexed and difficult, but also contrary
to the practice of the best masters. One general rule,
however, may be given (which is universally to be ob¬
served in all subjects), and that is, Not to finish perfect¬
ly at first any single part, but to sketch out faintly, and
vyith light strokes of the pencil, the shape and propor¬
tion of the whole hand, with the action and turn of it j
and after considering carefully whether this first sketch
be perfect, and altering it wherever it is amiss, you may
then proceed to the bending of the joints, the knuckles,
the veins, and other small particulars, which, when the
learner has got the whole shape and proportion of the
hand or foot, will not only be more easily but also more
perfectly designed.
§ 4. Of Drawing Faces.
"I he head is usually divided into four equal parts,
(1.) From the crown of the head to the top of the’
forehead. (2.) From the top of the forehead to the
eyebrows. (3.) From the eyebrows to the bottom
of the nose. (4.) From thence to the bottom of the
chin. But this proportion is not constant ; those
features in different men being often very different as
to length and shape. In a well-proportioned face, how¬
ever, they are nearly right. To direct the learner
therefore in forming a perfect face, his first business is
to draw an oval, or rather the form of an egg; in the
middle of which, from the top to the bottom, draw a
perpendicular line. Through the centre or middle of
this line draw a diameter line, directly across from one
side to the other of your oval. On these two lines all
the features of your face are to be placed as follows :
Divide your perpendicular line into four equal parts ;
the first must be allotted to the hair of the head; the
second is from the top of the forehead to the top of
the nose between the eyebrows ; the third is from
thence to the bottom of the nose ; and the fourth in¬
cludes the bps and chin. Your diameter line, or the
breadth of the face, is always supposed to be the length
of five eyes ; you must therefore divide it into five equal
parts, and place the eyes upon it so as to leave exactly
the length of one eye betwixt them. This is to be un¬
derstood only of a full front face, Plate CLXXVII. fig.
a; for if it turn to either side, then the distances are
to be lessened on that side which turns from you, less
or more in proportion to its turning (fig. b b b). The
top of the ear is to rise parallel to the eyebrows, at the
end of the diameter line ; and the bottom of it must be
equal to the bottom of the nose. The nostrils ought
not to come out farther than the corner of the eye in
any face ; and the middle of the mouth must always be
placed upon the perpendicular line.
§ 5. Of Drawing Human Figures.
When the learner is tolerably perfect in drawing
faces, heads, hands, and feet, he may next attempt to
draw the human figure at length. In order to which,
let him first sketch the head; then draw a perpendicu¬
lar
, (A-| ^ie 'fk ma^e use of for this purpose must not be common but Indian ink ; which is much softer than
ie otiei, and does not run : by mixing it with water, it may be made to any degree of strength, and used in a
pen hke common ink. ‘
3i B
DRAW
lar line from the bottom of the head seven times its
length (for the length of the head is about one-eighth
part of the length ot the figure).
The best proportioned figures of the ancients are 7^
beads in height. If, therefore, the figure stands up¬
right, (as fig. a, Plate CLXXIX.) draw a perpendicu¬
lar line from the top of the head to the heel, which must
be divided into two equal parts. The bottom of the
belly is exactly the centre. Divide the lower paitinto
two equal parts again, the middle of which is the mid¬
dle of the knee. Tor the upper part of the figure, the
matter must be varied. Take oft with your com¬
passes the length of the face (which is three parts in
four of the length of the head ; from the throat pit to
the pit of the stomach is one face, from thence to the
navel is another, and from thence to the lower rim of
the belly is a third. The line must be divided into
seven equal parts. Against the end of the first divi¬
sion, place the breasts j the second comes down to the
navel } the third to the privities ; the fourth to the
middle of the thigh ; the fifth to the lower part of the
knee ; the sixth to the lower part of the calf •, and the
seventh to the bottom of the heel, the heel of the bear¬
ing leg being always exactly under the pit of the throat.
But as the essence of all drawing consists in making at
first a good sketch, the learner must in this particular
be very careful and accurate he ought to draw no
one part perfect or exact till he see whether the whole
draught be good ; and when he has altered that to his
mind, he may then finish one part after another as per¬
fectly as he can. .
There are some who, having a statue to copy, begin
with the head, which they finish, and then proceed, in
the same manner to the other parts of the body, nnish-
ing as they go : but this method generally succeeds ill}
for if the head be made in the least too big or too
little, the consequence is a disproportion between all
the parts, occasioned by their not having sketched t le
whole proportionably at first. Let the learner remem¬
ber, therefore, in whatever he intends to draw, first to
sketch its several parts, measuring the distances and
proportions between each with his finger or pencil,
without using the compasses j and then judge, of them
by the eye, which by degrees will be able to judge of
truth and proportion, and will become his best and
principal guide. And let him observe, as a general
rule, always to begin with the right side of the piece
he is copying: for by that means he will always have
what he has done before his eyes *, and the rest will
follow more naturally, and with greater ease •, whereas
if he begin with the left side, his hand and arm will
cover what he does first, and deprive him of the sight
of it 5 by which means he will not be able to proceed
with so much ease, pleasure, or certainty.
I N G.
As to the order and manner of proceeding in draw¬
ing the human body, he must first sketch the head \
then the shoulders in the exact breadth 5 then draw the
trunk of the body, beginning with the armpits (leav¬
ing the arms till afterwards), and so draw down to the
hips on both sides ; and be sure he observe the exact
breadth of the waist. When he has done this, let him
then draw that leg which the body stands upon } and
afterwards the other which stands loose } then the aims 5
and last of all the hands.
He must take notice also of the bowings and bend¬
ings that are in the body 5 making the pait which is
opposite to that which bends correspond to it in bend¬
ing with it. For instance: If one side ol the body
bend in, the other must stand out answerable to it J if
the back bend in, the belly must stick out j if the knee
bend out, the bam must fall in } and so of any other
joint of the body. Finally, he must endeavour to form
all parts of the figure with truth, and in just propor¬
tion ; not one arm or one leg bigger or less than the
other 5 not broad Herculean shoulders, with a thin and
slender waist} nor raw and bony arms, with thick and
gouty legs: but let there be a kind of harmonious
agreement amongst the members, and a beautiful sym¬
metry throughout the whole figure.
Proportions and Measures of the Human Body. The
centre or middle part, between the two extremes of the
head and feet of a new born child, is in the navel, but
that of an adult is in the os pubis j and the practice of
dividing the measures of children into four, five, or six
parts, whereof the head is one, is made use of by paint¬
ers and sculptors. . .
A child of two years old has about five heads in its
whole length, but one of four or five years old has near
six } about the fifteenth or sixteenth year, seven heads
are the proportion or measure, and the centre inclines
to the upper part of the pubis. Hence it appears, as
the growth of the body advances, there is a gradual
approach to the proportion of an adult of neai eight
heads in the whole length, of which, as mentioned
above, the head makes one. _
Agreeable to these principles, the following Table
is constructed, exhibiting the proportions of the parts
of a man and of a woman, as they were fixed by the
ancients, and measured by JVX. Audran from the u.-
pollo Pythius (Plate CLXXX.) in the garden of the
Vatican at Rome, and the Venus Aphrodites (Plate
CLXXXI.) belonging to the family of the Medicis.
Supposing the figures to stand upright and duly poised
on both legs, the whole height of the former is divided
into 31^ parts, being 7 heads 3 parts and 6 minutes j
and that of the latter into 31 parts, being 7 heads and
3 parts.
Length of the Head and Trunk of the Body.
From the top of the head to the bottom of the chin 4 parts, or -
the bottom of the chin to the top of the sternum or breast-bone
the top of the sternum to the pit of the stomach
the pit of the stomach to the navel
the navel to the pubis
Length of the head and trunk of the body
Apollo.
Hds. Pts. Min.
Venus.
Hds. Pts. Min.
o
7
10
10
6
Length
DRAWING.
Length of the Lower Extremities.
From the pubis to the small of the thigh above the patella or knee-pan
the small of the thigh to the joint or middle of the knee
the joint of the knee to the small of the leg above the ankle
the top to the bottom of the ankle - - - . .
the bottom of the ankle to the bottom of the heel - - .
Length of the lower extremities - . _ _
Length of the head and trunk, as above - - .
Total length of the figures - _ _
Length of the Fore Arm or Upper Extremities.
From the top of the shoulder to the elbow - - „
the elbow to the hand - _ _ _
the joint of the hand to the root of the middle finger - -
the root to the tip of the middle finger - - - _
Length of the upper extremities - . - _
Breadth between the outward angles of the eyes - -
of the face at the temples - „ _ .
of the upper part of the neck - - . > .
over the shoulders ......
of the body below the armpits ...
between the nipples .... _
from the bottom of the chin to the horizontal line of the nipples
of the body at the small of the waist ....
over the loins or os ilium - - _ .
over the haunches or thigh-bones ....
of the thigh at the top - - . . . .
of the thigh below the middle .....
of the thigh above the knee .....
of the leg below the knee - - . . _
at the calf of the leg ......
below the calf .......
above the ankle - - ....
of the ankle ...
below the ankle .....
middle: of the foot - - _ .
at the roots of the toes ....
of the arm over the biceps muscle - - - .
of the arm over the elbow - - ...
of the arm below the elbow over the long supinator - *
at the wrist ... . .
of the hand over the first joint of the thumb . . -
of the hand over the roots of the fingers - .
over the heads of the scapulae or shoulder-blades
Length of both arms and hands, each of the Apollo’s being 3b. 2p. Ilm. and the
Venus 3h. ip. 5m. ... . . .
Apollo.
Hds. Pts. Min.
6
9
9
o
9
o
o
o
o
1
2
I
I
X
I
o
o
o
o
o
o
o
o
o
o
o
o
o
o
o
b
o
}
Breadth between the tips of the middle fingers of each hand when the arms are 7
stretched out horizontally - . . . . _ j
Side View.
Length from the top of the head to the shoulder ....
from the top of the shoulder to the loins above the hip
from the loins to the lower part of the hip - ...
from the hip to the side of the knee, opposite to the top of the patella
fi'om the side of the knee to the bottom of the heel » -
3 3
3 3
2 3
x 2
1 8
1 10
1
2
2
o
2
o
o
I
I
1
3
2
X
1
2
I
X
I
I
I
I
I
X
I
X
I
1
2
II
6
2
o
o
5
7
7
o
3
5
o
8-5
8
6
4
7
2
4
4
7
8
6
10
1
9
7
o
1 10
10
V•mus.
fids. Pts. Min.
1 ^ 3
O I
I 2
O I
o o
319
Length of the figures
1 2
1 o
O I
O I
1
2
I
3
1
3
o
o
1
2
3
2
2
1
2
1
1
1
1
1
1
1
x
1
1
1
1
1
10
7
2
11
8
8
8
1
8
6
3
x
7
o
104
3
2
3
1
3
7
9
5
7
o
8
6
4
10
1 6
1 7
2 1
o II
O II
3
Side
320
DRAWING.
Side View.
Thickness from the fore to the back part of the skull - - -
from the wing of the nose to the tip of the ear
of the upper part of the neck _ - -
from the breast to the back over the nipples - - "
from the belly to the small of the back - -
from the belly above the navel to the back of the loins
from the bottom of the belly to the round of the hip -
from the fore part of the thigh to the bottom of the hip
of the thigh at middle -
of the thigh above the knee
at the middle of the knee below the patella
of the leg below the knee _ - - - -
of the leg at the calf - - ■ - "
of the leg at the ankle -
of the foot at the thickest part . - - -
length of the foot
from the fore part of the bend of the foot to the lower and back part
of the heel
of the arm over the biceps -
over the elbow ... - -
below the elbow -
at the wrist -
below the joint of the wrist - - *
of the hand at the roots of the fingers - - - -
at the roots of the nails - - - *
Apollo.
lids. Pts. Min.
o
o
o
I
o
o
I
o
o
o
o
o
o
o
o
I
3
1
2
o
3
3
o
3
3
2
2
I
I
1
O
o
o
2
I
I
I
I
o
o
6
o
6
6
9
o
2
3
9
8
51
o
6
o
o
6
5
i
o
5i
3l
fids
o
o
o
I
o
I
I
o
o
o
o
o
o
o
o
I
o
o
o
o
o
o
o
o
Venus.
Pts. Min,
3 4
i 6
i ii
o 6
3 7
O 2
° 5
2 3
2 2
I II
1 9
1 4
° 3
o 44
2 2
I 9
i 6
i 7
o II
O 10
° 5
o 3
The other most admired antique statues differ a lit¬
tle from these proportions, the Laocoon measuring
7 h. 2 p. 3 m. the Hercules 7 h. 3 p. 7 m. the Py-
ramus 7 h. 2 p* the Antinous 7 h« 2 p. the Grecian
shepherdess 7 h. 3 P* ^ nr. and the IVlirmillo 8 h. But
all their other proportions are allowed to be harmonious
and agreeable to the characters of the figures they re¬
present.
The most remarkable differences of the symmetry
or proportions of a man and of a woman to be obser¬
ved from the Table are : 1' irst, 1 he shoulders 0! a
man are broader, measuring two heads, and the haun¬
ches narrower, measuring 1 h. I p. 5 whereas the
shoulders of a woman measure only I h. 3 p. 8 m.
and the haunches measure 1 h. 2 p. 3 m. The ster¬
num or breast-bone of a man is longer, measuring 3 P*
8 m. and the sternum of the woman only 3 p. 3 m.
On the contrary, the pelvis of a man is less, measuring
from the top to bottom only 4 p. whereas the pelvis
of a woman measures from the top to the bottom 4 p.
3 m*
It is a leading principle, in which every person con¬
versant in designing has agreed, that without a perfect
knowledge of the proportions, nothing can be produced
but monstrous and extravagant figures ; and it is also
universally admitted, that the ancient Greek and Ro¬
man sculptors attained the highest success in producing
the most perfect models.
The greatest of the modern artists who have ex¬
amined their figures with attention admit, that several
of the ancient sculptors in some degree have excelled
nature, they never having found any man so perfect in
all his parts as some of their figures are. Their op¬
portunities indeed were great \ Greece abounded with
beauties •, and Rome being mistress of the world, every
thing that was curious and beautiful was biought to
it from all parts. Their motives were also powerful; re¬
ligion, glory, and interest. They considered it as a kind
of religious worship to give the figures of their gods so
much nobleness and beauty as to be able to attract the
love and veneration of the people. T-heir own glory
was also concerned, particular honours being bestowed
on those who succeeded ; and for their fortune they had
no further care to take when they once arrived at a
certain degree of merit.
Attitudes and Action of the Muscles. If a strong per¬
son is to be represented in a vigorous action, such as
Hercules, See. after a suitable proportion to such a fi¬
gure and the action is designed, the parts or limbs em¬
ployed in the chiefest force of the action ought to be
considered. If the figure is standing, the foot must be
placed in a right line, or perpendicular to the trunk
or bulk of the body, where the centre of gravity may
be placed in (equilibria. This centre is determined
by the heel : or, if the figure is upon tiptoe, then the
ball of the great toe is in the centre. The muscles of
the leg w'hich supports the body ought to be swell¬
ed, and their tendons drawn more to extension than
those of the other leg, which is only placed so as to
receive the weight of the body towards that way to
which the action inclines it. For example, suppose
Hercules with a club striking at any thing before him
towards the left side : Then let his right leg be placed
so as to receive the whole weight of the body, and the
left loosely touching the ground with his toes. Here the
external muscles of the right leg ought to be expressed
very strong; but those of the left scarcely appearing
more than if it were in some sedentary posture, except
in the present case. The foot being extended, the
muscles which compose the calf of the leg are in action
and appear very strong; though it is not meant that all
the muscles of the right leg, which supports the weight
321
of the body, ought to be expressed very strong or equally
swelled, but those most tumefied which are chiefly con¬
cerned in the action nr posture that the leg is then in.
tor example, if the leg or tibia is extended, then the
extending muscles placed on the thigh are most swell¬
ed : if it is bended, then the bending muscles and their
tendons appear most. The like may be observed of
the whole body in general when it is put into vigorous
action. The Laocoon formerly in the Vatican garden
at Rome, now in the Louvre at Paris, furnishes an ex¬
ample of this muscular appearance through the whole ;
but in the Antinous, Apollo, also in the Louvre, and
other figures of the ancients, in postures where no con¬
siderable actions are designed, we see their muscles ex¬
pressed but faintly, or scarcely appearing.
The clavicles or collar-bones, and muscles in general,
do not appear in women as in men ; nor will any action
in which a woman uses her utmost strength occasion
such swellings or risings of the muscles to appear as
they do in men, since the great quantity of fat placed
under the skin of women so clothes their muscles, &c.
as to prevent any such appearance.
Effects of the Exertion of the Muscles. The follow¬
ing are the most obvious effects of the exertion of se¬
veral of the muscles ; of those, to wit, which chiefly
demand the attention of an artist.
If either of the mastoid muscles (Plate CLXXXII.
i. i.) act, the head is turned to the contrary side, and
the muscle which performs that action appears very
plain under the skin. J
If the arms are lifted up, the deltoid muscles placed
on the shoulders, which perform that action, swell, and
make the extremities of the spines of the shoulder-blades
(Plate CLXXXIII. 3. 3.), called the tops of the
shoulders, appear indented or hollow.
The shoulder-blades following1 the elevation of the
arms, their bases (Plate CLXXXIII. 4. 4.) incline at
that time obliquely downward.
If the arms are drawn down, put forwards, or pulled
backwards, the shoulder-blades necessarily vary their
positions accordingly. All these particulars are to be
learned by consulting the life only j when being well
acquainted with what then appears in every action, the
artist will be able to lorm an adequate idea how it ought
to be expressed. These circumstances are little known •
hence seldom attended to in designing.
the cubit or fore-arm^is bended, the biceps
(Plate CLXXXII. 5. 5.) has its belly very much raised,
as appears in the left arm. The like may be observed
oi the triceps (Plate CLXXXIII. 6. 6.) when the arm
is extended as observed in the right arm.
rr^vvir'®111 ,muscles of the abdomen (Plate
t'liXAXLI. 7. 7.) appear very strong when rising from
a decumbent posture.
The parts of the great serratus muscle (ib. 8. 8.)
which are received in the teeth or beginnings of the
oblique descending muscle immediately below, are very
much swelled when the shoulder on the same side is
brought forwards ; that serratus muscle then being in
action in drawing the scapular forwards.
rTYYVTTTeXtending musc,es °f the trunk (Plate
AX ALII. 9.9.) act alternately in walking, after this
manner :, Tf the right leg bears the weight of the bo-
«y, and the left is in translation as on tiptoe, the last-
mentioned muscles of the back on the left side may be
vol. VII. Part I. J
D R A W I N G.
observed to be tumefied on the other side about the re¬
gion of the loins, and so on the other side.
^ 1 he trochanters, or outward and uppermost heads
of the thigh-bones (Plate CLXXXIIL 10. 10.),
vary in their positions in such a manner as no precise
observation can explain their several appearances;
but the study after the life ought to be carefully at¬
tended to.
If the thigh is extended, as when the whole weight
ol the body rests on that side, the gluteus or buttock
muscle (1 late CLXXXIII. u. 11.) makes a very dif¬
ferent appearance from what ofl’ers at another time ;
but if the thigh is drawn backwards, that muscle ap¬
pears still more and more tumefied.
Vhen the whole leg is drawn upwards forwards, and
at the same time the foot is inclined inwards, the up¬
per part of the sartorius muscle (Plate CLXXXII.
!2. 12.) appears rising very strong; in other positions
of the thigh, that muscle makes a furrowing appear¬
ance in its whole progress.
If a man is upon tiptoe, the extending muscles of
the leg placed on the fore part of the thigh (Plate
LXXXII. 13. 13. 13.), and those of the foot that
compose the calf of the leg (Plate CLXXXIIL 14. 14.)
appear^ very strong, and the long peronseus (Plate
LXyxXII. 15.) makes a considerable indentation or
furrowing at that time in its progress on the outside of
the leg.
Many other remarks might here be offered : but a
due attention to nature will soon discover them.
§ 6. Of Light and Shade.
After the learner has made himself in some mea¬
sure perfect in drawing outlines, his next endeavour
must be to shade them properly. It is this which gives
an appearance of substance, shape, distance, and di¬
stinction, to whatever body he endeavours to repre¬
sent, whether animate or inanimate. The best rule for
doing this is, to consider from what point, and in what
direction, the light falls upon the objects which he is
delineating, and to let all his lights and shades be pla¬
ced according to that direction throughout the whole
work. That part of the object must be lightest which
hath the light most directly opposite to it ; if the light
falls sideways on the picture, he must make that side
which is opposite to it lightest, and that side which is
farthest from it darkest. If he is drawing the figure
of a man, and the light be placed above the bead, then
the top of the head must he made lightest, the shoul¬
ders next lightest, and the lower parts darker by de¬
grees. That part of the object, whether in naked
figures or drapery, or buildings, that stands farthest
out, must be made the lightest, because it comes nearest
to the light; and the light loseth so much of its bright¬
ness, by how much any part of the body bends inward,
because those parts that stick out hinder the lustre
and full brightness of the light from striking on those
parts that fall in. Titian used to say, that he knew
no better rule for the distribution of lights and shadows
than his observations drawn from a bunch of grapes.
Satins and silks, and all other shining stuff’s, have cer¬
tain glancing reflections, exceeding bright where the
light falls strongest. The like is seen in armour, brass
pots, or any other glittering metal, where you see a
sudden brightness in the middle or centre of the light,
S s which
322
D R A
v»l)ich discovers the shining nature of such things. Ob¬
serve also, that a strong light requires a strong shade,
a lainter light a lainter shade } and that an equal ba¬
lance be preserved throughout the piece between the
lights and shades. Those parts which must appeal-
round require but one stroke in shading, and that some¬
times but very faint ; such parts as should appear steep
or hollow, require two strokes across each other, or
sometimes three, which is sufficient for the deepest
shade. Oare must be also taken to make the outlines
faint and small in such parts as receive the light} but
■where the shades fall, the outline must be strong and
bold. The learner must begin his shadings from the
top, and proceed downward, and use his utmost endea¬
vours both by practice and observation to learn how to
vary the shadings properly j for in this consists a great
deal of the beauty and elegance of drawing. Another
thing to be observed is, that as the human sight is
weakened by distances, so objects must seem more or
less confused or clear according to the places they hold
in the piece : Those that are very distant,—weak, faint,
and confused ; those that are near and on the foremost
ground,—clear, strong, and accurately finished.
§ y. Of Drapery.
In the art of clothing the figures, or casting the
drapery properly and elegantly upon them, many things
are to be observed. I. The eye must never be in doubt
of its object; but the shape and proportion of the part
or limb, which the drapery is supposed to cover, must
appear j at least so tar as art and probability will per¬
mit: and this is so material a consideration, that many
artists draw first the naked figure, and afterwards put
the draperies upon it. 2. Ihe drapery must not sit
too close to the parts of the body : but let it seem to
flow round, and as it were to embrace them 5 yet so
as that the figure may be easy, and have a free motion.
3. The draperies which cover those parts that are ex¬
posed to great light must not be so deeply shaded as to
seem to pierce them *, nor should those members be
crossed by folds that are too strong, lest by the too
great darkness of the shades the members look as if
they were broken. 4* great iolds must be diawn
first, and then stroked into lesser ones : and great care
must be taken that they do not cross one another im¬
properly. 5. Folds in general should be large, and as
few as possible. However, they must be greater or less
according to the quantity and quality ot the stuffs of
which the drapery is supposed to be made. The quality
of the person is also to be considered in the drapery.
If they are magistrates, their draperies ought to be
large and ample: if country clowns or slaves, they
ought to be coarse and short *, if ladies or nymphs,
light and soft. 6. Suit the garments to the body, and
make them bend with it, according as it stands in or
out, straight or crooked or as it bends one way or
another j and the closer the garment sits to the body,
the narrower and smaller must be the folds. 7. f olds
well imagined give much spirit to any kind ol action ;
because their motion implies a motion in the acting
member, which seems to draw them forcibly, and
makes them more or less stirring as the action is moie
or less violent. 8. An artful complication of folds in
a circular manner greatly helps the elfect ot foreshort-
enings. 9. All folds consist of two shades, and no
3
WING.
more ; which you may turn with the garment at plea¬
sure, shadowing the inner side deeper, and the outer
more faintly. 10. The shades in silk and fine linen
are very thick and small, requiring little folds and a
light shadow. II. Observe the motion of the air or
wind, in order to draw the loose apparel all flying one
way *, and draw that part of the garment that adheres
closest to the body before you draw tlie looser part
that flies off from it j lest, by drawing the loose part
of the garment first, you should mistake the position of
the figure, and place it awry. I 2. Rich ornaments,
when "judiciously and sparingly used, may sometimes
contribute to the beauty of draperies. But such orna¬
ments are far below the dignity of angels or heavenly
figures *, the grandeur of whose draperies ought rather
to consist in the boldness and nobleness of the folds,
than in the quality of the stuff or the glitter of orna¬
ments. 13. Light and flying draperies are proper on¬
ly to figures in great motion, or in the wind : but
when in a calm place, and free from violent action,
their draperies should be large and flowing *, that by
their contrast and the fall of the folds, they may ap¬
pear with grace and dignity. Thus much for drape¬
ries ; an example or two of which are given in Plate
CLXXIX. But see farther the articles Crayon and
Painting.
§ 8. On the Passions.
The passions, says M. le Brun, are motions of the
soul, either upon her pursuing what she judges to be
for her good, or shunning what she thinks hurtful to
her *, and commonly, whatever causes emotion or pas¬
sion in the soul, creates also some action in the body.
It is therefore necessary for a painter to know which
are the different actions in the body that express the
several passions ol the soul, and how to delineate them.
M. le Brun has been extremely happy in expressing
many of the passions, and the learner cannot study any
thing better than the examples which he has left us of
them. However, as M. de Piles justly observes, it is
absurd as well as impossible to pretend to give such
particular demonstrations ol them as to fix their ex¬
pression to certain strokes, which the painter should be
obliged to make use ol as essential and invariable rules.
This (says he) would be depriving the art of that ex¬
cellent variety of expression which lias no other princi¬
ple than diversity of imagination, the number of which
is infinite. The same passion may be finely expressed
several ways, each yielding more or less pleasure in
proportion to the painter’s understanding and the spec¬
tator’s discernment.
Though every part of the face contributes towards
expressing the sentiments of the heart, yet the eye¬
brow, according to M. le Brun, is the principal seat
of expression, and where the passions best make them¬
selves known. It is certain, says he, that the pupil of
the eve, by its fire and motion, very well shows the a-
gitation of the soul, but then it does not express the
kind or nature of such an agitation $ whereas the mo¬
tion of the eyebrow differs according as the passions
change their nature. To express a simple passion, the
motion is simple to express a mixed passion, the mo¬
tion is compound : if the passion be gentle, the mo¬
tion is gentle ; and if it be violent, the motion is so
too. We may observe farther, says he, that there are
J two
.323
D R A W I N G.
two kinds of elevation in the eyebrows. One, in
which the eyebrows rise up in the middle ; this eleva¬
tion expresses agreeable sensations, and it is to be ob¬
served that then the mouth rises at the corners : Ano¬
ther, in which the eyebrows rise up at the ends, and
fall in the middle; this motion denotes bodily pain,
and then the mouth falls at the corners. In laughter,
all the parts agree ; for the eyebrows, which fall to¬
ward the middle of the forehead, make the nose, the
mouth, and the eyes, follow the same motion. In weep¬
ing, the motions are compound and contrary ; for the
eyebrows fall toward the nose and over the eyes, and
the mouth rises that way. It is to be observed also,
that the mouth is the part of the face which more par¬
ticularly expresses the emotions of the heart: for when
the heart complains, the mouth frills at the corners;
when it is at ease, the corners of the mouth are eleva¬
ted ; and when it has an aversion, the mouth shoots for¬
ward, and rises in the middle.
“ The head (says M. de Piles) contributes more to
the expression of the passions than all the other parts
of the body put together. Those separately can only
show some few passions, but the head expresses them
all. Some, however, are more particularly expressed
by it than others : as humility, by hanging it down ;
arrogance, by lilting it up ; languishment, by inclining
it to one side ; and obstinacy, when with a stiff and re¬
solute air it stands upright, fixed, and stiff between the
two shoulders. J he head also best shows our supplica¬
tions, threats, mildness, pride, love, hatred, joy, and
grief. rlhe whole face, and every feature, contributes
something : especially the eyes ; which, as Cicero says,
are the windows of the soul. The passions they more
particularly discover are, pleasure, languishing, scorn,
severity, mildness, admiration, and anger ; to which
one might add joy and grief, if they did not proceed
more particularly from the eyebrows and mouth ; but
when those two passions fall in also with the language
of the eyes, the harmony will be wonderful. But
though the passions of the soul are more visible in the
lines and features of the face, they often require the
assistance also of the other parts of the body. Without
the hands, for instance, all action is weak and imper¬
fect ; their motions, which are almost infinite, create
numberless expressions : it is by them that we desire,
hope, promise, call, send back ; they are the instruments
of threatening, prayer, horror, and praise ; by them we
approve, condemn, rejuse, admit, Jeai', ask; express our
joy and grief, our doubts, regrets, pain, and admira¬
tion. In a word, it may be said, as they are the
language of the dumb, that they contribute not a little
to speak a language common to all nations, which is
the language of painting. But to say how these
parts must be disposed for expressing the various pas¬
sions, is impossible ; nor can any exact rules be given
lor it, both because the task would be infinite, and be¬
cause every one must be guided in this by his own ge¬
nius and the particular turn of his own studies.” See
the article Passions, and the Plate there referred to.
\ 9’ 0/ drawing Flowers, Fruits, Birds, Beasts, Sec.
The learner may proceed now to make some at¬
tempts at drawing flowers, fruits, birds, beasts, and
the like ; not only as it will be a more pleasing em¬
ployment, but as it is an easier task, than the draw¬
ing of hands and feet, and other parts of the human
body, which require not only more care, but greater
exactness and nicer judgment. Very few rules or in¬
structions are requisite upon this head : the best thing
the learner can do is, to furnish himself with good
prints or drawings by way of examples, and with great
care and exactness to copy them. If it is the figure
of a beast, begin with the forehead, and draw the
nose, the upper and under jaw, and stop at the throat.
1 ben go to the top ol the head, and form the ears, neck,
back, and continue the line till you have given the
lull shape of the buttock. Then form the bieast, and
mark out the legs and feet, and all the smaller parts.
And, last of all, finish it with the proper shadows.
It is not amiss, by way of ornament, to give a small
sketch of landscape ; and let it be suitable and natu¬
ral to the place or country of the beast you draw.
Much the same may be said with regard to birds. Of
these, as well as beasts and other objects, the learner
will find many examples among the plates given in this
work.
§ io. Of drawing Landscapes, Buildings, &c.
Of all the parts of drawing, this is the most useful
and necessary, and it is what every man may have oc¬
casion for at one time or another. To be able, on the
spot, to take the sketch of a fine building, or a beauti-
tiful prospect; of any curious production of art, or
uncommon appearance in nature ; is not only a very
desirable accomplishment, but a very agreeable amuse¬
ment. Bocks, mountains, fields, woods, rivers, cata¬
racts, cities, towns, castles, bouses, fortifications, ruins,
or whatsoever else may present itself to view on our
journeys or travels in our own or foreign countries,
may be thus brought home, and preserved for our fu¬
ture use either in business or conversation. On this
part, therefore, more than ordinary pains should be be¬
stowed.
All drawing consists in nicely measuring the distan¬
ces of eacli part of the piece by the eye. In order to
facilitate this, let the learner imagine in his own mind,
that the piece be copies is divided into squares. For
example : Suppose or imagine a perpendicular and a
horizontal line crossing each other in the centre of the
picture you are drawing from ; then suppose also two
such lines crossing your own copy. Observe in the
original, what parts of the design those lines intersect,
and let them fall on the same parts of the supposed
lines in the copy : We say, the supposed lines ; because
though engravers, and others who copy with great
exactness, divide both the copy and original into many
squares, as below ; yet this is a method not to be re¬
commended, as it will be apt to deceive the learner,
who will fancy himself a tolerable proficient, till he
comes to draw after nature, where these helps are not
to be had, when he will find himself miserably defec¬
tive and utterly at a loss.
If he is to draw a landscape from nature, let him
® s 2 take
DRAWING.
take his station on a rising ground, where he will have
a large horizon •, and mark his tablet into three divi¬
sions, downwards from the top to the bottom $ and
divide in his own mind the landscape he is to take, in¬
to three divisions also. Then let him turn his face di¬
rectly opposite to the midst of the horizon, keeping
his body fixed, and draw what is directly before his
eyes upon the middle division of the tablet; then turn
his head, but not his body, to the left hand, and de¬
lineate what he views there, joining it properly to
what he had done before ; and, lastly, do the same by
what is to be seen upon his right hand, laying down
every thing exactly both with respect to distance and
proportion. One example is given on Plate CLXXIX.
The best artists, in drawing their landscapes, make
them shoot away one part lower than another.
Those who make their landscapes mount up higher and
higher, as if they stood at the bottom of a hill to take
the prospect, commit a great error : the best way is to
get upon a rising ground, make the nearest objects in
the piece the highest, and those that are farther off to
shoot away lower and lower till they come almost level
with the line of the horizon, lessening every thing pro-
portionably to its distance, and observing also to make
the objects fainter and less distinct the farther they are
removed from the eye. He must make all bis lights
and shades fall one way, and let every thing have its
proper motion : as trees shaken by the wind, the small
boughs bending more, and the large ones less : water
agitated by the wind, and dashing against ships or
boats, or falling from a precipice upon rocks and
stones, and spirting up again into the air, and sprink¬
ling all about: clouds also in the air j now gathered
with the winds •, now violently condensed into hail,
rain, and the like : Always remembering, that what¬
ever motions are caused by the wind must be made all
to move the same way, because the wind can blow but
one way at once.
Finally, It must be observed, that in order to attain
any considerable proficiency in drawing, a knowledge
of Perspective is absolutely necessary : see that ar¬
ticle.
D R A
Dray,
Dravton.
DRAY, a kind of cart used by brewers for carry¬
ing barrels of beer or ale j also a sledge drawn without
wheels. .
Dray, among sportsmen, denotes squirrel nests built
in the tops of trees.
DRAYTON, Michael, an eminent English poet,
was born in 1563, of an ancient family in "Warwickshire.
His propensity to poetry was extremely strong, even
from his infancy J and we find the most of his principal
poems published, and himself highly distinguished as a
poet, by the time he was about 30 years of age.—It
appears from his poem of Moses’s Birth and Miracles,
that he was a spectator at Dover of the famous Spanish
armada, and it is not improbable that he was engaged
in some military employment there. It is certain, that
not only for his merit as a writer but his valuable qua¬
lities as a man, he was held in high estimation, and
strongly patronized by several personages of conse¬
quence ; particularly by Sir Henry Goodere, Sir "Wal¬
ter Aston, and the countess of Bedford 5 to the first
of whom he owns himself indebted for great part of
his education, and by the second he was for many years
supported.
His poems are very numerous j and so elegant, that
his manner has been copied by many modern writers
of eminence since. Among these the most celebrated
one is the Poly-Albion, a chorographical description of
England, with its commodities, antiquities, and cu¬
riosities, in metre of 12 syllables j which he dedicated
to Prince Henry, by whose encouragement it was writ¬
ten : and whatever may be thought of the poetry, his
descriptions are allowed to be exact. He was styled
poet laureat in his time : which, as Ben Johnson was
then in that office, is to be understood in a loose sense
of approbation as an excellent poet ; and was bestowed
on others as well as Drayton, without being, confined
strictly to the office known by that appellation. He
died in 1631 •, and was buried in Westminster abbey
D R E
among the poets, where his bust is to be seen, with an
epitaph penned by Ben Johnson. Dreams
DREAMS, are all those thoughts which people v—y—
feel passing through their minds, and those imaginary
transactions in which they often fancy themselves en¬
gaged, when in the state of sleep.
Scarce any part of nature is less open to our obser¬
vation than the human mind in this state. The
dreamer himself cannot well observe the manner in
which dreams arise or disappear to him. When he
awakes, he cannot recollect the circumstances of his
dreams with sufficient accuracy. Were we to watch
over him with the most vigilant attention, we could not
perceive with certainty what emotions are excited in
his mind, or what thoughts pass through it, during
his sleep. But though we could ascertain these phe¬
nomena, many other difficulties would still remain.
What parts of a human being are active, what dor¬
mant, when he dreams? Why does not he always dream
while asleep ? Or why dreams he at all ? Do any cir¬
cumstances in our constitution, situation, and peculiar
character, determine the nature of our dreams ?
We may lay before our readers such facts as have
been ascertained concerning dreaming, and the most
plausible conjectures that have been offered to explain
those particulars, about which we can only conjecture,
or have at least hitherto obtained nothing more certain
than conjecture.
1. In dreaming, we are not conscious of being asleep.
This is well known from a thousand circumstances.
When awake, we often recollect our dreams ; and we
remember on such occasions, that while those dreams
were passing through our minds, it never occurred to
us that we were separated by sleep from the active
world. We are often observed to act and talk in
dreaming as if we were busily engaged in the inter¬
course of social life.
2. In dreaming, we do not consider ourselves as
witnessing
plate a jinn.
\
I
. 4. Wilsc’n Sfity.
5^J
b m r^
|r
T^' "‘ ^ ^ .
iJ-^r-Mu.. "t- ^
DRAWING
PL A TE C EX AIX
IVJnliil-M Sculp?
WJrrhibn/J ' ■///■
D li AW IX ( , .
rialc C'LXXXII.
Zng* by mArchUdU^bur
PLATE CLXXXITI.
drawing.
D K E [ 325 ]
witnessing or bearing a part in a fictitious scene : we they pass into this
r> r e
seem not to be in a similar situation with the actors in
a dramatic performance, or the spectators before whom
they exhibit, but engaged in the business of real life.
All the varieties of thought that pass through our minds
when awake may also occur in dreams; all the images
which imagination presents in the former state, she is
also able to call up in the latter 5 all the same emotions
may be excited, and we are often actuated by equal
violence of passion ; none ol the transactions in which
we are capable of engaging while awake is impossible
jn dreams : in short, our range of action^and observa¬
tion is equally wide in the one state as in the other ;
and while dreaming, we are not sensible of any distinc¬
tion between our dreams and the events and transac¬
tions in which we are actually concerned in our inter¬
course with the world.
3. It is said that all men are not liable to dream.
Dr Beattie, in a very pleasing essay on this subject,
relates, that be knew a gentleman who never dreamed
except wiien his health was in a disordered state ; and
Locke mentions that a certain person of his acquaint¬
ance was almost a stranger to dreaming till the 26th
year of his age; and then began to dream in conse¬
quence of having a fever. These instances, however,
are too few, and we have not been able to obtain
more ; and, besides, it does not appear that those per¬
sons had always attended, with the care of a philosopher
making an experiment, to the circumstances of their
sleep. They might dream, but not recollect their dreams
on awaking $ and they might both dream and recollect
their dreams immediately upon awaking, yet afterwards
suffer the remembrance of them to slip out of their me¬
mory. We do not advance this, therefore, as a certain
fact concerning dreaming j we are rather inclined to
think it a mistake.
But though it appears to be by no means certain
that any of the human race are through the whole of
life absolute strangers to dreaming; yet it is well
known that all men are not equally liable to dream.
The same person dreams more or less at different times;
and as one person may be more exposed than another
to those circumstances which promote this exercise of
fancy, one person may therefore dream more than ano¬
ther. The same diversity will naturally take place in
this as in other accidents to which mankind are in
general liable.
4. Though in dreams imagination appears to be free
from all restraint, and indulges in the most wanton
freaks; yet it is generally agreed, that the imaginary
ransactions or the dreamer bear always some relation
to ms particular character in the world, his habits of
action, and the circumstances of his life. The lover,
we are told, dreams of his mistress ; the miser of his
money; the philosopher renews his researches in sleep
often with the same pain and fatigue as when awake;
and even the merchant, at times, returns to balance
his books, and computes the profits of an adventure,
when slumbering on his pillow. And not only do the
more general circumstances of a person’s life influence
his dreams ; his passions and habits are nearly the same
when asleep as when awake. A person whose habits
ot lire are virtuous, does not in his dreams plunge into
a senes of crimes; nor are the vicious reformed when
... . imaginary world. The choleric
man finds himself offended by slight provocations as
well in his dreams as in his ordinary intercourse with
the world, and a mild temper continues pacific in
sleep.
5* Die character of a person’s dreams is influenced
by his circumstances when awake in a still more unac¬
countable manner. Certain dreams usually arise in the
mind after a person has been in certain situations. Dr
Beattie relates, that he once, after riding 30 miles in a
high wind, passed a part ot the succeeding night in
dreams beyond description terrible. The state of a per¬
son’s health, and the manner in which the vital func¬
tions are carried on, have a considerable influence in
determining the character of dreams. After too full a
meal, or after eating of an unusual sort of food, a per¬
son is very apt to be harassed with dreams.
6. In dreaming, the mind for the most part carries
on no intercourse through the senses with surrounding
objects.. Touch a person gently who is asleep, be feels
not the impression, ^iou may awake him by a smart
blow ; but when the stroke is not sufficiently violent
to awake him, be remains insensible of it. We speak
softly beside a person asleep without fearing that lie
overhear us. His eyelids are shut; and even though
light should fall upon the eyeball, yet still his powers
of vision are not weakened to active exertion, unless
the.light be so strong as to rouse him from sleep. He
is insensible both to sweet and to disagreeable smells.
It is not easy to try whether his organs of taste retain
their activity, without awakening him ; yet from ana¬
logy it may be presumed that these too "are inactive.
With respect to the circumstances here enumerated,
it is indifferent whether a person be dreaming or buried
in deep sleep.
Yet there is one remarkable fact concerning dream¬
ing, which may seem to contradict what has been here
asserted. In dreams we are liable not only to speak
aloud in consequence of the suggestions of imagination,
but even to get up, and walk about and engage in little
enterprises, without awaking. Now, as we are in this
instance so active it seems that we cannot be then in¬
sensible of the presence of surrounding objects. The
sleepwalker is really sensible in a certain degree of the
presence of the objects around him ; but lie does not
attend to them with all their circumstances, nor do
they excite in him the same emotions as if be were
awake. He feels no terror on the brink of a precipice;
and in consequence of being free from fear, he is also
without danger in such a situation unless suddenly awak¬
ed. I Ins is one of the most inexplicable phenomena
of dreaming.
There is also another fact not quite consonant with
what has been above mentioned. It is said, that in sleep
a person will continue to hear the noise of a cataract in
the neighbourhood, or regular strokes with a ham¬
mer, or any similar sound sufficiently loud, and con¬
tinued uninterruptedly from before the time of his fall¬
ing asleep. We know not whether he awakes on the
sudden cessation of the noise. The fact is asserted on
sufficient evidence : it is curious. Even when awake,
if very deeply intent on any piece of study, or closely
occupied in business, the sound of a clock striking in
the neighbourhood, or the beating of a drum, will
escape
Dreams.
Dreams.
D R E [ 326 ]
escape us unnoticed j and it is therefore the more sur¬
prising that we should thus continue sensible to sounds
when asleep.
7. Not only do a person’s general character, habits
oflife, and state of health, influence his dreams; but
those concerns in which he has been most deeply inte¬
rested during the preceding day, and the views which
have arisen "most frequently to his imagination, very
often afford the subjects of his dreams. When I look
forward with anxious expectation towards any future
event, I am likely to dream either ol the disappoint¬
ment or the gratification of my wishes. Have I been
engaged through the day, either in business or amuse¬
ments which 1 have found exceedingly agreeable, or in
a way in which L have been extremely unhappy J either
my happiness or my misery is likely to be renewed in
my dreams.
8. Though dreams have been regarded among almost
all nations through the world, at least in some periods
of their history, as prophetic of future events ; yet it
does not appear that this popular opinion has been esta¬
blished on good grounds. Christianity, indeed, teaches
us to believe, that the Supreme Being may, and actu¬
ally does, operate on our minds, and influence at times
the determinations of our will, without making us sen¬
sible of the restraint to which we are thus subjected.
And, in the same manner, no doubt, the suggestions
which arise to us in dreams, may be produced. The
imaginary transactions in which we are then engaged,
mav^be such as are actually to occupy us in life ; the
strange and seemingly incoherent appearances which
are then presented to the mind’s eye, may allude to
some events which are to befal ourselves or others. It
is therefore, by no means impossible, or inconsistent
with the general analogy of nature, that dreams should
have a respect to futurity. We have no reason to re¬
gard the dreams which are related in the Holy bcrip-
tures to have been prophetic of future events, as not
inspired by Heaven, or to laugh at the idea of a pro¬
phetic dream as absurd or ridiculous.
Yet it would be too much to allow to dreams all that
importance which has been ascribed to them by the
priesthood among heathen nations, or by the vulgar
among ourselves. We know how easily ignorance im¬
poses on itself, and what arts imposture adopts to impose
upon others. We cannot trace any certain connexion
between our dreams and those events to which the sim¬
plicity of the vulgar pretends that they refer. And we
cannot, therefore, if disposed to confine our belief to
certain or probable truths, join with the vulgar in be¬
lieving them really referable to futurity.
o. It appears that the brutes are also capable of
dreaming. The dog is often observed to start sudden¬
ly up in his sleep, in a manner which cannot be ac¬
counted for in any other way than by supposing that
he is roused by some impulse received in a dream.
The same thing is observable of others 01 the interior
animals. That they should dream, is not an idea incon¬
sistent with what we know of their economy and man¬
ners in general. We may, therefore, consider it as
DUE
a pretty certain truth, that many, if not all, of the prt8E
lower species are liable to dream as well as human y-*
beings.
It appears, then, that in dreaming we are not con¬
scious of being asleep ; that to a person dreaming, his
dreams seem realities ; that though it be uncertain
whether mankind are all liable to dreams, yet it is well
known that they are not all equally liable to dream:
that the nature of a person’s dreams depends in some
measure on his habits of action, and on the circum¬
stances of his life : that the state of the health too, and
the manner in which the vital functions are carried on,
have a powerful influence in determining the character
of a person’s dreams : that in sleep and in dreaming,
the senses are either absolutely inactive, or nearly so ;
that such concerns as we have been very deeply inte¬
rested in during the preceding day, are very likely to
return upon our minds in dreams in the hours of rest:
that dreams may be rendered prophetic of future events ;
and therefore, wherever we have such evidence of their
having been prophetic as we would accept on any
other occasion, we cannot reasonably reject the fact on
account of its absurdity ; but that they do not appear
to have been actually such, in those instances in which
the superstition of nations, ignorant of true religion, has
represented them as referring to futurity, nor in those
instances in which they are viewed in the same light
by the vulgar among ourselves ; and, lastly, that dream¬
ing is not a phenomenon peculiar to human nature, but
common to mankind with the brutes.
We know of no other facts that have been fully as¬
certained concerning dreaming. But we are by no
means sufficiently acquainted with this important phe¬
nomenon in the history of mind. We cannot tell by
what laws of our constitution we are thus liable to be
so frequently engaged in imaginary transactions, nor
what are the particular means by which the delusion
is accomplished. The delusion is indeed remarkably
strong. One will sometimes have a book presented to
him in a dream, and fancy that he reads ; and actually
enter into the nature of the imaginary composition be¬
fore him, and even remember, after he awakes, what he
knows that he only fancied himself reading (a). Can
this be delusion? If delusion, how or for what purposes
is it produced ? The mind, it would appear, does not,
in sleep, become inactive like the body ; or at least is
not always inactive while we are asleep. When we do
not dream, the mind must either be inactive, or the
connexion between the mind and the body must be
considered as in some manner suspended : and, when
we dream, the mind, though it probably acts in con¬
cert with the body, yet does not act in the same man¬
ner as when we are awake. It seems to be clouded or
bewildered, in consequence of being deprived for a time
of the service of the senses. Imagination becomes more
active and more capricious : and all the other powers,
especially judgment and memory, become disordered
and irregular in their operation.
Various theories have been proposed to explain what
appears here most inexplicable. The ingenious Mr
(a) The writer of tbi. article bar been told by a respectable old gentleman f
that be had frem.ently dream, of this nature. The fact may therefore be cons.dered as unquestionable.
dead,
DUE
6, Baxter, in his Treatise on the Immateriality of the Hu-
—' man Soul, endeavours to prove that dreams are pro¬
duced by the agency of some spiritual beings, who ei¬
ther amuse or employ themselves seriously in engaging
mankind in all those imaginary transactions with which
they are employed in dreaming. This theory, how¬
ever, is far from being plausible. It leads us entirely
beyond the limits of our knowledge. It requires us
to believe without evidence. It is unsupported by any
analogy. It creates difficulties still more inexplicable
than those which it has been proposed to remove. Till
it appear that our dreams cannot possibly be produced
without the interference of other spiritual agents, pos¬
sessing such influence over our minds as to deceive us
with fancied joys, and involve us in imaginary afflic¬
tions, we cannot reasonably refer them to such a cause.
Besides, from the facts which have been stated as well
known concerning dreams, it appears that their nature
depends both on the state of the human body and on
that of the mind. But were they owing to the agen¬
cy of other spiritual beings, how could they be influ¬
enced by the state of the body ? Those must be a cu¬
rious set of spiritual beings who depend in such a man¬
ner on the state of our corporeal frame. Better not
to allow them existence at all, than to place them in
such a dependence.
Wolfius, and after him M. Formey, have supposed,
that dreams never arise in the mind, except in conse¬
quence of some of the organs of sensation having been
previously excited. Either the ear or the eye, or the
organs of touching, tasting, or smelling, communicate
information, somehow, in a tacit, secret manner j and
thus partly rouse its faculties from the lethargy in
which they are buried in sleep, and engage them in
a series of confused and imperfect exertions. But
what passes in dreams is so very different from all that
we do when awake, that it is impossible for the
dreamer himself to distinguish, whether his powers of
sensation perform any part on the occasion. It is not
necessary that imagination be always excited by sen¬
sation. Fancy, even when we are awake, often wan¬
ders from the present scene. Absence of mind is inci¬
dent to the studious : the poet and the mathematician
many times forget where they are. We cannot disco¬
ver from any thing that a person in dreaming displays
to the observation of others, that his organs of sensa¬
tion take a part in the imaginary transactions in which
he is employed. In those instances, indeed, in which
persons asleep are said to hear sounds ; the sounds
which they hear are said also to influence, in some
manner, the nature of their dreams. But such in¬
stances are singular. Since then it appears that the
person who dreams is himself incapable of distinguish-
mg either during his dreams, or by recollection when
awake, whether any new impressions are communicated
to him in that state by his organs of sensation •, that
even by watching over him, and comparing our obser¬
vations of his circumstances and emotions, in his
dreams, with what he recollects of them after awak-
lng, we cannot, except in one or two singular instan¬
ces, ascertain this fact 5 and that the mind is not in¬
capable of acting while the organs of sensation are
, r?S*’ arMl. 011 m™y occasions refuses to listen to
ie information which they convey j we may, with¬
out hesitation, conclude, that the theory of Wolfius
DUE
and !ormey has been too hastily and incautiously ad¬
vanced. J
Other physiologists tell us, that the mind, when we
dream, is in a state of delirium. Sleep, they say, is at¬
tended with what is called a collapse of the brain :
during which either the whole or a part of the nerves
of which it consists, are in a state in which they can¬
not cairy on the usual intercourse between the mind
and the organs of sensation. When the whole of the
brain is in this state, we become entirely unconscious
of existence, and the mind sinks into inactivity : when
only a part of the brain is collapsed, as they term it,
we are then neither asleep nor awake, but in a sort of
delirium between the two. This theory, like the last
mentioned, supposes the mind incapable of acting
without the help of sensation: it supposes that we
know the nature of a state of which we cannot ascer¬
tain the phenomena : it also contradicts a known fact,
in representing dreams as confused images of things
around us, not fanciful combinations of things not ex-
isting together in nature or in human life. We must
treat it likewise, therefore, as a baseless fabric.
,. J[n *^ie Jas^ effflion °f this work, a theory somewhat
different from any of the foregoing was advanced in
this subject. It was observed, that the nervous fluid,
which is allowed to be secreted from the blood by the
brain, appears to be likewise absorbed from the blood
by the extremities of the nerves. It was farther ad¬
vanced, that as this fluid was to be considered as the
principle of sensibility 5 therefore, in all cases in which
a sufficient supply of it was not absorbed from the
blood by the extremities of the nerves, the parts of the
body to which those nerves belonged, must be, in some
degree, deprived of sensation. From these positions
it was inferred, that as long as impressions of external
objects continue to communicate a certain motion
from the sentient extremities of the nerves to the
brain,- so long we continue awake ; and that, when
there is a deficiency of this vital fluid in the extremi¬
ties of the nerves, or when from any other cause it
ceases to communicate to the brain the peculiar motion
alluded to, we must naturally fall asleep, and become
insensible of our existence. It followed of consequence,
that, in sleep, the nervous fluid between the extreme
parts of the nerves and the brain must either be at rest,
or be deficient, or be prevented by some means from
passing into the brain : and it was concluded, that
whenever irregular motions of this fluid were occasion¬
ed by an internal cause, dreaming was produced. In
this manner it appeared that we might be deceived
with regard to the operation of any of the senses 3—
so as to fancy that we saw objects not actually before
us,—to hear imaginary sounds,—to taste,—to feel, and
to smell in imagination. The instances of visions
which will sometimes arise, and as it were swim be¬
fore us when awake, though our eyes be shut, tinnitus
annum, which is often a symptom in nervous diseases,
and the strange feelings in the case of the amputated
limb, were produced in proof of this theory, and ap¬
plied so as to confirm it.
We are still of opinion, that this theory is more
plausible, and goes farther toward explaining the na¬
ture of dreaming, and the manner in which dreams are
produced, than any other with which we are acquaint¬
ed. But it must be confessed, upon a review, that ever.
[ 327
D R E
In it there is too much supposition,
nervous fluid is but imperfectly known, and even its
existence not very fully ascertained. The nature of
the connexion by which the soul and body are united,
seems to be almost beyond our comprehension And
till we can apply experiment and observation in a bet¬
ter manner to this branch of physiology, it must un¬
doubtedly remain unknown. To something mysterious
in the nature of that connexion, the delusion produced
in dreams is in all probability owing.
Amid this uncertainty with respect to the manner
in which the powers of mind and body perform their
functions in dreaming, it is pleasing to find that we
can, however, apply to useful purposes the imperfect
knowledge which we have been able to acquire con¬
cerning this series of phenomena. Our dreams aie
affected by the state of our health, by the manner in
which we have passed the preceding day, by our gene¬
ra! habits of life, by the hopes which we most fondly
indulge, and the fears which prevail most over our
fortitude when we are awake. From recollecting our
dreams, therefore, we may learn to correct many im¬
proprieties in our conduct; to refrain from bodily ex¬
ercises, or from meats and drinks that have untavour-
able effects on our constitution ; to resist, in due time,
evil habits that are stealing upon us ; and to guard
against hopes and fears which detach us from our pro¬
per concerns, and unfit us for the duties of life. In¬
stead of thinking what our dreams may forebode, we
may with much better reason reflect by what they have
been occasioned, and look back to those circumstances
in our past life to which they are owing. The sleep
of innocence and health is sound and refreshing }
their dreams delightful and pleasing. A distempered
body, and a polluted or perturbed mind, are haunt¬
ed in sleep with frightful, impure, and unpleasing
dreams. . .
Some very beautiful fables have been written both
by ancients and moderns in the form of dreams. The
Somnium Scipionis is one of the finest of Cicero’s com¬
positions. He who shall carefully peruse this piece,
with Macrobius’s commentary upon it, will acquire
from them considerable knowledge of ancient philoso¬
phy. In the periodical publications, which have dif¬
fused so much elegant and useful knowledge through
Britain, the Tatlers, Spectators, Guardians, &c. we
find a number of excellent dreams. Addison excelled
in this way of writing. The public are now less pai-
tial to this species of composition than they formerly
were. , • t r
Dr Beattie, in his valuable essay on the subject ol
dreaming, quotes a very fine one from the Tatler, and
oives it due praise.
" DREDGING, a process for removing mud and
other deposited matters from the beds of rivers, canals,
&c. See Supplement. .
DRELINCOURT, Charles, minister of the re¬
formed church at Paris, was born at Sedan ltEI 593»
where his father enjoyed a considerable post- He had
all the qualifications that compose a respectable clergy¬
man ; and though he defended the Protestant cause
against the Romish religion, was much esteemed even
among the Catholics. He is best known in England
by his Consolations against the Fears ot Death, which
•work was translated, and is often printed. He mar-
2
Drelift.
•onrt
[ 328 ] D R E
The nature of the ried the daughter of a rich merchant at Paris, by whom
he had 16 children. His third son, professor of physic
at Leyden, was physician to the prince and princess of
Orange before their accession to the crown of England. > ^ *j
Bayle has given him a high character. Mr Drelin-
court died in 1660.
DRENCH, among farriers, a physical potion for
horses. The ingredients for this purpose are to be beat
coarsely, and either mingled with a decoction or with
wine. Then let all infuse about a quarter of an hour,
and give it to the horse with a horn after he has been
tied up two hours to the rack.
DREPANE', the ancient name of Corcyra, from
the curvity of its figure, resembling a sickle.
Drepane, (Drepammi) in Ancient Geography, a
town of Bithynia, situated between the Sinus Astace-
nus and the Bosphorus Thracius ; called Helenopolis
by Constantine, in honour of his mother. (Nicephorus
Callistus).
DREPANUM, in Ancient Geography, the promon¬
tory Rhium in Achaia ; so called because bent in the
manner of a sickle. Another Drepanum on the Ara¬
bic gulf, on the side of Egypt. A third on the north
side of Crete, situated between Cydonia and the Si¬
nus Amphimallus. A fourth on the west side of Cy¬
prus. A fifth, a promontory of Cyrenaica, on the Me¬
diterranean.
Drepanum, -i; or Drepana, -orvm ; a town and port
on the west side of Sicily, and to the west of Mount
Eryx ; Drepanitani the people. Now Trepano, a city
and port town on the westmost point of Sicily. E. Long.
12. 8. N. Lat. 38. o.
DRESDEN, the capital city of the electorate of
Saxony in Germany. It is seated on the river Elbe,
which divides it into two parts. One part is called Old
Dresden, and the other the Netu Town, in the German
language New Stadt. They are joined together by a
stone bridge, supported by 19 piers, and 630 paces in
length. As this bridge was too narrow for the crowds
of people that were continually passing and repassing,
King Augustus in 1730, caused two walks for foot
passengers to be built, one on each side, in a very won¬
derful manner j the one for those that go into the city,
and the other for those that return back. These are
bordered with iron pallisadoes of curious workmanship.
This noble bridge was much injured by the French in
1813. Dresden is surrounded by fortifications j ami
was said to contain 45,000 inhabitants in 1811.
All the buildings of this city are constructed with
square freestone, and are almost all of the same height.
They have stone from the neighbourhood of Pirna,
about ten miles from this city, which is readily brought
down the Elbe. In general the houses are high and
strong ; the streets wide, straight, well paved, clean,
and well illuminated in the night; and there are large
squares, disposed in such a manner, that Dresden may
pass for one of the handsomest cities in the world. The
king’s palace is a magnificent structure, and abounds
in many valuable curiosities both of nature and art.
The collection of pictures is reckoned one of the finest
that exists, and is valued at 500,000!.
Above 700 men are here constantly employed in the
porcelain manufacture, the annual expence of which is
estimated at no more than 80,000 crowns ; and the ma¬
nufacture vields to the king 200,000 crowns yearly,
besides
DUE
resden, besides the magnificent presents which he occasionally
easing;, makes, and the large quantity reserved for the use of
^ his household.
The other most considerable article of trade is silver,
of which the mines near Friburg produce every 15
days near the value of 20,000 dollars. The metal is
brought into the city in ingots, where it is immediately
coined and delivered to the proprietors.
The court of Dresden is one of the most remarkable
in Europe for splendour and profusion. Six thousand
five hundred ducats are yearly allowed for comfits and
similar articles, which is near twice as much as the
king of Prussia allows for the whole expence of his
table. The revenues of the king of Saxony are esti¬
mated at about 900,000!. ; which arise from the
taxes on lands, and a capitation on all males as
soon as they commence an apprenticeship or begin to
work. People of a higher rank are taxed according
to their class, and are liable to be called to account if
they assume not an exterior appearance correspondent
to the extent of their fortune. Every foreigner pavs
capitation after residing six months in the country.
The Jews are taxed at 50, their wives at 30, and their
children at 20 dollars. There is also an excise on all
eatables and liquors j and 10 per cent, is levied out of
the incomes of the people.
Though this city lies in a low situation, yet it hath
agreeable prospects. It is supplied with a prodigious
quantity of provisions, not only out of the neighbour¬
hood, but from Bohemia, which are brought every
market day, which is once a-week. E. Long. 13. 34.
N. Lat. 51. 12.
DRESSING of Hemp and Flax. See Flax-Dvcs-
C 329 ]
D R I
sing.
Dressing of Meats, the preparing them for food by
means of culinary fire.
The design of dressing is to loosen the compages or
texture of the flesh, and dispose it for dissolution and
digestion in the stomach. Flesh not being a proper
food without dressing, is alleged as an argument that
man was not intended by nature for a carnivorous ani¬
mal.
The usual operations are roasting, boiling, and stew¬
ing.—In roasting, it is observed, meat will bear a much
greater and longer heat than either in boiling or stew¬
ing •, and in boiling, greater and longer than in stew¬
ing. The reason is, that roasting being performed in
the open air, as the parts begin externally to warm,
they extend and dilate, and so gradually let out part
of the rarefied included air, by which means the inter¬
nal succussions, on which the dissolution depends, are
much weakened and abated. Boiling being performed
m water, the pressure is greater, and consequently the
succussions to lift up the weight are proportionably
strong, by which means the coction is hastened $ and
oven in this way there are great differences; for the
greater the weight of water, the sooner is the business
done.
In stewing, though the heat be infinitely short of
what is employed in the other ways, the operation is
much more quick, because performed in a close vessel,
and full; by which means the succussions are oftener
repeated, and more strongly reverberated. Hence the
force of Papin’s digester ; and hence an illustration of
the operation of digestion.
Vol. VII. Part I. f
Boding, Dr Cheyne observes, draws more of the Dic«in.
rank strong juices from meat, and leaves it less nutri- ||
five, more diluted, lighter, and easier of digestion’ Drieper-
roasting, on the other hand, leaves it fuller of the ' 
strong nutritive juices, harder to digest, and needing
more dilution. Strong, grown, and adult animal food,
therefore, should be boiled, and the younger and ten¬
derer roasted.
Dressing, in Surgery, the treatment of a wound,
or any disordered part. The apparatus of dressing
consists of dossils, tents, plasters, compresses, bandages,
nPr^eS^nd StringS' See Su*gery Index.
DREVET, Peter, the Younger, an eminent
French engraver, was a member of the royal academy
of painting and sculpture 5 and died at Paris in 1720.
at 42 years of age. His portraits are neat and ele¬
gant but laboured to the last degree. He particularly
excels in representing lace, silk, fur, velvet, and other
ornamental parts of dress. His father was excellent in
the same art, and had instructed, but was surpassed by
the son. The younger Drevet did not confine him¬
self to portraits. We have several historical prints by
him, which in point of neatness and exquisite work¬
manship are scarcely to be equalled. His most esteem¬
ed and best historical print is very valuable 5 but the
first impressions of it are rarely to be met with : it is
The Presentation of Christ in the Temple j a very
large plate, lengthwise, from Louis de Bologna. The
following deserve also to be particularized : The
Meeting of Abraham’s Servant with Rebecca at the
Well j a large upright plate, from Ant. Coypel : and
Abraham, with his son Isaac on the Altar, the same,
fiom the same, date 1707 5 the first impressions of
which are before the work upon the right thigh of
Isaac was altered, the curved lines from the button
almost down to the knee being in those impressions
arched downwards, but in posterior ones arched up¬
wards. Among his portraits, the two following are
justly held in the highest estimation: M. Bossuet,
bishop of Meaux ; a whole length figure standing, a
middling sized upright plate/ from Rigaud : and
Samuel Bernard ; a whole length figure sitting in a
chair, a large upright plate. The first impressions
of the last are, before the words Conseiller d'Etat were
inserted upon the plate.
DREUX, a town in the Isle of France, remarkable
for its _ antiquities ; and for the battle which was
fought in December 1562 between the Papists an4
the Protestants, in which the latter were defeated.
Some think it took its name from the priests of Gaol,
called the Druids, in the times of Paganism. It con¬
sists of two parishes, St Stephen’s, and Notre Dame,
called the great church, which is pretty well built. It
is seated on the river Blaise, at the foot of a mountain,
on which is a ruined castle. Population 5450. E.
Long. 1. 27. N. Lat. 48. 44.
DRIEPER, or Dnieper, a river of Russia, which
rises in the forest of Volkonski, near the source of the
Volga, about 100 miles from Smolensk©. It passes by
Smolensko and Mohilef, separates the Ukraine from
Poland, flows by Kiof, and falls into the Black sea be¬
tween Otzakof and Kinburn. By the acquisition of
the province of Mohilef, its whole course is now in¬
cluded within the Russian territories. It begins to be
navigable at a little distance above Smolensko, though
T t in
/
D R I [ 33° ]
seasons of tlie year It is so sliallow near the posite any feculeney.
in some scciavMia ui «.>■>- -
town, that the goods must be transported upon ratts
and small flat-bottomed boats.
DRIFT, in Navigation, the angle which the line ot
a ship’s motion makes with the nearest meridian, when
she drives with her side to the wind and waves, and is
not governed by the power of the helm : it also im¬
plies the distance which the ship drives on that line.
A ship’s way is only called drift in a storm ; and
then when it blows so vehemently as to prevent her
from carrying any sail, or at least restrains her to such
a portion of sail as may be necessary to keep her suth-
ciently inclined to one side, that she may not be dis¬
masted by her violent labouring produced by tbe tur¬
bulence of the sea.
Drift, in mining, a passage cutout under the eaitli
betwixt shaft and shaft, or turn and turn j or a passage
or way wrought under the earth to the end of a meer
of ground, or part of a meer. . ,
DRTPT-Sail, a sail used under water, veered out right
a-head by sheets, as other sails are. _ It serves to keep
the ship’s head right upon the sea in a storm, and to
hinder her from driving too fast in a current.
DRILL, in Mechanics, a small instrument for ma¬
king such holes as punches will not conveniently serve
for. Drills are of various sizes, and are chiefly used
by smiths and turners.
Drill, or Drill-Box, a name given to an instrument
for sowing land in the new method of horsehoeing
husbandry. See Agriculture Index. _
DnILL-Sowing, a method of sowing grain or seed
of any kind, so that it may all be at a proper depth in
the earth, which is necessary to its producing health¬
ful and vigorous plants. For this purpose a variety of
drill ploughs have been invented and recommended.
See Agriculture Index. . .
DRILLING is popularly used for exercising sol¬
diers. The word is derived from the irench dnlle,
which signifies a raw soldier.
DRIMYS, a genus of plants changed by Murray,
in the 14th edit, of Si/st. Veget. to WlNTERA j which
see in Botany Index. . ...
DRINK, a part of our ordinary food m a liquid
form. See Dietetics, Supplement.
The general use of drink is to supply fluid ; facili¬
tate solution ; in consequence of that, to expede the eva¬
cuation of the stomach, and promote the progress of
the aliment through the intestines: for, by tbe con¬
traction of the longitudinal fibres of the stomach, the
pylorus is drawn up, and nothing but fluid can pass ;
which, by its bulk, makes a hurried progress through
the intestines, and so determines a greater excretion
by stool, as less then can be absorbed by the lacteals.
Hence a large quantity of common water has been
found purgative •, and, cwteris paribus, that aliment
which is accompanied with the largest proportion ot
drink, makes the largest evacuation by stool. Here a
question has risen, about where the feculent part of
the aliment is first remarkably collected. It is com¬
monly thought to be in the great guts: but undoubt¬
edly it often begins in the lower part of the ileum
especially when the drink is in a small proportion, and
when the progress of the aliment is slow j foi when e
contents of the guts are very fluid, they are quickly
pushed on, and reach the great guts before they de-
3,
D K I
  .~J. Another effect of drink is, to Drink
facilitate the mixture of the lymph, refluent from every ' 
part of the system, with the chyle. In the blood-ves¬
sels, where all must be kept fluid in order to proper
mixture, drink increases the fluidity, and gives tension,
by its bulk, without concomitant acrimony or too much
elasticity, and so strength and oscillatory motion : hence
drink contributes to sanguification, as sometimes food
gives too dense a nutriment to be acted upon by tbe
solids 5 and hence also we can see how drink promotes
the secretions. These are the effects of drink in gene¬
ral ; but what has been said must be taken with some
limitations ; for the more liquid the food, it is sooner
evacuated, and less nourishment is extiacted. Hence
drink is, in some degree, opposed to nourishment; and
so, cceterisparibus, those who use least drink are most
nourished.
All the effects of drink above mentioned are produ¬
ced by simple water j and it may be said, that other
liquors are fit to drink in proportion to the water they
contain. Water, when used as drink, is often im¬
pregnated with vegetable and farinaceous substances ,
but, as drinks, these impregnations are of little conse¬
quence : they add, indeed, a little nourishment j but
this is not to be regarded in a healthy state. Some¬
times we impregnate water with the fructus acido-dul-
ces; and then, indeed, it acquires other qualities, of
considerable use in the animal economy. AH drinks,
however, may be reduced to two heads : first, pure
water, or where the additional substances give no ad¬
ditional virtue ; secondly, the fernientatw. Of the firA
we have already spoken } and the latter have not only
the qualities of the first, but also qualities peculiar to
themselves.
Fermented liquors are more or less poignant to the
taste, and better calculated to quench thirst. Thirst
may be owing to various causes : I irst, 10 defect of
fluid in the system, which occasions a scanty secretion
in the mouth, fauces, and stomach *, the dryness of the
mouth and fauces will also in this case be increased, by
their continual exposure to the perpetual flux and reflux
of the evaporating air. Secondly, Thirst depends on a
large proportion of solid viscid food. Thirdly, On an
alkalescent aliment, especially il it has attained any
thing of the putrefactive taint. Fourthly, On the heat
of the system 5 but this seems to operate in the same
manner as the first cause, giving a sense of dryness from
its dissipation of the fluids. The fermented liquors are
peculiarly adapted for obviating all these causes ; sti¬
mulating the mouth, fauces, and stomach, to throw
out the saliva and gastric liquor by their poignancy }
by their acescency they are fitted to destroy alkalescent
acrimony, to quench thirst from that cause 5 by their
fluidity they dilute viscid food ; though here, indeed,
they answer no better than common water. In two
ways they promote the evacuation by stool, and pro¬
gress through the intestines : first, by their fluidity and
bulk ; secondly, by their acescency, which, uniting
with the bile, forms the peculiar stimulus formerly men¬
tioned. Carried into the blood-vessels, in so far as
they retain any of the saline nature, they stimulate the
excretories, and promote urine and sweat 5 correcting
thus alkalescency, not only by mixture, but dissipation
of the degenerated fluids.
Many physicians, in treating of fermented
rink
iving1.
V ~y '"i *
D R 1 [ 33I
have only mentioned these qualities, rejecting their nu¬
tritious virtue, which certainly ought to be taken in ;
though by expediting the evacuation by stool they make
less of the nutritious parts of the aliment to be taken
up, and by stimulating the excretories make these nu¬
tritious parts to be for a shorter time in the system.
All these and many more effects arise from fermented
liquors. Their acescency sometimes promotes the dis¬
ease of acescency, by increasing that of vegetables, act¬
ing as a ferment, and so producing flatulency, purging,
cholera, &c.: so that, with vegetable aliment, as little
drink is necessary, the most innocent is pure water ; and
it is only with animal food that fermented liquors are
necessary. In warmer climates,/crraentate would seem
necessary to obviate alkalescency and heat. But it
should be considered, that though fermented liquors
contain an acid, yet they also contain alcohol j which,
though it adds stimulus to the stomach, yet is extreme¬
ly hurtful in the warmer climates, and wherever alka¬
lescency prevails in the system. Nature in these cli¬
mates has given men an appetite for water impregnated
with acid fruits, e.g. sherbet: but the use of this needs
caution, as in these countries they are apt to shun ani¬
mal food, using too much of the vegetable, and often
thus causing dangerous refrigerations, choleras, diar-
rhoeas, &c.
Of varieties of fermented liquors. We shall only
mention here the chief heads on which these varieties
depend. First, They are owing to the quality of the
subject, as more or less viscid j and to its capacity also
of undergoing an active fermentation, although perhaps
the mare viscid be more nutritious. Hence the differ¬
ence between ales and wines j by the first meaning fer¬
mented liquors from farinacea, by the second from the
fruits of plants. It depends, secondly, On the acerbity,
acidity, nature, and maturation, of the fruit. Thirdly,
The variety depends on the conduct of the fermentation.
In general, fermentation is progressive, being at first
active and rapid, detaching the fixed air or gas syU
vestre, at the same time acquiring more acid than before.
These qualities of flatulency and acidity remain for
some time: but as the fermentation goes on, the liquor
becomes more perfect, no air is detached and alcohol
is produced ; so that fermented liquors differ according
to the progress of the fermentation, and have different,
effects on the system. When fermentation is stopped
before it comes to maturity, though naturally it pro¬
ceeds in this way, yet by addition of new ferment it
may be again renewed with a turbid intestine motion.
DRIVERS, among sportsmen, a machine for driv¬
ing pheasant powts, consisting of good strong osier
wands, such as the basketmakers use ; these are to be
set in a handle, and twisted or bound with small osiers
two or three places. With this instrument the
in
sportsman drives whole eyes of young powts into his
nets. See the next article.
DRIVING, among sportsmen, a method of taking
pheasant powts. It is thus : The sportsman finds out
the haunts of these birds ; and having fixed his nets
there, he calls them together by a pheasant call,
imitating the voice of the dam ; after this he makes a
noise with his driver, which will make them run a little
way forward in a cluster j and this he is to repeat
till he has made sure of them, which an expert sports¬
man never fails to do, by driving them into his nets.
1 DEO
Driving, in Metallurgy, is said of silver, wlien, in
the operation of refining, the lead being burnt away,
the remaining copper rises upon its surface in red fiery
bubbles.
Driving, in the sea language, is said of a ship, when
an anchor being let fall will not hold her fast, nor pre¬
vent her sailing away with the wind or tide. The best
e p in this case is to let fall more anchors, or to veer
out more cable ; for the more cable she has out, the
safer she rides. When a ship is a-hull or a-trv, they
say she drives to leeward.
DROGHEDA, by the English called Tredah, a
town of Ireland, in the province of Leinster and county
• tV0 t ’ aiK* Sltuate<’ on t*16 bay of the same name,
in W. Long. 6. 17. N. Lat. 53. 45. It was formerly
very remarkable for its situation and strength. In con¬
sequence of this it was much distinguished by the old
English monarchs. Edward II. granted it a market
and fair 5 and to these were added other great privi¬
leges in succeeding ages, particularly the right of coin¬
age. It was bravely defended against the rebels in
1641. After the cessation of arms, it was taken by the
duke of Ormond and the earl of Inchiquin : but was
retaken by Cromwell in 1649. At this time it suffered
so much, that for a long time after it remained almost
in ruins. The buildings were exceedingly shattered j
and the town being taken by storm, not only the gar-
uson, but the inhabitants, men, women, and children,
were mostly put to the sword. By degrees, however, it
recovered, and is at present a large place, with 13,coo
inhabitants. It is a town and county j and sends one
member to the imperial parliament. It has a great
shaie of inland trade, and an advantageous commerce
with England.
Drogheda is perhaps one of the strongest instances
that can be mentioned of the inestimable benefit of a
river in any degree navigable; for though the Boyne
is not capable of carrying vessels of a greater size than
barges or pretty large boats, yet the conveniency that
this affords of conveying coals by water carriage through
a great extent of country, produced an intercourse be¬
tween this place and Whitehaven in Cumberland, to
which the revival of its commerce has been in a great
measure owing.
DnOIlYVIlCH, a town of Worcestershire in
England, noted for excellent white salt made from the
salt springs in its neighbourhood. It sends two mem¬
bers to parliament. Population 2079. W. Long. 2.
16. N. Lat. 32. 20.
DROMEDARY. See Camelus, Mammalia
Index.
DROME, a department of France, on the east side
of the Rhone. It contained 233,000 inhabitants in
1813, including 34,000 Protestants. It is hilly, and
abounds in wood. Wine is a staple produce, and it
imports corn. Valence is the chief town.
DROMORE, a town of Ireland, in the county of
Down. It is a very ancient town, and the seat of a
bishopric. The see was founded by St Colman in the
6th century. It was refounded by King James I. who,
by his charters (now preserved in the Rolls office) grant¬
ed it very great and uncommon privileges. Among
other marks of royal favour, he distinguishes the bi¬
shops of this see by the style of “ A. B. by Divine
Providence bishop of Dromore whereas all other
T t 2 bishops
D R O
C 332 1
D R O
Dromorc, bishops in Ireland, except those of Meath and Kildare,
Drone, are styled, ** by Divine Permission.5 Ibis see, al-
   though the least in its extent, is so complete and per¬
fect in its endowment and jurisdiction, that it need not
envy the greatest and most opulent.
DRONE, a kind of large bees which make their
appearance in hives about the month of May, but never
work nor prepare any honey : and are at last all killed
by the rest. Under the article Bee, N° 20. et seq* we
have given an account of the experiments of Messrs
Debraw and Schirach concerning these animals: but
in a Treatise upon Bees and their Management by Mr
Bonner near Berwick on Tweed, who has made the
management oi bees his study for a great number of
years, this author dissents from the opinions of the
above-mentioned gentlemen for the following reasons,
which we shall give in his own words. Having men¬
tioned the opinions of Mr Debraw concerning the lit¬
tle drones mentioned in the article above mentioned,
he proceeds thu&:
“ i. Gan it be thought that the prying eyes of mul¬
titudes in many generations should have escaped seeing
those little drones (they being, according to bis ac¬
count, vastly numerous) thrust their posterior parts in¬
to the cells ? Yet none ever saw them do it except
himself j while many have seen the queen do it, though
but a single bee. >
“ a. It is well known the queen is very long behind
the wings, wise nature having made her so, in order
that she might thrust her posterior part into the cells,
and yet her wings scarcely touch them, nor receive
the least injury. If these imaginary little drones had
to thrust their posterior parts into the cells in the same
manner as the queen, certainly their wings would have
been made in the same manner short, and their poste¬
rior parts long and taper, which is not the case.
Whereas were a bee of any kind (the queen excepted)
to thrust its hinder part into a common cell, its wings
1 or coats would come over its head, and be antic-like,
and injure both them and its body. Besides, L scarcely
think they could get into the common cells that way
at any rate for want of room.
“ 3. Mr Debraw grants, that without a queen or
eggs bees will not begin to work, as well knowing
they cannot propagate their species without her j and
yet he says, those bees which wanted little drones be¬
gan to work, and the queen laid eggs, and all went
forward, till they were not impregnated, and then they
gave over work, and deserted the hive. Certainly those
sagacious creatures would have been as sensible that
they wanted drones at the very first, when they were
put into the hive, and that they could not do without
them, as they are sensible when they want a queen, and
that it is needless to begin work without her; and it
might be added that two different kinds of drones in
one hive does, not appear to be probable, or serve any
end.
“ But I shall narrate some of my own experiments on
that head, which will put it, I hope, beyond dispute :
On September 1st, I bad a hive breeding fast; Ttook
out all her bees, (among which were only four large
drones, which I killed), and I put them in a hive that
had nothing in her but empty combs : I waited ten
tjays, when, by. looking between the combs, I saw her
have new sealed up maggots in her cells- I then took
2L
all her bees out, and shook them into a tub full of wa- Drone.,
ter, and recovered them gradually; and when recover-'—y—
ing, I pressed every one of them, in order to see if I
could find any of those little drones, but could not
find one; but all and every one of them had stings;
they were in number 3000. After which 1 searched
the hive I took them out of, and cut out all her combs
that had eggs in them, and found they had new laid
eggs, four days old eggs, and maggots in them. I
then recovered the queen and all her bees, and put in
tbe same hive again, which had not an egg in her now,
and waited other twenty days, and saw her in fine days,
working very well; a sure indication she was breeding;
again. 1 then turned her up, and cut out one of her
brood combs, and saw in it new laid eggs, four days
old eggs, and maggots and some young almost fit lor
emerging out of their cells.
“ The very same day I made a further experiment:.
I had a hive which I saw had some brood combs in
her, but she had not had a large drone for four weeks
before in her ; she had not above 500 bees in her,,
which favoured me, because few in number. I took
the hive into a close place in my house, in order,
that not a single bee should escape me; I then took
all the bees out of her, and immersed them in wa¬
ter ; and when recovering, I pressed every one of
them, and each bee had a sting, as in the former ex¬
periment.
“ I think the above experiments may satisfy any
judicious person, that there is no such thing in being
as little drones, unless in Mr Debraw’s brain. And
if Mr Debraw, who can find 57 in a small swarm
of bees, will send me the odd seven, I will send him
one of my best hives for them, and he will scarcely
think he is ill paid. I add, I never saw a hive in
spring, however few bees in her, but she bred some, if
she had a queen, though to be sure few in proportion
to her bees.
“ By this time the reader will be very ready, no
doubt, to ask me the use of the drones. 1 beg to be
excused on that head, as I have not the least idea of
their use in a hive ; they do not fecundate the queen,
for she can lay and breed too though she never see
them. Their heat does not appear to me to be ne¬
cessary for hatching tbe young, as they aie most¬
ly hatched before any are bred in a hive; and when
drones are in the hive, the weather is so warm, and
so many common bees in it, that they appear to have
rather too much heat, by their lying out of the hive»
often.
« I have many times had good hives with lew or no
drones in them all the year; and Keys is quite wrong
when he says a top swarm will not do without drones
in her; for I am positive to the contrary, as in the
summer 1785 I took off four swarms of mine own in
one day with not a single drone in any of them, and
they all throve well, and bred drones in themselves
about four weeks after.
“' Although I cannot say what use the drones are
of to a hive (unless it be to help away with a great
deal of her honey, which they are very good at), yet
the best hives have them soonest in the year, they ge¬
nerally appearing in such about the latter end of May,
o —  # T
and the bees put a period to their lives about .Lammas,
»I give them all the assistance I can., lbs
^ way-
at which time
ones,
ops.
U V"—'
^ ft 0 l 333
way they kill them is thus : They pull and bite them
with their teeth, and sting them also. I have seen
great havock made of them in one day, as appeared by
their lying dead before the door of the hive. But their
most effectual way of killing them is their banishing
them from the honeycombs; upon which the drones
betake themselves to the under edges of the hives in
great numbers, and to the board the hive stands on ;
and sometimes, though rare, I have even Seen them
come to the outside of the hive, and cluster there about
the bulk of a man’s handl When they are banished
thus, they are very dull and lifeless : and I have lifted
up a hive from the board, and there they would have
been sitting close on it, with scarcely three or four
common bees among them7 and I have trod to death
40 or more at a time.
“ We may now take a view of the disadvantages at¬
tending the old, and also Mr Debraw’s principles on
bees, were they true 5 and next see how a hive of bees
naay be preserved from coming to ruin, according to
my sentiments on them.
“ I* Tl,e old principles on bees say, that without a
queen or royal cell be in a hive, it will come to ruin.
“ 2* Mr Debraw’s principles say, that without little
drones be in a hive it will come to ruin.
“ 3. I say, if a hive have only new laid eggs in her
(which may be easily got the greatest part of the year,
in case she have none of her own) and common bees
she will find herself a queen, and so thrive.
“ According to the old- principle, it is easily seen
that, in case a hive lose her queen, when there is no
royal cell in her, and no queen can be got to put to her
(neither of which can be expected but in June and
Jhly), she is entirely ruined.
“ According to the Frenchman’s scheme, there must
be drones in a hive at all times of the year to fecun¬
date the eggs, otherwise the hive is useless. Supposing
his sentiments to be true (which, however, can by no
means be admitted, seeing there is no such thing as
little drones), how perplexed would the owner be to
know when there were little drones in the hive ! When
he wanted to make an artificial swarm, he might bring
oft a queen and common bees with her j but how should
he come to know whether there were any, or a suffi¬
cient quantity, of little drones among them, as they
cannot be distinguished from the commons but by im¬
mersion and pressure, which would be intolerably
troublesome, and next to killing the bees, and not at
all practicable ? All that could be done would be to
hope the best, that there were little drones in her at
any time of the year.
“ I say, if a queen die in a hive, and that hive have
some new-laid eggs in her, or some put to her, in case
she have none of her own, she will nourish up some
of these eggs to be a queen to herself: and also by
taking out a queen and some commons out of a hive
(without a single drone, large or small), and putting
them m an empty hive, will make a swarm, and the
old hive will breed herself a queen again, if she have
«ggs in her.”
Drone-Fly, a two-winged insect, extremely like the
common drone bee, whence also the name.
DROPS, in Meteorology, small spherical bodies
which the particles of fluids spontaneously form them¬
selves mto when let fall, from any height. The sphe-
] D K O
rical figure, the Newtonian philosophers demonstrate rw
to be the effect of corpuscular attraction ; for consi- |i P
denng that the attractive force of one single particle Browning.
ot a fluid is equally exerted to an equal distance, it  * 
must follow that other fluid particles are on every side
drawn to it, and wiU therefore take their places at an
equal distance from it, and consequently form a round
superhees. See the articles Attraction, Fluid, and
Rain. ’
Drops, in Medicine, a liquid remedy, the dose of
which is estimated by a certain number of drops
English Drops, {Guttce Anglicans,) a name given to
a chemical preparation esteemed of great virtue against
vapours and lethargic affections, and purchased at
5000I. by King Charles II. from the inventor Dr God¬
dard. The medicine appeared to be only a spirit drawn
by the retort from raw silk, and afterwards rectified
with oil of cinnamon, or any other essential oil 5 and
was in reality no better than the common sal volatile
oleosum, or any of the volatile spirits impregnated with
an essential oil, except that it was less disagreeable than
any of them to the taste.
DROPSY, in Medicine, an unnatural collection of
water inanypart of thebody. See Medicinz Index.
DKOI WORT. SeeFiLiPENDULA, BotanyiWer
Water-DnoPwoRT. See Oenanthe! Botany Index.
DROSERA, Ros Solis, or Sun-Dew. See Botany
Index.
DROWNING, signifies the extinction of life by a
total immersion in water. J
, In some respects, there seems to be a great simila¬
rity between the death occasioned by immersion in wa¬
ter, and that by strangulation, suffocation by fixed
air, apoplexies, epilepsies, sudden faintings, violent
shocks of electricity, or even violent falls and bruises.
1 hysicians, however, are not agreed with regard to the
nature of the injury done to the animal system in any
or all of these accidents. It is indeed certain, that in
all the cases above mentioned, particularly in drown¬
ing, there is very often such a suspension 'of the vital
powers as to us hath the appearance of a total extinc¬
tion of them j while yet they may be again set in mo¬
tion, and the person restored to life, after a much longer
submersion than hath been generally thought capable
of producing absolute death. It were to be wished,
however, that, as it is now universally allowed, that
drowning is only a suspension of the action of the vi¬
tal powers, physicians could-as unanimously determine
the means by which these powers are suspended ; be¬
cause on a knowledge of these means, the methods to ■
be used for recovering drowned persons must certainly
depend. 3
Dr de Haen, who has written a treatise on this
subject, ascribes this diversity of opinion among the
physicians to their being so ready to draw general con¬
clusions from a few experiments. Some, having never
found water in the lungs, have thought that it never
was there; and others, from its presence, have drawn
a contrary conclusion. Some have ascribed the death
which happens in cases of drowning to that species
of apoplexy which arises from a great fulness of the
stomach. But this opinion our author rejects, because
in 13 dogs which he had drowned and afterwards dis¬
sected, no signs of such a fulness appeared. Another
reason is drawn from the want of the common marks
of i
D It O
[ 334 1
D It O
Drowning, of apoplexy on the dissection of the brain, and from
' v the actual presence of water in the lungs. He is of
opinion, that the death of drowned persons happens
in consequence of water getting into the lungs, and
stopping the blood in the arteries. He then discusses
the question how far the blowing of air into the lungs
is useful in recovering drowned people. If their death
is to be ascribed to the water entering the lungs, this
practice, he observes, must be hurtful, as it will in¬
crease the pressure on the blood-vessels, or may even
force the water into them j which, on the authority of
Lewis’s experiments, he alleges is possible. But, in
spite of this reasoning, he asserts, that from experience
it has been found useful. He allows, that the prac¬
tice of suspending drowned people by the feet must he
hurtful, by determining the blood too much to the
head ; but he observes, that remedies in some respects
hurtful may be used when the advantages derived from
them preponderate j and is of opinion, that the prac¬
tice above mentioned may be used by agitating the
viscera against each other, and thus renewing their mo¬
tions. Cutting the larynx in order to admit air more
freely to the lungs, he reckons to be of little or no
use ; but acknowledges, however, that it may some¬
times prove beneficial on account of the irritation oc¬
casioned by the operation.
Dr Cullen, in his Letter to Lord Cathcart concern¬
ing the recovery of persons drowned and seemingly
dead, tells us, that “ From the dissection of drowned
men, and other animals, it is known, that very often
the water does not enter into the cavity of the lungs,
nor even into the stomach, in any quantity to do hurt
to the system ; and, in general, it is known, that, in
most cases, no hurt is done to the organization of the
vital parts. It is therefore probable, that the death
which ensues, or seems to ensue, in drowned persons,
is owing to the stopping of respiration, and to the
ceasing, in consequence, of the circulation of the blood,
whereby the body loses its heat, and, with that, the
activity of the vital principle. .
In the Phil. Trans, vol. Ixvi. Mr Hunter gives the
following theory. The loss of motion in drowning
seems to arise from the loss of respiration ; and the im¬
mediate effect this has upon the other vital motions of
the animal, at least this privation of breathing, ap¬
pears to be the first cause of the heart’s motion ceasing.
It is most probable, therefore, Mr Hunter observes,
that the restoration of breathing is all that ,s necessary
to restore the heart’s motion *, for if a sufficiency of
life still remains to produce that effect, we may sup¬
pose every part equally ready to move the very instant
In which the action of the heart takes place, their ac¬
tions depending so much upon it. What makes it very
nrobable, that the principal effect depends upon throw-
fug air into the lungs, is, that children in the birth,
when too much time has been spent after the loss of
that life which is peculiar to the fetus, lose altogether
the disposition for the new life. In such cases there is
a total suspension of the actions of life ; tbe child re¬
mains to all appearance dead-, and would die, it air
was not thrown into its lungs, and the first principle
of action by that means restored. To put this in a
clearer light, Mr Hunter gives the result of some ex¬
periments made on a dog in 1755* ^ Pair 0 1°^, ^
bellows were provided, which were so constructed, that
by one action air was thrown into the lungs, and by Drowniw
the other the air was sucked out which had beenv—1
thrown in by the former, without mixing them toge¬
ther. The muzzle of these bellows was fixed into the
trachea of a dog, and by working them he was kept
perfectly alive. While this artificial breathing was
going on, the sternum was taken off, so that the heart
and lungs were exposed to view. The heart then con¬
tinued to act as before, only the frequency of its ac¬
tion was greatly increased. Mr Hunter then stopped
the motion of the bellows and observed that the con¬
traction of the heart became gradually weaker and less
frequent, till it left off moving altogether > but by re¬
newing the operation, the motion of the heart also re¬
vived, and soon became as strong and frequent as be¬
fore. This process was repeated upon the same dog
ten times } sometimes stopping for five, eight, or ten
minutes. Mr Hunter observed, that every time he
left off working the bellows, the heart became ex¬
tremely turgid with blood, and the blood in the left
side became as dark as that in the right, which was
not the case when the bellows were working. These
situations of the animal, he observes, seem to be ex¬
actly similar to drowning. # ,, i
Dr Edmund Goodwyn, in a treatise lately published
on this subject, has endeavoured to ascertain the effects
of submersion upon living animals in a more accurate
manner than had hitherto been done. His first care
was to determine the symptoms which took place be¬
fore death and to observe these, be procured a large
glass bell in which the animals were to be immersed.
Having inverted, and filled this with water, he put in¬
to it several cats, dogs, rabbits, and smaller animals,
confining them among the water till they were appa¬
rently dead. In these experiments he observed, that
immediately after submersion the pulpe became weak
and frequent ; there was an apparent anxiety about the
breast, and struggling to relieve it. In these strug-
eles the animal rose to the top ot the water, throwing
out a quantity of air from the lungs. After this the
anxiety increases, the pulse becomes weaker, and the
struggles more violenthe rises again to the surface,
throws out more air from the lungs, and in his efforts
to inspire, a quantity of water commonly passes into
the mouth. The skin about the face and lips then
becomes blue, the pulse ceases, the sphincters are re¬
laxed and the animal falls down without sense or mo¬
tion. 5On dissecting the bodies of drowned animals, our
author met with the following appearances : I. The ex¬
ternal surface of the brain was darker, but the vessels
of it were not more turgid than usual, nor was there
any appearance of extravasation. 2. The pulmonary
arteries and veins were filled with black blood, and tie
lungs themselves contained some frothy liquor. 3. Not¬
withstanding these symptoms, the right auricle an
ventricle were still contracting and dilating ; t ie e
sinus venosus and auricle moving feebly, but the lett
ventricle at rest. 4- The right and left auricles ot the
heart, the right ventricle, and the left sinus venosus,
were filled with black blood; but the last ventricle
only half filled with the same, and a quantity of the
same black blood was also contained in the smaller
branches of the arteries proceeding from the lelt ven-
tUThis investigation was followed by a most carefuj
D R O [3
g, and ingenious inquiry concerning the causes of the
—'symptoms already related. To find out whether or
not the entrance of water into the lungs was the cause,
or whether water really entered the lungs in these cases
or not, he drowned several animals among ink ; and
by inspecting their bodies, found, that though water
really did enter, it rvas in such small quantity that it
could not be supposed capable of producing such vio¬
lent effects. To ascertain this, however, more exact¬
ly than could be done by the ink, he drowned other-
animals in quicksilver; which, by reason of its not be¬
ing miscible with the animal fluids, could be more ac¬
curately collected. By these it appeared that no more
than five drachms of the fluid in which a cat was im¬
mersed entered her lungs in the time of drowning ;
and to determine whether or not this could be the oc¬
casion of the animal’s death, he made the following
experiment: Having confined a cat in an erect posture,
he made a small opening in the trachea, by cutting
one of the cartilaginous rings; and through this open¬
ing he introduced two ounces of water into the lungs.
The only consequences were a difficulty of breathing
and weak pulse; but these soon abated, and it lived se¬
veral hours afterwards without any apparent inconve¬
nience. On strangling it he found two ounces and a
half of water in the lungs. On repeating the experi¬
ment with other fluids, he found the difficulty of
breathing and alteration in the pulse somewhat great¬
er ; but in these instances also they abated in a few
hours : and when the animals were strangled, the lungs
were found to contain four ounces of fluid.
From all these experiments Dr Goodwyn draws the
following conclusions: 1. “ A small quantity of fluid
usually passes into the lungs in drowning. 2. This
water enters the lungs during the efforts to inspire;
and mixing with the pulmonary mucus, occasions the
frothy appearance mentioned by authors. 3. The
whole of this fluid in the lungs is not sufficient to pro¬
duce the changes that take place in drowning. And
hence it follows, that the water produces all the chan¬
ges that take place in drowning indirectly, by exclud¬
ing the atmospheric air from the lungs.” This natu¬
rally leads to an investigation of the uses of respiration,
and the effects of the air upon the blood and lungs in
that action, which our author traces with great accu¬
racy and very convincing experiments. He begins
with attempting to determine the quantity of air drawn
m at each inspiration, with the proportional quantity
left after expiration. The experiments by which he
endeavoured to ascertain these quantities seem to be
more uncertain than the others, as indeed there are not
data sufficient for them. From such as he had an op¬
portunity of making, however, the following conclu¬
sions were deduced : I. “ The lungs contain 109 cubic
inches of air after a complete expiration ; and this
quantity receives an additional quantity of 14 cubic
inches during each inspiration. 2. The dilatation of
the lungs after expiration is to their dilatation after
inspiration as 109 to 123. 3. The blood circulates
through the pulmonary vessels in all the degrees of
natural respiration. 4. The circulation through them,
after respiration, is sufficiently free to keep up the health
of the system.”
, The last part of our author’s inquiry, viz. concern¬
ing the chemical changes produced in the air by respi-
.35 ] D R O
ration, and tile effects of the air upon the blood itself
falls naturally to lie considered under the article Re¬
spiration : so that here we shall only observe in ge¬
neral, that his experiments evidently show that the
disease produced by drowning arises entirely from the
exclusion of the atmospheric air or its dephlogisticated
part ; for which reason he recommends inflating the
lungs with that kind of air in preference to any
other. J
krom these different views of this matter, physicians
have differed considerably in their account of the me¬
thods to be followed in attempting the recovery of
drowned persons. De Haen recommends agitation of
all kinds; every kind of stimulus applied to the mouth,
nose, and rectum; bleeding; heat, both by warm clothes
and warm water; blowing air into the trachea; stimu¬
lants, such as blisters, warm ashes, &c. applied to the
head, ankles, thighs, pit of the stomach, and other
parts.
Doctor Cullen’s observations on this subject are as
follow.—“ With respect to the particular means to be
employed for the recovery of drowned persons, it is to
be observed, in the first place, That such as were re¬
commended and practised, upon a supposition that the
suffocation was occasioned by the quantity of water
taken into the body, and therefore to be evacuated
again, were very unhappily advised. The hanging up
of persons by the heels, or setting them upon the crown
of the head, or rolling the body upon a cask, were ge¬
nerally practised, upon a supposition altogether false ;
or upon the supposition, of a case which, if real, is ap¬
prehended to be irrecoverable. At the same time,
these practices were always attended with the danger
of bursting some vessels in the brain or lungs, and of
rendering thereby some cases incurable that" were not
so from the drowning alone. All such practices,
therefore, are now very properly disapproved of and
forbidden.
“ In those cases in which the body has not been long
in the water, and in which therefore the natural heat
is not entirely extinguished, nor the irritability of the
moving fibres very greatly impaired, it is possible that
a good deal of agitation of the body may be the only
means necessary to restore the action of the vital or¬
gans ; but in other cases, where the heat and irritabi¬
lity have ceased to a greater degree, it is to me very
doubtful if much agitation can be safe, and if any de¬
gree of it can be useful, till the heat and irritability
are in some measure restored. In all cases, any violent
concussion cannot be safe, and, I believe, is never ne¬
cessary. It may be proper here to observe also, that
in transporting the body from the place where it is
taken out of the water, to the place where it may be
necessary for applying the proper means of its recove¬
ry, all postures exposing to any improper compression,
as that of the body’s being carried over a man’s shoul¬
der, are to be avoided. The body is to be kept
stretched out, with the head and upper parts a little
raised; and care is to be taken to avoid the neck’s be¬
ing bent much forward. In this manner, laid upon
one side, and upon some straw in a cart, it may be most
properly conveyed ; and the agitation which a pretty
brisk motion of the cart may occasion, will, in most
cases, do no harm.
“ From the account I have given above of the cau-
D R O [33<5
ses, or of the appearances, of death in drowned per¬
sons, it is evident, that the first step to be taken tor
their recovery is to restore the heat of the body, wine 1
is absolutely necessary to the activity ot the moving
fibres. For this purpose, the body, as soon as possible,
is to be stripped of its wet clothes, to be well dried,
and to he wrapped up in dry, and (if possible) warm,
coverings : and it is to be wished, in all cases, as soon
as the report of a person’s being drowned is heard, that
blankets should be immediately carried to the water
side ; so that as soon as the body is got out of the wa¬
ter, the change of covering just now mentioned may
be instantly made-, or, if the body has been naket
when drowned, that it may be immediately dried and
defended against the cold of the air. Besides covenng
the body with blankets, it will be further of advantage,
if it can be done without loss of time, to cover the
drowned body with a warm shirt or waistcoat immedi¬
ately taken from a living person. _
« When, at the time of a person’s being drowned,
it happens that the sun shines out very hot, I think
there can be no better means of recovering the heat,
than by exposing the naked body, in every part, to
the heat of the sun ; while, at the same time, all other
means necessary or useful for the recovery ot hte are
also employed. . , .
“ When the heat of the sun cannot be employed, the
body should be immediately transported to the nearest
bouse that can be got convenient for the purpose : the
fittest will be one that has got a tolerably large chamber,
in which a fire is ready, or can be made -, and .if possi¬
ble, the house should afford another chamber, in which
also a fire can be provided. . ... u
“ When the drowned body is brought into such
house, and care is at the same time taken that no more
people are admitted than are absolutely necessary to the
service of the drowned person, every endeavour must be
immediately employed for recovering the heat ot the
body, and that by different measures, as circumstances
shall direct. „ , . ,
“ If in the neighbourhood of the place, there be any
brewery, distillery, dyery, or fabric which gives an
opportunity of immediately obtaining a quantity ot
warm water and a convenient vessel, there is nothing
more proper than immersing the body in a warm bath.
Even where a sufficient quantity of warm water can¬
not be had at once, the bath may be still practised, it
the accident has happened in or very near a town or
village, where a great many fires may be at once em¬
ployed in heating small quantities of water -, tor in
this way the necessary quantity may be soon obtained.
To encourage this practice, it is to be observed, that
] D R O
parts which are not immediately applied to their warmDrowni8
body. _ '“““v-
“ If none of these measures can be conveniently
practised, the body is to be laid upon a bed before a
moderate fire, and frequently turned, to expose the
different parts of it j and thus, by the heat of the fire
gradually employed, and by rubbing the body well with
coarse towels, or other cloths well warmed, pains are
to be taken for restoring its heat. This will be pro¬
moted by warm cloths applied and frequently renewed
under the hams and armpits } and by hot bricks, or
bottles of warm water, laid to the feet.
“ In the practice of rubbing, it has been proposed
to moisten the cloths applied with camphorated spirits,
or other such stimulating substances j but I think this
must prove an impediment to the rubbing $ and I would
not recommend any practice ot this kind, except, per¬
haps, the application of the vinous spirits of sal ammo¬
niac to the wrists and ankles only.
“ Eor recovering the heat of the body, it has been
proposed to cover it all over with warm grains, ashes,
sand, or salt; and where these, sufficiently warm, are
ready at hand, they may be employed j but it is very
seldom they can be obtained, and the application might
often interfere with other measures that may be neces¬
sary. All therefore that I can propose with respect
to the use of these, is to observe, that bags of warm
and dry salt may be amongst the most convenient ap¬
plications to the feet and hands of drowned persons;
and the quantity necessary for this purpose may be got
pretty quickly by heating the salt in a frying pan over
a common fire.
“ While these measures are taking for recovering the
heat, means are at the same time to be employed for
restoring the action of the moving fibres. It is well
known, that the intestines are the parts of the body
which, both from their internal situation and peculiar
constitution, retain the longest their irritability ; and
therefore, that, in drowned persons, stimulants applied
may have more effect upon the intestines than upon
other parts. The action, therefore, of the intestines
is to be supported or renewed as soon as possible ; as
the restoring and supporting the action of such a con¬
siderable portion of moving fibres as those of the intes¬
tines, must contribute greatly to restore the activity of
the whole system. ... *
“ For exciting the action of the intestines, the most
proper mean is, the application of their ordinary stimu¬
lus of dilatation ; and this is most effectually applied,
by forcing a quantity of the air into them by the fun¬
dament. Even the throwing in cold air has been found
useful : but it will certainly be better if heated.air can
To encourage this practice, it is to be observed, inai u • and furt|ier, if that air can be impreg-
one part of boiling water is more than sufficient to P ? something which, by its acrimony also may
give the necessary heat to two parts of spring or sea ^^'V^^Xting the intestines,
water, as it is not proper to apply the bath at first very P J considerations, the smoke of burning
warm, nor even of the ordinary heat of the human most commonly’ applied, and has up-
body, but somewhat under it; and, by the addition occasions proved very effectual. This will be
warm water, to bring it gradually to a ea \ery 1 properly thrown in by a particular apparatus,
above it. for other purposes as well as this, should be in
« If the drowned body be of no great bulk, it may wh , ^ ^P gu n. or at ,east shouia, at tho
be conveniently warmed by a person s ying ow u]ic expence, be at hand in every part of the coun¬
ted with it, and taking it near to their naked body, Pub“C are likely to happen. With ro-
changing the position of it frequently, an a e observe, that till
same time chafing and rubbing with warm cloths the gard to the use 0. it, ^ ths
IjMmng.
in
° [ 337
a considerable quantity
D R
the tobacco is kindled ,.. „ ^ua.uuy, a
great deal of cold air is blown through the box and
tube ; and as that, as hinted above, is not so proper,
care should be taken to have the tobacco very well
kindled, and to blow through it very gently, till the
heated smoke only passes through. If upon certain
occasions, the apparatus referred to should not be at
hand, the measure however may be executed by a com¬
mon tobacco pipe, in tbe following manner: A com¬
mon glyster pipe, that has a bag mounted upon it, is
to be introduced into the fundament, and the mouth of
the bag is to be applied round the small end of a to¬
bacco pipe. In the bowl of this, tobacco is to be kind¬
led ; and, -either by a playing card made into a tube
and applied round the mouth of the bowl, or by apply-
jng upon this the bowl of another pipe that is empty
and blowing through it, the smoke may be thus forced
into the intestines, and, in a little time, in a consider¬
able quantity.
“ If none of these means for throwing in the smoke
can be employed, it may be useful to inject warm water
to the quantity of three or four English pints. This
may be done by a common glyster bag and pipe, but
better by a large syringe ; and it may be useful to dis-
solv-e in the water some common salt, in the proportion
oi hail an ounce to an English pint; and also to add to
it some wine or brandy.
“ While these measures for recovering the heat of
the body and activity of the moving fibres are em¬
ployed, and especially after they have been employed
ior some time, pains are to be taken to complete and
finish the business, by restoring the action of tbe lungs
and heart. °
o “ On this subject, I am obliged to my learned and
ingenious colleague Dr Monro, who has made some
experiments for ascertaining the best manner of in¬
flating the lungs of drowned persons. By these expe¬
riments he finds it may be more conveniently done by
blowing into one of tbe nostrils, than by blowing into
the mputh. Eor blowing into tbe nostril, it is neces¬
sary to be provided with a wooden pipe, fitted at one
extremity for filling the nostril, and at the other for
bemg blown into by a person’s mouth, or for receiving
the pipe of a pair of bellows, to be employed for the
same purpose. Dr Monro finds, that a person of or¬
dinary strength can blow into such a pipe, with a suf¬
ficient force to inflate the lungs to a considerable de¬
gree ; and thinks the warm air from the lungs of a liv¬
ing person will be most conveniently employed at first;
but when it is not soon effectual in restoring the resui-
rat.on of the drowned person, and that a longer conti-
nuance of the inflation is necessary, it may be proper
o employ a pair of bellows, large enough at once to
contain the quantity of air necessary to inflate the lungs
to a due degree. °
m:7“er bl0VVi"S Jn is done hY a person’s
mouth, or by bellows, Dr Monro observes, that the
air js ready to pass by the gullet into the stomach : but
tha thls may be prevented, by pressing the lower part
of Jarynx backwards upon the gullet. To persons
I J 'U e .knowIedge i" anatomy, it is to be obser-
3 !•, 6 P,ressure sh°«ld ^ only upon the cri-
ed Jj/f*;!86’ by Wlu?h the gulIet may straiten-
rupted 6 C PaSSage thr°Ugh the larynX is not intfcr-
Vol. VII. Part I. +
Jr D R o
“ w,,fn> by blowing thus into the nostrils, it can he
perceived by the raising of the chest or belly, that the
lungs are filled with air, the blowing in should cease ;
• n/ Plessing the breast and belly, tbe air received
into the lungs should be again expelled j then tbe blow-
ing and expulsion should be again repeated j and thus
the piactice is to he continued, so as to imitate, as ex¬
actly as possible, the alternate motions of natural respi¬
ration. "
“ It is hardly necessary to observe, that when the
blowing into the nostril is practised, the other nostril
and the mouth should he accurately closed.
“ If it should happen, that in this practice the air
does not seem to pass readily into the lungs, Dr Monro
informs me it is very practicable to introduce directly
into the glottis and trachea a crooked tube, such as the
catheter used for a male adult. For this he offers the
o lowing directions: The surgeon should place himself
on the right side of the patient; and, introducing the
fore finger of us left hand at the right corner of the
patient s mouth, he should push the point of it behind
the epiglottis ; and using this as a directory, he may
enter the catheter, which he holds in his right hand,
at the left corner of the patient’s mouth, till the end of
it is passed beyond the point of his fore finger ; and it
is then to be let fall, rather than pushed into the glot¬
tis; and through this tube, by a proper syringe applied
to it, air may be with certainty blown into the lungs.
observe, that some such measure had been proposed
by Mens, le Cat in France; but I have not learned
that it lias ever been put in practice, and I am afraid
it may be attended with several difficulties, and must
be eft to the discretion of surgeons who may be pro¬
perly provided and instructed for this purpose.
For throwing air with more certainty into the
lungs, it has been proposed to open the windpipe in
the same manner as is done in tbe operation which the
surgeons call bronchotomy, and by this opening to blow
into tbe lungs ; and when the blowing into the nostril
does not seem to succeed, and a skilful operator is
at band, 1 allow that the measure may be tried •
but I can hardly suppose that it will be of any ad-
w!ien blowing in by the nostril has entirely
‘ It is to be hoped, that by blowing into the luno-s
one way or other, even a quantity of water which had
been taken into the lungs may be again washed out;
and the same seems to be the only effectual means of
washing out that frothy matter which is found to fill
the lungs of drowned persons, and which proves, if I
mistake not, tfm most common cause of their mortal
suffocation. This practice, therefore, is to be imme-
c lately entered upon, and very assiduously continued
for an boar or two together.
I have now mentioned the measures chiefly to be
pursued and depended upon for tbe recovery of drowned
persons ; but must still mention some others that may
prove considerable helps to it.
“ One of these is, the opening the jugular veins, to
relieve the congestion which almost constantly occurs
in the veins of the head, and is probably a frequent
cause of the death of drowned persons. For relieving
tins congestion, the drawing some blood from tbe ju¬
gulars, very early, may certainly be of service ; and^ it
will be particularly indicated by the livid and purple
U u colour
D
R O [ 338 ] D . 11 °
It may even be repeated, accord- general recommended, it will be understood that they Drowning
downing, colour of the face.  , . .
' v——-> ing to the eftect it seems to have in taking on that suf¬
fusion } but when the drowned person is in some mea¬
sure recovered, and some motion ol the blood is re¬
stored, it will be proper to be very cautious in making
this evacuation, and at least to take care not to push it
so as to weaken too much the recovering, but still weak,
powers of life.
“ Another measure for recovering the activity of the
•• vital principle, is the application of certain stimulants
to the more sensible parts of the body, such as holding
the quicklime spirit of sal ammoniac to the nose, or
putting a little of it upon a rag into the nostrils. It
has been usual to pour some liquids into the mouth ;
but it is dangerous to pour in a quantity of liquid,
till it appear that the power of swallowing is in some
measure restored.
“ When a surgeon is at hand, and is provided with
proper apparatus, a crooked pipe may be introduced
into the gullet *, and by this a gill or two of warm wine
may be poured down into the stomach, and probably
with advantage. But when no such apparatus is at
hand or surgeon to employ it, and the power of swal¬
lowing is still doubtful, the trial of pouring liquids in¬
to the mouth should be made by a small quantity of
warm water alone 5 and when, from such trial, the
power of swallowing shall appear to be recovered, it
may then be allowable to favour the further recovery
of the person, by pouring in some wine or brandy.—
In short, till some marks of the recovery of swallow¬
ing and respiration appear, it will not be safe to apply
any stimulants to the mouth ; excepting that of a tew
drops of some acrid substance to the tongue, and
which are not of bulk enough to slide back upon, the
glottis : I can think of no stimulant more convenient¬
ly and safely to be applied to the mouth and nostiils,
than a moderate quantity ot tobacco smoke blown into
them.
“ Though I do not imagine that drowned persons
are ever hurt by the quantity of water taken into their
stomach, yet, as a stimulus applied to the stomach,
and particularly as the action of vomiting proves a
stimulus to the whole system, I can have no objection
to the French practice of throwing in an emetic as
soon as any swallowing is restored. For this pur¬
pose, I would successively throw in some tea-spoonfuls
of the ipecacuanha wine ; and when it does not in¬
terfere with other necessary measures, the fauces may
be gently irritated by an oiled feather thrust into
them.
“ With regard to the stimulants, 1 must conclude
with observing, That when a body has lain but for a
short time in the water, and that therefore its heat
and irritability are but little impaired, the application
of stimulants alone has been often found effectual for
the recovery : but on the contrary, when the body has
lain long in the water, and the heat of it is very much
extinguished, the application of any other stimulants
than that of tobacco smoke to the intestines can be of
very little service j and the application of others ought
never to interfere with the measures for recovering heat
and the motion of respiration.
uv* *•*   7 --    j
are not to be soon discontinued, though their effects do
not immediately appear. It is obvious, that, in many
cases, it may be long before the heat of the body, and
the activity of the vital principle, can be restored, al¬
though in a longer time it may very possibly be ac¬
complished. In fact, it has often happened, that though
means employed for one hour have not succeeded, the
same continued for two or more hours, have at length
had the wished-for effects. It should therefore be a con¬
stant rule, in this business, that the proper means should
be employed for several hours together j unless it hap¬
pen that, while no symptoms of returning life appear,
the symptoms of death shall, at the same time, go on
constantly increasing.
“ In the whole of the above I have kept in view
chiefly the case of drowned persons j but it will be ob¬
vious, that many of the measures proposed will be
equally proper and applicable in other cases of suffoca¬
tion *, as those from strangling, the damps of mines, the
fumes of charcoal, &c. ; and a little attention to the
difference of circumstances will lead to the measures
most proper to be employed.”
Mr Hunter, in the before-mentioned paper, differs
pretty considerably from De Haen and Dr Cullen.
He observes, that when assistance is soon called after
immersion, blowing air into the lungs will in some
cases effect a recovery 5 but when any considerable
time has been lost, he advises stimulant medicines,
such as the vapour of volatile alkali, to be mixed with
the air*, which may easily be done, by holding spirits
of hartshorn in a cup under the receiver of the bellows.
And, as applications of this kind to the olfactory nerves
tend greatly to rouse the living principle, and put the
muscles of respiration into action, it may probably,
therefore, be most proper to have air impregnated in
that manner thrown in by the nose. To prevent the
stomach and intestines from being too much distended
by the air so injected, the larynx is directed to be gent¬
ly pressed against the oesophagus and spine.
While this business is going on, an assistant should
prepare bed clothes, carefully brought to a proper de¬
gree of heat. Heat our author considers as congenial
with the living principle j increasing the necessity of
action, it increases action : cold, on the other hand, les¬
sens the necessity, and of course the action is diminish¬
ed : to a due degree of heat, therefore, the living prin¬
ciple, he thinks, owes its vigour. From experiments,
he says, it appears to be a law in animal bodies, that the
degree of heat should bear a proportion to the quantity
of life } as life is weakened, this proportion requires
great accuracy, while greater powers of life allow it
greater latitudes.
After these and several other observations on the same
subject, our author proceeds to more particular direc¬
tions for the management of drowned people.
If bed clothes are put over the person, so as scarce
to touch him, steams of volatile alkali, or of warm
balsams, may be thrown in, so as to come in contact
with many parts of the body. And it might probably
be advantageous, Mr Hunter observes, to have steam*
of the same kind conveyed into the stomach. This, we
Wi^resVctTo1* the whole of these practices, I are told, may be done by a hollow bougie and a sy*
expect from the principles upon which they are in ringe; but the operation should be very speeddy
, , R ° [ 339 ] D R O
formed, as the instrument, by continuing long in the covcry of drowned person, have been instituted in dif.D™,Yail
1 mouth, might produce sickness, which our author says
he would always wish to avoid.
Some of the warm stimulating substances, such as
juice of horseradish, peppermint water, and spirits of
hartshorn, are directed to be thrown into the stomach
in a fluid state, as also to be injected by the anus.
Motion possibly may be of service ; it may at least be
tried : but as it hath less effect than any other of the
usually prescribed stimuli, it is directed to be the last
part of the process.
The same care in the operator, in regulating the
proportion of every one of these means, is here directed,
as was formerly given for the application of heat.
For every one of them, our author observes, may pos¬
sibly have the same property of destroying entirely the
feeble action which they have excited, if administered
ferent places. Ihe first society of this kind was insti¬
tuted in Holland, where from the great abundance of
canals and inland seas, the inhabitants are particularly
exposed to accidents by water. In a very few years
150 persons were saved from death by this society • and
many of these had continued upwards of an hour with¬
out any signs of life, after they had been taken out of
the water. The society was instituted at Amsterdam
:V7?7 a" advertisement, informed the inha¬
bitants of the United 1 rovinces of the methods proper
to be used on such occasions ; offering rewards at the
same time to those who should, with or without success,
use those methods for recovering persons drowned and
seemingly dead. The laudable and humane example
ot the Hutch, was followed in the year jy68 by the
magistrates of health in Milan and Venice: afterwards
• * , . ^ _ . ’ —wiagiaticiLcs ui ueaiin in iviiian and Venirp*
rnd0hSen-aqT y: in*?ead’there/°re> °f ^easing by the magistrates of Hamburg in the yea’r 1771 by
and hastening the operations on the first signs of those of Paris in th** il .1 I'/1’ ^
returning life being observed, a, is usually done,‘ lie de. of London in 1774 7 77 ’ b>’ ’e maSlsl''a"a
stres they may be lessened S and advises their increase The following directions are given for the recoverv
^ “rr,y as i>Ms'ble’to ofiT/lp,:Tjt rnr l“"4
When the heart begios to move, the application „f the ivet clothes, if tL^nnI,^'"a^d aUhe"^
to the lungs should be lessened, that, when the
muscles of respiration begin to act, a good deal mav be
left for them to do.
Mr Hunter absolutely forbids bloodletting in all such
cases ; for as it not only weakens the animal princi¬
ple, but lessons life itself, it must consequently, he ob¬
serves, lessen both the powers and dispositions to action.
For the same reason, he is against introducing any thing
into, the stomach that might produce sickness or
vomiting j and, on the same principle, he says, we
should avoid throwing tobacco fumes, or any other such
articles, up by the anus, as might tend to an evacuation
that way.
The following is a description of instruments recom¬
mended for such operations by our author.
First, A pair of bellows, so contrived, with two se¬
parate cavities, that, by opening them when applied to
the nostrils or mouth of a patient, one cavity will be
filled with common air, and the other with air suck¬
ed out from the lungs, and by shutting them again, the
common air will be thrown into the lungs, and that
sucked out of the lungs discharged into the room. The
pipe of these should be flexible j in length a foot, or a
foot and a half; and, at least, three eighths of an inch
in width. By this the artificial breathing may be con¬
tinued, while the other operations, the application of the
stimuli to the stomach excepted, are going on, which
could not be conveniently done, if the muzzle of the
bellows were introduced into the nose. The end next
the nose should be double, and applied to both nostrils.
Secondly, A syringe, with a hollow bougie, or flexible*
catheter, ol sufficient length to go into the stomach,
and convey any stimulating matter into it, without
affecting the lungs. Thirdly, A pair of small bellows,
such as are commonly used in throwing fumes of tobacco
up by the anus.
Notwithstanding the diflerences in theory, however,
between the physicians above mentioned, it is certain,
that within these few years great numbers of drowned
people have been restored to life by a proper use of the
remedies we have enumerated, and societies for the re-
of the accident, should betaken off with all possible
expedition on the spot (unless some convenient house
be very near), and a great coat or two, or some blankets
if convenient, should be wrapped round the body.
II* The patient is to be thus carefully conveyed in
the arms of three or four men, or on a bier, to the
nearest public or other house, where a good fire, if in
the winter season, and a warm bed, can be made ready
for its reception. As the body is conveying to this
place, a great attention is to be paid to the position of
the head 5 Jt must be kept supported in a natural and
easy posture, not suffered to hang down.
Ill* 1° cold or moist weather, the patient is to be
laid on a mattress or bed before the fire, but not too
near, or in a moderately heated room 5 in warm and
sultry weather, on a bed only. The body is then to
be wrapped as expeditiously as possible with a blanket,
and thoroughly dried with warm coarse cloths or flan¬
nels.
1^* In summer or sultry weather too much air can¬
not be admitted. For this reason it will be necessary
to set open the windows and doors, as cool refreshing
air is of the greatest importance in the process of re¬
suscitation.
V. Not more than six persons are to be present to
apply the proper means ; a greater number will be use¬
less, and may retard, or totally prevent, the restoration
of life, by rendering the air ot the apartment unwhole¬
some. It will be necessary, therefore, to request the
absence of those who attend merely from motives of
curiosity.
VI. It will be proper for one of the assistants, with
a pair of bellows of the common size, applying the pipe
a little way up one nostril, to blow with some force,
in order to introduce air into the lungs : at the same
time the other nostril and the mouth are to be closed bv
another assistant, whilst a third person gently presses
the chest with his hands, after the lungs are observed to
be inflated. By pursuing this process, the noxious and
stagnant vapours will be expelled, and natural breath¬
ing imitated. If the pipe of the bellows be too large,
U u 2 the
DUG [ 34° ] . D 3 U, vj f • .
the air may be blown in at the mouth, the nostrils at expeditiously efficacious. This stimulus bids fair to Dio.m
the same tLe being closed, so that it may not escape an imnortant auxiliary in cases of suspended am. „
that wav : but the lungs are more easily filled, and na¬
tural breathing better imitated, by blowing up the
nostril.
VII. Let the body be gently rubbed with common
salt, or with flannels, sprinkled with spirits, as rum or
geneva (a). A warming pan heated (the body being
surrounded with flannel) may be lightly moved up and
down the back. Fomentations of hot brandy are to be
applied to the pit of the stomach, loins, &c. and often
renewed. Bottles filled with hot water, heated tiles
covered with flannel, or hot bricks, may be efficaciously
applied to the soles of the feet, palms of the hands, and
other parts of the body. The temples may be rubbed
prove an important auxiliary in cases of suspended am-
mation j and therefore deserves the serious regard and
attention of the faculty.
The methods which have been fully described, are to
be employed with vigour for three hours or upwards,
although no favourable circumstances should arise 5 for
it is a vulgar and dangerous opinion to suppose that
persons are irrecoverable, because life does not soon
make its appearance •, an opinion that has consigned to
the grave an immense number of the seemingly dead,
who might have been restored to life by resolution and
perseverance^
Bleeding is never to be employed in such cases, un¬
less by the direction of one of the medical assistants, or
:^of!ri;S,a;nSlls„Landthcn some other gentleman of tlie faculty wlio lias (ixiil at-
tickled with a feather *, and snuff, or eau de /wee,should tentmn to the icsuscita g .
be occasionally applied.
VIII. Tobacco fumes should be thrown up the funda¬
ment : if a fumigator be not at hand, the common
pipe may answer the purpose. The operation should be
frequently performed, as it is of importance j. for the
good effects of this process have been experienced in a
variety of instances of suspended animation. But should
the application of tobacco smoke in this way not be im¬
mediately convenient, or other impediments arise, cly¬
sters of this herb, or other acrid infusions with salt, &c.
may be thrown up with advantage.
IX. When these means have been employed a con¬
siderable time without success, and any brewhouse or
warm bath can be readily obtained, the body should be
carefully conveyed to such a place, and remain in the
bath, or surrounded with warm grains, for three or four
If a child has been drowned, its body should be
wiped perfectly dry, and immediately placed in bed
between two healthy persons. The salutary eftects of
the natural vital warmth, conveyed in this manner,
have been proved in a variety of successful cases.
X. While the various methods of treatment are em¬
ployed, the body is to be well shaken every ten minutes,
in order to render the process of animation more cer¬
tainly successful j and children, in particular, are to be
much agitated, by taking hold of their legs and arms,
frequently and for a continuance of time. In various
instances agitation has forwarded the recovery of boys
who have been drowned, and continued for a consider¬
able time apparently dead. _
XI. If there be any signs of returning life, such as
DRUG, a general term for goods of the druggist
and grocery kinds, especially those used in medicine
and dyeing. See Materia Medica, IHARMACY,
and Dyeing. .
DRUGGET, in commerce, a stuff sometimes all
wool, and sometimes half wool half thread, sometimes
corded, bat usually plain. Those that have the woof
of wool, and the warp of thread, are called threaded
druggets ; and those wrought with the shuttle on a loom
of four marches, as the serges of Moui, Beauvois, and
other like stuffs corded, are called corded druggets. As
to the plain, they are wrought on a loom of two marches,
with the shuttle, in the same manner as cloth, camblets,
and other like stuffs not corded.
DRUIDiE., or Droium, in Ancient Geography,
a very ancient town, the principal place of the Druides
or Droidse in Gaul, as they are called (Csesar, Cicero).
Now Dreux in the Orleannois. Here they met every
year in a consecrated grove, according to Csesar. The
town was also called Durocctses, ~W • Long. !• 21. N«
Lat. 48. 45. _ _ .
DRUIDS, Druides, or Druids, the priests or
ministers of religion among the ancient Celtse or Gauls,
Britons, and Germans. , Tt 1
Some authors derive the word from the Hebrew
D'trvn derussim, or drussitn, which they translate cow-
templatores. Picard, Celtopced. lib. ii. p. 58. believes
the druids to have been thus called from Drms, or
Drums, their leader, the fourth or fifth king of the
Gauls, and father of Saron or Naumes. Pliny, Sal-
masius, Vigenere, &c. derive the name from tys, oak ;
on account of their inhabiting, or at least frequenting,
1 — 1  Rimy
But it
XI. If there be any signs ot returning me, suei, “ or perhaps because, as Pliny
Sighing, gasping or convulsive motions a spoonfiil of ^ ‘eac g ^ ^ ^ oak. But it
h^ t/imaffine hot, the dtuias should come
or wine may be given in small quantities, and frequently
T XII. Electricity may be tried by the judicious and
skilful, as its application neither prevents nor retards
the various modes of recovery already recommended j
but on the other hand, will most probably tend to ren¬
der the other means-employed more certainly and more
bays* tiicy m^ vv.a ~~ - ,
is hard to imagine how the druids should come to speak
Greek. Menage derived the word from the old Bri¬
tish drus, “ daemon, magician.” Borel, from the Saxon
dry, “ magician or rather from the old British drU;
ov derw, “ oak,” whence he takes to be derived ;
which is the most probable supposition. Gorop. Be-
canus, lib. i. takes druis to be an old Celtic and Ger»
man word, formed from trowis or truwis, ‘‘a doctor ot
the
O) Dr Fothergill of Bath, in a letter to the Register, advises as a potent and active stimulus the patent
mustard moistened with spirits..
mid*.
I eral
f DUUtof
1 Druids
D R u [ 341 ]
tlie truth and the faith 5” which etymology Vossius to religion,
acquiesces in.
The druids were the first and most distinguished or¬
der among the Gauls and Britons ; they were chosen
out ot the best families j and the honours of their birth,
joined with those ol their function, procured them the
highest veneration among the people. They were versed
in astrology, geometry, natural philosophy, politics, and
geography j they were the interpreters of religion, and
the judges of all affairs indifferently. Whoever refused
obedience to them was declared impious and accursed.
YVe know but little as to their peculiar doctrines j only
that they believed the immortality of the soul, and, as
is generally also supposed, the metempsychosis j though
a late author makes it appear highly probable they did
not believe this last, at least not in the sense of the IV
thagoreans.
1 he chief settlement of the druids in Britain was
in the isle of Anglesey, the ancient Mona, which they
might choose for this purpose, as it is well stored with
spacious groves of their favourite oak. They were di¬
vided into several classes or branches, viz. the ,vacervt,
bardi, cubages, symnothii or semnothei, and saronidce.
Ilia yacem are held to have been the priests ; the
bardi, the poets 5 the cubages, the augurs j and the
saronidce, the civil judges and instructors of youth.
As to the semnothei, who are said to have been im¬
mediately devoted to the service of religion, it is pro¬
bable they were the same with the vacerri. Strabo,
however, (lib. iv. p. 147.) and Picard after him in his
Celtopaedia, do not comprehend all these different or¬
ders under the denomination of druids, as species un¬
der their genus, or parts under the whole j but make
them quite different conditions or orders. Strabo, in
effect, only distinguishes three kinds j bardi, votes, and
druids. The bctrdi were the poets 5 the votes, varut,
(apparently the same with the vacerri'), were the priests
and naturalists ^ and the druids, beside the study of
nature, applied themselves likewise to morality.
Diogenes .Laertius assures us, in bis prologue, that
the druids were the same among the ancient Britons
with the sophi or philosophers among the Greeks j
the magi among the Persians j the gymnosophists
among the Indians j and the Chaldeans among the
Assyrians.
D R U
„ The British and Gaulish youth flocked to
them 111 crowds to be instructed by them. The children
of the nobility, Mela tells us, they retired with into
caves, or the most desolate parts of forests, and kept
t mm there sometimes for twenty years under their dis¬
cipline. Besides the immortality and metempsychosis,
they were here instructed in the motion of the heavens,
and the course of the stars y the magnitude of the hea¬
vens and the earth ; the nature of things j the power
and wisdom of the gods, &c. They preserved the me¬
mory and actions of great men in their verses, which
they never allowed to be wrote down, but made their
pupils get them by heart. In their common course of
learning, they are said to have taught them twenty-
four thousand such verses. By this means their doc¬
trines appeared more mysterious by being unknown to
all but tuemselves ; and having no books to recur to
they were the more careful to fix them in their me¬
mory.
They worshipped the Supreme Being under the name
of Esus, or Hesus, and the symbol of the oak y and had
no other temple than a wood or a grove, where all their
religious rites were performed. Nor was any person
admitted to enter that sacred recess, unless he carried
with him a chain* in token of his absolute dependence
on the Deity. Indeed, their whole religion originally
consisted in acknowledging, that the Supreme Being,
who made his abode in these sacred groves, governed
the universe ; and that every creature ought to obey
his laws, and pay him divine homage.
I hey considered the oak as the emblem, or rather
the peculiar residence, of the Almighty; and accord¬
ingly chaplets of it were worn both by the druids and
people in their religious ceremonies, the altars were
strewed with its leaves, and encircled with its branches.
I lie fruit of it, especially the misletoe, w-as thought ta
contain a divine virtue, and to be the peculiar gift of
heaven. It was therefore sought for on the sixth'day of
the moon with the greatest earnestness and anxiety ;
and when found was hailed with such raptures of jov,
as almost exceeds imagination to conceive. As soon as
the druids were informed of this fortunate discovery,
they prepared every thing ready for the sacrifice under
the oak, to which they fastened two white bulls by
the horns; then the arch-druid, attended by a pro¬
em p
We'e ren,ar!tably, lonK > an<'. "hen diglous number of people, ascended the Tree,^ dressed
ployed m rel.gtous cerentomes, they always wore a in white) and whl, a consecrated golden knife or
pruning-hook, cropped the imsletoe, which he received
I .    — J M.I j o WU1C el
white surplice. They generally carried a wand in their
hands; and wore a kind of ornament enchased in gold
about their necks, called the druid's egg. Their necks
were likewise decorated with gold chains, and their
hands and arms with bracelets : they wore their hair
very shorthand their beards remarkably long.
The druids had one chief, or arch-druid, in every
nation, who acted as high priest, or pontifex maximus.
We had absolute authority over the rest; and com¬
manded, decreed, punished, &c. at pleasure. At his
eat 1 e was succeeded by the most considerable among
ns survivors ; and, if there were several pretenders,
the matter was ended by an election, or else put to the
decision of arms.
The drmds, we have observed, were in the highest
eem. They presided at sacrifices, and other cere-
m°nies} and had the direction of every thing relating
in Ins sagum or robe, amidst the rapturous exclamations
of the people. Having secured this sacred plant, he
descended the tree ; the bulls were sacrificed ; and the
Deity invoked to bless his own gift, and render it effi¬
cacious in those distempers in which it should be admi¬
nistered.
I he consecrated groves, in which they performed
their religious rites, were fenced round with stones, to
prevent any person’s entering between the trees, ex¬
cept through the passages left open for that purpose,
and which were guarded by some inferior druids, to
prevent any stranger from intruding into their myste¬
ries. These groves were of different forms ; some
quite circular, others oblong, and more or less ca¬
pacious as the votaries in the districts to which they
belonged were more or less numerous. The area in
the
Druids.
Druids.
D E U [ 342 ] D R U ,,
the centre of the grove was encompassed with several phy of the droids bore a much greater resemhlance to
Draidj.
rows of large oaks set very close together. VJitlun
this large circle were several smaller ones surrounded
with large stones *, and near the centre of these smaller
circles were stones of a prodigious size and convenient
height, on which the victims were slain and offered.
Each of these being a kind of altar, was surrounded
with another row of stones, the use of which cannot
now be known, unless they were intended as cinctures
to keep the people at a convenient distance from the
officiating priest.
Suetonius, in his life of Claudius, assures us the
druids sacrificed men ; and Mercury is said to be the
god to whom they offered these victims. Diod. Siculus,
lib. vi. observes it was only upon extraordinary occa¬
sions they made such offerings •, as, to consult what mea¬
sures to take, to learn what should befal them, &c. by
the fall of the victim, the tearing of his members, and
the manner of his blood gushing out. Augustus con¬
demned the custom, and Tiberius and Claudius punish¬
ed and abolished it. ,
We learn from Caesar, that the druids were the
judges and arbiters of all differences and disputes, both
public and private : they took cognizance of murders,
inheritances, boundaries, and limits j and decreed re¬
wards and punishments. Such as disobeyed their de¬
cisions they excommunicated, which was their principal
punishment j the criminal being hereby excluded from
all public assemblies, and avoided by all the world j so
that nobody durst speak to him for fear of being pollut¬
ed. Strabo observes, they had sometimes interest and
authority enough to stop armies upon the point of en¬
gaging, and accommodate their differences.
It hath been disputed, whether the druids were
  themselves the inventors of their opinions and systems
whSdLof religion and philosophy, or received them from
Their opi¬
nions and
whence de¬
rived.
others. Some have imagined, that the colony .of Pho-
cians which left Greece and built Marseilles in Gaul
about the 57th Olympiad, imported the first principles
of learning and philosophy, and communicated them
to the Gauls and other nations in the west of I.urope.
It appears, indeed, that this famous colony contribut¬
ed not a little to the improvement of that part of
Gaul where it settled, and to the civilization of its in¬
habitants. “ The Greek colony of Marseilles (says
Justin) civilized the Gauls, and taught them to live
under laws ; to build cities and enclose them with walls ;
to raise corn •, to cultivate the vine and olive *, and, in
a word, made so great a change both in the face ot the
country and the manners of its inhabitants, that (jam
seemed to be translated into Greece, rather than a few
Greeks transplanted into Gaul.” But though we may
allow that the druids of Gaul and Britain borrowed
some hints and embellishments of their philosophy from
this Greek colony, and perhaps from other quarters,
we have reason to believe that the substance of it was
their own. Others have suggested, that the druids
derived their philosophy from Pythagoras, who pub¬
lished his doctrines at Crotona in Italy ; where he lived
in the highest reputation for his virtue, wisdom, and
learning,^ above 20 years. This conjecture is very
much confirmed by this remarkable expression of Am-
mianus Marcellinus, “ That the druids were formed
into fraternities, as the authority of Pythagoras de¬
creed.” It hath been also observed, that the philoso-
that of Pythagoras than to that of any of the other'
sages of antiquity. But it seems probable, that Am-
mianus meant no more by the above expression than to
illustrate the nature of the druid ical fraternities, by
comparing them to those of the Pythagoreans, which
were well known to the Homans 5 and the resemblance
between the Pythagorean and druidical philosophy
may perhaps be best accounted for, by supposing, that
Pythagoras learned and adopted some of the opinions
of the druids, as well as imparted to them some of his
discoveries. It is well known, that this philosopher,
animated by the most ardent love of knowledge, travel-
led into many countries in pursuit of it, and got himself
admitted into every society that was famous for its learn¬
ing. It is therefore highly probable in itself, as well
as directly asserted by several authors, that Pythagoras
heard the druids of Gaul, and was initiated into their
philosophy. . . . , .. 3 J
From the concurring testimonies of several au-Morep,,.
thors, it appears that physiology, or "“tui-al ph.lo-“'"““!
sophy, was the favourite study ot the druids ot Gaul the lmi)
and Britain. Cicero tells us, that he was personally iugofa,
acquainted with one of the Gaulish druids, Divitia-dmidi.
cus the iEduan, a man of quality in his country,
who professed to have a thorough knowledge of the
laws of nature, or that science which the Greeks 4
call pAysics or physiology According to D.odornsPtw
Siculus, Strabo, Cassar, Mela, Ammianus Marcel- ,
linus, and others, they entered into many disquisi¬
tions and disputations in their schools, concerning
the form and magnitude of the universe in general, and
of this earth in particular, and even concerning the
most sublime and hidden secrets of nature. On these
and the like subjects they formed a variety of systems
and hypotheses; which they delivered to their disciples
in verse, that they might the more easily retain them
in their memories, since they were not allowed to com¬
mit them to writing. Strabo hath preserved one of
the physiological opinions of the druids concerning t e
universe •, viz. that it was never to be entirely destroyed
or annihilated •, but was to undergo a succession of great
changes and revolutions, which were to be produced
sometimes bv the power and predominancy of water,
and sometimes by that of fire. This opinion, he inti¬
mates, was not peculiar to them, but was entertained
also by the philosophers of other nations ; and Cicero
speaks of it as a truth universally acknowledged and un¬
deniable. “ It is impossible for us (says he) to attain
a glory that is eternal, or even of very long duration,
on account of these deluges and conflagrations of the
earth which must necessarily happen at certain periods.
This opinion, which was entertained by the most an¬
cient philosophers of many different and very distant
nations, was probably neither the result of rational 1 -
quiry in all these nations, nor communicated from one
of them to others j but descended to them all from
their common ancestors of the family of Noah by tra¬
dition, but corrupted and misunderstood through lengtn
of time. The agreement of the druids with the phi¬
losophers of so "many other nations in this opinion
about the alternate dissolution and renovation ot the
world, gives us reason to believe, that they agree wi
them also in their opinion of its origin from tw° dis¬
tinct principles j the one intelligent and omnipotent.
luidt.
Ait loray.
D R TJ [ 3
which was God j the other inanimate and inactive,
•> which was matter. We are told, by Cassar, that they
bad many disquisitions about the power of God ; and,
no doubt, amongst other particulars, about his creating
power. But whether they believed with some that mat¬
ter was eternal, or with others that it was created ; and
in what manner they endeavoured to account for the
disposition of it into the present form of the universe,
we are entirely ignorant, though they certainly had
their speculations on these subjects. We are only in¬
formed, that they did not express their sentiments on
these and like beads in a plain and natural, but in
a dark, figurative, and enigmatical manner. This might
incline us to suspect, that Pythagoras had borrowed
from them his doctrine about numbers, to whose mysti¬
cal energy he ascribes the formation of all things ; for
nothing can be more dark and enigmatical than that
doctrine. The druids disputed likewise about the mag¬
nitude and form of the world in general, and of the
earth in particular, of which things they pretended to
have a perfect knowledge. We know not what their
opinions were about the dimensions of the universe or
of the earth, but we have several reasons to make us
imagine that they believed both to be of a spherical
form. This is visibly the shape and form of the sun,
moon and stars, the most conspicuous parts of the uni¬
verse ; from whence it was natural and easy to infer,
that this was the form of the world and of the earth.
Accordingly this seems to have been the opinion of the
philosophers of all nations; and the circle was the fa¬
vourite figure of the druids, as appears from the form
both of their houses and places of worship. Besides
these general speculations about the origin, dissolution,
magnitude, and form of the world and of the earth, the
druids engaged in particular inquiries into the natures
and properties of the different kind of substances. But
all their discoveries in this most useful and extensive
branch of natural philosophy, whatever they were, are
entirely lost.
Astronomy also appears to have been one of the
chief studies of the druids of Gaul and Britain.
“ The druids (says Caesar) have many disquisitions
concerning the heavenly bodies and their motions, in
which they instruct their disciples.” Mela, speaking
of the same philosophers, observes, “ That they
profess to have great knowledge of the motions of
the heavens and of the stars.” Some knowledge of
this science indeed was not only necessary for measu¬
ring time in general, marking the duration of the dif¬
ferent seasons, regulating the operations of the hus¬
bandman, directing the course of the mariner, and for
many other persons in civil life j but it was especially
necessary for fixing the times and regular returns of
their religious solemnities, of which the druids had the
sole direction. Some of these solemnities were month¬
ly, and others annual. It was therefore necessary for
them to know, with some tolerable degree of exactness,
the number of days in which the sun and moon per¬
formed their revolutions, that these solemnities might
be observed at their proper seasons. This was the more
necessary, as some of these solemnities were attended
by persons from different and very distant countries,
w 10 were t° meet at one place on one day $ who
must have had some rule to discover the annual return
oi that day.
43 ] r> R u
The most perceptible division of time by the two rw^
great luminaries is into day and night; the former oc- ' 
casioned by the presence of the sun above the horizon,
the alter by his absence, which is in some measure sup-^heir me’
plied by the moon and stars. The druids computed
heir time by nights, and not by days ; a custom whichS *
they had received from their most remote ancestors by
tradition, and in which they were confirmed by their
measuring their time very much by the moon, the mi¬
stress and queen of night. As the changes in the
aspect of that luminary are most conspicuous, they en¬
gaged the attention of the most ancient astronomers of
all countries, and particularly of the druids, who regu-
ated all their great solemnities, both sacred and civil,
by the age and aspect of the moon. “ When no un¬
expected accident prevents it, they assemble upon sta¬
ted days, either at the time of the new or full moon ;
foi they believe these to be the most auspicious times
for transacting all affairs of importance.” Their most
august ceremony of cutting the misletoe from the oak
by the arch-druid, was always performed on the sixth
day of the moon. Nay, they even regulated their mi¬
litary operations very much by this luminary, and
avoided, as much as possible, to engage in battle while
the moon was on the wane. As the attention of the
druids was so much fixed on this planet, it could not
be very long before they discovered that she passed
through all her various aspects in about thirty days ;
and by degrees, and more accurate observations, they
would find, that the real time of her performing an
entire revolution was very nearly 29! days. This fur¬
nished them with the division of their time into months,
or revolutions of the moon ; of which we know with
certainty they were possessed. But this period, though
of great use, was evidently too short for many pur-
poses, and particularly for measuring the seasons; which
they could not fail to perceive depended on the influ¬
ences of the sun. By continued observation they dis¬
covered, that about \2 revolutions of the moon inclu¬
ded all the variety of seasons, which begun again, and
revolved every 12 months. This suggested to them
that larger division of time called a year, consisting of
32 lunations, or 354 days, which was the most ancient
measure of the year in almost all nations. That this was
for some time at least the form of the druidical year,
is both probable in itself, and from the following ex¬
pression of Pliny: “ That they began both their
months and years, not from the change, but from the
sixth day of the moon.” This is even a demonstration
that their years consisted of a certain number of lunar
revolutions, as they always commenced on the same day
of the moon. But as this year of 12 lunar months
falls 11 days and nearly one-fourth of a day short of a
real revolution of the sun, this error would soon be per¬
ceived, and call for reformation ; though we are not
informed of the particular manner in which it was rec¬
tified. Various arguments might be collected to make
it very probable that the Britons were acquainted with
a year exact enough for every purpose of life, when
they were first invaded by the Romans ; but it will be
sufficient to mention one, which is taken from the time
and circumstances of that invasion. The learned Dr
Halley hath demonstrated that Caesar arrived in Britain,
in his first year’s expedition, on the 26th day of Au¬
gust :
D R U
Bauds, gust : and Csesar himself informs us, that at his arrival
~—v'-——’ the harvest was finished, except in one field, which by
some means or other was more backward than the rest
of the country. This is a prool that the British hus¬
bandmen knew and used the most proper seasons for
ploughing, sowing, and reaping. Ihe druids, as we
are told by Pliny, had also a cycle or period of 30 years,
which they called an age, and which commenced like¬
wise on the sixth day of the moon : but that author
hath not acquainted us on what principle this cycle
was formed, nor to what purpose it was applied. We
can hardly suppose that this was the cycle ol the sun,
which consists of 28 years, and regulates the dominical
letters. It is more probable, that while the druids
made use of the year of 12 lunar months, and had not
invented a method of adjusting it to the real revolution
of the sun, they observed that the beginning ol this
year had passed through all the seasons, and returned
to the point from whence it set out, in a course of about
33 years*, which they might therefore call an age.
Others may perhaps be of opinion, that this 30 years
cycle of the druids is the same with the great year of
the Pythagoreans, or a revolution of Saturn. Some have
imagined that the druids were also acquainted with the
cvcle of 19 years, which is commonly called the cycle
of the moon. But the evidence of this depends entirely
on the truth of that supposition, that the Hyperborean
island, which is described by Diodorus Siculus, was
Britain, or some of the British isles. Among many
other surprising things, that author says, concerning
the Hyperborean island, “ That its inhabitants believ¬
ed that Apollo descended into their island at the end of
every 19 years j in which period of time the sun and
moon, having performed their various revolutions, re¬
turn to the same point, and begin to repeat the same
revolutions. This is called by the Greeks the great
7 year, or the cycle of Meton.”
Their ^ We are told both by Cgesar and Mela, that the
Knowledge druids studied the stars as well as the sun and moon 5
of the aat| professed to know, and taught their
disciples, many things concerning the motions of these
heavenly bodies. From these testimonies we may con¬
clude that the druids were acquainted with the pla¬
nets, distinguished them from the fixed stars, and care¬
fully observed their motions and revolutions. If this
discovery was the result of their own observations, it
would be gradual, and it would he a long time before
they found out all the planets. They might perhaps
have received some assistance and information from
Pythagoras, or from some other quarter. But whether
this discovery of the planets was their own, or com¬
municated to them by ethers, it is highly probable that
they were acquainted with the precise number of these
wandering stars. Dio Cassius says, that the custom of
giving the name of one of the planets to each of the
beven days of the week was an invention of the Egyp¬
tians, and from them was gradually communicated to
all the other nations of the world *, and that in his
time this custom was so firmly established, not only
among the Romans, but among all the rest of man¬
kind, that in every country it appeared to be a native
institution. The knowledge of the planets, and per¬
haps the custom of giving their names to the days of
the week, was brought out of Egypt into Italy by
Pythagoras, more than 500 years before the beginning
D R U
of the Christian era j and from thence it could not be Dmi-h
very long before it reached Gaul and Britain. But'«-«-y^w
though we have little or no reason to doubt that the
druids knew the number and observed the motion of
the planets, yet it may be questioned whether they had
discovered the times in which they performed their se¬
veral revolutions. Some of these stars, as Jupiter and
Saturn, take so great a number of years in revolving,
that it required a very extraordinary degree of patience
and attention to discover the precise periods of their
revolutions. If we could be certain that the island in
which the ancients imagined Saturn lay asleep, was one
of the British isles, as Plutarch intimates it was, we
might be inclined to think that the British druids were
not ignorant of the length of the period in which the
planet Saturn performs a revolution. For that same au¬
thor, in another treatise, tells us, “ That the inhabi¬
tants of that island kept every thirtieth year a solemn
festival in honour of Saturn, when his star entered into
the sign of Taurus.”
If we could depend upon the above testimony of
Plutarch, we should have one positive proof that the
druids of the British isles were acquainted with the
constellations, and even with the signs of the zodiac j
and that they measured the revolutions of the sun and
planets, by observing the length of time between
their departure from and return to one of these signs.
But we have no direct evidence of this remaining in
history.
The druids of Gaul and Britain, as well as the an¬
cient philosophers of other countries, had a general
plan or system of the universe, and of the disposition
and arrangement of its various parts, in which they in¬
structed their disciples. This is both probable in itself,
and is plainly intimated by several authors of the great¬
est authority. But we cannot be certain whether this
druidical system of the world was of their own inven¬
tion, or was borrowed from others. If it was borrowed,
it was most probably from the Pythagoreans, to whom
they were the nearest neighbours ; and with whom they
had the greatest intercourse.
It hath been imagined, that the druids had instru¬
ments of some kind or other, which answered the same
purposes with our telescopes, in making observations on
the heavenly bodies. The only foundation of this very
improbable conjecture is an expression of Diodorus Si¬
culus, in his description of the famous Hyperborean
island. “ They say further, that the moon is seen from
that island, as if she was but at a little distance from
the earth, and having hills or mountains like ours on
her surface.” But no such inference can be reasonably
drawn from this expression, which in reality merits lit¬
tle more regard than what Strabo reports was said of
some of the inhabitants of Spain : “ That they heard
the hissing noise of the sun every evening when he fell
into the western ocean.”
The application of the druids to the study of philo¬
sophy and astronomy amounts almost to a demonstration
that they applied also to the study of arithmetic and
geometry. For some knowledge of both these sciences
is indispensably necessary to the physiologist and astro¬
nomer, as well as of great and daily use in the common
afiairs of life.
If we were certain that Abami, the famous Hy¬
perborean philosopher, the friend and scholar of Py¬
thagoras,
[ 344 ]
D R U
(raids, thagoras, was really a British druid, as some have ima¬
gined, we should be able to produce direct historical
evidence of their arithmetical knowledge. For 1am-
blicus, in the life of Pythagoras, says, “ that he taught
Abaris to find out all truth by the science of arithme¬
tic.” It may be thought improbable that the druids
had made any considerable progress in arithmetic, as
this may seem to be impossible by the mere strengtl
rrna rvirvT'Tf    r r *
C 345 ]
D R U
hardly suppose that it was possible to cut these prodi¬
gious masses of stone ('some of them above 40 tons
in weight) without wedges, or to raise them out of
the quarry without levers. But it certainly required
still greater knowledge of the mechanical powers, and
of the method of applying them, to transport those
huge stones from the quarry to the places of their
destination 5 to erect the perpendicular pillars, and to
Druids.
of memory without the assistance of figures and of elevate the’imposts to^tlmTo^s of tLse pillarT If
written rules. But it is very difficult to ascertain thaf • .. 1 . . tl,e®e I»IIarS* . it
ee Bdx
< iah).
written rules. But it is very difficult to ascertain
what may be done by memory alone, when it hath
been long exercised in this way. We have had an
example in our own age, of a person * who could per¬
form some of the most tedious and difficult operations
in arithmetic by the mere strength of his memory.
The want of written rules could be no great disad¬
vantage to the druids, as the precepts of this, as well
as of the other sciences, were couched in verse, which
would be easily got by heart and long remembered.
Though the druids were unacquainted with the Ara¬
bic characters, which are now in use, we have no rea¬
son to suppose that they were destitute of marks or
characters of some other kind, which, in some mea¬
sure, answered the same purposes, both in making and
recording their calculations. In particular, we have
reason to think, that they made use of the letters of
the Greek alphabet for both these purposes. This
seems to be plainly intimated by Caesar in the follow¬
ing expression concerning the druids of Gaul : “ In
almost all other public transactions and private ac¬
counts or computations, they make use of the Greek
letters.” This is further confirmed by what the same
author says of the Helvetii j a people of the same ori¬
gin, language, and manners, with the Gauls and Bri-
tons. “ Tables were found in the camp of the Hel¬
vetii written in Greek letters, containing an account of
all the men capable of bearing arms, who had left their
native country, and also separate accounts of the boys
old men, and women.” There is historical evidence
of the druids being also well acquainted with geome¬
try. “ When any disputes arise (says Ctesar) about
that prodigious stone in the parish of Constantine,
Cornwall, was really removed by art from its original
place, and fixed where it now stands (as one of our
most learned and diligent antiquaries thinks it was * ). * Dr Bor-
it is a demonstration, that the druids could performAntiq.
the most astonishing feats by their skill in mechanics.Corw!m//’
That the British druids were acquainted with the1’- I74’I7S’
principles and use of the balance, we have good reason
to believe, not only from the great antiquity of that
discovery in other parts of the world, but also from
some druidical monuments which are still remainino-
in this island. These monuments are called Logan
O
• • 1 •- ^ *   a.L.uuL xu vjeimany ana in the northern nations of Eurone
mils of their nfiCdl°rtia"y C0"','0;",S,es “b0« tlle l!- ‘ke kealittg art was chiefly committee) to the old wo
nuts ot their fields, they are entirely referred in fhe mpn i i - ..
Ski nine
cka is.
mits of their fields, they are entirely referred to the
decision of their druids.” But besides the knowledge
of mensuration which this implies, both Caesar and
Mela plainly intimate that the druids were conversant
in the most sublime speculations of geometry; “ in
measuring the magnitude of the earth, and even of the
World.”
■ _ "lhere are still many monuments remaining in
Britain and the adjacent isles, which cannot so rea¬
sonably be ascribed to any as to the ancient Britons,
and which give us cause to think, that they had made
great progress in this useful part of learning, and could
apply the mechanical powers so as to produce very
astonishing effects. As these monuments appear to
have been designed for religious purposes, we may be
otonest or rocking stones 3 and each of them consists of
one prodigious block of stone, resting upon an upright
stone or rock, and so equally balanced, that a very
small force, sometimes even that of a child, can move it
up and down, though hardly any force is sufficient to
remove it from its station. Some of these stones may
have fallen into this position by accident, but others of
them evidently appear to have been placed in it by
^hat the ancient Britons understood the construe-
tion and use of wheels, the great number of their war-
chariots and other wheel-carriages is a sufficient proof;
and that they knew how to combine them together
and with the other mechanical powers, so as to form
machines capable of raising and transporting very heavy
weights, we have good reason to believe. In a word,
if the British druids were wholly ignorant of the prin¬
ciples and use of any of the mechanical powers, it was
most probably of the screw, though even of this we
cannot be certain.
In Germany and in the northern nations of Europe. /°.
R l.pnlmrr ovi  . .. ,, F ’ Medicine.
men of every state ; but in Gaul and Britain it was en¬
trusted to the druids, who were the physicians as well
as the priests of these countries. Pliny says expressly,
“ I hat Tiberius Caesar destroyed the druids of the
Gauls, who were the poets and physicians of that na¬
tion and he might have added of the Britons. The
people of Gaul and Britain were probably induced to
devolve the care of their health on the druids, and to
apply to these priests for the cure of their diseases,
not only by the high esteem they had of their wisdom
and learning, but also by the opinion which they en¬
tertained, that a very intimate connection subsisted be¬
tween the arts of healing and the rites of religion, and
that the former were most effectual when they were ac¬
companied by the latter. It appears indeed to have
certain tl.nt ? r rTr , » ” /v ^uuijiaiucu uy me laicer. appears indeed to iiave
the <]imWeie erect<^ under the direction of been the prevailing opinion of all the nations of anti-
romdi n 5*r e ow many oiehsks or pillars, of one quity, that all internal diseases proceeded immediately
Brifain niJ°sto,Je ®acIl> are stl11 ke seen in from the anger of the gods ; and that the only way of
verv tl ' 1 a vV^ these pillars are both obtaining relief from these diseases was by applying to
row? . erecte<* on tj,16 summits of bar- their priests to appease their anger by religious rites and
e x 1<| 0 moun ams ; and some of them (as at Stone- sacrifices. This was evidently the opinion and practice
anEr iTderous rbl«cks °.f 8ton.e ralsed aloft> ofthe Gauls and Britons, who in some dangerous cases
Vol VII npart *1ps 116 Upr,^lt p,^ars* can Sacrificed one man as the most effectual means of curing
+ X x another.
Druids.
11
Botany.
D It U E 346
another. “ They are much addicted (says Csesar) to
1 superstition j and for this cause, those who are afflicted
with a dangerous disease sacrifice a man, 01 promise
that they will sacrifice one for their recovery, tor
this purpose they make use of the ministry of the
druids ; because they have declared, that the anger of
the immortal gods cannot be appeased, so as to spare
the life of one man, but by the life of another. ibis
way of thinking gave rise also to that great number ot
magical rites and incantations with which the medical
practices of the druids, and indeed of all the physicians
of antiquity, were attended. “ Nobody doubts (says
Pliny) that magic derived its origin from medicine, and
that, by its flattering but delusive promises, it came to
be esteemed the most sublime and sacred part ot the art
of healing.” „, . r r
That the druids made great use of herbs for medi¬
cinal purposes, we have sufficient evidence. 1 hey not
only had a most superstitious veneration for the misle-
toe of the oak, on a religious account, but they also
entertained a very high opinion of its medical virtues,
and esteemed it a kind of panacea or remedy for a l
diseases. “ They call it (says Pliny) by a name which
in their language signifies All-heal, because they have
an opinion that it cureth all diseases. They believe 1
to be in particular a specific against barrenness, and a
sovereign antidote against the fatal effects of poisons
of all kinds. It was esteemed also an excellent emol¬
lient and discutient for softening and discussing hard
tumours •, good for drying up scrophulous sores j for
curing ulcers and wounds-, and (provided it was not
suffered to touch the earth after it whs cut) it was
thought to be a very efficacious medicine in the epi¬
lepsy or falling sickness. It hath been thought useful
in this last calamitous disease by some modern physi¬
cians. The pompous ceremonies with which the misle-
toe was gathered by the druids have been already de¬
scribed. The selago, a kind of hedge hyssop resem¬
bling savin, was another plant much admired the ^
druids of Gaul and Britain for its supposed medicinal
virtues, particularly in all diseases of the eyes. But its
efficacy, according to them, depended very much upon
its being gathered exactly in the following manner :
The person who gathered it was to be clothed in a
white robe 5 to have his feet bare, and washed in pure
water ; to offer a sacrifice of bread and wine before he
proceeded to cut it which he was to do with his right
hand covered with the skirt of his garment, and with
a hook of some more precious metal than iron. When
it was cut, it was to be received into, and kept in a new
and very clean cloth. When it was gathered exactly
according to this whimsical ritual, they affirmed that
it was not only an excellent medicine, but also a
powerful charm and preservative from misfortunes and
unhappy accidents of all kinds. They entertained a
high opinion also of the herb samolus or marshwort,
for its sanative qualities; and gave many directions tor
the gathering it no less fanciful than those above men¬
tioned. The person who was to perform that office was
to do it fasting, and with his left hand ; he was on no
account to look behind him, nor to turn Ins face from
the herbs he was gathering. It would be tedious to
relate the extravagant notions they entertained ot the
many virtues of the vervain, and to recount the ridi¬
culous mummeries which they practised in g<.t leang
3
]
D R U
and preparing It, both for the purposes of divination
and physic. These things may be seen m 1 in. Hist.
Nat. 1. 25. c. 9. from whence we have received ah these
anecdotes’of the botany of the druids. It is easy to
see that his information was very imperfect; and that,
like many of the other Greek and Roman writers, he
designedly represents the philosophers of Gaul and Bri¬
tain in an unfavourable light. The herb which was
called Britannica by the ancients, which some think was
the great water-dock, and others the cochlearia or scur¬
vy-grass, was probably much used in this island for me¬
dicinal purposes ; as it derived its name from hence, and
was from hence exported to Rome and other parts.
Though these few imperfect hints are all that we can
now collect of the botany of the British druids, yet
we have some reason to think that they were not con-
temptible botanists. Their circumstances were pecu¬
liarly favourable for the acquisition of this kind ot know¬
ledge. For as they spent most of their time in the
recesses of mountains, groves, and woods, the sponta¬
neous vegetable productions of the earth constantly
presented themselves to their view, and courted their
At T^pinions which, it is said, the druids of Gaul
and Britain entertained of their angumum or serpents
egg both as a charm and as a medicine, are romantic
and extravagant in a very high degree. This extraor-
dinary egg was formed, as they pretended, by a great
number of serpents, interwoven and twined together ;
and when it was formed, it was raised up in the air
by the hissing of these serpents, and was to be. catched
in a clean white cloth before it fell to the ground.
The person who catched it was obliged to mount a
swift horse, and to ride away at full speed to escape
from the serpents, who pursued him with great rage,
until they were stopped by some river. I he way ot
making trial of the genuineness of the egg was no less
extraordinary. It was to be enchased m gmd, and
thrown into a river, and if it was genuine it would
swim against the stream. “ I have seen (says Pliny)
that egg; it is about the bigness of a moderate apple,
its shell is a cartilaginous incrustation, full of little ca¬
vities, such as are on the legs of the polypus; it is the
insignia or badge of distinction of the druids. Hie
virtues which they ascribed to this egg were many
and wonderful. It was particularly efficacious to ren¬
der those who carried it about with them superior to
their adversaries in all disputes, and to procure them
the favour and friendship of great men. borne have
thought that this whole affair ol the serpents egg was
a mere fraud, contrived by the druids to excite the
admiration and pick the pockets of credulous people,
who purchased these wonder-working eggs from them
at a high price. Others have imagined that this stoiy
of the anguinum (of which there is an ancient monu¬
ment in the cathedral at Paris) was an emblematical
representation of the doctrine of the druids concerning
the creation of the world. The serpents, say they, re¬
present the Divine wisdom forming the uniye[se> f“
die egg is the emblem of the world formed by that
wisdom. It may be added, that the virtue ascribed to
the anguinum, of giving those who possessed it a su¬
periority over others, and endearing them to great men,
may perhaps be intended to represent the natura e -
fects of learning and philosophy. But m so doubtf
Druid
r> r u
imids. a matter every one is at full liberty to fori
judgment he thinks proper.
As the influence and authority of the druids in their
country, depended very much upon the reputation of
their superior wisdom and learning, they wisely applied
to the study of those sciences which most directly contri¬
buted to the support and advancement of that repu¬
tation. In this number, besides those already mention¬
ed, we may justly reckon rhetoric, which was diligent¬
ly studied and taught by the druids of Gaul and Bri¬
tain j who to the charms ol their eloquence were in¬
debted for much of the admiration and authority which
they enjoyed. I hey had indeed many calls and oppor¬
tunities to display their eloquence, and to discover its
great power and efficacy; as when they were teach¬
ing their pupils in their schools ; when they discoursed
in public to the people on religious and moral subjects ;
when they pleaded causes in the courts of justice ; and
when they harangued in the great councils of the na¬
tion, and at the heads ol armies ready to engage in
battle, sometimes with a view to inflame their cou¬
rage, and at other times with a design to allay their
fury, and dispose them to make peace. Though this
last was certainly a difficult task among fierce and
warlike nations, yet such was the authority and elo¬
quence of the druids, that they frequently succeeded in
it. “ 'I hey pay a great regard (says Diodorus Sicu-
lus) to their exhortations, not only in the aflairs of
peace, but even of war, and these are respected both
by their friends and enemies. They sometimes step in
between two hostile armies, who are standing with their
swords drawn and their spears extended, ready to en¬
gage ; and by their eloquence, as by'an irresistible
enchantment, they prevent the effusion of blood, and
prevail upon them to sheath their swords. So great
are the charms of eloquence and the power of wisdom
even amongst the most fierce barbarians. The British
kings and chieftains, who w'ere educated by the druids,
were famous for their eloquence. This is evident from
the many noble speeches which are ascribed to them
by the Greek and Roman writers. For though these
speeches may not be genuine, yet they are a proof that
it was a well known fact, that these princes were ac¬
customed to make harangues on these and the like oc¬
casions. This we are expressly told by Tacitus : —
“ The British chieftains, before a battle, fly from rank
to rank, and address their men with animating speeches
tending to inflame their courage, increase their hopes|
and dispel their fears,” 1 hese harangues were cal¬
led, in the ancient language of Britain, Rrosnichty
&ak, which is literally translated by Tacitus, Incitu-
tncnta Belli, “ incentives to war.” ' The genuine po¬
sterity of the ancient Britons long retained their taste
for eloquence, and their high esteem for those who ex¬
celled in that art. “ Orators (says Mr Martin) were
Jn high esteem, both in these islands (the iEbudse) and
the continent, until within these forty years. They
sat always among the nobles or chiefs of families in
the streah or circle. Their houses and little villages
were sanctuaries, as well as churches, and they took
place before doctors of physic. The orators, after the
druids were extinct, were brought in to preserve the
genealogy of families, and to repeat the same at every
succession of a chief; and upon the occasion of mar-
nages and births, they made epithalamiums and pane-
r 347 ]
what gyrics
Druids.
D R U
which the poet or bard pronounced. The ora¬
tors, by the force of their eloquence, had a powerful
ascendant over the greatest men in their time. For
i any orator did hut ask the habit, arms, horse, or any
other thing belonging to the greatest man in these
islands it was readily granted him ; sometimes out of
lespec , and sometimes for fear of being exclaimed a-
gams y a satne, which in those days was reckoned a
great dishonour.”
thevf Hvep?r|ti!!1 tlrU,:dS’ COnsl<lei'Ing.the tIme? Which MagiVand
y , had made no contemptible proficiency in divination,
several parts of real and useful learning, it cannot be
denied that they were also great pretenders to supe-
nor knowledge in certain vain fallacious sciences, by
which they excited the admiration, and took advan¬
tage o the ignorance and credulity of mankind. These
were the sciences (if they may be so called) of magic
and divination ; by which they pretended to work a
Kind of miracles, and exhibit astonishing appearances
in nature ; to penetrate into the counsels of heaven ;
to foretel future events, and to discover the success or
miscarriage of public or private undertakino-s. Their
own countrymen not only believed that the'bruids of
Gaul and Britain were possessed of these powers, but
they were celebrated on this account by the philo-
sopners of Greece and Rome. “ In Britain (says
1 liny} the magic arts are cultivated with such astonish¬
ing success, and so many ceremonies, at this day, that
the Britons seem to be capable of instructing even
the i ersians themselves in these arts. They pretend
to discover the designs and purposes of the gods. The
Fubates or \ ates in particular investigate and display
the most sublime secrets of nature ; and, by auspices
and sacrifices, they foretel future events.” They were
sp famous for the supposed veracity of their predic¬
tions, that they were not only consulted on all import¬
ant occasions by their own princes and great men,
but even sometimes by the Roman emperors. Nor is
it very difficult to account for all this. The druids
finding that the reputation of their magical and pro¬
phetical powers contributed not a little to the ad¬
vancement of their wealth and influence, they endea¬
voured, no doubt, to strengthen and establish 'it by all
t leir art and cunning. Iheir knowledge of natural
philosophy and mechanics enabled them to execute
such works, and to exhibit such appearances, or to
make the world believe that they did exhibit them, as
were sufficient to gain them the character of great
magicians. The truth is, that nothing is more^easy
than to acquire this character in a dark age, and a-
mong an unenlightened people. When the minds of
men are haunted with dreams of charms and enchant¬
ments, they are apt to fancy that the most common
occurrences in nature are the effects of magical arts,
f he following strange story, which we meet with in Plu¬
tarch’s Treatise of the Cessation of Oracles, was pro¬
bably occasioned by something of this kind. “ There
are many islands which lie scattered about the isle of
Britain after the manner of our Sporades. They are
generally unpeopled, and some of them are called the
Islands of the Heroes. One Demetrius was sent by the
emperor (perhaps Claudius) to discover those parts.
He arrived at one of these islands (supposed by some
to be Anglesey, but more probably one of the iEbudce)
next adjoining to the isle of Britain before mentioned,
X x 2 which
D E U
[ 348 ]
D B U
Druids,
Drum,
winch was Inhabited by a few Britons, who were
esteemed sacred and Inviolable by their countrymen.
Immediately after his arrival the air grew black and
troubled, and strange apparitions were seen j the winds
rose to a tempest, and fiery spouts and whirlwinds ap¬
peared dancing towards the earth.” Tins was pro-
bably no more than a storm of wind, accompanied
with rain, and lightning j a thing neither unnatural
nor uncommon: but Demetrius and Ins companions
having heard that the British druids, by whom this
isle was chiefly inhabited, were great magicians, they
imagined that it was raised by them ; and fancied that
they saw many strange and unnatural sights. 1 be druids
did not think proper to undeceive them 5 for when
they inquired at them about the cause of this storm,
they told them it was occasioned by the death of one
of those invisible beings or genii who frequented their
isle. A wonderful and artful tale, very well calcula¬
ted to increase the superstitious terrors of Demetrius
and his crew ; and to determine them to abandon this
enchanted isle, with a resolution never to return.
Stonehenge, and several other works of the druids,
were believed to have been executed by the arts of ma¬
gic and enchantment, for many ages after the destruc¬
tion of their whole order 5 nor is it improbable that
they persuaded the vulgar in their own times to enter¬
tain the same opinion of these works, by concea mg
from them the real arts by which they are performed.
The natural and acquired sagacity of the druids,
their long experience, and great concern in the con¬
duct of affairs, enabled them to form very probable
coniectures about the event of enterprises. Ihese
conjectures they pronounced as oracles, when they were
consulted; and they pretended to derive them from the
inspection of the entrails of victims, the observation
of the flight and feeding of certain birds, and many
other mummeries. By these, and the like arts, they
obtained and preserved the reputation of prophetic
foresight among an ignorant and credulous people.
But these pretensions of the druids to magic and
divination, which contributed so much to. the advance¬
ment of their fame and fortune in their own times,
have brought very heavy reproaches upon their
rv and have made some learned moderns dec are that
they ought to be expunged out of the catalogue oi
philosophers, and esteemed no better than mere chea s
and jurrglers. This censure is evidently too severe,
and might have been pronounced with equal justice
upon aU the ancient philosophers of Egypt, Assyna,
Persia, Greece, and Borne ; who were great pretend¬
ers to magic and divination, as well as our druids,
know of no nation in the world (says Cicero) either so
polite and learned, or so savage and barbarous, as not
to believe that future events are presignified to us, and
may by some men be discovered and foretold. ihe
only conclusion therefore that can be fairly drawn, from
the successful pretensions of the British druids to le
arts of magic and divination, is this—That they had
more knowledge than their countrymen and contem-
poraries; but had not so much virtue as to resist the
temptation of imposing upon their ignorance to their own
advantage. . . • r c
DRUM, is a martial musical instrument in form oi
a cylinder, hollow within, and covered at the two ends
*itU vellum, which is stretched or slackened at pleasure
z.
by the means of small cords or sliding knots. It is heat
upon with sticks. Drums are sometimes made of brass,
hut most commonly they are of wood.—rI !ie drum is by v 
Le Clerc said to have been an oriental invention, and
to have been brought by the Arabians, or perhaps ra¬
ther the Moors, into Spain.
Kettle Drums, are two sorts of large basons ot cop¬
per or brass, rounded in the bottom, and covered W1th
vellum or goat skin, which is kept fast by a circle of
iron round the body of the drum, with a number of
screws to screw up and down. They are much used
among the horse j as also in operas, oratorios, concerts,
Drum, or Drummer, he that beats the drum j of
whom each company of foot has one, and sometimes
two. Every regiment has a drum major, who has the
command over the other drums. They are distin¬
guished from the soldiers by clothes of a different fa¬
shion: their post, when a battalion is drawn up, is
on the flanks, and on a march it is betwixt the divi¬
sions. . , ,
Drum of the Ear, the same with the tympanum.
See Anatomy Index.
DRUMMOND, William, a Scottish poet, was
born in 1585, and was the son of Sir John Drummond,
who for ten or twelve years was usher and afterwards
knight of the black rod to James VI. His family be¬
came first distinguished by the marriage of Robert I .
whose queen was sister to William Drummond of Car-
nock their ancestor j as appears by the patent of that
king and James I. the one calling him “ our brother,
the other “ our uncle.”
Drummond was educated at Edinburgh, where he
took the degree of A. M. In 1606 he was sent by
his father to study civil law at Bourges m Fiance. but
having no taste for the profession of a lawyer, he re¬
turned to Scotland, and retired to his agreeable seat
at Hawthornden ; where he applied himself with great
assiduity to classical learning and poetry, and presented
to the world several fine productions. Here he wrote,
after a dangerous fit of sickness, his Cypress Grove,
a piece of excellent prose j and about the same time
his Flowers of Sion in verse. But an accident betel
him, which obliged him to quit h.s retirement j and
that was the death of an amiable lady to whom he was
just goina to he married. This affected him so deeply,
that he went to Paris and Rome, betvyeen which two
places he resided eight years. He travelled also through
Germany, France, and Italy: where he visited univer¬
sities ; conversed with learned men j and made a choice
collection of the ancient Greek and of the modern
Spanish, French, and Italian books. He then return¬
ed to his native country, and some time thereafter
married Margaret Logan, a grand-daughter o Sir Ro¬
bert Logan. Upon the appearance of a civil war, he
retired again j and in his retirement is supposed to
have written his history of the Five James’s, successive¬
ly kings of Scotland, which was not published till after
his death. Having been grafted as it were on the
royal family of Scotland, and upheld by them, he was
steadily attached to Charles I. j but does not appear
ever to have armed for him. As he had always been
a laborious student, and had applied himself equally to
history, and politics as to classical learning, his services
were better rendered by occasional publications, m
Dram.
Drum¬
mond.
D It U
* fiiborj/
Re rks
ne of
m-
\oets,
789.
D R U
which he several times distinguished himself. ... .
piece called Irene, he harangues the king, nobility,
and clergy, about their mutual mistakes, fears, and jea¬
lousies; and lays before them the consequences of a ci¬
vil war, from indisputable arguments and the histories
of past times. The gx*eat marquis of Montrose wrote
a letter to him, desiring him to print this Irene, as the
best means to quiet the minds of a distracted people :
he likewise sent him a protection, dated August 1645,
immediately after the battle of Kilsyth, with a letter,
in which he commends Mr Drummond’s learning and
loyalty. Mr Drummond wrote other things also with
the same view of promoting peace and union, of calm¬
ing the disturbed minds of the people, of reasoning the
better sort into moderation, and checking the growing
evils which would be the consequence of their obstina¬
cy. But his efforts were fruitless ; and his attachment
to the king and his cause was so strong, that when he
heard of the sentence being executed on him, he was
overwhelmed with grief, and lifted his head no more.
He died in the year 1649, leaving behind him several
children : the eldest of whom, William, was knighted
by Charles II. He had a great intimacy and corre¬
spondence with the two famous English poets, Michael
Drayton and Ben Johnson ; the latter of whom, at the
age 45» travelled from London on foot to visit him
at Hawthornden. An edition of his works, with his
life prefixed, was printed in folio at Edinburgh, 1711.
Among all the writers at the beginning of the 17th
century, who flourished after the death of Shakespeare,
an ingenious critic* observes, there is not one whom
a general reader of the English poetry of that age will
regard with so much and so deserved attention as Wil¬
liam Drummond. In a survey of his poetry, two con¬
siderations must be had, viz. the nation of which he
was, and the time when he wrote. Yet will these be
found not offered to extenuate faults, but to increase
admiration. His thoughts are often, nay generally,
bold and highly poetical : he follows nature, and his
verses are delicately harmonious. As his poems are not
easily met with, and have perhaps by many readers ne¬
ver been heard of, a few extracts may be excused.
On the death of Henry prince of Wales in 1612,
Drummond wrote an elegy, entitled Tears on the Death
of Moeliades ; a name which that prince had used in all
his challenges of martial sport, as the anagram of Miles
a Deo. In this poem are lines, according to Denham’s
terms, as strong, as deep, as gentle, and as full, as any
of his or Waller’s. The poet laments the fate of the
prince, that he died not in some glorious cause of war:
“ Against the TL urk (says he) thou hadst ended thy life
and the Christian war together:”
Or, as brave Bourbon, thou hadst made old Rome,
Queen of the world, thy triumph and thy tombe.
Of the lamentation of the river Forth :
And as she rushed her Cyclades among,
She seem’d to plain that Heav’u had done her wrong.
Further:
Tagus did court his love with golden streams,
Rhine with her towns, fair Seine with all she claims :
But ah, poor lovers ! death did them betray;
And unsuspected, made their hopes his prey.
[ 349 ]
In a And concludes :
The virgins to thy tomb will garlands bear
Ol flowers, and with each flower let fall a tear.
Moeliades sweet courtly nymphs deplore,
From Ihulc to Hydaspes’ pearly shore.
Pei haps there are no lines of Pope of which the easy
flow may be more justly admired than of those in his
third pastoral;
Not bubbling fountains to the thirsty swain,
Not balmy sleep to lab’rers faint with pain,
Not showers to larks, or sunshine to the bee,
Are half so charming as thy sight to me.
When King James I. after his accession to the Eng¬
lish throne, returned to Scotland in 1617, his arrival
was celebrated by every effort of poetical congratula¬
tion. Upon this occasion Drummond composed a pa¬
negyric entitled The Wandering Muses, or the River
1 01th feasting ; in which are found four lines apparent¬
ly imitated by Pope in the above passage, and which
do not in point of harmony fall much short of that imi¬
tation. He says,
To virgins, flowers; to sun-burnt earth, the rain;
To mariners, fair winds amidst the main ;
Cool shades, to pilgrims whom hot glances burn ;
Are not so pleasing as thy blest return.
Of these two poems of Drummond, it is observable,
that the first was written in 1612, the last in 1617.
The earliest piece of Waller is that to the king on his
navy in 1625. The piece in which Sir John Denham’s
greatest force lies, Cooper’s Hill, was not written till
1640. The harmony of Drummond, therefore, at a
time when those who are usually called the first intro¬
ducers of a smooth and polished versification had not
yet begun to write, is an honour to him that should
never be forgotten. Nor is his excellence half enough
praised or acknowledged.
Drummond and Petrarch had this in common, that
each lamented, first the cruelty, and then the loss of
his mistress; so that their sonnets are alike naturally
divided into two parts, those before and those after
their several mistresses deaths. It may justly be
doubted, that among all the sonneteers in the English
language any one is to be preferred to Drummond.
He has shown in some of those compositions nearly
the spirit of Petrarch himself. Of each period one is
here inserted ; the first, before the death of his mis¬
tress :
Ah me, and am I now the man, whose muse
In happier times was wont to laugh at love,
In those who suffered that blind boy abuse
The noble gifts were giv’n them from above !
What metamorphose strange is this I prove ?
My self I scarce now fftid myself to be ;
And think no fable Circe’s tyrannic,
And all the tales are told of changed Jove.
Virtue hath taught, with her philosophy
My mind into a better course to move.
Reason may chide her full, and oft reprove
Affection’s power ; but what is that to me,
Who ever think, and never think on aught
But that bright cherubim which thralls my thought!
From «
F Drum*
mond.
Drum¬
mond,
Drunken¬
ness.
D R U
From Part II. after her ileath, (Sonnet I.)
Of mortal glory, O soon darken’d ray !
O winged joys of man, more swift than wind !
O fond d esires which in our fancies stray !
O traitorous hope which do our judgments blind !
Lo, in a flash that light is gone away,
Which dazzle did eacli eye, delight each mind;
And with that sun from whence it came combin’d,
Now makes more radiant heaven’s eternal day.
Let Beauty now Irjdew her cheeks with tears ;
Let widow’d Music only roar and groan ;
Poor Virtue, get thee wings and mount the spheres,
For dwelling place on earth for thee is none :
Death hath thy temple raz’d, Love’s empire soil d,
The world of honour, worth, and sweetness spoil’d.
The seventh sonnet of the first part has much resem¬
blance to Sir Henry Wotton’s elegant little poem on
the queen of Bohemia, “ Ye meaner beauties,” &c.
Among Drummond’s Flowers of Sion, the poem which
begins “ Amidst the azure clear—of Jordan’s sacred
streams,” eminently distinguishes him, whether he be
considered as a philosopher or a poet.
DRUNKENNESS, a well-known disorder in the
brain, occasioned by drinking too freely of spirituous
liquors. Drunkenness appears in different shapes in
different constitutions: some it makes gay, some sul¬
len, and some furious. The mischief of drunkenness
consists in the following had effects : I. It betrays most
constitutions either into extravagancies of anger, or
sins of Lewdness. 2. It disqualifies men for the duties
of their station, both by the temporary disorder of
their faculties, and at length by a constant incapacity
and stupefaction. 3* ^ sttcuded with expences,
which can often be ill spared. 4. It is sure to occasion
uneasiness to the family of the drunkard. 3* K shortens
life. To these consequences of drunkenness must be
added the peculiar danger and mischief of the example.
“ Drunkenness (MrPaley observes) is a social festive
vice. The drinker collects his circle ; the circle natu¬
rally spreads ; of those who are drawn within it, many
become the corrupters and centres of sets and circles of
their own ; every one countenancing, and perhaps emu¬
lating, the rest, till a whole neighbourhood be infected
from the contagion of a single example. ^ \\ ith this
observation upon the spreading quality of drunkenness,
may be connected a remark which belongs to the seve¬
ral evil effects above recited. The consequences of a
vice, like the symptoms of a disease, though they be ail
enumerated in the description, seldom all meet in the
same subject. In the instance under consideration, the
age and temperature of one drunkard may have little
to fear from inflammations of lust or anger; the fortune
of a second may not be injured by the expence : a third
may have no family to be disquieted by his_ irregulari¬
ties; and a fourth may possess a constitution fortified
against the poison of strong liquors. _ But if, as we
always ought to do, we comprehend within the conse¬
quences of our conduct the mischief and tendency of
the example, the above circumstances, however fortu¬
nate for the individual, will be found to vary the guilt
of his intemperance less, probably, than he supposes.
Although the waste of time and money may be of small
350 ] D It U
importance to you, it may be of the utmost to some one Drunken;
or other whom your society corrupts. Repeated or ness,
long-continued excesses, which hurt not your health,
may be fatal to your companion. Although you have
neither wife nor child, nor parent, to lament your ab¬
sence from home, or expect your return to it with ter¬
ror ; other families, whose husbands and lathers have
been invited to share in your ebriety, or encouraged to
imitate it, may justly lay their misery or ruin at your
door. This will hold good, whether the person seduced
be seduced immediately by you, or the vice be propa¬
gated from you to him through several intermediate
examples.”
The ancient Lacedaemonians used to make their
slaves frequently drunk, to give their children an aver¬
sion and horror for the same. The Indians hold drunk¬
enness a species of madness ; and in their language, the
same term (t'amgani), that signifies “ drunkard,” sig¬
nifies also “ a phrenetic.”
Drunkenness is repeatedly forbidden by St Paul:
“ Be not drunk with wine, wherein is excess.” “ Let
us walk honestly as in the day, not in rioting and drunk¬
enness : “ Be not deceived : neither fornicators, nor
drunkards, nor revilers, nor extortioners, shall inherit
the kingdom of God,” Eph. vi. 18. Rom. xiii. 13.
I Cor. vi. 9, 10. The same apostle likewise condemns
drunkenness, as peculiarly inconsistent with the Chris¬
tian profession : “ They that be drunken, are drunken
in the night; but let us, who are of the day, be sober.”
1 Thess. v. 7, 8.
Drunkenness, by our laws, is looked upon as an ag¬
gravation rather than an excuse for any criminal beha¬
viour. A drunkard, says Sir Edward Coke, who is vo-
luntarius damon, hath no privilege thereby : but what
hurt or ill soever he doth, his drunkenness doth aggra¬
vate it: nam omne crimen ebnetas et incendit et deter-
git. It hath been observed that the real use of strong
liquors, and the abuse of them by drinking to excess,
depend much upon the temperature of the climate in
which we live. The same indulgence which may be
necessary to make the blood move in Norway, wTould
make an Italian mad. A German, therefore, says the
president Montesquieu, drinks through custom founded
upon constitutional necessity; a Spaniard drinks through
choice, or out of the mere wantonness of luxury ; and
drunkenness, he adds, ought to be more severely pu¬
nished where it makes men mischievous and mad, as
in Spain and Italy, than where it only renders them
stupid and heavy, as in Germany, and more northern
countries. And accordingly, in the warmer climate of
Greece, a law of Pittacus enacted, “ that he who com¬
mitted a crime when drunk should receive a double pu¬
nishment ;” one for the crime itself, and the other for
the ebriety which prompted him to commit it. Hie
Roman law indeed made great allowances for this vice:
per v ininn delap sis capitalis poena remittitur. But the
law of England, considering how easy it is to counter¬
feit this excuse, and bowr weak an excuse it is (though
real), will not suffer any man thus to privilege one
crime by another.
For the offence of drunkenness a man may be pu¬
nished in the ecclesiastical court, as well as by justices
of peace by statute. And by 4 Jac. I. c. 5. and
21 Jac. I. c. 7. if any person shall be convicted of
drunkenness by the view of a justice, oath of one wit¬
ness,
,nken-
^ss.
U«y ^
D R U [ 351
ness, &c. lie shall forfeit 5s. for the first offence, to
be levied by distress, and sale of his goods ; and for
want of a distress shall sit in the stocks six hours; and
for the second offence, he is to be bound with two sure¬
ties in 10I. each, to be of good behaviour, or to be
committed. And he who is guilty of any crime
through his own voluntary drunkenness, shall be punish¬
ed for it as if he had been sober. It has been held that
drunkenness is a sufficient cause to remove a magi¬
strate j and the prosecution for this offence by the sta¬
tute of 4 Jac. I. c. 5. was to be, and still may be, be¬
fore justices of peace in their sessions by way of in¬
dictment, &c. Equity will not relieve against a bond,
&c. given by a man when drunk, unless the drunken¬
ness is occasioned through the management or con¬
trivance of him to whom the bond is given.
The appetite for intoxicating liquors appears to be
almost always acquired. One proof of which is, that
it is apt to return only at particular times and places ;
as after dinner, in the evening, on the market day, at
the market town, in such a company, at such a tavern.
And this may be the reason, that if a habit of drunk¬
enness be ever overcome, it is upon some change of
place, situation, company, or profession. A man sunk
deep in a habit of drunkenness, will upon such occa¬
sions as these, when he finds himself loosened from the
associations which held him fast, sometimes make a
plunge, and get out. In a matter of such great im¬
portance, it is well worth while, where it is tolerably
convenient, to change our habitation and society, for
the sake of the experiment.
Habits of drunkenness commonly take their rise
either from a fondness for, or connexion with, some
company, or some companion, already addicted to this
practice j which affords an almost irresistible invi¬
tation to take a share in the indulgencies which those
about us are enjoying with so much apparent relish
and delight j or from want of regular employment,
which is sure to let in many superfluous cravings and
customs, and often this amongst the rest $ or, lastly,
from grief or fatigue, both which strongly solicit that
relief which inebriating liquors administer for the pre¬
sent, and furnish a specious excuse for complying with
the inclination. But the habit, when once set in, is
continued by different motives from those to which
it owes its origin. Persons addicted to excessive drink¬
ing suffer, in the intervals of sobriety, and near the re¬
turn of their accustomed indulgence, a faintness and
oppression about the prcecorcliu which it exceeds the
ordinary patience of human nature to endure. This
is usually relieved for a short time by a repetition of the
same excess : and to this relief, as to the removal of
every long-continued pain, they who have once expe¬
rienced it are urged almost beyond the power of resist¬
ance. This is not all ; as the liquor loses its stimulus,
the dose must be increased, to reach the same pitch of
elevation or ease ; which increase proportionably acce¬
lerates the progress of all the maladies that drunken¬
ness brings on. Whoever reflects, therefore, upon the
violence of the craving in advanced stages of the habit,
and the fatal termination to which the gratification of
it leads, will, the moment he perceives the least ten¬
dency in himself of a growing inclination to intempe¬
rance, collect his resolution to this point; or (what
perhaps he will find his best security) arm himself with
]
D R U
ru,e’35 to tl,e times and ^
  IICBS,
Druses.
DRU1 A, or Druppa, in Botany, a species of no
ncarpium or seed vessel, which is succulent or pulpy
has no valve or external opening like the capsule aiid
pod, and contains within its substance a stone or nut.
Ilie cherry, plum, peach, apricot, and all other stcne
fruits are of this kind.
Hie term, which is of great antiquity, is synony¬
mous to I ournefort’s/rw^ mollis ossiculo, “ soft fruit
with a stone and to the prunus of other botanists.
Ihe stone or nut, which in this species of fruit is
surrounded by the soft pulpy flesh, is a kind of lio-neous
or wsody cup, which contains a single kernel or seed.
Ibis definition, however, will not apply to every
seed-vessel denominated drupa in the Genera Planta-
rmn. The almond is a drupa, so is the seed-vessel of
the elm tree and the genus rumphia, though far from
being pulpy or succulent j the first and third are of a
substance like leather, the second like parchment. The
same may be said of the walnut, pistachia nut, guettar-
da, quisqualis, jack-in-a-box, and some others.
Again, the seeds of the elm, schrebera, Jlagellaria,
and the mango tree, are not cantained in a stone. The
seed-vessel of burr reed is dry, shaped like a top, and
contains two angular stones.
. species of fruit, or more properly seed-vessel,
is commonly roundish, and when seated below the ca¬
lyx or receptacle of the flower, is furnished, like the
apple, at the end opposite to the footstalk, with a
small umbilicus or cavity, which is produced by the
swelling of the fruit before the falling off of the flower-
cup.
DRUSES, or Druzes, a remarkable nation in
Palestine, inhabiting the environs of Mount Lebanon,
of whose origin and history we have the followim? de¬
tail by M. Volney. b
Twenty-three years after the death of Mahomet, the
disputes between Ali his son-in-law and Moaouia go¬
vernor of Syria, occasioned the first schism in the em¬
pire of the Arabs, and the two sects subsist to this day :
but, in reality, this difference related only to power ;
and the Mahometans, however divided in opinion re¬
specting the rightful successor of the prophet, were
agreed with respect to their dogmas. It was not un¬
til the following century that the perusal of Greek
books introduced among the Arabs a spirit of discus¬
sion and controversy, to which till then they were ut¬
ter strangers. The consequence was, as might be ex¬
pected, by reasoning on matters not susceptible of de¬
monstration, and guided by the abstract principles of
an unintelligible logic, they divided into a multitude
of sects and opinions. At this period, too, the civil
power lost its authority ; and religion, which from that
derives the means of preserving its unity, shared the
same late, and the Mahometans now experienced what
had before befallen the Christians. The nations which
had received the religion of Mahomet, mixed with it
their former absurd notions ; and the errors which had
anciently prevailed over Asia again made their appear¬
ance, though altered in their forms. The metempsy¬
chosis, the doctrine of a good and evil principle, and
the renovation after six thousand years, as it had been
taught by Zoroaster, were again revived among the
Mahometans. In this political and religious confusion
every.
leases.
D R U [35
every enthusiast became an apostle, and every apostle
the head of a sect. No less than sixty of these were
reckoned, remarkable for the numbers of their follow¬
ers, all differing in some points of faith, and all dis¬
avowing heresy and error. Such was the state of these
countries when, at the commencement of the nth cen¬
tury, Egypt became the theatre of one of the most ex¬
travagant scenes of enthusiasm and absurdity ever re¬
corded in history. The following account is extracted
from the western writers.
In the year of the Hegira 386 (A. D. 996), the
third caliph of the race of the Fatimites, called Hakem-
b'amr-cllah, succeeded to the throne of Egypt at the
age of 11 years. He was one of the most extraordinary
princes of whom history has preserved the memory. Me
caused the first caliphs, the companions of Mahomet, to
be cursed in the mosques, and afterwards revoked the
anathema : He compelled the Jews and Christians to
abjure their religion, and then permitted them to resume
it. He prohibited the making slippers for women, to
prevent them from coming out of their houses. Me
burnt one half of the city of Cairo for his diversion
while his soldiers pillaged the other Not contented
with these extravagant actions, he forbade the pilgrimage
to Mecca, fasting, and the five prayers} and at length
carried his madness so far as to desire to pass for God
himself. He ordered a register of those who acknow¬
ledged him to be so, and the number amounted to six¬
teen thousand. This impious pretension was supported
by a false prophet, who came from Persia into Egypt,
which impostor, named Mohammed ben-Ismael, taught
that it was not necessary to fast or pray, to practise cir¬
cumcision, to make the pilgrimage to Mecca, or observe
festivals ; that the prohibition ol pork and wine was a a-
surd ; and that marriage between brothers and sisters
fathers and children, was lawful, lo ingratiate himself
with Hakem, he maintained that tins caliph was God
himselfincarnate 5 and instead of his name Hakem-b amr-
ellah. which signifies governor by the order oj God he
called him Hakem Vamr-eh, governing by his own order.
Unluckily for the prophet, his new god had not the
power to protect him from the fury of his enemies who
slew him in a tumult almost in the arms of the caliph,
who was himself massacred soon after on Mount ? lo-
kattam, where he, as he said, had held conversation with
The death of these two chiefs did not stop the pro-
gres of their opinions j a disciple .of Mohammed-ben-
Ismael, named Hamxu-ben-Ahmud, propagated them
with an indefatigable zeal in Egypt, m Palestine, and
along the coast of Syria, as far as Sidon and Berytus.
His proselytes being persecuted by the sect in power,
they took refuge in the mountains of Lebanon, where
they were better able to defend themselves; at least it
is certain, that, shortly after this era, we find them
established there, and forming an independent society.
The difference of their opinions ^disposes them to be
enemies j but the urgent interest of their common safety
forces them to allow mutual toleration, and they have
always appeared united, and have jointly opposed, at
different times, the Crusaders, the sultans ol Aleppo,
the Mamelukes, and the Ottomans. _ The conquest of
Syria by the latter made no change m their situation.
Selim I. on his return from Egypt, meditating no less
than the conquest of Europe, disdained to waste his
2 ] D R U
time before the rocks of Lebanon. Soliman II. his Druse5
successor, incessantly engaged in important wars, either'—v-*
with the knights of Rhodes, the Persians, the kingdom
of Yemen, the Hungarians, the Germans, or the em¬
peror Charles V. had no time to think of the Druses.
Emboldened by this inattention, and not content with
their independence, they frequently descended from
their mountains, to pillage the Turks. The pachas in
vain attempted to repel their inroads ; their troops were
invariably routed or repulsed. And it was not till the
year 1588 that Amurath III. wearied with the com¬
plaints made to him, resolved, at all events, to reduce
these rebels, and had the good fortune to succeed.
His general Ibrahim Pacha marched from Cairo, and
attacked the Druses and Maronites with so much ad¬
dress and vigour as to force them into their strong holds,
the mountains. Dissension took place among their
chiefs, of which he availed himself to exact a contri¬
bution of upward of one million of piastres, and to
impose a tribute which has continued to the present
time.
It appears that this expedition was the epoch of a
considerable change in the constitution of the Druses.
Till then they had lived in a sort of anarchy, under
the command of different sheiks or lords. The na¬
tion was likewise divided into two factions, such as
is to be found in all the Arab tribes, and which are
distinguished into the party Ivaisi and the party a-
mani. To simplify the administration, Ibrahim per¬
mitted them only one chief, who should be responsible
for the tribute, and execute the office of civil magis¬
trate } and this governor, from the nature of his situa¬
tion, acquiring great authority, became almost the king
of' the republic; but as he was always chosen from
among the Druses, a consequence followed which the
Turks had not foreseen, and which was nearly fatal
to their power. For the chief thus chosen, having at
his disposal the whole strength of the nation, was able
to give it unanimity and energy, and it naturally turn¬
ed against the Turks j since the Druses, by becoming
their subjects, had not ceased to be their enemies. They
took care, however, that their attacks should be in¬
direct, so as to save appearances, and only engaged in
secret hostilities, more dangerous, perhaps, than open
About this time, that is, the beginning ol the 17th
century, the power of the Druses attained its greatest
height; which it owed to the talents and ambition of
the°celebrated Faker-el-din, commonly called Fakardin.
No sooner was this prince advanced to be the chief of
that people, than he turned his whole attention to hum¬
ble the Ottoman power, and aggrandise himself at its
expence. In this enterprise he displayed an address
seldom seen among the Turks. He first gained the
confidence of the Porte, by every demonstration of loy¬
alty and fidelity j and as the Arabs at that time infested
the plain of Balbec and the countries of Sour and Acre,
he made war upon them, freed the inhabitants from their
depredations, and thus rendered them desirous of living
under his government.
The city of Bairout was situated advantageously
for his designs, as it opened a communication with
foreign countries, and among others, with the Vene¬
tians, the natural enemies of the Turks. Faker-el-dm
availed himself of the misconduct of the aga, expell-
D II U
i use*, seized on the city, and even had the art to
u»y—' make a merit of this act of hostility with the Divan, by
paying a more considerable tribute. He proceeded in
the same manner at Saide, Balbec, and Sour j and at
length, about the year 1613, saw himself master of all
the country as far as Adjaloun and Salad. The pachas
of Tripoli and Damascus could not see these encroach¬
ments with indifference ; sometimes they opposed him
with open force, though ineffectually, and sometimes
endeavoured to ruin him at the Porte by secret insinua¬
tions ; but the emir, who maintained there his spies and
defenders, defeated every attempt.
At length, however, the Divan began to be alarmed
at the progress of the Druses, and made preparations
for an expedition capable of crushing them. Whether
from policy or fear, Faker-el-din did not think pro¬
per to wait this storm. He had formed connexions in
Italy, on which he built great hopes, and determined
to go in person to solicit the succours they had promised
him} persuaded that his presence would increase the
zeal of bis friends, while his absence might appease the
resentment of his enemies. He therefore embarked at
[ 353 ]
D li U
Bairout ; and after resigning the administration to
his son Ali, repaired to the court of the Medici at Flo¬
rence. The arrival of an Oriental prince in Italy did
not fail to attract the public attention. Inquiry was
made into his nation, and the origin of the Druses be¬
came a popular topic of research. Their history and
religion were found to be so little known, as to leave it
a matter of doubt whether they should be classed with
the Mahometans or Christians. The Crusades were
called to mind ; and it was soon suggested, that a peo¬
ple who had taken refuge in the mountains, and were
enemies to the natives, could be no other than the off¬
spring of the Crusaders.
This idle conceit was too favourable to Faker-el-din
for him to endeavour to disprove it: he was artful
enough, on the contrary, to pretend he was related
to the house of Loraine ; and the missionaries and
merchants, who promised themselves a new opening
for conversion and commerce, encouraged his pre¬
tensions. When an opinion is in vogue, every one
discovers new proofs of its certainty. The learn¬
ed in etymology, struck with the resemblance of the
names, insisted, that Druses and Dreux, must be the
same word ; and on this foundation formed the sy¬
stem of a pretended colony of French Crusaders, who,
under the conduct of a Comte de Dreux, bad formed
a settlement in Lebanon. This hypothesis, however
was completely overthrown by the remark, that the*
name of the Druses is to be found in the itinerary of
Benjamin of Tudela, who travelled before the time of
the Crusades. Indeed the futility of it ought to have
been sufficiently apparent at first, from the single con¬
sideration, that had they been descended from any na¬
tion of the Franks, they must have retained at least
tae traces of some European language ; for a people,
retired into a separate district, and living distinct from
the natives of the country, do not lose their language.
I hat of the Druses, however, is very pure Arabic,
without a single word of European origin. The
real derivation of the name of this people has been
long m our possession, without our knowing it. It
originates from the founder of the sect of Mohammed-
ben-Ismael, who was surnamed El-Dorzi, and not
VOL. VII. Part I. f
El-Datari, as it is usually printed : the confusion of
these two words, so different in our writing, arises'
from the figure of the two Arabic letters r and »,
which have only this difference, that the 3 has a point
over it, frequently omitted or effaced in the manu¬
scripts.
After a stay of nine years in Italy, Faker-el-din re¬
turned to resume the government of his country.
During his absence, his son Ali had repulsed the Turks,
appeased discontents, and maintained affairs in tole¬
rable good order. Nothing remained for the emir,
but to employ the knowledge be could not but have
acquired, in perfecting the internal administration of
government, and promoting the welfare of the nation •,
but instead of the useful and valuable arts, he wholly
abandoned himself to the frivolous and expensive, for
which he had imbibed a passion while in Italy. ’lie
built numerous villas, constructed baths, and planted
gardens : he even presumed, without respect to the pre¬
judices of his country, to employ the ornaments of paint¬
ing and sculpture, notwithstanding these are prohibited
by the Koran.
I be consequences of this conduct soon manifest¬
ed themselves: the Druses, who paid the same tri¬
bute as in time of war, became dissatisfied. The
Yamani faction were roused j the people'murmured
at the expences of the prince j and the luxury he
displayed renewed the jealousy of the pachas. They
attempted to levy greater tribute : hostilities again
commenced, and Faker-el-din repulsed the forces of
the pachas ; who took occasion, from this resistance,
to render him suspected by the sultan himself. Amu-
rath III. incensed that one of his subjects should dare
to enter into a competition with him, resolved on
his destruction ; and the pacha of Damascus received
orders to march, with all his forces, against Bair¬
out, the usual residence of Faker-el-din 5 while 40
galleys invested it by sea, and cut off all communica¬
tion.
I lie emir, who depended on his good fortune and
succours from Italy, determined at first to brave the
storm. His son Ali, who commanded at Safad, was
ordered to oppose the progress of the I’urkish army:
and in fact he bravely resisted them, notwithstanding
the great disparity of his forces 5 but after two en¬
gagements, in which he had the advantage, being
slain in a third attack, the face of aflairs was greatly
changed, and every thing went to ruin. Faker-el-din,
ten ified at the loss of his troops, afflicted at the death
of his son, and enfeebled by age and a voluptuous life,
lost both courage and presence of mind. He no
longer saw any resource hut in a peace, which he sent
his second son to solicit of the Turkish admiral,
whom he attempted to seduce by presents; but the
admiral detaining both the presents and envoy, de¬
clared he would have the prince himself. Faker-el-din,
intimidated, took to flight, and was pursued by the
Turks, now masters of the country. He took refuge
on the steep eminence of Niha, where they besieged
him ineffectually for a whole year, when they left him
at liberty; hut shortly after, the companions of his
adversity, wearied with their sufferings, betrayed and
delivered him up to the Turks. Faker-el-din, though
in the hands of his enemies, conceived hopes of pardon,
and suffered himself to be carried to Constantinople;
Y y where
finises.
D E U
[ 354 ]
D E U
j>rases, wliere Amuratb, pleased to behold at his feet a prince
—-y—so celebrated, at first treated him with the benevolence
which arises from the pride of superiority; but soon
returning to his former jealousies, yielded to the insti¬
gations of his courtiers, and, in one ot his violent fits
of passion, ordered him to be strangled, about the year
1631. . , • r
After the death of Faker-el-din, the posterity ot
that prince still continued in possession of the govern¬
ment, though at the pleasure, and as vassals of the
Turks. This family failing in the male line at the
beginning of the last century, the authority devol¬
ved, by the election of the shaiks, on the house of
Shelah, in which it still continues. The only emir of
that house, whose name deserves to be preserved, is the
emir Melhem, who reigned from 1740 to 1759 > in
which interval he retrieved the losses of the Druses,
and restored them to that consequence which they had
lost by the defeat of Faker-el-din. Towards the end
of his life, about the year 1754, Melhem, wearied with
the cares of government, abdicated his authority, to
live in religious retirement, alter the manner ot the
Okkals ; but the troubles that succeeded occasioned
him once more to resume the reins ot government,
which he held till 1759, when he died, universally re-
^ He left three sons, minors ; the eldest of whom
outrht, according to the custom ot the country, to
have succeeded him ; but being only U years ot age,
the authority devolved on his uncle Mansour, agreeably
to a law very general in Asia, which wills the people
to be governed by a sovereign who has arrived at years
of maturity. The young prince was but little fitted
to maintain his pretensions ; but a Maronite, named
Sad-el-Kouri, to whom Melhem had intrusted his edu¬
cation, took this upon himself. Aspiring to see his
pupil a powerful prince, that he might himself become
a powerful visir, he made every exertion to advance
his fortune. He first retired with him to Djebail,
in the Kesraouan, where the emir Yousef possessed
large domains, and there undertook to conciliate the
Maronites, by embracing every opportunity to serve
both individuals and the nation. The great reve¬
nues of his pupil, and the moderation of his expen¬
diture, amply furnished him with the means. Ihe
farm of the Kesraouan was divided between several
shaiks, with whom the Porte was not very well sa¬
tisfied. Sad treated for the whole with the pacha
of Tripoli, and got himself appointed sole receiver.
The Motoualis of the valley of Balbec had for some
years before made several encroachments on Lebanon,
and the Maronites began to be alarmed at the near
approach of these intolerant Mahometans. Sad pur¬
chased of the pacha of Damascus a permission to
make war upon them; and in 1763 drove them out
of the country. The Druses were at that time di¬
vided into two factions: Sad united his interest with
those who opposed Mansour, and secretly prepared^ the
plot which was to raise the nephew on the ruin ot the
^ At’ this period the Arab Daher, who had made
himself master of Galilee, and fixed his residence at
Acre, disquieted the Porte by his progress and pre¬
tensions ; to oppose him, the Divan had just unite
the pachalics of Damascus, Saide, and Tripoli, in the
hands of Osman and his children; and it was evident Drtaej,
that an open war was not very remote. Mansour,^
who dreaded the Turks too much to resist them, made
use of the policy usual on such occasions, pretending
a zeal for their service, while he secretly favoured
their enemy. This was a sufficient motive for Sad to
pursue measures directly opposite. He supported the
Turks against the faction of Mansour, and manasu-
vred with so much good fortune or address as to depose
that emir in 1770, and place A ousef in his govern¬
ment.
In the following year All Bey declared' war, and at¬
tacked Damascus. Yousef, called on by the Turks,
took part in the quarrel, but without being able to
draw the Druses from their mountains to enter into
the army of the Ottomans. Besides their natural re¬
pugnance, at all times, to make war out of their coun¬
try, they were on this occasion too much divided at
home to quit their habitations, and they had reason to
congratulate themselves on the event. The battle of Da¬
mascus ensued ; and the Turks, as we have already seen,
were completely routed. The pacha of Saide escaping
from this defeat, and not thinking himself in safety in
that town, sought an asylum even in the house of the
emir Yousef. The moment was unfavourable ; but the
face of affairs soon changed by the flight of Mohammed
Bey. The emir, concluding that Ali Bey was dead,
and not imagining that Daher was powerful enough
singly to maintain the quarrel, declared openly against
him. Saide was threatened with a siege, and he de¬
tached 1500 men of his faction to its defence ; while
himself in person, prevailing on the Druses and Ma¬
ronites to follow him, made an incursion with 2J,0C0
peasants into the valley of Bekaa ; and in the absence
of the Motoualis, who had joined the army of Daher,
laid the whole country waste with fire and sword from
Balbec to Tyre.
While the Druses, proud of this exploit, were
marching in disorder towards the latter city, 500 Mo¬
toualis, informed of what had happened, flew from
Acre, inflamed with rage and despair, and tell with such
impetuosity on their army as to give them a complete
overthrow. Such was the surprise and confusion of
the Druses, that, imagining themselves attacked by
Daher himself, ami betrayed by their companions, they
turned their swords on each other as they fled. The
steep declivities of Djezin, and the pine woods which
were in the route of the fugitives, were strewed with
dead, but few of whom perished by the hands of the
Motoualis. . ,
The emir Yousef, ashamed of this defeat, escaped
to Dair-el-Kamar, and shortly after attempted to take
revenge ; but being again defeated in the plain between
Saide and Sour (Tyre), he was constrained to resign
to his uncle Mansour the ring, which among the Dru¬
ses is the symbol of command. In 1773 he was restor¬
ed by a new revolution ; but he could not support hi?
power but at the expence of a civil war. In order,
therefore, to prevent Bairout falling into the hands 0
the adverse faction, he requested tho assistance of the
Turks, and demanded of the pacha of Damascus a man
of sufficient abilities to defend that city. The choice
fell on an adventurer, who from his subsequent fortune,
merits to be made known.
This man, named Ahmad, was a native of Bos^a|
D R U [ 3
j. and apoke the Sclavonian as his mother tongue, as the
—^ Ragusan captains, with whom he conversed in prefer¬
ence to those of every other nation, assert. It is said,
that flying from his country at the r.ge of 16, to escape
the consequences of an attempt to violate his sister-in-
law, he repaired to Constantinople, where, destitute of
the means of procuring subsistence, he sold himself to
the slave merchants to be conveyed to Egypt; and, on
his arrival at Cairo, was purchased by Ali Bey, who
placed him among his Mamelukes.
Ahmad was not long in distinguishing himself by
his courage and address. His patron employed him
on several occasions in dangerous cot/ps de main, such
as the assassination of' such beys and cachefs as he
suspected j of which commissions he acquitted him-
selt so well as to acquire the name of Djexzar, which
signifies Cut-throat. With this claim to his friendship,
he enjoyed the favour of Ali until it was disturbed by
an accident.
Ibis jealous bey having proscribed one of his bene¬
factors called Saleh Bey, commanded JDjezzar to cut
oft his bead. Either from humanity or some secret
friendship for the devoted victim, Djezzar hesitated,
and even remonstrated among the order. But learning
the n®xt day that Mohammed Bey had executed the
commission, and that Ali had spoken of him not very
favourably, he thought himself a lost man, and, to
avoid the fate of Saleh Bey, escaped unobserved, and
reached Constantinople. He there solicited employ¬
ment suitable to his former rank j but meeting, as is
usual in capitals, with a great number of rivals, he pur¬
sued another plan, and went to seek his fortune in Sy¬
ria as a private soldier. Chance conducted him among
the Druses, where he was hospitably entertained, even
in the house of the kiaya of the emir Yousef. From
thence he repaired to Damascus, where he soon obtain¬
ed the title o£ vlgOj with a command of five pair of co¬
lours, that is to say, of 50 men 5 and he was thus situa¬
ted when fortune destined him to the government of
Bairout.
Djezzar was no sooner established there than he took
possession of it for the Turks. Yousef was confounded
at this proceeding. He demanded justice at Damascus 5
but finding hiscomplaints treated with contempt, entered
into a treaty with Daher, and concluded an offensive
and defensive alliance with him at Ras-el-aen, near to
Sour. No sooner was Daher united with the Druses
than he laid siege to Bairout by land, whilst two
Russian frigates, whose service was purchased by 600
purses, cannonaded it by sea. Djezzar was compelled
to submit to force, and, after a vigorous resistance, gave
up the city, and surrendered himself prisoner. Shaik
Daher, charmed with his courage, and flattered with
the preference he had given him in the surrender, con¬
ducted him to Acre, and showed him every mark of
kindness. .He even ventured to trust him with a small
expedition into Palestine j but Djezzar, on approach¬
ing Jerusalem, went over to the Turks, and returned to
Damascus.
The war of Mohammed Bey breaking out, Djezzar
ottered his service to the captain pacha, and gained his
continence. He accompanied him to the siege of Acre ;
and that admiral having destroyed Daher, and finding
ao person more proper than Djezzar to accomplish the
55 ]
D R U
of Saide°f the P°rte In Ulat C0Untry’ named him Pacha
Being now, in consequence of this revolution, superior
ford to the emir Yousef, Djezzar is mindful of injuries
in proportion as he has reason to accuse himself of
ingratitude. By a conduct truly Turkish, feigning
a ernately gratitude and resentment, he is alternately
on terms of dispute and reconciliation, with him, con¬
tinually exacting money as the price of peace, or an
indemnity for war. His artifices have succeeded so
well, that within the space of five years he has extorted
from the emir four millions of French money (above
160,000].) ; a sum the more astonishing, as the farm
of the country of the Druses did not then amount to
100,000 livres (4000I.).
In 1784, he made war on him, deposed him, and
bestowed the government on the emir of the country
ot Hasbeya, named Ismael. Yousef, having once more
purchased bis favour, returned towards the end of the
same year to Dair-el-Kamar, and even courted bis con¬
fidence so far as to wait on him at Acre, from whence
nobody expected him to return ; but Djezzar is too
cunning to shed blood while there are any hopes of get¬
ting money: be released the prince, and sent him back
with every mark of friendship. Since that period the
01 te has named him pacha of Damascus, while he al¬
so retained the sovereignty of the pachalic of Acre, and
ot the country of the Druses.
As to the religion of the Druses : What has been
already said of the opinions of Mohammed-ben-Ismael
may be regarded as the substance of it. They practise
neither circumcision, nor prayers, nor fasting ; they
observe neither festivals nor prohibitions. They drink
wine, eat pork, and allow marriage between brothers
and sisters, though not between fathers and children,
from this we may conclude, with reason, that the
Druses have no religion; yet one class of them must
be excepted, whose religious customs are very peculiar*
Those who compose it are to the rest of the nation
what the initiated are to the profane; they assume the
name of Okkals, which means spiritualists, and bestow
on the vulgar the epithet of Djahel, or ignorant: they
have various degrees of intitiation, the highest orders
of which require celibacy. Ihese are distinguishable by
the white turban they aflect to wear, as a symbol of their
purity ; and.so proud are they of this supposed purity,
that they think themselves sullied by even touching a
profane person. If you eat out of their plate, or drink
out of their cup, they break them ; and hence the cus¬
tom, so general in this country, of using vases with a
soit of cock, which may be drank out of without touch-
ing.them with the lips. All their practices are envelop¬
ed in mysteries : their oratories always stand alone, and
are constantly situated on eminences: in these they hold
their secret assemblies, to which women are admitted.
It is pretended they perform ceremonies there in pre¬
sence of a small statue resembling an ox or a calf;
whence some have pretended to prove that they are de¬
scended from the Samaritans. But besides that the
fact is not well ascertained, the worship of the ox may
be deduced from other sources.
They have one or two books which they conceal
\ 'itb the greatest care ; but chance lias deceived their
jealousy; for in a civil war which happened some
Y y 2 years
D R U
[ 356 ]
D R U
Druses, years ago, the emir Yousef, who is Djahel or igno-
——v— ' rant, found one among the pillage of one of their ora¬
tories. M. Volney was assured, by persons who had
read it, that it contains only a mystic jargon, the ob¬
scurity of which doubtless renders it valuable to adepts.
Hakem B’amr-ellah is there spoken of, by whom they
mean God incarnated in the person of the caliph. It
likevvise treats of another life, of a place of punish¬
ment, and a place of happiness where the Okkals shall
of course be most distinguished. Several degrees ot
perfection are mentioned, to which they arrive by suc¬
cessive trials. In other respects, these sectaries have
all the insolence and all the fears of superstition : they
are not communicative, because they are weak ; but it
is probable that, were they powerful, they would be
promulgators and intolerant.
The rest of the Druses, strangers to this spirit, are
wholly indifferent about religious matters. The Chri¬
stians who live in their country pretend that several of
them believe in the metempsychosis', that others wor¬
ship the sun, moon, and stars : all which is possible ;
for, as among the Ansaria, every one, left to his own
fancy, follows the opinion that pleases him most j and
these opinions are those which present themselves most
naturally to unenlightened minds. When among the
Turks, they affect the exterior of Mahometans, fre¬
quent the mosques, and perform their ablutions and
prayers. Among the Maronites, they accompany them
to church, and, like them, make use of holy water.
Many of them, importuned by the missionaries, suffer
themselves to be baptized j and if solicited by the
Turks, receive circumcision, and conclude by dying
neither Christians nor Mahometans •, but they are not
so indifferent in matters of civil policy.
The Druses may be divided into two classes j the com¬
mon people ; and the people of eminence and property,
distinguished by the title of shaiks and emirs, or descend¬
ants of princes. The greater part are cultivators, either
as farmers or proprietors ; every man lives on his inheri¬
tance, improving his mulberry trees and vineyards : in
some districts they grow tobacco, cotton, and some grain 5
but the quantity of these is inconsiderable. It appears
that at first alfthe lands were, as formerly in Europe,
in the hands of a small number of families. But to
render them productive, the great proprietors were for¬
ced to sell part of them, and let leases j which subdi¬
vision is become the chief source of the power of the
state, by multiplying the number of persons interested
in the public weal : there still exist, however, some
traces of the original inequality, which even at this
day produces pernicious eftects. The great property
possessed by some families gives them too much in¬
fluence in all the measures of the nation *, and then-
private interests have too great weight in every pub¬
lic transaction. Their Jffstory, for some years back,
affords sufficient proofs of this ; since all the civil or
foreign wars in which they have been engaged have
originated in the ambition and personal views of some
of the principal families, such as the Lesbeks, the
Djambelats, the Ismaels of Solyma, &c. The shaiks
of these houses, who alone possess one-tenth part of
the country, procured creatures by their money, and
at last involved all the Druses in their dissensions.
It must be owned, however, that possibly to this con¬
flict between contending parties the whole nation owes
the good fortune of never having been enslaved by its
chief. ^ v-w
This chief, called Hakem or governor, also Emir
or prince, is a sort of king or general, who unites in
his own person the civil and military powers. His
dignity is sometimes transmitted from father to son,
sometimes from one brother to another j and the suc¬
cession is determined rather by force than any certain
laws. Females can in no case pretend to this inheri¬
tance. They are already excluded from succession in
civil affairs, and consequently can still less expect it
in political : in general, the Asiatic governments are
too turbulent, and their administration renders milita¬
ry talents too necessary, to admit of the sovereignty of
women. Among the Druses the male line of any fa¬
mily being extinguished, the government devolves to
him who is in possession of the greatest number of suf¬
frages «nnd resources. But the first step is to obtain
the approbation of the Tl urks, of whom he becomes the
vassal and tributary. It even happens, that, not un-
frequently to assert their supremacy, they name the
Hakem, contrary to the wishes of the nation, as in the
case of Ismael Hasbeya, raised to that dignity by
Djezzar *, but this constraint lasts no longer than it is
maintained by that violence which gave it birth. The
office of the governor is to watch over the good order
of the state, and to prevent the emirs, shaiks, and
villages, from making war on each other : in case of
disobedience, he may employ force. He is also at
the head of the civil power, and names the cadis, on¬
ly always reserving to himself the power of life and
death. He collects the tribute, from which he an¬
nually pays to the pacha a stated sum. T-his tribute
vanes in proportion as the nation renders itself more
or less formidable: at the beginning of this cen¬
tury, it amounted to 160 purses, 8330k 5 but Mel-
hem forced the Turks to reduce it to 60. In 1784
Emir Yousef paid 80 and promised 90. This tribute,
which is called Miri, is imposed on the mulberry trees,
vineyards, cotton, and grain. All sown land pays in
proportion to its extent j every foot <af mulberries is
taxed at three medins, or three sols nine deniers (not
quite twopence). A hundred feet of vineyard pays
a piastre or 40 medins j and fresh measurements are
often made to preserve a just proportion. The shaiks
and emirs have no exemption in this respect; and it
may be truly said they contribute to the public stock
in proportion to their fortune. The collection is made
almost without ex pence. Each man pays his contin¬
gent at Dair-el-Kamar, if he pleases, or to the collec¬
tors of the prince, who make a circuit round the coun¬
try after the crop of silks. The surplus of this tribute
is for the prince ; so that it is his interest to reduce the
demands of the Turks, as it would be likewise to aug¬
ment the impost: but this measure requires the sanction
of the shaiks, who have the privilege of opposing it.
Their consent is necessary, likewise, for peace and war.
In these cases, the emir must convoke general assem¬
blies, and lay before them the state of his affairs. There
every shaik, and every peasant who has any reputation
for courage or understanding, is entitled to give bis
suffrage 5 so that this government may be considered as
a welf-proportioned mixture of monarchy, aristocracy,
and democracy. Every thing depends on circumstan¬
ces ; if the governor be a man of ability, he is abso u e;
D R U
•uses, if weak, a cipher. This proceeds from the want of’
v-y—fjxe(l laws ; a want common to all Asia, and the radi¬
cal cause of all the disorders in the governments of the
Asiatic nations.
Neither the chief nor the individual emirs maintain
troops •, they have only persons attached to the domestic
service of their houses, and a few black slaves. When the
nation makes war, every man, whether shaik or peasant,
able to bear arms, is called upon to march. He takes
with him a little bag of flour, a musket, some bullets,
a small quantity of powder, made in his village, and re¬
pairs to the rendezvous appointed by the governor. If
it be a civil war, as sometimes happens, the servants,
the farmers, and their friends, take up arms for their
patron, or the chief of their family, and repair to his
standard. In such cases, the parties irritated frequently
seem on the point of proceeding to the last extremities ;
but they seldom have recourse to acts of violence, or at¬
tempt the death of each other; mediators always inter¬
pose, and the quarrel is appeased the more readily, as
each patron is obliged to provide his followers with
provisions and ammunition. This system, which produ¬
ces happy effects in civil troubles, is attended with great
inconvenience in foreign wars, as sufficiently appeared
in that of 1784. Djezzar, who knew that the whole
army lived at the expence of the emir Yousef, aimed at
nothing but delay, and the Druses, who were not dis¬
pleased at being fed for doing nothing, prolonged the
operations; but the emir, wearied of paying, concluded
a treaty, the terms of which were not a little rigorous
for him, and eventually for the whole nation, since no¬
thing is more certain than that the interests of a prince
and his subjects are always inseparable.
“ The ceremonies to which I have been a witness on
these occasions (says M. Yolney), bear a striking resem¬
blance to the customs of ancient times. When the emir
and the shaiks had determined on war at Dair-el-Ka-
| mar, cryers in the evening ascended the summits of the
mountain ; and there began to cry with a loud voice:
‘ To war, to war ; take your guns, take your pistols :
noble shaiks, mount your horses ; arm yourselves with
the lance and sabre ; rendezvous to-morrow at Dair-el-
Kamar. Zeal of God ! zeal of combats !’ This sum¬
mons, heard from the neighbouring villages, was re¬
peated there; and as the whole country is nothing but
a chain of lofty mountains and deep valleys, the pro¬
clamation passed in a few hours to the frontiers.
These voices, from the stillness of the night, the long
resounding echoes, and the nature of the subject, had
something awful and terrible in their effect. Three
days after 15,000 armed men rendezvouzed at Dair-el-
Kamar, and operations might have been immediately
commenced. J
“ We may easily imagine that troops of this kind no
way resemble our European soldiers ; they have neither
uniforms, nor discipline, nor order. They are a crowd
of peasants with short coats, naked legs, and muskets
m their hands ; differing from the Turks and Mame¬
lukes m that they are all foot; the shaiks and emirs
alone having horses, which are of little use from the
rugged nature of the country. War there can only
be a war of posts. The Druses never risk them¬
selves in the plain ; and with reason : for they would
e unable to stand the shock of cavalry, having no
bayonets to their muskets. The whole art consists in
D B U
climbing rocks, creeping among the bushes and blocks
of stone; from whence their fire is the more dangerous,
as they are covered, fire at their ease, and by hunting
and military sports have acquired the habit of hitting
a mark with great dexterity. They are accustomed
to sudden inroads, attacks by night, ambuscades, and
all those coups de main which require to fall suddenly
on, and come to close fight with the enemy. Ardent
m improving their success, easily dispirited, and prompt
to resume their courage ; daring even to temerity, and
sometimes ferocious, they possess above all two quali¬
ties essential to the excellency of any troops ; they
strictly obey their leaders, and are endowed with a
temperance and vigour of health at this day unknown
to most civilized nations. In the campaign of 1784,
they passed three months in the open air without tents
or any other covering than a sheep skin ; yet were
there not more deaths or maladies than if they had re¬
mained in their houses. Their provisions consisted, as
at other times, of small loaves baked on the ashes or
on‘a brick, raw onions, cheese, olives, fruits, and a
little wine. The table of the chiefs was almost as fru¬
gal ; and we may affirm, that they subsisted 100 days
on what the same number of Englishmen or Frenchmen
would not have lived ten. They have no knowledge of
the science of fortification, the management of artillery,
or encampments, nor, in a word, any thing which con¬
stitutes the art of war. But had they among them a
few persons versed in military science, they would rea¬
dily acquire its principles, and become a formidable
soldiery. This would be the more easily effected, as
their mulberry plantations and vineyards do not occupy
them all the year, and they could afford much time for
military exercises.”
By the last estimates, according to M. Volnev’s
information, the number of men able to bear arms
was 40,000, which supposes a total population of
120,000; no addition is to be made to this cal¬
culation, since there are no Druses in the cities or
on the coast. As the whole country contains only
100 square leagues, there results for every league
1090 persons; which is equal to the population of our
richest provinces. Io render this more remarkable,
it must be observed, that the soil is not fertile, that a
great many eminences remain uncultivated, that they
do not grow corn enough to support themselves three
months in the year, that they have no manufactures,
and that all their exportations are confined to silks and
cottons, the balance of which exceeds very little the
importation of corn from the Hauran, the oils of Pale¬
stine, and the rice and coffee they procure from Bairout.
Whence arises then such a number of inhabitants with¬
in so small a space? “ I can discover no other cause (says
our author), than that ray of liberty which glimmers in
this country. Unlike the Turks, every man lives in a
perfect security of his life and property. The peasant is
not richer than in other countries; but he is free. ‘ He
fears not,’ as I have often heard them say, ‘ that the
Aga, the Kaimmakam, or the Pacha, should send their
Djendis to pillage his house, carry off' his family, or
give him the bastinado.’ Such oppressions are un¬
known among these mountains. Security, therefore,
has been the original cause of population, from that in¬
herent desire which all men have to multiply themselves
wherever they find an easy subsistence. The frugality of
the
1 357 ]
D R U ’ [
Druses, the nation, which is content with little, has been a se¬
condary, and not less powerful reason j and a third is the
emigration of a number oi Christian families, who daily
desert the Turkish provinces to settle in Mount Leba¬
non, where they are received with open arms by the
Maronites from similarity of religion, and by the Druses
from principles of toleration, and a conviction how
much it is the interest of every country to multiply the
number of its cultivators, consumers, and allies.
u comparison which the Druses often have an
opportunity of making between their situation and
that of other subjects of the Turkish government, has
given them an advantageous opinion of their superio¬
rity which, by a natural effect, has an influence on
their personal character. Exempt from the violence
and insults of despotism, they consider themselves as
more perfect than their neighbours, because they have
the <mod fortune not to be equally debased. Hence
thev°acquire a character more elevated, energetic, and
active : in short, a genuine republican spirit. ' Ihey
are considered throughout the Levant as restless, en¬
terprising, hardy, and brave even to temerity.. Only
qoo of them have been seen to enter Damascus in open
ilav. and spread around them terror and carnage.
No people are more nice than they with respect to the
point of honour : any offence of that kind, or open
insult, is instantly punished by blows of the kanjur
or the musket j while among the inhab'ta.nts ot. the
towns it only excites injurious retorts. This delicacy
has occasioned in their manners and discourse a re¬
serve, or, if you will, a politeness, which one is asto¬
nished to discover among peasants. It is carried even
to dissimulation and falsehood, especially among the
chiefs, whose greater interests demand greater atten¬
tions. Circumspection is necessary to all, from the
formidable consequences of that retaliation of which
I have spoken. These customs may appear barbarous
to us ; but they have the merit of supplying the defi¬
ciency of regular justice, which is necessarily tedious and
uncertain in these disorderly and almost anarchical go-
“ The Druses have another point of honour, that of
hospitality. Whoever presents himself at their door
in the quality of a suppliant or passenger, is sure of be¬
ing entertained with lodging and food in the most
generous and unaffected manner. M. Volney often saw
the lowest peasants give the last morsel of bread they
had in their houses to the hungry traveller j and when
it* was observed to them that they wanted prudence,
their answer was, ‘ God is liberal and great, and a
men are brethren.’ There are, therefore, inns m
their country any more than in the rest of lurkey.
When they have once contracted writh their guest the
sacred engagement of bread and salt, no subsequent
event can make them violate it. Various .instances of
this are related, which do honour to their character.
A few vcars ago, an aga of the janissaries haying
been engaged in a rebellion, fled from Damascus and
retired among the Druses. The pacha was informed
©f this, and demanded him of the emir, threatening to
make war on him in case of refusal. The emir demand¬
ed him of the shaik Talhouk, who had received him ;
but the indignant shaik replied, ‘ When have you known
the Druses deliver up their guests ? Tell the emir,
that as long as Talhouk shall preserve his beard, not
358 ] D R U
a hair of the head of his suppliant shall fall 1* The Dntns
emir threatened him with force Talhouk armed his v—v—i
family. The emir, dreading a revolt, adopted a me¬
thod practised as juridical in that country. He de¬
clared to the shaik, that he would cut down 50 mul¬
berry trees a-day until he should give up the aga. He
proceeded as far as a thousand, and Talhouk still re¬
mained inflexible. At length the other shaiks, enraged,
took up the quarrel} and the commotion was about.to
become general, when the aga, reproaching himself with
being the cause of so much mischief, made, his escape
without the knowledge even of Talhouk.
Xhe Druids have also the prejudices of the ISe*
douins respecting birth j like them, they. pay great
respect to the antiquity of families; hut this produces
no essential inconveniences. The nobility of the emirs
and shaiks does not exempt them from paying tribute
in proportion to their revenues. It confers on them
no prerogatives, either in the attainment of landed
property °or public employments. In this country,
no more than in all Turkey, are they acquainted with
oame laws, or glebes, or signorial or ecclesiastical
tithes, franc fiefs or alienation fines : every thing is
held in freehold : Every man, after paying his min
and his rent, is master of his property. In short, by
a particular privilege, the Druses pay no fine for
their succession ; nor does the emir, like the sultan,
arrogate to himself original and universal property :
there exists, nevertheless, in the law of inheritance,
an imperfection which produces disagreeable effects.
Fathers have, as in the Roman law, the power of pre¬
ferring such of their children as they think proper;
hence it has happened in several families of the shaiks,
that the whole property has centered in the same per¬
son, who has perverted it to the purpose of intriguing
and caballing, while his relations remain, as they will
express it, princes oj olives and cheese ; that is to say,
poor as peasants.
“ In consequence of their prejudices, the Druses do
not choose to "make alliances out of their own families.
They invariably prefer their relation, though poor, to
a rich stranger'; and poor peasants have been known
to refuse their daughters to merchants of baide and
Bairout, who possessed from twelve to fifteen thousand
piastres. They observe also, to a certain degree, the
custom of the Hebrews, which directed that a brother
should espouse his brother’s widow ; but this is not
peculiar to them, for they retain that, as well as seve-
^ _ . r xi j. m rnmmOIl
pecuiidi vi/ tut.ji, av,. —j - ' ,
ral other customs of that ancient people, in common
with other inhabitants of Syria and all the Arab
tribes. , . , r
“ In short, the proper and distinctive character ot
the Druses is a sort of republican spirit, which give*
them more energy than any other subjects of the
Turkish government; and an indifference for religion,
which forms a striking contrast with the zeal of the
Mahometans and Christians. In other respects, their
private life, their customs and prejudices, are the
same with other orientals. They may marry several
wives, and repudiate them when they choose; but,
except by the emir and a few men of eminence, tha
is rarelv practised. Occupied with their rural labours,
they experience neither artificial wants, »or those 1
ordinate passions which are produced by the 1 enes
of the inhabitants of cities and towns. The veil, wor^
D R U [ c
■mses, hy t^eir 'vonien» is of itself a preservative against those
usius- desires which are the occasion of so many evils in so-
ciety. No man knows the face of any other woman than
his wife, his mother, his sister, and sisters-in-law. Every
man lives in the bosom of his own family, and goes
little abroad. The women, those even of the shaiks,
make the bread, roast the coffee, wash the linen,
cook the victuals, and perform all domestic offices.
X he men cultivate their lands and vineyards, and
dig canals for watering them. In the evening they
sometimes assemble in the court, the area, or house
of the chief of the village or family. There, seated
in a circle, with legs crossed, pipes in their mouths,
and poniards at their belts, they discourse of their va¬
rious labours, the scarcity or plenty of their harvests,
peace or war, the conduct of the emir, or the amount
of the taxes ; they relate past transactions, discuss
present interests, and form conjectures on the future.
Their children, tired with play, come frequently to
listen ; and a stranger is surprised to hear them, at ten
or twelve years old, recounting, with a serious air,
why Djezzar declared war against the emir Yousef,
how many purses it cost that prince, what augmenta¬
tion there will be of the miri, how many muskets there
were in the camp, and who had the best mare. This
is their only education. They are neither taught to
read the psalms as among the Maronites, nor the Koran
like the Mahometans ; hardly do the shaiks know how
to write a letter. But if their minds be destitute of
useful or agreeable information, at least it is not pre¬
occupied by false and hurtful ideas; and, without
doubt, such natural ignorance is well worth all our ar¬
tificial folly. This advantage results from it, that their
understandings being nearly on a level, the inequality
of conditions is less perceptible. For, in fact, we
do not perceive among the Druses that great distance
which, in most other societies, degrades the inferior,
without contributing to the advantage of the great.
All, whether shaiks or peasants, treat each other with
that rational familiarity, which is equally remote from
rudeness and servility. The grand emir himself is
not a different man from the rest: he is a good coun¬
try gentleman, who does not disdain admitting to his
table the meanest farmer. In a word, their manners
are those of ancient times, and of that rustic life which
marks the origin of every nation ; and prove, that the
people among whom they are still found are as yet only
m the infancy of the social state.” X
DRUS1US, John, a Protestant writer of great
earning, born at Oudenarde in Flanders in 155 c. He
was designed for the study of divinity ; hut his father
being outlawed, and deprived of his estate, they both
retired to England, where the son became professor of
the oriental languages at Oxford: but upon the pacE
ncation of Ghent, they returned to their own country,
where Drusius was also appointed professor of the ori¬
ental languages. From thence he returned to Fries-
an. ’ where he was admitted Hebrew professor in the
university of Franeker; the functions of which he dis¬
charged with great honour till his death in 1616. His
works show him to have been well skilled in Hebrew ;
an tie states-general employed him in 1600 to write
notes on the most difficult passages in the Old Testa,
ment, with a pension of 400 florins a-year; but being
59 ] DRY
frequently disturbed in this undertaking, it was not
published till after his death. He held a vast corre¬
spondence with the learned ; for besides letters in He¬
brew, Greek, and other languages, there were found
2300 Latin letters among his papers. He had a son
John, who died in England at 21, and was a prodigy
lor his early acquisition of learning.
DRYADES, in the heathen theology, a sort of dei¬
ties, or nymphs, which the ancients thought inhabited
groves and woods. They differed from the Hamadry-
ades; these latter being attached to some particular tree,
with which they were born, and with which they died ;
whereas the Dryades were goddesses of trees and woods
in general. See Hamadryades.
DRYANDER, Jonas, an eminent Swedish natu¬
ralist. See Supplement.
DRYAS, m Botany, a genus of plants belonging to
the icosandria class ; and in the natural method
ranking under the 35th order, Scnticoscz. See Botany
Index.
DKYDEN, John, one of the most eminent Eng¬
lish poets of the 17th century, descended of a genteel
family in Huntingdonshire, was born in that county
at Oldwmcle 1631, and educated at Westminster school
under Dr Bushby. Irom thence he was removed to
Cambridge in 1650, being elected scholar of Trinity
college, of which he appears, hy his Epithalamia Can-
tnbrigiens. 4to, 1662, to have been afterwards a fellow.
Yet in his earlier days he gave no extraordinary indi¬
cation of genius : for even the year before he quitted
the university, he wrote a poem on the death of Lord
Hastings, which was by no means a presage of that
amazing perfection in poetical powers which he after¬
wards possessed.
On the death of Oliver Cromwell he wrote some he¬
roic stanzas to his memory; but on the Restoration,
being desirous of ingratiating himself with the new
court, he wrote first a poem entitled Astrcea Redux, and
afterwards a panegyric to the king on his coronation-.
In 1662, he addressed a poem to'the lord chancellor
Hyde, presented on New Year’s day ; and in the same
year a satire on the Dutch. In 1668 appeared hie
Annus Mirabilis, which was a historical poem in cele¬
bration of the duke of York’s victory over the Dutch.
These pieces at length obtained him the favour of the
crown ; and Sir William Davenant dying the same
year, Mr Dryden was appointed to succeed him as
poet laureat. About this time also his inclination to
write for the stage seems first to have shown itself. For
besides his concern with Sir William Davenant in the
alteration of Shakespeare’s Tempest, in 1669 ^ie Pro_
duced his Wild Gallants, a comedy. This met with
very indifferent success ; yet the author, not being dis¬
couraged by its failure, soon published his Indian Em¬
peror. This finding a more favourable reception, en¬
couraged him to proceed; and that with such rapidity,
that in the key to the duke of Buckingham’s Rehear¬
sal he is recorded to have engaged himself by contract
for the writing of four plays per year; and, indeed, in
the years 1679 an<^ 1680 he appears to have fulfilled
that contract. To this unhappy necessity that our au¬
thor lay under, are to be attributed all those irregulari¬
ties, those bombastic flights, and sometimes even pue¬
rile exuberances, for which he has been so severely cri.
ticised, ,
DRY
[ 3150 1
DRY
Dry den.
... i 1 • 1 • t!1P „navniilable hurry in which ged his religion for tliat of the church of Borne, anil DrydeJ
t,c.se.i ; ami wind., ... the “'...voniable^m rjrm ^ pfeces Ti„die,ti.B of the HomUl. tenets, w^,
' he wrote, it was impossible he should find time
for lopping away or correcting. . ,
In 1675, the earl of Rochester, whose envious and
malevolent disposition would not permit him to see
growing merit meet with its due reward, and was
therefore sincerely chagrined at the very just applause
with which Mr Dryden’s dramatic pieces had been re¬
ceived, was determined if possible to shake his in¬
terest at court; and succeeded so far as to recommend
Mr Crowne, an author by no means of equal merit,
and at that time of an obscure reputation, to write a
mask for the court, which certainly belonged to Mr
Dryden’s office as poet laureat.—Nor was this the only
attack, nor indeed the most potent one, that Mr Uiy-
den’s justly acquired fame drew on him. i 01, some
years before, the duke of Buckingham, a man ot not
much better character than Lord Rochester, had most
severely ridiculed several of our author’s plays in his
admired piece called the Rehearsal. But though the
intrinsic wit which runs through that performance can¬
not even to this hour fail of exciting our laughter yet
at the same time it ought not to be the standard on
which we should fix Mr Dryden’s poetical reputation,
if we consider, that the pieces there ridiculed are not
any of those looked on as the chef d'oeuvres of this au¬
thor ; that the very passages burlesqued are frequent y,
in their original places, much less ridiculous than when
thus detached, like a rotten limb, from the body ot
the work •, and exposed to view with additional distor¬
tions, and divested of that connexion with the other
parts, which, while preserved, gave it not only symine-
frv but beauty 5 and, lastly, that the various inimitable
beauties, which the critic has sunk in oblivion, are in¬
finitely more numerous than the deformities which he
has thus industriously brought forth to our more im¬
mediate inspection. ' ,
Mr Dryden, however, did not suffer these attacks
to pass with impunity ; for in 1679 there came ou
an Essay on Satire, said to be written jointly by that
gentleman and the earl of Mulgrave, containing some
very severe reflections on the earl of Rochester and
the duchess of Portsmouth, who, it is not improbable
mmht be a joint instrument in the above-mentioned
affront shown to Mr Dryden-, and in 1681 he published
his Absalom and Achitophel, in which the well-known
character of Zimri, drawn for the duke of Bucking¬
ham, is certainly severe enough to repay all the ridi¬
cule thrown on him by that nobleman in the character
of Baves.—The resentment shown by the different peers
was very different. Lord Rochester, who was a coward
as well as a man of the most depraved morals, basely
hired three ruffians to cudgel Dryden in a coffeehouse :
but the duke of Buckingham, as we are told, in a more
open manner, took the task upon himself: and at the
same time presented him with a purse containing no
very trifling sum of money : telling him, that he gave
him the beating as a punishment for his impudence, but
bestowed the gold on him as a reward for his wit.
In 1680 was published a translation of Ovid s Epistles
in English verse by several hands, two of which, to¬
gether with the preface, were by Mr Dryden: and in
1682 came out his Relrgio Laici, designed as a defence
of revealed religion, against Deists, Papists, &c. boon
after the accession of King James II. our author chan-
3
wrote two pieces in vincucauon 01 me xmiuiau wucia ,
viz. A Defence of the Papers written by the late king,
found in his strong box ; and the celebrated poem, af¬
terwards answered by Lord Halifax, entitled, I he
Hind and the Panther.—By this extraordinary step he
not only engaged himself in controversy, and incurred
much censure and ridicule from his contemporaiy wits,
but on the completion of the Revolution, being, on
account of his newly-chosen religion, disqualified tiom
bearing any office under the government, he was stiip-
ped of the laurel, which, to his still greater mortifica¬
tion, was bestowed on Richard Flecknoe, a man to
whom he had a most settled aversion. This circum¬
stance occasioned his writing the very seveie poem
called Mac Flecknoe.
Mr Dryden’s circumstances had never been affluent 5
but being now deprived of this little support, he found
himself reduced to the necessity of writing for mere
bread. We consequently find him from this period
engaged in works of labour as well as genius, viz. in
translating the works of others, and to this necessity
perhaps our nation stands indebted for some of the best
translations extant. In the year be lost the laurel, he
published the life of St Francis Xavier from the French.
In 1693 came out a translation of Juvenal and Per-
sins • in the first of which he had a considerable hand,
and of the latter the entire execution. In 1695 was
published his prose version of Fresnoy’s Art of Painting j
and the year 1697 gave the world that translation ot
Virgil’s works entire, which still does, and perhaps ever
will, stand foremost among the attempts made on that
author. The petite pieces of this eminent writer, such
as prologues, epilogues, epitaphs, elegies, songs, &c,
are too numerous to specify here, and too much dispers¬
ed to direct the reader to. The greatest part of them,
however, are to be found in a collection of miscellanies
in 6 vols. 12mo. His last work is what is called his
Fables which consists of many of the most interesting
stories’in Homer, Ovid, Boccace, and Chaucer, trans¬
lated or modernized in the most elegant and poetical
manner ; together with some original _ pieces, among
which is that amazing ode on St Cecilia’s day, which,
though written in the very decline of the author’s life,
and at a period when old age and distress conspired as
it were to damp his poetic ardour, and clip the wings
of fancy, yet possesses so much ot both, as would be
sufficient to have rendered him immortal had he never
written a single line besides. _ , . ,
Drvden married the lady Elizabeth Howard, sister
to the’ earl of Berkshire, who survived him eight years;
though for the last four of them she was a lunatic, hav¬
ing been deprived of her senses by a nervous fever.-
By this lady he had three sons 5 Charles, John, and
Henry. Of the eldest of these there is a circumstance
related by Charles Wilson, Esq. in his life o on
crreve, which seems so well attested, and is itselt ot so
very extraordinary a nature, that we cannot avoid giv-
St a place here. Dryden, with all his understan -
ing, was weak enough to be fond of judical astro pgy,
and used to calculate the nativity ot ^
When his lady was in labour with his son Chai >
being told it was decent to withdraw, laid ii»
on the table, begging one of the ladies theu pi ^
in a most solemn manner, to take exact no 1
DRY
ijden. very minute that the child was born ; which she did,
   and acquainted him with it. About a week after, when
his lady was pretty well recovered, Mr Dryden took
occasion to tell her that he had been calcu'iatincr the
child’s nativity ; and observed with grief, that he was
born in an evil hour ; for Jupiter, Venus, and the Sun,
were all under the earth, and the lord of his ascendant
afflicted with a hateful square of Mars and Saturn,
“ If he lives to arrive at the 8th year,” says he, “ he
will go near to die a violent death on his very birth¬
day; but if he should escape, as I see but small hopes,
he will in the 23d year be under the very same evil di¬
rection j and if he should escape that also, the 33d or
34th year is, I fear”—. Here he was interrupted by
the immoderate grief of his lady, who could no longer
hear calamity prophesied to befal her son. The time
at last came, and August was the inauspicious month
in which young Dryden was to enter into the eighth
year of his age. The court being in progress, and Mr
Dryden at leisure, he was invited to the country seat
of the earl of Berkshire, his brother-in-law, to keep the
long vacation with him at Charlton in Wilts; his lady
was invited to her uncle Mordaunt’s to pass the re¬
mainder of the summer. When they came to divide
the children, Lady Llizabeth would have him take
John, and suffer her to take Charles: but Mr Dryden
was too absolute, and they parted in anger; he took
Charles with him, and she was obliged to be content
with John. When the fatal day came, the anxiety of
the lady s spirits occasioned such an agitation, as
threw her into a violent fever, and her life was de¬
spaired of, till a letter came from Mr Dryden, repro¬
ving her for her womanish credulity, and assuring her
that her child was well; which recovered her spirits,
and in six weeks after she received an ecclaircissement
of the whole affair. Mr Dryden, either through fear
of being reckoned superstitious, or thinking it a°science
beneath his study, was extremely cautious of letting
any one know that he was a dealer in astrology ; there¬
fore could not excuse his absence, on his son’s anniver¬
sary, from a general hunting match which Lord Berk¬
shire had made, to which all the adjacent gentlemen
were invited. When he went out, he took care to set
the boy a double exercise in the Latin tongue, which
he taught his children himself, with a strict charge not
to stir out of the room till his return ; well knowing
the task he had set him would take up longer time.
Charles was performing his duty, in obedience to his
father; but, as ill fate would have it, the stag made
towards the house ; and the noise alarming the servants,
they hastened out to see the sport. One of them took
young Dryden by the hand, and led him out to see it
also ; when, just as they came to the gate, the stag
being at bay with the dogs, made a bold push, and
leaped over the court wall, which was very low, and
very old ; and the dogs following, threw down a part
of the wall 10 yards in length, under which Charles
Dryden lay buried. He was immediately dug out;
and alter six weeks languishing in a dangerous way,
e recovered, So far Dryden’s prediction was fulfil-
ed. In the 23d year of his age, Charles fell from the
top ol an old tower belonging to the Vatican at Rome,
occasioned by a swimming in the head with which he
was seized, the heat of the day being excessive. He
again recovered, but was ever after in a languishing
Vol. VII. Part I. +
C 361 ]
DRY
sickly state. In the 33d year of his age, being return-
ed to England, he was unhappily drowned at Windsor.
Jie had with another gentleman swam twice over the
lames ; but returning a third time, it was supposed he
was taken with the cramp, because he called out for
help, though too late. Thus the father’s calculation
proved but too prophetical.
At last, after a long life, harassed with the most
laborious of all fatigues, viz. that of the mind, and
continually made anxious by distress and difficulty, our
author departed this life on the first of May 17'or 
I he day after Mr Dryden’s death, the dean of West¬
minster sent word to Mr Dryden’s widow, that he
would make a present of the ground and all other
abbey fees for the funeral: and Lord Halifax likewise
sent to the lady Elizabeth, and to Mr Charles Dryden,
ollering to defray the expences of our poet’s funeral’
and afterwards to bestow 500I. on a monument in the
abbey ; which generous offer was accepted. Accord-
ingly, on Sunday following, the company being assem¬
bled, the corpse was put into a velvet herse, attended
by 18 mourning coaches. When they were just ready
to move, Lord Jeffreys, son of Lord Chancellor Jef-
fieys, a name dedicated to infamy, with some of his
rakish companions, riding by, asked whose funeral it
was ; and being told it was Mr Dryden’s, he protested
he should not be buried in that private manner; that
he would himself, with the lady Elizabeth’s leave, have
the honour of the interment, and would bestow 1000I.
on a monument in the abbey for him. This put a stop
to their procession : and the lord Jeffreys, with several
of the gentlemen who had alighted from their coaches,
went up stairs to the lady, who was sick in bed. His
lordship repeated the purport of what he had said be¬
low ; but tbe lady Elizabeth refusing her consent, he
fell on his knees, vowing never to rise till his request
was granted. I he lady under a sudden surprise faint¬
ed away : and Lord Jeffreys, pretending to have ob¬
tained her consent, ordered the body to be carried to
Mr Russel’s an undertaker in Cheapside, and to be left
there till further orders. In the mean time the abbey
was lighted up, the ground opened, the choir attend¬
ing, and the bishop waiting some hours to no purpose
for the corpse. The next day Mr Charles Dryden
waited on the lord Halifax and the bishop ; and en¬
deavoured to excuse his mother, by relating the truth.
Three days after, the undertaker having received no
orders, waited on the lord Jeffreys; who pretended
that it was a drunken frolic, that he remembered no¬
thing of the matter, and he might do what he pleased
with the body. Upon this the undertaker waited
upon the lady Elizabeth, who desired a day’s respite,
which was granted. Mr Charles Dryden immediately
wrote to the lord Jeffreys, who returned for answer,
that he knew nothing of the matter, and would be
troubled no more about it. Mr Dryden, hereupon
applied again to Lord Halifax and the bishop of Ro¬
chester, who absolutely refused to do any thing in the
affair.
In this distress, Dr Garth, who had been Mr Drv-
den’s intimate friend, sent for the corpse to the college
of physicians, and proposed a subscription ; which suc¬
ceeding, about three weeks after Mr Dryden’s decease,
Dr Garth pronounced a fine Latin oration over the
body; which was conveyed from the college, attended
E Z by
Dryden.
dry
[ 362 3
DUB
by a numerous train of coaches, to Westminster abbey,
but in very great disorder. At last the corpse ailived
at the abbey, which was all unlighted. No organ play¬
ed, no anthem sung: only two of the singing boys
preceded the corpse, who sung an ode of Horace,
with each a small candle in their hand. When the fu¬
neral was over, Mr Charles Dryden sent a challenge to
Lord Jeffreys : who refusing to answer it, he sent several
others, and went often himself j but could neither get a
letter delivered, nor admittance to speak to him : which
so incensed him, that finding his lordship refused to an ¬
swer him like a gentleman, he resolved to watch an
opportunity, and brave him to fight, though with all the
rules of honour 5 which his lordship hearing, quitted the
town, and Mr Charles never had an opportunity to
meet him, though he sought it to his death with the
utmost application.
Mr Dryden had no monument erected to him tor
several years j to which Mr Pope alludes in his epitaph
intended for Mr Row, in this line,
Beneath a rude and nameless stone he lies.
In a note upon which we are informed that the tomb
of Mr Dryden was erected upon this hint by Sheffield
duke of Buckingham, to which was originally intended
.his epitaph :
This Sheffield rais’d—The sacred dust below
Was Dryden once ; the rest, who does not know ?
Which was since changed into the plain inscription
now upon it, viz.
J. DRYDEN,
Natus Aug. 9. 1631.
Mortuus Mail 1. 1701.
Johannes Sheffield, dux Buckinghamiensis, fecit.
Mr Dryden’s character has been very differently
drawn by different hands, some of which have exalted
it to the highest degree of commendation, and others
debased it by the severest censure.—The latter, how-
ever* we must charge to that strong spirit of party
which prevailed during great part of Dryden’s time,
and ought therefore to be taken with great allowances.
Were we indeed to form a judgment of the author
from some of his dramatic writings, we should perhaps
be apt to conclude him a man of the most licentious
morals j many of his comedies containing a great share
of looseness, even extending to obscenity . But if we
consider, that, as the poet tells us,
Those who live to please, must please to live ;
if we then look back to the scandalous license of the
age he lived in, the indigence which at times he under¬
went, and the necessity he consequently lay under of
complying with the public taste, however depraved j
we shall not refuse our pardon to the compelled writer,
nor our credit to his contemporaries, who have assured
us there was nothing remarkably vicious in his cha-
racter.
From some parts of his history he appears unsteady,
and to have too readily temporized with the several re¬
volutions in church and state. This however might m
some measure have been owing to that natural timi¬
dity and diffidence in his disposition, which almost all
the writers seem to agree in his possessing. Congreve,
whose authority cannot be suspected, has given us such
an account of him, as makes him appear no less amiable
in his private character as a man, than he was illustri- ^
ous in his public one as a poet. In the former light,'*
according to that gentleman, he was humane, com¬
passionate, forgiving, and sincerely friendly : of an
extensive reading, a tenacious memory, and a ready
communication: gentle in the correction of the writ¬
ings of others, and patient under the reprehension of
his own deficiencies: easy of access himself, but slow
and diffident in his advances to others 5 and of all men
the most modest and the most easy to be discountenan¬
ced in his approaches either to his superiors or his
equals. As to his writings, he is perhaps the happiest
in the harmony of his numbers, of any poet who ever
lived either before or since his time, not even Mr
Pope himself excepted. His imagination is ever warm,
his images noble, his descriptions beautiful, and his
sentiments just and becoming. In bis prose he is poe¬
tical without bombast, concise without pedantry, and
clear without prolixity. His dramatic have, perhaps,
the least merit of all his writings. Yet there are many
of them which are truly excellent; though he himself
tells us that he never wrote any thing in that way to
please himself but his Allfor Love. This last, indeed,
and his Spanish Friar, may be reckoned two of the best
plays in our language.
DRYPIS, a genus of plants belonging to the pentan-
dria class; and in the natural method ranking under the
22(1 order, Caryophyllei. See Botany Index.
DRY-rot, a destructive disease in timber. See
Supplement.
DUBLIN, the metropolis of Ireland, the second
city in his majesty’s dominions, and esteemed the fifth
for magnitude in Europe, is situated in the province
of Leinster, in the county of Dublin, at the bottom of
a large bay. The river Liffey, which here falls into
the ocean, divides the town into two nearly equal parts.
Formerly the city of Dublin was confined to the south
side of the river. It was a place of great antiquity.
Ptolemy, who flourished in the reign of Antoninus Pius,
about the year 140, says, it was anciently called
cled. In 155, Alpinus, whose daughter Auliana was
drowned in the Liffey, changed the name from Ascheled
to Auliana. It was afterwards named Dublana, and
Ptolemy calls it Eblana. Dublana, whence comes Dub-
linum and Dublin, is evidently derived from Dub-leana,
46 the place of the black harbour or lake, or rather
Ibvdfir
11.
Dublin
“ the lake of the sea,” the bay of Dublin being fre¬
quently so called. This city has had a variety of names.
The Irish call it Drum-cholUoil, “ the brow of a hazel
wood ;” and in 181, Eogan king of Munster being on
a royal tour, paid a visit to this place, which was then
called Atha Cliath Dubh-Line, “ the passage of the ford
of hurdles over the black pool :” the harbour of Dub¬
lin was likewise known by the name of Lean-Cliath,
or Leam-Clialh, from Lean or Leam, “ a harbour;”
and from Cliath or Cliabb, which literally signifies “ a
hurdle or any thing made of wicker work ;” it also sig¬
nified certain wears formed with hurdles, and placed in
rivers and bays by the ancient Irish for the purpose of ta¬
king fish: whence any river, or bay, wherein these wears
were fixed had the name of Cliath or Chab, annexed
to it, to signify the establishment of a fishery. Dublin,
therefore, being originally built on or near one of these
harbours,
DUB [ ;
ablin. harbours, was anciently called Bahj-Iean-Cliath, that
is, “ the town on the fishing harbour.n It is described
at the present day in the Irish language by the appella¬
tions of Ath-Cliath, “ the ford of hurdles,” and Bally-
Gth-Cliath, “ the town of the ford of hurdles,” the in¬
habitants having formerly had access to the river by
hurdles laid on the low marshy grounds adjoining the
water: and this name was also extended to the north
side of the river, from a temporary bridge of hurdl es
thrown over the Anna LifFey, a corruption of Auin
Lotnffa, or “ the swift river,” so termed from the ra¬
pidity of the mountain floods. This side was enlarged
by Mac Turkill the Danish prince, who, notwithstand¬
ing, fixed his habitation on the south side, and aban¬
doned the northern town j which, from the original
country of the invaders, was called Eastmantown, since
corrupted to Oxmantown. King Edgar, in the pre¬
face to his charter dated 964, mentions Ireland with
its most noble city {nobilisaima civitas) of Dublin. By
the Fmgalians it is called Divrhn, and by the Welch
Dinas Dvlin, or the city of Dulin.
In 448, Alpin Mac Eachard, king of Dublin, and
all his subjects, were converted to Christianity by St
Patrick.
In the year 49^> ^ie Ostraen or Danes having en¬
tered the LifFey with a fleet of 6o sail, made themselves
masters of Dublin and the adjacent country, and soon
after environed the city with walls. About 1170 Der-
mot Mac Murrough, king of Leinster, having quarrel¬
led with the other princes of the kingdom, a confede¬
racy was formed against him by Roderick O’Conor, mo¬
narch of Ireland. Dermot applied to Henry II. kin<>'
of England, who sent over a number of English adven¬
turers, by whose assistance he was reinstated in his
dominions j and in the year \i“]i, the descendants of
the Danes still continuing to hold possession of Dublin,
it was besieged and taken by a powerful party of the
English under Raymond le Gros. Mac Turkill the
Danish king escaped to his shipping : he returned, how¬
ever, soon after with a strong fleet to recover the city,
but was killed in the attempt, and in him ended the
race of easterling princes in Ireland.
In 1172, Henry II. landed at Waterford, and ob¬
tained from Richard Earl Strongbow (who married
the daughter of Dermot Mac Murrough, and by com¬
pact was his successor) a surrender of the city of Dub¬
lin, where he built a pavilion of wicker work near
St Andrew’s church, then situated where Castlemarket
lately stood, and there entertained several Irish princes,
who voluntarily submitted to him on condition of be-
ing governed by the same laws as the people of Eng¬
land. Henry also held a parliament here. In 11 73
he granted his first charter to Dublin, and by divers
privileges encouraged a colony from Bristol to settle
here.
In 1210, upwards of 20 Irish princes swore alle¬
giance to King John at Dublin ; engaging to establish
the English laws and customs in the kingdom ; and in
the same year courts of judicature were instituted. In
1216, magna charta was granted to the Irish by Hen¬
ry III. an entry of which was made in the red book
of the exchequer at Dublin. In 1217, the city was
granted to the citizens in fee-farm at 200 marks per
annum j and in 1227 tl,e above monarch ordained that
the charter granted by King John should be kept in-
03 ] DUB
violably. In 1404, the statutes of Kilkenny and Dub-
lin were confirmed in a parliament held at this city
under the earl of Ormond. The charter of the city of
Dublin was renewed in 1609 by James I.
The civil government of the city was anciently un¬
der the management of a provost and bailiffs j in 1308,
John le Decer was appointed the first provost, and
Richard de St Olave and John Stakebold bailiffs. In
I4°9> l-lie title of the chief magistrate was changed to
that of mayor, when Thomas Cusack was appointed
to the office, Richard Bove and Thomas Shortall be¬
ing bailiffs 5 the office of bailiffs was changed to sbe-
liffs in 1547. In 1660, Charles II. gave a collar of
SS. and a company of foot guards to the mayor ;
and in 1665, this monarch conferred the title of lord
mayor on the chief magistrate, to whom he also
granted 500I. per annum in lieu of the foot company.
Sir Daniel Bellingham was the first lord mayor of
Dublin 5 Charles Lovet and John Quelsh were sheriff's
the same year. In 1672, Arthur earl of Essex intro¬
duced new rules for the better government of the city ;
and in 1683 the I holsel was built for the purpose of
the magistrates meeting to hold their courts, assem¬
blies, &c.
In the icth century, after the fortifications of Dub¬
lin were repaired by the Ostmen, the walls of the citv,
including those of the castle, did not occupy more than
an Irish mile ; they extended from Winetavern gate
to Audeon’s arch, and were continued from thence to
where Newgate formerly stood ; and from a plan pub¬
lished by John Speed in 1610, it appears that they
were continued to Ormond’s gate, or, as it has been since
called, Wormwood gate; from thence to the old bridge,
and along the banks of the river to a very large portal
called Newman's tower, nearly in the present site of the
south entrance of Essex bridge ; and from Newman’s
tower in an angular direction to Dame’s gate, at the
west end of Dame’s street. From the gate at the south¬
west angle of the castle the wall ran to Nicholas gate*
and was continued from thence to Newgate. The
principal streets without the walls were, on the west,
New row, Francis street, Thomas street, and James’s
street ; on the south were Patrick street, Bride street,
and Ship street; and on the east, Dame street, George’s
lane, and Stephen street. That space of ground now
occupied by Crane lane, Temple bar, Fleet street, La¬
zar’s hill, or as it is now called South Townsend street,
Crampton, Aston’s, George’s, and Sir John Roger-
son’s quays, &c. was then overflowed by the Liffey.
On the north side of the river there were only Church
street, Mary’s lane, Hammond lane, and Pill lane, then
built, but on one side as far as Mary’s abbey, which
terminated the extent of that part of the town to the
eastward ; Grange Gorman, Stoney-batter, now called
Manor street, and Glassmanogue, were then villages at
some distance from the city j and at the latter the she¬
riffs have held their courts in times of the plague, as
being remote from the stage of infection. In 1664,
the inhabitants being numbered amounted to 2565 men
and 2986 women, Protestants; and 1202 men and
1406 women, Roman Catholics ; making in the whole
8159.
By comparing this account of the ancient state and
boundaries of the metropolis with the followings de¬
scription of its present extent, population, and mag-
Z z 2 nificence,
DUB
Dublin, nificence, an idea will be readily formed of the ama-
——y—zing increase and improvement it has experienced with¬
in the course of a century.
Dublin is seated in view of the sea on the east,
and a fine country which swells into gently-rising emi¬
nences on the north and west, while it towers boldly
up in lofty mountains that bound the horizon on the
south. The city itself cannot be seen to lull advan-
tao’e on entering the harbour : but the approach to it
from thence exhibits a fine prospect of the country for
improvement and cultivation, interspersed with nume¬
rous villas, that have a most agreeable effect to enliven
this delightful scene, which, beginning at the water s
edge, is continued all over the coast to the northward
of the bay as far as the eye can reach, and is finely
contrasted by a distant view of the Wicklow moun¬
tains to the south, where the conical hills, called the
Sugar Loaves, contribute not a little, by the singularity
of their appearance, to embellish the landscape, so ex¬
tensive and picturesque as not to be equalled by any
natural scenery in Europe, but the entrance of the
bay of Naples, to which it bears a very striking resem-
blaThe*form of Dublin is nearly square, a figure that
includes the largest area proportioned to its circum¬
ference. From the royal hospital at Kilmainham at
the western extremity of the town, to the east en(*
Townsend street, the length is two miles and a half,
and its greatest breadth is computed to be of the same
extent: hence the city is about 10 miles in circumfe¬
rence. Its increase within the last thirty years has
been amazing. It contains 16,458 houses, and 187,939
inhabitants.
Dublin, with respect to its streets, bears a near re¬
semblance to London. Some of the old streets were
formerly narrow! but this defect is now in a great
measure remedied by an act of parliament, passed in
1774, for opening the public avenues, taking down
sbrn posts, palisades, pent-houses, &c. new paving the
streets, and flagging the foot passages: and, in 1785,
another act passed for the better paving, cleansing,
and lighting the city. Still greater improvements have
been made in the essential points of paving, lighting,
and cleansing, since 1806. Those necessary improve¬
ments contribute exceedingly to the beauty and conve¬
nience of the metropolis : the new streets are wide and
commodious, the houses lofty, uniform, and elegant •,
nor are several of the old streets totally deficient in
these respects 5 Sackville street, or the Mall, which,
though built many years ago, has been included in the
number of our new streets by the late geographers (a
self-evident proof that these writers had not even seen
the city), is a noble avenue, with a gravel walk in the
centre, enclosed by a wall of about three feet high ;
this walk is 36 feet and a half broad, and the distance
between it and the palisades fronting the houses, on ei¬
ther side, is 42 feet and a half. The new customhouse,
a building universally admired for its beauty, has icn-
dered this a most desirable situation for wholesale mer¬
chants, not only on account of its proximity to that
building, but its great depth in the rear. Some years
ago, it was esteemed one of the finest public avenues
iti Europe 1 many of the new streets, however, in this
city are now much superior to it in the magnificence
and uniformity of the houses. Among these, on the
DUB
north side of the river, in the same quarter with Sack-
ville street, are Gardiner’s row, North Great George’s —^
street, Cranby row, Cavendish row, and Palace row ;
the last three form a superb square, having the gar¬
den of the lying-in hospital in the centre : the old wall
that encompassed the garden has been taken down 1
there is now a full view of this delightful spot sur¬
rounded with iron palisades, and upwards of IOO globes
with double burners disposed at equal distances, which
added to the globes from the surrounding houses, have
a most brilliant effect. This square, which for its size,,
is not perhaps to be equalled, has received the name
of Rutland square, in compliment to his grace the
duke of Rutland, who contributed munificently towards
the improvements in the enclosure of the new garden,
and the erecting an elegant edifice for a ball and sup¬
per rooms, situated to the east of the hospital. In
Sackville street is Nelson’s pillar, a fluted column 130
feet high.
Among the new streets and buildings on the south
side of the river, those wherein persons of distinction
reside, lie chiefly to the eastward of the college and’
Stephen’s green 3 which last, though it does not rank
With the new buildings, possesses much grandeur and
elegance, beint; one of the largest squares in Europe ..
it is an English mile in circumference, surrounded by
a gravel walk planted on each side with trees j within
this walk is a smooth level meadow, having in the
centre an equestrian statue of the late king : there are
several fine edifices, though almost all differing in the
style of their architecture 3 this variety, however, is
esteemed by many rather a beauty than a defect : but,
besides the other streets and buildings in this quarter,
there is a new square nearly as extensive as Stephen’s,
green, called Merlon square; it was laid out some
•years ago by the late Lord Fitzwilliam : the houses on
the north side are uniform and lofty 3 most of them be¬
ing carried up with hewn stone to the first story, gives
the whole an air of strength, beauty, and magnificence.
At the south-west angle of Stephen’s green, a new street
has been also opened, called Harcourt street, in which
are several elegant structures that merit notice, parti¬
cularly the town residence of the right honourable Lord
Earlsford. A variety of other public buildings have
been erected since the union. The Dublin peniten¬
tiary, begun in 1813, cost 40,0001.3 the Richmond
lunatic asylum, finished in 1815, cost 28,0001. 3 and
the post-office, begun in 1815, and which was estimated
to cost 50,000!.. ,
The principal entrance to the walks of Stephen 9
green is on the west side opposite the end of York-street
(which may properly be classed among the new streets),
as all the old houses have been pulled down and modern
buildings erected in their room. Those parts of the
city inhabited by merchants and traders begin to wear
a new face 3 and amongst this number the new build¬
ings of Dame street on the south side, exhibit an ex¬
tensive, uniform, and beautiful range of houses all of an
equal height 5 the shop doors and windows are formed
by arches, exactly similar in their construction and or¬
naments, which are simply elegant. When the other
side of this street shall be rebuilt, it may be justly pro¬
nounced one of the first trading streets in Europe} and
Parliament street, which was built some years ago, is
now nearly equal to any trading street in London.
[ 364 1
D u B [ 3^5 ] DUB
The river Liffey, being banked in through the
whole length of the town, exhibits spacious and beauti¬
ful quays, where vessels below the bridges load and un¬
load before the merchants doors and warehouses : it is
navigable as far as a bridge near the west end of the
custom-house. This bridge, which is a very elegant
structure, was built since the year 1790. Essex bridge
was first built in 1681, and took its name from the un¬
fortunate earl of Essex, then viceroy of Ireland. It
was taken down in 1753, and rebuilt in an elegant form,
after the model of Westminster bridge, but much better
proportioned, and on a more secure foundation. It has
five arches, the buttresses between which support semi¬
circular niches that project from the parapet; there
are balustrades between these niches, and continued to
the ends of the bridge, which is commodiously flagged
for foot passengers j the whole constructed with hewn
stone in a very fine taste. There are five bridges be¬
sides the two already mentioned j three of which have
nothing to recommend them, further than the antiquity
of the Old bridge, which was erected in this city at a
very early period, when it had the name of Dublin
Bridge; it was rebuilt in 1428, since which time it
received its present title. Bloody bridge, built in 1671,
was originally constructed with wood, and derives its
present harsh appellation from an attempt to break
it down, wherein four persons were killed. Ormond
bridge was built in 1684, during the Ormond admini¬
stration. Arran bridge, now called Queen's bridge, was
erected in the same year j but, being destroyed by the
floods in 1763, was rebuilt of hewn stone, and finished
in 1768. It consists of three arches, with flagged foot
passages, stone balustrades and ornamental decorations,
in a handsome light style, which has been much ad¬
mired. Richmond bridge, which was begun in 1813,
was opened to the public in 1816. It is 52 feet broad,
and 220 long, and cost 25,800!. Between this bridge
and Essex bridge, an iron bridge for foot passengers
was opened in 1816. It is 140 feet long, 12 feet
broad, and cost 3000I. The foundation of Whitworth
bridge was laid in 1816, in place of the one formerly
known under the names of the Old bridge, Dublin
bridge, and Ormond bridge, which was carried away
in 1802.
This city has 2 cathedrals, 19 parish churches, seve¬
ral chapels of ease, 26 Roman Catholic chapels, 6 meet¬
ing houses for Presbyterians, 1 for Anabaptists, 4 for
Methodists, 2 for Quakers, a church for French Calvi¬
nists, a Danish and a Dutch church, and a Jewish sy¬
nagogue.
Christ church, or the Holy Trinity, built in 1038
by Donat bishop of Dublin, to whom Sitricus the
son of Amlave king of the Ostmen of Dublin granted
the site for that purpose, stands on the summit of the
rising ground at the head of Winetavern street. It is
a venerable Gothic pile; and its present appearance
evinces its antiquity. St Patrick’s cathedral, first
built by Archbishop Cornyn in 1190, and decorated
by Archbishop Minot in 1370 with a steeple, on which
a lofty spire was erected in 1750, is also a fine Go¬
thic structure ; it stands on the east side of Patrick’s
street; the monuments here are more numerous than
in Christ church y and the steeple is the highest in the
city.
St Werburgh’s church was originally built in a
very early age. In 1301, when a great part of the
city was consumed by an accidental fire, this church
suffered in the conflagration: it was burnt a second
time in 1754, and repaired in its present beautiful
form in 1759* I he front and steeple are admired for
their elegance, lightness, and symmetry : the spire is a
fine octagon supported by eight pillars ; and a gilt bail
terminates the whole, being 160 feet from the ground.
Catherine’s church, first built in 1x05, and re-edified
in its present form in 1769, is situated on the south
side of Thomas’s street. St Thomas’s church is the
latest foundation of the kind in this city, having been
begun in the year 1758, and finished and consecrated
in 1762. It is situated on the west side of Marlborough
street, opposite Gloucester street, to which it forms an
elegant termination. The other churches in this city
are $ on the north side of the river, Mary’s, Michan’s,
and Paul’s ; on the south side, James’s, Luke’s, Ke¬
vin’s, Peter’s, Bride’s, Nicholas within, Audeon’s,
Michael s, JMark’s, Anne’s, John’s, and Andrew’s ;
this last is called also the Bound church, from its form
being exactly circular: most, if not all the others were
built in an early age: many, however, have been since re-
edified, and assumed a more modern form j some of these
are not totally devoid of elegance, particularly Anne’s.
St John’s in Iishamble street was rebuilt in 1773, and
has now a handsome front of hewn stone decorated with
columns supporting a pediment. Besides these church¬
es, Dublin is adorned with several other public build¬
ings j the most remarkable of which are the following:
The castle, the residence of the chief governor, built in
1213 by Henry de Londres, was formerly moated and
flanked with towers ; but the ditch has been long since
filled up, and the old buildings razed, the chapel and
wai'drobe tower excepted, which still remain: Bir¬
mingham tower was rebuilt in 1777, and is now called
Ilarcourt tower. The castle at present consists of two
courts, the principal of which is an oblong square form¬
ed by tour ranges of building: within a few years, in
the middle of the south range, a handsome edifice call¬
ed Bedford tower has been erected; the front is deco¬
rated with a small arcade of three arches, over which
is a colonnade supporting a pediment, from whence
rises an octagon steeple crowned with a small cupola and
gilt ball in a light pleasing style. This tower, which
fronts the entrance to the viceroy’s apartments, is con¬
nected with the buildings on each side by two fine
gates; over that on the right hand is a statue of Forti¬
tude ; and over the left gate, which is the grand portal
to the upper court, is the statue of Justice. In the low¬
er court are the treasury and other offices,with military
stores, an arsenal and armory for 40,000 men, and a
barrack in which a captain’s detachment of infantry are
stationed. Between this barrack and the arsenal is the
castle garden; opposite to which, at the rear of the
lord lieutenant’s apartments,, is a range of building
called the Garden front, erected about the year 1740,
finished in mountain stone, ornamented by semicolumns
of the Ionic order, and the windows embellished with
cornices and architraves, in a fine taste. The hall room
is now titled St Patrick's Hall. The viceroy’s body
guard consists of a captain, two subalterns, and sixty pri¬
vate men, with a subaltern’s guard of horse. The parlia¬
ment
DUB
t 366 ]
DUB
Dublin, ment house, a most superb structure, is situated on the
 v ' north side of College green ; it was begun in 1729, fi¬
nished in 10 years, and cost 40,000!. It is built with
Portland stone, and the front formed by a grand por¬
tico of Ionic columns in the most finished style of ar¬
chitectural elegance : the internal parts correspond
with its outward magnificence j and the manner
in which the inside is lighted is universally admired.
The house of commons is an octagon, covered with a
dome supported bv columns ol the Ionic order, that
rise from an amphitheatrical gallery balustraded with
iron scroll-work , this room is admirably well adapted
to its purpose. The house of lords is an oblong room,
spacious and lofty, and ornamented in a superb manner j
it is also judiciously adapted ior the reception of the au-
rjust assembly which formerly met there 5 among other
decorations are two very fine pieces of tapestry, repie-
senting the battle of the Boyne and siege of Derry.
Since the union of Ireland with Great Britain, this
building, being no longer necessary as a place of meet¬
ing for the Irish legislative body, has been converted
into apartments for the national bank.
The college founded by Queen Elizabeth in 1591
is situated at the east end of College green. It is a most
beautiful structure, consisting of two spacious squares,
the first of which contains the refectory, the old hall
and chapel, and the new theatre for lectures and exa¬
minations j the front of this last building is finely deco¬
rated with Corinthian columns supporting a pediment ;
and over the front of the old hall, on the east side of
this square, a handsome steeple rises crowned with a
cupola. In the other square, which consists partly of
brick buildings for the students, there is a superb li¬
brary, extending through its whole length on the south
side : behind this square there is a fine park. The
west side of the first square, which is built with Portland
stone, forms the grand front, upwards of 300 feef *n
length, ornamented with Corinthian pillars and other
decorations in a very fine taste. At a small distance to
the south side of this front is an elegant edifice in which
the provost resides. The printing office is a neat hand¬
some structure on the north side of the park ; and oppo¬
site to it is the anatomy house, in which are to be seen
the celebrated wax models of the human figure, execut¬
ed at Paris by M. Douane, purchased by the right ho¬
nourable the earl of Shelburne, and presented to this
university. The college of Dublin is an university in
itself, consisting of a provost, vice provost, 7 senior and
15 junior fellows, and 17 scholars of the house j the
number of students in 1817 was 1230 : it has also
professors in divinity, common and civil law, physic,
Greek, modern languages, mathematics,oriental tongues,
history and oratory, modern history, natural philo-
sophyi anatomy and surgery, chemistry and botany.
To accommodate the increasing number of students at
the university, it has been found necessary to erect a
new and extensive range of apartments, on the south
side of the New Square, which had not before been
completed. This wing forms a new front to the col¬
lege, 270 feet in length.
The Royal Exchange, situated on Cork hill, was
begun in 1769, and opene'd for business in 1779 ’ ^ie
expence, amounting to 40,000k being defrayed by
lottery schemes, conducted by the merchants of Dublin
with an integrity that did them honour. The build¬
ing is nearly a square, having three fronts of Portland'"
stone in the Corinthian order, and crowned in the
midst with a fine dome, which is supported on the in¬
side by 12 Composite fluted pillars that form a circular
walk in the centre of the ambulatory : above these pil¬
lars are 12 circular windows, and the ceiling of the
dome, which is ornamented with stucco, in the mosaic
style, has also a large window in the middle that illu¬
minates most of the building. Opposite the north en¬
trance, in the circular walk, is a statue of his late
majesty George III. in a Roman military habit 5 it is
executed in bronze by Van Nost, and elevated on a
white marble pedestal. In a niche on the staircase lead¬
ing to the coffee room is a white marble statue of the
late Dr Charles Lucas, executed by Smith. The north
front, which commands a fine view of Parliament street
and Essex bridge, is embellished by a range of six co¬
lumns and their correspondent pilasters, supporting a
grand pediment with a balustrade on each side : a flight
of stone steps leads from the street to the entrance,
which is by three fine iron-railed gates : the west front
varies but little from the north, except in the want of a
pediment, and having only three steps ascending to the
entrance, the ground on that side being nearly on a
level J this front is opposite the east end of Castle street,
near the principal entrance to the castle.
The hospital for lying-in women, founded by Dr
Bartholomew Mosse, and opened in 1757, stands on the
north side of Great-Britain street. The building is ex¬
tremely light and elegant 5 a beautiful steeple rises in the
centre, and the wings are formed by simicircular colon¬
nades on each side. Adjoining the east colonnade is
the Rotunda, where balls and assemblies are held, and
concerts performed, for the benefit of the charity: close
to it are erected the grand suit of apartments before
mentioned. The garden at the rear of the hospital is
laid out in a good taste.
The Blue-coat hospital was founded on the west side
of Queen street by Charles II. in 1670, for educating the
children of reduced freemen of the city : but the origi¬
nal building being greatly decayed, was taken down,
and tbe new Blue-coat hospital, situated in Oxman-
town green, was begun in 1773. The front is enrich¬
ed by four Ionic columns, supporting a pediment in
the centre, over which the steeple rises, embellished with
Corinthian and Composite columns in an admired taste.
Connected with the front by circular walls ornamented
with balustrades and niches, are the school on one side
and the church on the other : these form two well-
proportioned wings ; they are of a similar construction ;
and each is crowned with a small steeple or turret,
corresponding with the rest in uniform harmony and
beauty. _ . .
The Barracks, the foundation of which was laid in
1704, are esteemed the largest and most commodious
in Europe. They consist of four squares, situated at
the west end of the town, on the north side of the
river. The royal square in the centre, with the horse
barrack and the little square on each side, form a spa¬
cious and extensive front to the south : the palatine,
now called the new square, is opposite to Oxmantown
green $ it has been lately rebuilt with hewn stone in a
very elegant manner.
Tho
i: >1:
r
DUB [ 367
n The royal hospital at Kilmainham for the support of
—/ invalids of the Irish army was founded by King Charles
II. on a plan similar to that of Chelsea in England.
The building was completed in 1683, and cost upwards
23>50°I’ I1 situated at the west end of the town,
on a rising ground near the south side of the river, from
whence there is an easy ascent to it through several rows
of tall trees. This edifice is of a quadrangular form,
enclosing a specious area handsomely laid out in grass
plots and gravelled walks : an arcade is carried along
the lower story in each square to the entrance of the
hall and chapel, which are both curiously decorated j in
the former are several whole-length portraits of royal
personages and other distinguished characters.
Di Stevens s Hospital, the foundation of which was
laid in 1720, is a neat quadrangular building, pleasant¬
ly situated on the banks of the river near the west end
of James’s street, from whence a gravelled walk leads
by a gentle descent to the entrance of the hospital, and
is continued from thence to the water’s edge.
rIhe Linen Hall, at the north end of Linen Hall
street, which was opened at the public expence in 1728,
for the reception of linen cloths brought to the Dublin
market, is a handsome building, lately enlarged with
treble its number of former rooms, which furnish a new
proof of commercial prosperity.
The New Prison in Green street, the first stone of
which was laid in 1773* a large quadrangular struc¬
ture, designed and executed under the direction of the
late Mr Cooley. Ihe east front consists of a centre
break of mountain stone rusticated and crowned by a
pediment, with a plain facade of black limestone on
each side ; and at the external angles of the building
are four round towers.
. Thefe are many other public edifices in this city and
its environs which merit particular notice. The Hos¬
pital for Lunatics in West Bow lane, founded by Dean
Swift, and opened in 1757; the Hibernian school in
the Phoenix Park, and the Marine School on Sir John
Rogerson’s Quay, the first for educating the poor chil¬
dren of soldiers, and the other for bringing up to the
sea service the sons of deceased or disabled seamen j the
Hospital for Incurables in South Townsend street ;
Mercer’s Hospital in Stephen street; the Meath Hospi¬
tal on the Coom be ; and Simpson’s Hospital in Great-
Britain street, the last of which was established for the
reception of blind and gouty men ; are all handsome
edifices constructed of hewn stone in the modern
style.
To these public buildings may be added St Nicho¬
las s Hospital in Francis street j the Infirmary for sick
and wounded soldiers of the army, and the Foundling
Hospital m James’s street; the Magdalen Asylum in
Leeson street, and the House of Industry in Channel
row ; the halls for corporations (particularly the Wea¬
vers Hall on the Coombe, over the entrance of which
is a statue of his late majesty George II.) ; the Thol-
sel ; the old Four Courts; the old Customhouse; and
seveial others. I fie Charitable Infirmary, which was
first opened in 1728 and rebuilt in 1741,''stood on the
nn s Quay, but has lately been pulled down, together
with most of the houses on that quay, where the
new courts of justice are to be erected ; and the bene¬
fits ot this humane institution are now dispensed to the
public at a house taken for that purpose in Jervis street.
3
1 dub
The new courts of justice, on the north side of the ri-
ver torm a principal ornament to the metropolis, and
are from a design of Mr Gandon’s, as well as the new
customhouse on the north wall. The front of the lat-
,<|X .375 feet> enriched with arcades and columns
t the Doric order, crowned with an entablature : the
centre has a portico finished with a pediment, in which
a has relief of emblematical figures alluding to com-
meice over the pediment is an attic story; and a
magnificent dome finishes the centre, whereon is a pede¬
stal supporting a statue of Commerce ; the key sLes
over the entrances and in the centre of the pavilions
re decorated with emblematical heads representing the.
produce of the principal rivers of Ireland : the south
or rout to the river, with the arms of Ireland over
each pavilion, is of Portland stone : the whole, being
formed of large and striking parts, adds much to the
picturesque scene of the river, and will remain a lasting
monument of reputation to the several artists employed
in this superb building. 3
The playhouses, considered as public buildings, have
nothing to recommend them to notice. One only
viz. the old house, now the theatre-royal, in Smock-
alley is kept open by Mr Daly; who, in consequence
0 a bill passed in the Irish parliament for the regula¬
tion of the stage, enjoys the exclusive privilege of ma¬
naging and directing the theatrical exhibitions in this
metropolis. The playhouse in Crow street, which for¬
merly possessed the distinction of theatre-royal, has been
shut up these several years past.
But a minute description of every public edifice
would occupy more room than this publication admits
not to mention the several private houses justly admired
for their elegance. Among these are,
Leinster House, the town residence of his grace the
duke of Leinster. The entrance to this princely man¬
sion is from Kildare street, through a grand gateway '
of rustic stone work, into a spacious court which forms
a segment of a circle before the principal front. The
inside of this magnificent structure is equal to its exte¬
rior appearance ; the hall is lofty and noble; and the
apartments, which are decorated and furnished in a splen¬
did taste, are enriched with several very valuable paint¬
ings. The garden front, plain yet bold, possesses a
pleasing simplicity ; the garden is spacious and elegant,
with a beautiful lawn in the centre. The whole ofthis
building is inferior to few private edifices in the British
dominions.
. Thfc earI Charlemont’s house is finely situated
in the middle of Palace row, on an eminence exactly
fronting the centre of the garden at the rear of the
lying-in hospital. The front is built with hewn stone
brought from Arklow, superior to that of Portland.
I he inside of this house is superb and convenient: the
hall ceiling is supported by columns; some of the apart¬
ments are decorated with a select but choice collec¬
tion of paintings of the best masters ; among which are
one of Rembrandt’s finest pictures, representing Judas
repenting and casting the silver pieces on the ground *
a portrait of Caesar Borgia, by Titian ; and the Lady’s
Last Stake by Hogarth, &c. &c. The library is
esteemed one of the finest apartments in Dublin, and
contains a very valuable collection of the best authors.
At one end of it is an antichamber, with a fine statue
in white marble of the Venus de Medicis, by Wilton ;
and
Dublin.
DUB
[ 368 ]
DUB
Dublin and at the other end are two small rooms one a cabinet
1—   of pictures and antiquities, the other of medals : it is
situated at the rear of the house, and connected with it
by a corridore, in which are some handsome statues and
Egyptian curiosities.
Dublin, which is the seat of government and ot the
chief courts of justice, has received many charters and
ample privileges from the kings of England since the
reian of Henry II. who introduced the English laws
into this kingdom. Richard II. erected it into a mar-
quisate in favour of Robert de Vere earl of Oxford,
whom he also created duke of Ireland. It is an
archiepiscopal see, and returns with the un.versity and
the county six members to parliament, ihe civil go¬
vernment of Dublin is executed by a lord mayor, re¬
corder, two sheriffs, twenty-four aldermen, and a com¬
mon council formed of representatives from the twenty-
five corporations. Every third year the lord mayor,
in conformity with an old charter, perambulates he
bounds of the city and its liberties 5 and formerly the
freemen of the several corporations, armed and mount¬
ed on horseback, were accustomed to attend the chief
magistrate on this occasion, which was titled riding the
franchises: but as this custom was productive ot idle¬
ness, intoxication, and riots, among the lower orders
of the people, it has been of late years very properly
laid aside. Besides the silk, woollen, and worsted ma¬
nufactures carried on in that quarter ot the suburbs
called the Earl of Meath’s Liberty, and which have
been considerably improved within these few years, other
branches of useful manufactures are establishing inditter-
ent parts of the metropolis*, and though the trade ot
Dublin has heretofore consisted chiefly in the importa¬
tion of foreign commodities, yet, now that the restric¬
tions on their woollens and most of their other goods
are removed, it is hoped the daily enlargement ot their
export trade will cause a proportionable increase ot na¬
tional opulence. e
Dublin would have had a commodious station tor
shipping, were it not that the harbour is choked up
with two banks of sand, called the NortA and South
Bulls, which prevent vessels ot large burden trom
coming over the bar. This, however, is in some mea¬
sure remedied by a prodigious work of stone, and piles
of wood extending some miles into the bay on the south
side, at the end of which there is a lighthouse beauti¬
fully constructed, after a design of the late Mr Smith s.
But the port of Dublin is capable of much greater
improvement *, particularly by turning the course of
the river Dodder, building a mole from the north wall
to Ringsend, and clearing the harbour so as to form a
rrrand bason on the south side for the reception of ves¬
sels of all burthens. This work is to be immediately
carried into execution, and will no doubt meet every pos¬
sible encouragement, from that spirit for promoting the
national welfare which now prevails throughout this king¬
dom, and is remarkably conspicuous in the capital, where,
among others, are the following public institutions.
The Board of Trustees for promoting the linen and
hempen manufactures, established by act of parliament.
The Dublin Society, incorporated by charter in the
year 1749, for improving husbandry and other useful
'arts. The Royal College of Physicians, established in
the year 1679 for promoting medical knowledge. Ihe
Royal College of Surgeons, instituted in the year 17 5.
The Royal Irish Academy, for the advancement of
science, polite literature, and antiquities, incorporated
by letters patent the 28th of January 1786 . His ma¬
jesty is patron, and the chief governor for the time
being his visitor. The Hibernian Society, for main¬
taining, educating, and apprenticing, the orphans and
children of soldiers in Ireland. The Hibernian Marine
Society, for maintaining, educating, and apprenticing,
the orphans and children of decayed seamen in his ma¬
jesty’s navy and the merchants service j also incorpo¬
rated by royal charter. 4 ,
But among these public institutions, that of the Bank
of Ireland must not be omitted : it was established by
act of parliament in 1783 ; and by facilitating the cir¬
culation of specie, gives life and vigour to manufactures
and commerce. It is conducted under the management
of a governor, deputy-governor, and fifteen directors,
chosen annually from among the subscribers 5 with this
restriction, that five new directors at least must be chosen
every year. This bank is kept in the late parliament
house of Ireland. There are four other great banks in the
city under the following firms, viz. Right Honourable
David La Touche and Co. and Sir \villiam Glendowe
Newcomen, Bart, and Co. both in Castle street; John
Dawson Coats, Esq. Thomas street *, and John i inlay
and Co. Upper Ormond quay. The houses 1.1 which
the first three are kept are structures worthy of notice,
particularly that of Sir William Glendowe Newcomen s,
which has been rebuilt with hewn stone, in a good taste,
after a design of the late Mr Ivory’s. r.
To these public institutions may be added the Gene¬
ral Post Office of Ireland, established by act of parlia¬
ment in 1784, previous to which time the post office ot
this kingdom was only considered a branch ot the Eng¬
lish onel The building erected for this purpose was
begun in 1815. It is 223 feet in front and 150 in
depth, and consists of three stories. In the centre is a
grand portico 80 feet in length, consisting of a pedi¬
ment supported by six pillars, and surmounted by three
beautiful statues. There are two postmasters-general,
a secretary, treasurer, accountant-general, resident sur¬
veyor, and comptroller. There is also a penny-post
under the direction of the same officers, established for
the conveyance of letters to all parts throughout the
city and its environs. . , „ , f ,
Dublin is remarkably well supplied with flesh, fowl,
and fish, the latter in much greater perfection than any
other capital in Europe. It is supplied with coals
othiefly from Cumberland and Scotland 5 and water is
conveyed to the city on the north side from the river
Liffey, by machines curiously constructed lor the pur¬
pose ' at an outlet called Island bridge ; the south side
is supplied with that necessary article from a fine re¬
servoir or bason, surrounded with a wal! and a hand¬
some grass walk enclosed on each side by a thick-set
hedge and trees planted at equal distances. From one
end of it there is a view of the canal for the conve¬
nience of inland water carriage, now completed as tar
as Monastereven, between which and the canal harbou
in James’s street, passage boats ply daily j the.v
well appointed and accommodated with all necessa y
refreshments. At a small distance from the baso
there is a bridge of a single arch thrown over the ca¬
nal, the elegance and architecture of which are niucn
admired : the sides of the canal for some miles in
Dublin
jhim
H
tical.
U C [ 369
the country are planted with elm trees, which renders
its banks in fair wqather a delightful place of exercise
for the citizens ; who also resort for recreation to his
majesty’s Phoenix park, a fine extensive inclosure at
the west end of the town, and on the side of the river
opposite to the canal, diversified with woodland, cham¬
paign, and rising ground, and well stocked with deer.
It is seven miles in circuit j and besides the Hibernian
school, is adorned with the viceroy’s beautiful villa and
some handsome lodges belonging to the rangers : in this
]
DUC
park are also a magazine for powder and a battery that
commands the city. In 1747, a fluted pillar 30 feet
high, with a phoenix on the top, was erected in the cen¬
tre of a ring in this park by the celebrated earl of
Chesterfield when lord lieutenant of Ireland.
t The circular road which surrounds the city, begin¬
ning on one side of the river, at the east end of^the
town, and terminating on the opposite shore, is carried
through the park. This road forms a very agreeable
ride, and is much frequented. It is the boundary of
the jurisdiction of the new police, instituted for the
better preservation of the peace and good order of the
city and the personal security of its inhabitants. This
institution, established by act of parliament, is under
the direction of a chief commissioner, assistant com¬
missioners, and divisional justices, who are all aldermen
of the city ; which is therefore properly termed the
district o'f the metropolis^ and divided into four wards.
The police guard consists of horsemen and foot, well
armed, and in regular uniform : they are taught mili¬
tary discipline, and stationed at night time in the se¬
veral watchhouses \ from whence parties are constantly
patrolling the streets, and centinels are placed at difl’er-
ent stands. This institution is found by experience to be
a much more effectual prevention of robberies, riots, and
nocturnal outrages, than the parish watches ; and to
this security which the well-disposed working manufac¬
turers enjoy, may in a great measure be attributed that
increasing spirit of industry and peaceable behaviour
now so prevalent among this useful class of the com¬
munity. See the recent improvements of Dublin more
particularly described in the article Dublin, in the
Supplement.
Dublin, a county of Ireland. See Supplement.
DUBOS, John Baptist, a learned and ingenious
I rench author, born at Beauvais in 1670. He finished
his studies at Paris, and at length was intrusted with
the management of several important affairs in Italy,
Bngland, and Holland. At his return to Paris, he had
a prebendary given him ; afterwards he had a pension
of two thousand livres, and the abbey of Notre Dame
at Bessons, near Beauvais. He died at Paris, when
perpetual secretary of the I rench academy, on the 23d of
March 1742. His principal worksare, 1. Critical Re¬
jections on Poetry and Painting, in three volumes duo¬
decimo. 2. A Critical History of the French Monarchy
in Gaul, two volumes 410.
DUBRlb, in Ancient Geography, a town of Britain j
now Dover, from Dovoria of the lower age. A port
town in Kent, opposite to Calais,
Se^Du^’ ^ Senera1, 80fnttl,inK belonging to a duke.
The letters patent granted by the senate of Venice
are called ducal: so also are the letters wrote, in the
aame of the senate, to foreign princes. The denomi-
^OL. VII. Part 1. * I
nation of ducal is derived hence ; that, at the begin¬
ning of such patents, the name of the duke or doire is
wrote in capitals, thus, N— Dei Gratia Dux Vene-
tiorum, &c. The date of ducals is usually in Latin,
but the body is in Italian. A courier was despatched
with a ducal to the emperor, returning him thanks for
renewing the treaty of alliance in 1716, against the
lurks, with the republic of Venice.
DUCAS, a learned Greek, who wrote a history of
what passed under the last emperors of Constantinople,
till the rnm nf tKaf-  i_ 1 • 1 • . r 1
till the ruin of that city. This work, which'is esteem
ed, was printed at the Louvre in 1649, with the Latin
translation and notes of Boillaud.
DUCAT, a foreign coin, either of gold or silver
struck in the dominions of a dukej being about the
same value with a Spanish piece of eight, or a French
crown ; or four shillings and sixpence sterling when
of silver, and twice as much when of gold. See
Coin. 0
The origin of ducats is referred to one Longinus, g6-
vernor of Italy; who revolting against the emperor
Justin the Younger, made himself duke of Ravenna,
and called himself Kxarcha, i. e. ivithout lord or ruler
and to show his independence, struck pieces of money
ol very pure gold in his own name, and with his own
stamp, which were called t/wccrf/, ducats ; as Procopius
relates the story.
After him, the first who struck ducats were the Ve¬
netians, who called them Zecchini or sequins, from
Zecca, the place where they first were struck. This
was about the year 1280, in the time of John Dan-
duli; but we have pretty good evidence, that Roger
king of Sicily bad coined ducats as early as 1240.
And Du Cange scruples not to affirm, that the first
ducats were struck in the duchy of Apulia in Cala¬
bria. The chief gold ducats now current are, the
single and double ducats of Venice, Florence Ge¬
noa, Germany, Hungary, Poland, Sweden,’Den¬
mark, I landers, Holland, and Zurich. The heaviest
of them weighs 5 pennyweights 17 grains, and the
lightest 5 pennyweights 10 grains} which is to be un¬
derstood of the double ducats, and ef the single in
proportion.
The Spaniards have no ducats of gold} but, in
lieu thereof, they make use of the silver one ; which,
with them, is no real species, but only a money of ac¬
count like our pound. It is equivalent to 11 rials. See
Rial. The silver ducats of Florence serve there for
crowns.
DUCATOON, a silver coin, struck chiefly in Italy }
particularly at Milan, Venice, Florence, Genoa, Lucca,
Mantua, and Parma } though there are also Dutch and
flemish ducatoons. They are all nearly on the same
footing} and being a little both finer and heavier than
the piece of eight, are valued at twopence or threepence
more } viz. at about four shillings and eightpence ster-
fing.
There is also a gold ducatoon struck and current
chiefly in Holland : it is equivalent to twenty florins,
on the footing of one shilling and elevenpence half¬
penny the florin.
DUCENARIUS, in antiquity, an officer in the Ro¬
man army, who had the command of 2000 men.
The emperors had also ducenai ii among their procura¬
tors or intendants, called procuraiores ducenarii. Some
3 say,
Ducal
DUG
[ 37° ]
DUG
say, that these were such whose salary was two hun¬
dred sesterces } as in the games ot the circus, horses
hired for two hundred sesterces were called ducenarii.
Others hold, that ducenarii were those who levied the
two hundredth penny, the officers appointed to inspect
the raising of that tribute. In the inscriptions at Pal¬
myra, the word ducenariusy in Greek. occurs
very often.
DUCENTESIMA, in antiquity, a tax of the two
hundredth penny, exacted by the Romans.
DUCHAL, James, D. D. a late pious and learned
dissenting minister, was born in Ireland, and finished
his studies at the university of Glasgow j which after¬
wards, from a regard to his merit, conferred on him the
degree ot doctor ot divinity, pie resided 10 or II
years at Cambridge, as the pastor of a small congre¬
gation there4, where he enjoyed his beloved retirement,
the advantage of books and ot learned conversation,
which he improved with the greatest diligence. On
Mr Abernethy’s removal from Antrim, he succeeded
him there ; and on that gentleman’s death, he succeed¬
ed him as minister of a dissenting meeting-house in
Wood-street, Dublin. In this situation he continued
till his death, which happened on the 4th of May 1761,
when he had completed his 64th year. He published
a volume of excellent discourses on the presumptive ar¬
guments in favour of the Christian religion, and many
occasional tracts ; and after his death was published
a number of his sermons, in three volumes 8vo.
DUCHY, in Geography, an appellation given to the
dominions of a duke.
Duchy Court, a court where all matters belonging
to the duchy or county palatine of Lancaster are de¬
cided by decree of the chancellor of that courU
The origin ot this court was in Henry 1^ s. time,
who obtained the crown by the deposition of Richard
IX. and having the duchy of Lancaster by descent, in
right of his mother, became seized thereof as king, not
as&duke: So that all the liberties, franchises, and ju¬
risdictions of the said county passed from the king by
his great seal, and not by livery or attornment, as the
earldom of March, and other possessions, which de¬
scended to him by other ancestors than the king’s did.
Henry IV. by authority of parliament severed the
possessions, liberties, &.c. of the said duchy from the
crown j but Edward IV. restored them to their former
nature.
The officers belonging to this court are, a chancellor,
attorney general, receiver general, clerk of the court,
and messenger j beside the assistants, as an attorney
in the exchequer, another in chancery, and four coun¬
sellers.
DUCK. See Anas, Ornithology Index.
This fowl is furnished with a peculiar structure of
vessels about the heart, which enables it to live a con¬
siderable time under water,.as is necessary for it in div-
inrr. This made Mr Boyle think it a more proper
subject for experiments with the air-pump, than any
other bird. A full-grown duck, being put into the
receiver of an air-pump, of which she filled one-third
part, and the air exhausted, the creature seemed to bear
it better for the first moments than a hen or other such
fowl : but after about a minute, she showed great signs
of uneasiness, and in less than two minutes her head
fell down, and she appeared dying, till revived by the
3.
admission of the air. T-hus, whatever facility of diving
this and other water fowl may have, it does not ap¬
pear that they can subsist, without air for respiration,
any longer than other animals. A young callow ducx
was afterwards tried in the same manner, and with the
same success, being reduced very near death in less than
two minutes. But it is observable, that both birds
swelled very much in pumping out the air, so that they
appeared greatly larger to the spectators, especially
about the crop. It not being intended that any water-
fowl should live in an exceeding rarefied air, but only
be able to continue occasionally some time under water,
Nature, though she has provided them with the means
of this, hath done nothing for them in regard to the
other. .
The strongest instance of these creatures being cal¬
culated to live almost in any situation, we have in the
accounts of the blind ducks in the Zirchnitzer lake in
Carniola. It is supposed that this lake communicates
with another lake under ground in the mountain Sa-
vornic, and fills or empties itself according to the ful¬
ness or emptiness of that lake 5 the water ot the uppei
lake running oft, and that in vast quantities, by holes in
the bottom. The ducks which are here always in
great numbers, are often carried down along with the
water, and forced into the subterraneous lake to which
it retires. In this unnatural habitation many of these
creatures undoubtedly perish, but some remain alive.
These become blind, and lose all their feathers j and in
the next filling of the lake, both they and vast numbers
of fish are thrown up with the water. At this time
they are fat, but make a strange appearance in their
naked state, and are easily caught, by reason of their
want of sight. In about a fortnight they recover their
sight and feathers: and are then of the size ot a com¬
mon wild duck, but of a black colour, with a white spot
on their forehead. When opened, on being taken at
their first coming up in their blind state, their stomachs
are found full of small fishes, and somewhat resembling
weeds. From this it seems that they cannot be abso¬
lutely blind : but that the degree of light to which they,
have been accustomed in their subterraneous habitation^
is sufficient to enable them to procure food for them¬
selves : and their blindness, on coming again to open day
light, is no other than that of a man who has been long
in the dark, on having in an instant a large blaze of
candles set under his eyes.
Duck, Stephen, originally a thrasher in a barn, was
born about the beginning of the 18th century. By
his poetical talents, he first attracted the notice ot
some gentlemen at Oxford ; and being recommended
to Queen Caroline, he, under her patronage, took or¬
ders, and was preferred to the living ol Byfleet in Suny.
His abilities were, however, much more conspicuous m
his primitive station than in his advancement: though,
it is said, he was not disliked as a preacher. Falling at
length into a low-spirited melancholy way, probab y
owing to his change of life and cessation from his usua
labour, he in a fit of lunacy flung himself into the
Thames, in 1756.
DUCKING, plunging in water, a diversion an¬
ciently practised among the Goths by way of exerciser
but among the Celtae, Franks, and ancient Germans,
it was a sort of punishment for persons, of scandalous-
lives.—At Marseilles and Bourbon their men and wo¬
men
D U c [
men of scandalous life are condemned to the cale, as
they call it ; that is, to be shut up naked to the shift in
an iron cage fastened to the yard of a shallop, and
ducked several times in the river. The same has been
done at Thoulouse to blasphemers.
Ducking, a sort of marine punishment, inflicted by
the French, on those who have been convicted of deser¬
tion, blasphemy, or exciting sedition. It is performed
as follows: The criminal is placed astride of a short
thick batten, fastened at the end of a rope, which passes
through a block hanging at one of the yard-arms. Thus
fixed, he is hoisted suddenly up to the yard, and the
rope being slackened at once, he is plunged into the sea.
This chastisement is repeated several times conformable
to the purport ot the sentence pronounced against the
culprit, who has at that time several cannon shot fast¬
ened to his feet during the punishment j which is ren¬
dered public by the firing of a gun, to advertise the
other ships of thejleet thereof, that their crews may be¬
come spectators.
Ducking is also a penalty which veteran sailors pre¬
tend to inflict on those who, for the first time, pass the
tropic of Cancer, the equator, or the straits of Gibral¬
tar, in consequence of their refusal or incapacity to pay
the usual fine levied on this occasion.
- DucKiwo-Stool. See CastigatorY.
DUCKUP, at sea, is a term used by the steersman,
when the main-sail, fore-sail, or sprit-sail, hinders his
seeing to steer by a land-mark : upon which he calls
out, Duck up the cletp-lines of these sails ; that is, haul
the sails out of the way.
DUCLOS, Charles Pineau, a French miscella¬
neous writer. See Supplement.
DUCT, in general, denotes any tube or canal. It
is a term much used by anatomists.
DUCTILITY, in Physics, a property possessed by
certain solid bodies, which consists in their yielding to
percussion or pressure, and in receiving different forms
without breaking.
Some bodies are ductile both when they are hot and
when they are cold, and in all circumstances. Such
are metals, particularly gold and silver. Other bodies
are ductile only when heated to a sufficient degree ;
such as wax and other substances of that kind, and
glass. Other bodies, particularly some kinds of iron,
called by the workmen red short, brass, and some other
metallic mixtures, are ductile only when cold, and brit¬
tle when hot. The degrees of heat requisite to produce
ductility in bodies of the first kind, vary according to
their different natures. In general, the heat of the
body must be such as is sufficient to reduce it to a
middle state, betwixt solidity and perfect fusion. As
wax, for instance, is fusible with a very small heat, it
may be rendered ductile by a still smaller one; and
glass, which requires a most violent heat for its perfect
fusion, cannot acquire its greatest ductility until it is
made perfectly red hot, and almost ready to fuse. Last¬
ly, borne bodies are made ductile, by the absorption of
a fluid. Such are certain earths, particularly clay.
When these earths have absorbed a sufficient quantity
°/.^a*er bring them into a middle state betwixt so¬
lidity and fluidity, that is, to the consistence of a consi¬
derable firm paste, they have then acquired their
greatest ductility. Water has precisely the same effect
37i ] DUD
upon them in this respect that fire has upon the bod
above mentioned.
DUDLEY, Edmund, an eminent lawyer and able
statesman in the reign of Henry VII. ; who with Sir
Ivichard Empson, another lawyer of the same com-
plexion assisted m filling that rapacious monarch’s
cofiers by arbitrary prosecutions of the people on old ne-
nal statutes^. They were beheaded on tlJaecessio/of
Henry VIII. to pacify the clamours of the people for
justice. r 1
Dudley, John, duke of Northumberland, son of the
above, a statesman ; memorable in the English history
for h,s unsuccesshi! attempt to place the crown on the
head of h.s daughter-in-law, Lady Jane Grey, who fell
a victim to Ins ambition ; was born in 1 902, and be¬
headed m 1553. See 0/*) England. Am¬
brose Ins eldest son was a brave general and able states¬
man under Queen Elizabeth ; and received the appella¬
tion of the good earl of Warwick. Henry, the duke’s
second son, was killed at the siege of St Quintin H0
bert, the third son, a man of bad character, was crea¬
ted earl of Leicester ; and was one of Queen Elizabeth’s
favourites. H,s fourth son was the unfortunate Lord
Guildford Dudley whose only crime was his being the
husband of Lady Jane Grey, for which he was behead-
ed in 1554.
Dudley, Sir Robert, as he was called in England
and, as he was styled abroad, carl of Warwick and
duke of Northumberland, was the son of Robert above
mentioned, by the lady Douglas Sheffield 5 and was
born at Sheen in Surrey In 1573, where he was care-
lulJy concealed, to prevent the queen’s knowledge of
the earl’s engagement with his mother. He studied
at Oxford j when his father dying, left him the bulk
ot his estate. He was at this time one of the finest
gentleman in England : and having a particular turn
to navigation, fitted out a small squadron at his own
expence, with which he sailed to the river Oroonoque
and took and destroyed nine sail of Spanish ships. In
1595, he attended the earl of Essex, and the lord high
admiral of England, in their expedition against the
Spaniards 5 when, for his gallant behaviour at the tak¬
ing of Cadiz, he received the honour of knighthood.
He now endeavoured to prove the legitimacy of his
birth, in order to be entitled to his hereditary honours.
But being overpowered by the interest of the countess
dowager of Leicester, he applied for a license to tra¬
vel j and being well received at the epurt of Florence,
resolved to continue there, notwithstanding his receiv-
ing a letter of recal 5 on which his whole estate was
seized by Ivmg James I. and vested in the crown. He
discovered at the court of Cosmo IF. great duke of
Tuscany, those great abilities for which he had been
admired in England, and was at length made cham¬
berlain to bis serene highness’s consort. He there con¬
trived several methods of improving shipping ; intro¬
duced new manufactures $ and by other services ob¬
tained so high a reputation, that at the desire of the
archduchess, the emperor Ferdinand, in 1620, created
him a duke of the holy Roman empire. He after¬
wards drained a vast tract of morass between Pisa and
the sea ; and raised Leghorn, which was then a mean
pitiful place, into a large and beautiful town, improv¬
ing the haven by a mole, which rendered it both safe
3 -A- 3 and
;ies Ductility,
Dudley.
DUE
[ 372 ]
DUE
Duei.
and commodious j and having engaged his highness to
declare it a free port, lie by his influence and corre¬
spondence, drew many English merchants to settle and
set up houses there, which was of very great service to
his native country, as well as to the Spaniards. He
was also the patron of learned men, and held a high
place himself in the republic of letters. His most cele¬
brated work is his Del Arcano del Mare, in two volumes
folio. . , .
DUEL, a single combat, at a time and place ap¬
pointed, in consequence of a challenge. I his custom
came originally from the northern nations, among whom
it was usual to decide all their controversies by arms.
Both the accuser and accused gave pledges to the
judges on their respective behalf 5 and the custom pre¬
vailed so far amongst the Germans, Danes and Franks,
that none were excused from it but women, sick peo¬
ple, cripples, and such as were under 21 years of age
or above 60. Even ecclesiastics, priests, and monks,
were obliged to find champions to fight in their stead.
The punishment of the vanquished was either death,
by hanging or beheading •, or mutilation of members,
according to the circumstances of the case. Duels
were at first admitted not only on criminal occasions,
but on some civil ones for the maintenance of rights
to estates, and the like ? in latter times, however, be¬
fore they were entirely abolished, they were restrained
to these four cases. 1. That the crime should be capi¬
tal. 2. That it should be certain the crime was perpe¬
trated. 3. The accused must by common fame be sup¬
posed guilty. And, 4. The matter not capable of proof
by witnesses. .
Duel, at present, is used for single combat on some
private quarrel ; and must be premeditated, otherwise
it is called a rencounter. If a person is killed in a duel,
both the principals and seconds are guilty, whether the
seconds engage or not. (See the article Murder). It
is also a very high offence to challenge a person either
by word or letter, or to be the messenger of a challenge.
(See Law Index.') . ,. .
The general practice of duelling, m this last sense,
took its rise in the year 1527, at the breaking up of a
treaty between the emperor Charles V. and I rancis 1.
The former desired Francis’s herald to acquaint his so¬
vereign, that he would henceforth consider him not
only as a base violator of public faith, but as a stranger
to the honour and integrity becoming a gentleman.
Francis, too high-spirited to bear such an imputation,
had recourse to an uncommon expedient to vindicate
his character. He instantly sent back the herald with
n cartel of defiance, in which he gave the emperor the
lie in form, challenged him to single combat, requiring
him to name the time and place of the encounter, and
the weapons with which he chose to fight. Charles, as
he was not inferior to his rival in spirit or bravery, rea¬
dily accepted the challenge ; but after several messages
concerning the arrangement of all the circumstances re¬
lative to the combat, accompanied with mutual re¬
proaches bordering on the most indecent scurrility, all
thoughts of this duel, more becoming the heroes of ro¬
mance than the two greatest monarchs of their age, were
entirely laid aside. .
The example of two personages so illustrious, drew
such general attention, and carried with it so much
authority, that it had considerable influence in intro-
3
ducing an important change in manners all over Eu-
rope. Duels, as has already been observed, had been ^
long permitted by the laws of all the European na¬
tions •, and, forming a part of their jurisprudence,
were authorized by the magistrate on many occasions,
as the most proper method of terminating questions
with regard to property, or of deciding in those which
regarded crimes. But single combats being consider-
ed°as solemn appeals to the omniscience and justice of
the Supreme Being, they were allowed only in pub¬
lic causes, according to the prescription of law, and
carried on in a judicial form "f. Men accustomed toj-Settiii
this manner of decision in courts of justice, were na-article
turally led to apply it to personal and private quarrels.£fl*w-
Duels, which at first could be appointed by the civil
judge alone, were fought without the interposition of
his authority, and in cases to which the laws did not
extend. The transactions between Charles and Fran¬
cis strongly countenanced this practice. Upon every
affront or injury which seemed to touch his honour, a
gentleman thought himself entitled to draw his sword,
and to call on his adversary to make reparation. Such
an opinion, introduced among men of tierce courage,
of high spirit, and of rude manners, where offence
was often given, and revenge ivas always prompt, pro¬
duced most fatal consequences. Much of the best
blood in Christendom was shed ; many useful lives were
lost j and, at some periods, war itself had hardly been
more destructive than these contests of honour. So
powerful, however, is the dominion of fashion, that
neither the terror of penal laws, nor reverence for reli¬
gion, have been able entirely to abolish a practice un¬
known among the ancients, and not justifiable by any
principle of reason : though at the same time we must
ascribe to it, in some degree, that extraordinary gentle¬
ness and complaisance of modern manners, and that re*-
spectful attention of one man to another, which at pre¬
sent render the social intercourses of life far more
agreeable and decent than among the most civilized na¬
tions of antiquity. ...
Public opinion is not easily controlled by civil insti¬
tutions 5 for which reason it may be questioned whe¬
ther any regulations can be contrived of sufficient force
to suppressor change the rule of honour which stigma¬
tizes all scruples about duelling with the reproach of
cowardice.
The inadequate redress which the law of the land
affords for those injuries which chiefly affect a man in
his sensibility and reputation, tempts many to redress
themselves. Prosecutions for such offences, by the
trifling damages that are recovered, serve only to maka
the sufferer more ridiculous.— Ihis ought to be reme¬
died. _ . .
For the army, where the point of honour is culti¬
vated with exquisite attention and refinement, there
might be established a court of honour, with a power
of awarding those submissions and acknowledgements
which it is generally the object of a challenge to ob¬
tain *, and it might grow into a fashion with persons of
rank of all professions to refer their quarrels to the same
tribunal.
Duelling, as the law now stands, can seldom be over¬
taken by legal punishment. The challenge, appoint¬
ment, and other previous circumstances, which indicate
the intention with which the combatants meet, being
suppressed,
D U K [ 373 ]
D U K
IDtiel suppressed, nothing appears to a court of justice but
Jj the actual rencounter ; and if a person be slain when
r^u^e’ , actually fighting with his adversary, the law deems his
death nothing more than manslaughter.
DUERO, or Douro, a large river, which, rising in
Old Castile in Spain, runs from east to west, crosses
the province of Leon, and after dividing Portugal from
Spain, falls into the Atlantic ocean near Oporto.
DUGDALE, Sir William, an eminent Engli^i
historian, antiquarian, and herald, horn in Warwick¬
shire in 1605. He was introduced into the herald’s
office by Sir Christopher Hatton ; and ascended gra¬
dually through all the degrees, until he became Garter
principal king at arms. His chief work is the Mona-
sticon Angltcanum, in three vols. folio $ containing the
charters and descriptions of all the English monasteries,
adorned with engravings : in the former part of which
work he was assisted by Mr Roger Dodsworth. Nor are
his antiquities of Warwickshire less esteemed. He wrote
likewise, among other things of less note, the History
of St Paul’s Cathedral ; a History of Embanking and
Draining ; a Baronage of England ; and completed the
second volume of Sir Henry Spelman’s Councils, with a
second part of his Glossary. He died in 1686. His
son, Sir John, was Norroy king at arms, and published
a Catalogue of English Nobility. His daughter Eli¬
zabeth married the famous Elias Ashmole.
DUHAMEL, Henry Lewis, a French writer on
natural history, &c. See Supplement.
DUILLIA lex, was enacted by M. Duillius, a tri¬
bune, in the year of Rome 304. It made it a capital
crime to leave the Roman people without its tribunes,
or to create any new magistrate without a sufficient
cause. Another in 392, to regulate what interest ought
to be paid for money lent.
DUILLIUS nepos, C. a Roman consul, the first
who obtained a victory over the naval power of Car¬
thage in the year of Rome 492. He took fifty of the
enemy’s ships, and was honoured with a naval triumph,
the first that ever appeared at Rome. The senate re¬
warded his valour by permitting him to have music
playing and torches lighted at the public expence every
day while he was at supper. There were some me¬
dals struck in commemoration of his victory} and there
exists a column at Rome which was erected on the oc¬
casion.
DUKE, (Dux), a sovereign prince, without the title
or quality ot king. Such are the dukes of Lorrain,
of Holstein, of Savoy, of Parma, &c. The word is bor¬
rowed from the modern Greeks, who call doucas what
the Latins call dux.
There are also two sovereigns who bear the title of
grand duke: as the grand duke of Tuscany, and the
grand duke of Muscovy, now called the c%ar or em¬
peror of Russia. The title 0$great duke belongs to the
apparent heir of Russia ; and the title of archduke is
given to all the sons of the house of Austria, as that of
archduchess to all the daughters.
Duke, (Dux), is also a title of honour or nobility,
the next below princes.
Ihe dukedom or dignity of duke is a Roman dig¬
nity, denominated a ducendo, “ leading” or “ com-
nianding.” Accordingly, the first dukes, duces, were
the ductores exercituum, “ commanders of armies.”
^nder the later emperors, the governors of provinces in
war time were entitled duces. In after times the same
denomination was also given to the governors of pro¬
vinces in time of peace. The first governor under
the name of duke was a duke of the Marchia Rhaetica
or Grisons, whereof mention is made in Cassiodorus •
and there were afterwards thirteen dukes in the eastern
empire and twelve in the western. The Goths and
Vandals, upon their overrunning the provinces of the
westein empire, abolished the Roman dignities where-
ever they settled. But the Franks, &c. to please the
Lrauls, who had long been used to that form of (m-
vernment, made it a point of politics not to change any
thing therein : and accordingly they divided all Gaul
into duchies aud counties ; and gave the names some¬
times of dukes, and sometimes of counts, comites, to the
governors thereof.
In England, during the Saxon times, Camden ob¬
serves, the officers and commanders of armies were
called dukes, duces, after the ancient Roman manner,
without any addition. After the Conqueror came in,
the title lay dormant till the reign of Edward III. who
created his son Edward, called the B/ack Prince, first
duke of Cornwall} which hath ever since been the pe¬
culiar inheritance of the king’s eldest son during the life
of his father} so that he is dux riatus, non creatus. A fter
whom there were more made, in such a manner as that
their titles descended to their posterity. They were
created with much solemnity, per cincturam gladii, cap*
pa-que, et circuit aursi in capite impositioncm. However,
in the reign of Queen Elizabeth, A. D. 1572, the whole
order became utterly extinct} but it was revived about
50 years afterwards by her successor, in the person of
George Villiers duke of Buckingham.
Though the French retained the names and forms of
the ducal government, yet under their second race of
kings there were scarce any such thing as dukes : but
all the great lords were called counts, peers, or barons ;
excepting, however, the dukes of Burgundy and Aqui-
tain ; and the duke of France, which was a dignity
Hugh Capet himself held, corresponding to the modern
dignity of maire de palais, or the king’s lieutenant.
By the weakness of the kings, the dukes or governors
sometimes made themselves sovereigns of the provinces
trusted to their administration. This change happened
chiefly about the time of Hugh Capet} when the great
lords began to dismember the kingdom, so that that
prince found more competitors among them than sub¬
jects. It was even with a great deal of difficulty they
could be brought to own him their superior, or to hold
of him by faith and homage. By degrees, what with
force, and what by marriages, these provinces, both
duchies and counties, which had been rent from the
crown, were again united to it. But the title duke was
no longer given to the governors of provinces. From
that time duke became a mere title of dignity, annexed
to a person and his heirs male, without giving him any
domain, territory, or jurisdiction over the place where¬
of he was duke. All the advantages thereof now con¬
sist in the name, and the precedence it gives.
The dukes of our days retain nothing of their an«r
cient splendour but the coronet on their, escutcheon,
which is the only mark of their departed sovereignty.
They are created by patent, cincture of the sword,
mantle of state, imposition of a cap and coronet of gold
on the head, and a verge or rod of. gold in their hand.
The
Duke.
D U M
[ 374 ]
D U M
B„ke The eldest sons of dukes are by the courtesy of Eng.
[j land styled marquises, though they are usually distin-
Dumbness. jrujs[ie<\ by their Cither’s second title, whether it be
V    that of marfjuis or earl: and the younger sons lords,
with the addition of their Christian name, as Cord
James, Lord Thomas, &c. and they take place ot vis¬
counts, though not so privileged by the laws ot the
land. 4 i
A duke has the title oigrace; and being writ to, he
is stvied, in the herald’s language, most Jngh, potent, and
noble prince. Dukes of the blood royal are styled most
/tio/i, most mighty, and illustrious princes..
Duke, among Hebrew grammarians, is an appella¬
tion given to a species of accents answering to our
comma. See ACCENT. _ . . ,
DuKE-Dttke, a quality given in Spain to a grandee
of the house of Sylva, on account of his having several
duchies from the uniting of two considerable houses m
his person. Don Roderigo de Sylva, e dest son of Don
Ruv Gomez de Sylva, and heir of h.s duchies and
principalities, having married the eldest daughter of
the duke de 1’Infantado, the duke de Pastrana, who is
descended therefrom, added to his other great titles that
of duke-duke, to distinguish himself from the other
dukes ; some whereof may enjoy several duchies, but
none so considerable ones. . , 4 .
DULCIFYING, in Chemistry, is the sweetening
any matter impregnated with salts, by frequently wash-
imj it in pure water. . , ,
DULL, in the manege. The marks of a dull horse,
called by the French marques de ladre, are white spots
round the eye and on the tip of the nose, »pon any
of the former generally possess the latter in such per- Dumlaieu
fection, that nothing further is necessary, in order to v—v-..
make them articulate, than to teach them how to use
these organs. This indeed is no easy task ; but expe¬
rience shows that it is practicable. Mr Thomas
Braidwood, late of Edinburgh, was perhaps the first
who ever brought this surprising art to any degree of
perfection. He began with a single pupil in 1764*,
and since that period has taught great numbers of
people born deaf to speak distinctly , to lead, to write,
to understand figures, the principles of religion and
morality, &c. At the time we first conversed with
him, being a few years after the commencement of his
practice, he had a considerable number of deaf pupils,
some of them above 20 years of age, all making a ra¬
pid and amaz ng progress in those useful blanches of
education.
Mr Braidwood’s principal difficulty, after he had
discovered this art, was to make people believe in the
practicability of it. He advertised in the public pa¬
pers* he exhibited his pupils to many noblemen and
gentlemen: still he found the generality of mankind
unwilling to believe him. A remarkable instance of
this incredulity occurred some years ago. A gentle¬
man in England sent a deaf girl of his to Mr Braid-
wood’s care. A year or two afterwards, Mr Braid-
wood wrote to the father, that his daughter could
speak, read, and write distinctly. The father returned
an answer, begging Mr Braidwoou s excuse, as he could
not believe it: however, he desired a friend of hi*,
who was occasionally going to Edinburgh, to call at
Mr Braidwood, and inquire into the truth of what he
had wrote him : he did so 5 conversed with Mr Braid
general colour whatsoever. Thoug i e, fi^ ‘ saw the young lady, heard her read, speak, and
these spots for signs of stupidity, 1 is cer ai ^ ansWer any question he put to her. On his return, he
great marks of the goodness o a mrse ,  ,, ,11 fatl,Pr the surnrisine progress his child had
fhat Vave them are very sensible and quick upon the
^ DULL ART, Heiman, a Dutch painter and poet.
He was a pupil to Rembrandt, for whose works the
few he left are often mistaken. He died in 16S4.
DUMARSAIS, Cesar Chesnau, a French writer
on Grammar. See SUPPLEMENT.
DUMBARTON. See Dunbarton.
DUMBNESS, the privation of the taculty ot speech.
The most general, or rather the sole cause of dumbness,
is the want of the sense of hearing.. The use of lan¬
guage is originally acquired by imitating articulate
sounds. From this source of intelligence, deaf people
are entirely excluded : they cannot acquire articulate
sounds by the ear: unless, therefore, articulation be
communicated to them by some other medium, these
unhappy people must for ever be deprived of the use ot
language ; and as language is the principal source of
knowledge, whoever has the misfortune to want the
sense of hearing, must remain in a state little superior
to that of the brute creation. Deafness has in all
ores been considered as such a total obstruction to
speech er written language, that an attempt to teach
ihe deaf to apeak or read has been uniformly regarded
as impracticable, till Dr Wallis and some others have
of late shown, that although deaf people cannot learn
to speak or read by the direction of the ear, ‘here are
other sources of imitation, by which the same effect
may be produced. The organs of hearing and of
speech have little or no connexion. Persona deprived
told the father the surprising progress his child had
made * but still the father thought the whole an im¬
position * the girl herself wrote to her father, but he
looked upon the letter as a forgery. About this time
the father died* and the mother sent an uncle and
cousin of the deaf lady’s from Shrewsbury, in order to
be satisfied of the truth. When they arrived, Mr Braid¬
wood told the girl her uncle and cousin were in the
parlour * and desired her to go and ask them how they
did, and how her mother and other friends did. The
friends were astonished, and could hardly credit their
own ears and eyes. ., ,
When we conversed with Mr Braidwood csncermng
the nature and method of teaching this wonderful art,
he seemed to be very desirous of communicating and
transmitting his discovery to posterity 5 but observed,
and from the nature ofjhe thing we believe it to be true,
that he could not communicate it so fully in writing as
to enable any other person to teach it. Hie first thing
in the method is, to teach the pupil to pronounce the
simple sounds of the vowels and consonants. vVe have
even seen him performing this operation * but are un¬
able to give a clear idea of it. He pronounces the
sound of a slowly, pointing out the figure of the let¬
ter At the same time * makes his pupil observe the mo¬
tion of his mouth and throat* he then puts his finger
into the pupil’s mouth, depresses or elevates the tongue,
and makes him keep the parts in that position; then
he lays hold of the outside of the-windpipe, and gives
it some kind of squeeze, which it is impossible to de-
* scribe:
BUM
) ibnes*.
* ?'t1.
Uef. (U
'Ai.emie
See.
^ %lin,
7*
AI« Rev
of. tr.
.fi )
scribe: all the while he is pronouncing a, the pupil is
-'anxiously imitating him, but at first seems not to un¬
derstand what he would have him to do. In this man¬
ner he proceeds, till the pupil has learned to pronounce
the sounds of the letters. He goes on in the same
manner to join a vowel and a consonant, till at length
the pupil is enabled both to speak and read.
That h is pupils were taught not only the mere j!?ro-
nunciation, but also to understand the meaning of what
they read, was easily ascertained by a conversation with
any of them. Of this Mr Pennant gives a remarkable
instance in a young lady of about 13 years of age, who
had been some time under the care of Mr Braidwood.
“ She readily apprehended (says he) all I said, and re¬
turned me answers with the utmost facility. She read ;
she wrote well. Her reading was not by rote. She
could clothe the same thoughts in a new set of words,
and never vary from the original sense. I have forgot
the book she took up, or the sentences she made a new
version of: but the effect was as follows.
“ Original passage. Lord Bacon has divided the
whole of human knowledge into history, poetry, and
philosophy ; which are referred to the three powers of
the mind,—memory, imagination, and reason.
“ Version. A nobleman has parted the total or all
of man’s study or understanding into, An account of
the life, manners, religion or customs of any people or
country ; verse or metre j moral or natural knowledge :
which are pointed to the three faculties of the soul or
spirit j the faculty of remembering what is past, thought
or conception, and right judgment.”
Mr Braidvvood’s success since he went to settle in
London is universally known. Several other persons
have since attempted the same art with various degrees
of ability. But a new and different method, equally
laborious and successful we understand, is practised by
the abbe de I’Epee of Berlin. We are informed *
that he begins his instructions not by endeavouring to
form the organs of speech to articulate sounds, but by
communicating ideas to the mind by means of signs
and characters : to effect this, he writes the names of
things ; and, by a regular system of signs, establishes a
connection between these words and the ideas to be
excited by them. After he has thus furnished his
pupils with ideas, and a medium of communication,
he teaches them to articulate and pronounce, and ren¬
ders them not only grammarians but logicians. In
this manner he has enabled one of his pupils to deliver
a Latin oration in public, and another to defend a thesis
against the objections of one of his fellow pupils in a
scholastic disputation \ in which the arguments of each
were communicated to each other, but whether by signs
or in writing is not said j. for it does not appear that the
abbe teaches his pupils to discern what is spoken, by
observing the motion of the organs of speech, which
those instructed by Messrs Braid woods are able to do
with astonishing readiness.
There is perhaps no word, says the abbe, more dif¬
ficult to explain by signs than the verb croire, “ to be¬
lieve.” ffo do this, he writes the verb with its signifi¬
cations in the following manner :
CJe dis out par V esprit, Je pense qui oui.
J€ cro{s J dis out par le coeur, J\iime a penser que oui.
I Je dis oui par la bouche.
L.Je ne vois pas des ytux.
r 375 ]
BUM
After teaching these four significations, which he does Dumbness.
by as many sigiu he connects them with the verb, and 1 *'
adds other signs, to express the number, person, tense,
and mood, in which it is used. If to the four signs,*
corresponding with the lines above mentioned, be added’
that of a substantive, the pupil will write the wov&foi
faith 5” but, if a sign, indicating a participle used
substantively, be adjoined, he will express la croyanee,
“ belief j” to make him write croyable, “ credible,”
the four signs of the verb must be accompanied with
one that indicates an adjective terminating in able;
all these signs are rapidly made, and immediately com¬
prehended.
M. Linguet, a member of the Royal Academy,
having asserted that persons thus instructed could be
considered as little more than automata, the abbe in¬
vited him to be present at his lessons, and expressed his
astonishment that M. Linguet should be so prejudiced
in favour of the medium by which he had received the
first rudiments of knowledge, as to conclude that they
could not be imparted by any other 5 desiring him, at
the same time to reflect, that the connexion between
ideas, and the articulate sounds by which thev are ex¬
cited in the mind, is not less arbitrary than that be¬
tween these ideas and the written characters which are
made to represent them to the eye. M. Linguet
complied with the invitation; and the abbe liaving
desired him to fix on some abstract term which he
would by signs communicate to his pupils, Ire chose
the word unintelligibility: which, to his astonishment,
was almost instantly written by one of them. The
abbe informed him, that to communicate this word
Im had used five signs, which, though scarcely per-
ceivable to him, were immediately and distinctly ap¬
prehended by his scholars: the first of the signs in¬
dicated an internal action ; the second represented the
act of a mind that reads internally, or, in other words,
comprehends what is proposed to it; a third signified
that such a disposition is possible; those, taken toe'e-
ther, form the word intelligible: a fourth sign trans¬
forms the adjective into the substantive ; and a fifth,
expressing negation, completes the word required. M.
Linguet afterwards proposed this question, JVhat do
you understand by metaphysical ideas'? which being com¬
mitted to writing, a young lady immediately answered
on paper in the following terms : “ I understand the
ideas of things which are independent of our senses,
which are beyond the reach of our senses, which make
no impression on our senses, which cannot be perceived
by our senses.” On reading this, we cannot help ex¬
claiming with the poet, Labor omnia vincit improhus l
a maxim by none more forcibly illustrated than by the
abbe de I’Epee.
Periodical Dumbness. In the Ephemerides of the
Curious, we have an account of a periodical dumbness,
which had continued for more than 15 years, and had
not gone off at the time the account was wrote. The
person was son to an innkeeper at Jesing in the duchy
of Wirtemberg in Germany. He w^as one night taken
so ill after supper, that he could neither stand nor sit.
He continued, for about an hour, oppressed with sick¬
ness to such a degree as to be in danger of suffocation.
At the expiration of this time lie grew better; but,
during three months, he was much dejected, melan¬
choly, and, at times, fearful..
He was then suddenly
struck -
D U M
t 376 1
D U M
Dtfinbues* struck dumb, and became unable to pronounce the least
11 word, or form the least sound, though he could speak
Dumfries. very articulately before. rI he loss of speech was at
v ' first instantaneous, and continued only a tew minutes j
but the duration of it began to lengthen every day ; so
that it soon amounted to halt an hour, two hours, three
hours, and at last to 23 hours, yet without any order.
At last the return of speech kept so constant and regu¬
lar an order, that, for 14 years together, he could not
speak except from noon, during the space of one entire
hour, to the precise moment ot one o’clock. Every
time he lost his speech, he felt something rise from his
stomach to his throat. Excepting this loss of speech,
he was afflicted with no other disorder of any animal
function. Both his internal and external senses conti¬
nued sound : he heard always perfectly well, and an¬
swered the questions proposed to him by gestures or
writing. All suspicion of deceit was removed by his
keeping exactly the same hour, though he had no ac¬
cess to any instruments by which time can be mea-
gured.
DUMFERMLINE, a royal borough of Scotland,
situated in the county of Fife, 15 miles north-west of
Edinburgh. W. Long. 30. 20. N. Lat. 56. 1 5* Here
was formerly a magnificent abbey and palace of the
kings of Scotland, in which the princess Elizabeth,
daughter of King James VL and mother of the prin¬
cess Sophia, from whom the present royal family are
descended, was born. In the inn of this town, it is
said, is the marriage-bed of James VI. and his queen .
it is still entire, and used by strangers who lodge here.
This place is noted for a manufactory of figured linen
cloth called diaper. The town gave title of earl to a
baronet of the Seton family, which was forfeited in the
year 1690.
DUMFRIES, a county in the south of Scotland,
comprehending the shire of Nithsdale, the stewarty of
Annandale, and the lordship of Eskdale, extends in
length from north-west to south-east about 60 miles,
and is about 30 miles in breadth where broadest. It
is bounded on the south-west by Galloway and part of
Kyle ; on the north-east by the counties of Roxburgh,
Selkirk, and Peebles; on the north-west by Clydesdale;
and on the south-east by Solway frith and the marches
between Scotland and England. A great part of the
county is mountainous and overspread with heath, well
stocked with game of all kinds: but the valleys,
through which the Esk, the Annan, the Nith, and
other small rivers run, are extremely pleasant ; and
gome of them well cultivated, and very fertile, and pro¬
duce oats, barley, and wheat in abundance, both for
maintaining the inhabitants and for exportation ; while
the mountainous parts afford pasture for innumerable
flocks of sheep and herds of black cattle, many thou¬
sand. of which are annually exported to England. In
the valleys are several natural woods, and some exten¬
sive plantations of different kinds of timber. In the di¬
vision called Nithsdale, are the rich lead mines ofWan-
lockhead, the coal mines of Sanquhar and Cairnburn,
the inexhaustible lime quarries ol Closeburn and Bar-
jarg, and freestone in almost every parish. Annandale
has the rich lime quarries of Kellhead and Comlongan,
with plenty of freestone near the towns of Annan and
Lochmaben : and in the lower part of Eskdale are lime¬
stone and some coal.
The following is a view of the population of this Dumfiici,
county, with the number of souls in each parish, taken —y—
at two different periods, and extracted from the Statis¬
tical History of Scotland.
Parishes.
I Annan
Applegirth
Caerlaverock
Cannobie
3 Closeburn
Cnmmertrees
Dalton
Dornock
Drysdale
10 D umfries
Dunscore
Durrisdeer
Eskdalemuir
Ewes
15 Glencairn
Gratney
Hoddam
Holywood
Hutton
20 Johnston
Keir
Kirkconnell
Kirkmahoe
Kirkmichael
25 Kirkpatrick Fleming
Kirkpatrick Juxta
Langholm
Lochmaben
Middlebie
30 Moffat
Morton
Mousewald
Penpont
Ruthwell
33 St Mungo
Sanquhar
Tinwald
Torthorwald
Tundergarth
40 Tynron
Wamphray
42 Westerkirk
Population in 1811
Population
in 1755*
1498
897
784
1733
999
631
451
716
1097
451?
651
1019
673
392
1794
1031
1393
596
993
494
495
899
1098
894
1147
794
i833
I395
991
16x2
435
553
838
599
481
1998
795
584
623
464
458
544
4L9i3
62,960
Population in
1790—1798.
2500
741
955
2725
1490
1056
615
738
1600
5600
I033
1031
619
320
1700
1810
1198
736
583
565
520
xoco
1200
95°
1542
617
2582
3000
1404
1600
908
628
800
1061
640
2600
830
660
510
coo
487
655
52>329
See Dumfries-shire, Supplement.
Dumfries, the capital of the above mentioned
county, a handsome town, situated on a ridge or rising
ground on the north-east side of the river Nith, about
10 miles above where it falls into Solway frith, in N.
Lat. 33. 8. 30. Long. W. of Greenwich Observatory,
3. 36. Its ancient name, it is said by some ot the
Scotch historians, was Cotiac; but on what authority
we cannot tell. Its present name appears to have been
derived partly from its situation, and partly from the
monastery of Gray Friars that formerly stood near the
D U M
[ 377
mfries. ^eat^ t!!e street called the Friar vennal, the kitchen
ot which is all that now remains j being only a corrup¬
tion of Drum friars, ov “ the eminence of the friary
and accordingly, till within these 40 or 50 years, it
was always spelt Drum/ties, and not Dumfries, as it is
now for the sake of greater softness. Besides the plea¬
santness of its situation on the side of a beautiful wind¬
ing river, it is surrounded on all sides with one of the
finest and best cultivated sheets of dale country that
one can anywhere meet with, and the prospect from it
-terminated, at the distance of a few miles, by a conti¬
nued chain of hills, forming altogether one of the
grandest natural amphitheatres perhaps in Britain.
There was anciently a strong castle at the south end of
the town belonging to the Cummings, lords of Bade-
noch, of which there are now no remains. Another
castle was afterwards built at the north-west end, which
was taken down about a century ago. On the north-
cast side of it, at some little distance, are the ruins of a
chapel built by Jving Robert Bruce, and endowed for
a number of priests to say mass for the repose of the soul
>of Sir Christopher Seaton his brother-in-law, who was
taken prisoner by Edward I. at Loch Urr, and hang¬
ed at this place. It is now only employed as a bury¬
ing place for suicides. It is not certain at what pe¬
riod Dumfries was erected into a royal borough ; but
it must have been before the middle of the eleventh
•century, as a grave-stone was discovered some time ago
bearing the date of 1079, an(^ mentioning the person
buried under it to have been a merchant and burgess
of the town; and that it was a place of consequence in
the beginning of the fourteenth century, is evident
from this circumstance, that Edward II. called the
estates of Scotland to meet there in the year 1307. In
the above-mentioned monastery too, King Robert Bruce
killed his rival Cumming lord of Badenoch, with the
assistance of James Lindsay and Roger Kirkpatrick, on
the 5th of February 1305. As to the present state of
the town, the houses are well built and commodious,
the streets spacious, open, and neatly paved. It has
two very elegant churches, an Episcopal chapel with a
fine little organ, besides four meeting houses belong¬
ing to different descriptions of sectaries ; a tolbooth j
a council chamber $ a trades hall; a meal market; a
strong prison; a correction house ; a large hospital;
an infirmary, with apartaients for insane patients ; a
narrow bridge of nine arches over the river, said to have
been built by one of the three daughters and co-
heuesses of Alan Lord Oalloway, and a handsome
new bridge built in 1795. A large village, called the
Bridge-end, stands on the opposite side, and is within
the stewarty of Kircudbright. The assizes for the
county, and for the shire ol Galloway and stewarty of
Kircudbright, are held in the town twice a-year. It
is also the place for holding the sheriff and commissary
•courts, the quarter-sessions of the peace, and the courts
of the commissioners of supply. It is governed by a
-provost, three bailies, a dean of guild, and a town coun¬
cil, composed of merchants and the convener and deacons
of the incorporated trades, of which there are seven, viz*
square-men, smiths, weavers, tailors, shoemakers, skin¬
ners, and butchers. The trades got from King James
in one of his journeys to England, a small silver
tu ie, hke a pistol barrel, called the silver sun, with his
Vol. VII. Part I. f
DUN
royal license to shoot for it every year. At that festi¬
val they all appear in arms, and march out of the town
under their respective colours, to some convenient
place where they shoot at a mark; and the person
that hits or shoots nearest to it, returns to town, march-
nig at the convener’s right hand, with the silver gun
tied to his hat with ribbons ; after which they conclude
the day with a social entertainment. The town has a
weekly market on Wednesday, with two annual fairs,
t",e urst on the Wednesday on or next after the 12th
ot r ebruary, and the other on the Wednesday on or
next after the 25th of September. But though well si¬
tuated for fuel at a cheap rate, it has only two manu¬
factures, one for stockings and the other for cottons ;
but the latter only in its infancy. Its foreign trade
lor many years has only consisted in timber, iron, and
other articles for home consumption. It gives the title
of earl to the chief of the family of Crichton : and is
the seat of a presbytery and provincial synod. A hand¬
some monument to the memory of Robert Burns, the
Ayrshire poet, was erected in the church-yard in 1817.
I he town contained 9262 inhabitants in 1811.
DUMOIST, I rancis, a Frenchman, compiler of a
general collection of treaties ol commerce, alliance,
and peace, between the powers of Europe. This col¬
lection, with Barbeyrac’s, containing the treaties B. C.
makes 16 vols. folio, very useful for historical writers.
Dumont retired to Holland in 172c. The time of his
death is uncertain.
DUMOSiE (from damns, “ a bush”), an order of
plants in the Fragmenta methodi naturalis of Linnaeus,
containing the following genera, viz. Viburnum, Tinus,
Opulus, Samkucus, Rondeletia, Rellonia, Cassine, Ilex,
Tomax, &c.
DUN, or Burgh, the name of an ancient species
of buildings, of a circular form, common in the Ork¬
ney and Shetland islands, the Hebrides, and northern
parts of Scotland. The latter term points out the
founders, who at the same time bestowed on them their
natal name of borg, “ a defence or castle,” a Sueo-Go-
thic word; and the Highlanders universally apply to
these places the Celtic name dun, signifying a hill de¬
fended by a tower, which plainly points out their use.
They are confined to the countries once subject to the
crown of Norway. With few exceptions, they are
built within sight of the sea, and one or more within
sight of the other ; so that on a signal by fire, by flag,
or by trumpet, they could give notice of approaching
danger, and yield a mutual succour. In the Shetland
and Orkney islands, they are most frequently called
wart or ward hills, which shows that they were gar¬
risoned. They had their wardmadher, or watchman,
a sort of centinel, who stood on the top, and chal¬
lenged all who came in sight. The gackman was an
officer of the same kind, who not only was on the
watch against surprise, but was to give notice if be
saw any ships in distress. He was allowed a large horn
ot generous liquor, which he had always by him, to
keep up his spirits. Along the Orkney and Shetland
shores, they almost form a chain ; and by that means
not only kept the natives in subjection, but were si¬
tuated commodiously for covering the landing of their
countrymen, who were perpetually roving on piratical
expeditions. These towers were even made use of as
3 B state
Dumfries
a
Dim.
DUN
[ 378 ]
DUN
state prisons •, for we learn from Torfseus, that after
§ Sueno had surprised Paul, count of Caithness, he car-
DunUrton. rjetj Sutherland, and confined him there in a
v Norwegian tower. Out of our own kingdom, no build*
ings similar to these are to be found, except in Scandi¬
navia. On the mountain Swalberg in Norway is one ;
the Stir-biskop, at Upsal in Sweden, is another ; and
Umseborg, in the same kingdom, is a third.
These towers vary in their inner structure j but ex¬
ternally are universally the same } yet some have an
addition of strength on the outside. 1 he burgh of
Culswick in Shetland, notwithstanding it is built on
the top of a hill, is surrounded with a dry ditch 13
feet broad ; that of Snaburgh in Unst, has both a wet
and a dry ditch *, the first cut, with great labour,
through the live rock. The burgh of Moura is sur¬
rounded by a wall, now reduced to a heap of stones,
and the inside is cylindrical, not taper, as is usual with
others.. The burgh of Hogscter, upon an isle in a
loch of the same name, has also its addition of a wall ;
a peculiarity in a causeway, to join it to the main land,
and a singular internal structure. Numbers of little
burghs, with single cells, are scattered about these
islands, in the neighbourhood of the greaterand
which probably were built by the poorer sort of people,
in order to enjoy their protection. A multitude of
places in these islands have the addition of burgh to
their names, notwithstanding there is not a vestige of a
tower near them ; the materials having long since been
carried away, and applied to various uses.
DUNBAR, a royal borough of Scotland, in the
Shire of East Lothian, once remarkable for a strong
castle, the key of Scotland from the east, and which
gave shelter to Edward II. of England in his flight
from Bannockburn, but of which scarce a vestige now
remains. Here are still preserved some of the Scottish
pikes, six ells long, and formed both for offence and
defence. This town has now a tolerable trade in the
fisheries, and is remarkable for making good malt.
Dunbar contained 3965 inhabitants in 1811.
DUNBARTON, the county town of Lennox or
Dunbartonshire, in Scotland, situated in W. Long.
4. 32. N. Lat. 56. 30. is a royal borough, and one of
the most ancient towns of Scotland. It is said to have
been once the capital of a kingdom of the Britons,
established in the vale of the Clyde, and to have been
one of the seats of Fingal, called in the poems of Os-
sian, the tower of Balcliitha. Alcluid was indeed the
name of this ancient capital of the Strathclydenses j but
whether it was situated on the site of the present town,
or confined within the precincts of the castle, cannot
be exactly ascertained. Dunbarton is built upon the
eastern bank of the Leven, which almost encircles it.
The greater part of the buildings are old, and the
principal street has an air of decayed grandeur. It
was erected into a royal borough by Alexander II. in
the year 1221, and declared to be free of all imposts
and borough taxes *, hut notwithstanding this material
advantage,, and the excellent harbour it possesses, it is
by no means in a flourishing state. There are here
considerable glass-houses, which employ about 300
bands ; and some idea may be conceived of the extent
of this manufacture, from the amount of the duties to
government, which, in the five years preceding 18x8,
averaged 97,300!. per annum. This place is exceedingly DanWior
well adapted for manufactures, both on account of its Dmibartw
situation on the Clyde, and from its being well supplied dm.
with fuel at a cheap rate. The parish is nearly circular, vH
having a diameter of about two miles and a half: the
surface is flat, and the soil fertile, but shallow, inclin¬
ing to gravel. The Clyde washes it on the south, and
Leven on the west, both of which contain excellent
trout and salmon. rIhe population of the town in iBix
was 2970* of the parish 3x21. The castle of Dunbarton
lies at a small distance from the town, on the point of
land formed by the junction of the Clyde and Leven j
it is situated on the top of a rock, which presents a
picturesque object : the rock divides about the middle,
and forms two summits : the sides are craggy, and the
buildings upon it, though not of themselves beautiful,,
have a good effect, and, as Mr Oilpin observes, serve
to give it an air of consequence.” The fortress is en¬
tered by a gate at the bottom •, and within the rampart,
which defends the entrance, is the guard-house, and
lodgings for the officers ; from hence the ascent is by
a long*3flight of stone steps to the part where the rock
divides: here is a strong battery, barracks for the gar¬
rison, and a reservoir always filled with water j above
these, on the lower summit, are several batteries, which
command a most extensive range. According to Pen¬
nant, the Britons, in very early times, made this rock
a fortress, it being usual for them, after the departure
of the Romans, to retire to the tops of craggy inac¬
cessible mountains, to forests, and to rocks on the sides
of rivers, or the shores of the sea. Boethius, however,
asserts, that it was possessed by the Caledonians long
before the Britons, and that it resisted all the efforts
of Agricola to reduce it. The venerable Bede informs
us, that it was the strongest fortification in the king¬
dom in his time, and deemed almost impenetrable ; ii
was reduced by famine in the year 756, by Egbert
king of Northumberland, and taken by escalade in the
year 1551. The rock seems to have been anciently a
volcano: the sides are composed of rude basaltic co¬
lumns, of which huge masses have been broken off,
and fallen to the bottom, by the injuries of time. Ma¬
ny parts of the rock are strongly magnetic, causing
the compass to vary at a considerable distance : this
circumstance was long since noticed by Buchanan,
(Scot. Hist. lib. xx. lect. 28.). As the castle of Dun¬
barton commands the navigation of the Clyde, and is
the key of the western Highlands, the fortifications
are generally kept in repair. It is garrisoned by a go¬
vernor, lieutenant-governor, a fort-major, subaltern of¬
ficers, and a company of invalids. The government is
said to be worth 700I. per annum.
DUNBARTONSHIRE, or, as it was anciently
called, the shire of Lennox, extends in length about
40 miles, and in breadth about 23. It is bounded on
the north by Argyleshire; on the east by the counties
of Perth and Stirling j on the south by the river Clyde,
and part of Lanarkshire ; and on the west by an arm
of the sea, called Loch Long. The greater part of the
county is covered with heathy hills which are now
assuming a more luxuriant appearance, since the intro¬
duction of sheep. Many of the mountains are elevated
to a great height, Benlomond measuring 3158 feet
above the level of the sea. The ridge of which Ben-
lomono
J1 barton
mire
D H N [ 3
lomood is a part, is the beginning of that extensive
I cowbe
ridge which crosses the country from this place to the
east coast at Aberdeen, called the Grampians. The
lower grounds, which lie on the banks of Loch Lo¬
mond, the river Clyde and the Leven, are not so fer¬
tile as the corresponding parts of some of the neigh¬
bouring counties ; notwithstanding which, it is agree¬
ably diversified, and well inhabited. The banks of the
Leven, in particular, are covered with numerous bleach-
fields, printfields, and cotton-works, giving employ¬
ment to thousands j while the villages erected for the
accommodation of the workmen, the hamlets, and ele¬
gant seats, cannot fail to impress the mind with high
ideas of the wealth, the industry, the public spirit, and
the happiness of the inhabitants. Agriculture in this
county was formerly rather neglected 5 but the public
spirit has of late been roused to this most useful and
important occupation ; and the county of Dunbarton,
which is capable of much improvement, is fast advan¬
cing in agricultural progress. The county contains al¬
together 230 square miles, or 147,200 acres. The far¬
mers here, indeed, possess numerous advantages: be¬
ing near a sea-port town, where every article bears the
highest price, they find a ready market for their corn j
and the numerous inhabitants in the immediate neigh¬
bourhood require supplies of other necessaries from the
tarmer. Upwards of 12,000 acres are covered with na¬
tural wood, and there are many fine lakes or lochs, of
which Loch Lomond is the chief. Dunbartonshire con¬
tains one royal borough, Dunbarton, several thriving
manufacturing villages ; and is divided into 12 parishes,
containing in all 24,189 inhabitants in 1811.
Population of this County at two different periods^ from
Statist. Hist, of Scotland.
Parishes.
l Arroquhar
Bonhill
Cardross
Cumbernauld
5 Dunbarton
Kilmaronock
Kilpatrick, New
Kilpatrick, Old
Kirkintilloch
10 Luss
Roseneath
12 Row
Population
1755-
466
901
795
2303
1480
ll93
1390
1281
1696
978
52i
853
Population in
1790—4798.
379
2310
2194
1600
2003
820
1700
2452
2639
917
394
1000
13,857
Population in 1811 24,189
See Dunbartonshire, Supplement.
18,408
DUNGANNON, a fort in the county of Wexford,
and province of Leinster, in Ireland, seated on the ri¬
ver Ross. It commands the river, insomuch that no
snip can pass to Waterford or Ross without its permis-
sion. Here are barracks for three companies of foot.
W. Long. 6. 30. N. Lat. 52. 10.
DUNCARDS, Dunkers, or Tankers. See Tvw-
KERS.
BUNCOMBE, William, younger, son of John
79 ] bun
Duncombe, Esq. of Stocks in Hertfordshire, in 1722 Duncomhe
published a translation of Racine’s Athaliah ; which fl
was well received by the public, and has gone through Dnndee-
nfTr -n 1724 1,6 WaS editor of works'—'  
Ir Needier , in 1755, 0f the poems of his deceased
brother-in-law Mr Hughes, 2 vo|s 120105 in 1737,
of the miscellanies of his younger brother Mr Jabez
Hughes, for the benefit of his widow, in one volume
8vo ; and jn 1745, ot the works of the Rev. Mr Sa¬
muel Say, in one volume 4to. In 1726 he married the
only sister ol John Hughes, Esq. whom he long sur¬
vived In 1734 Ins tragedy of Lucius Junius Brutus
was acted at Drury Lane theatre. It was published in
1735, and again in 1747. The works of Horace, in
English verse, by several hands, were published by him
in two vols 8vo, with notes, &c. in 1757. A second
edition, in 4 vols I2mo, with many imitations, was
published in 1762. In 1763 he collected and republish¬
ed Seven sermons by Archbishop Herring, on public
occasions, with a biographical preface.” He died Feb
20. 1769, aged 80.
DUNDALK a town of Ireland, in the county of
Louth, about 48 miles from Dublin. It is a large
ancient, and thriving town, with a wide street, near a
mile long, and a very fine market-house, near the en¬
trance from Dublin. In the reign of Edward II it
was a royal city, and the last we read of where a mo¬
narch of all Ireland was actually crowned and resided.
t was formerly very strong, and had many towers and
small castles in it. The bay has good moorings at all
times, in four to upwards of eight fathoms water, with
very good land-marks, either for bringing up to, or
making the harbour 5 and in crossing the bar at high
water, or ordinary neap tides, there is from 15 to ?8
feet water. The only cambric manufacture in Ireland
is in this town. The population is about 15,000.
P.UNDAS, IlhNRY, Viscount Melville, an eminent
British statesman. See Supplement.
DUNDEE, a borough town of Scotland, in the
shire of Forfar or Angus, is seated on the north side
of the river Tay, about 12 measured miles from its
mouth, 40 measured miles north of Edinburgh, and
22 east from Perth, in W. Long. 2. 48. N. Lat. 56.
26. Its situation for commerce is very advantageous.
Trading vessels of the largest burden can get into the
harbour 5 and on the quay there are three very conve¬
nient and handsome warehouses built in 1756, as well
as good room for shipbuilding, which is carried on to
a large extent. The houses are built of stone, gene¬
rally three or four stories high. The market-place or
high street in the middle of the town is a very spacious
oblong square, 360 feet long and 100 feet broad 5
from whence branch out the four principal streets,
which with a number of lesser ones are all paved in the
best manner. Ou the south side of the market-place
stands the townhouse, an elegant structure, with a very
handsome front, piazzas below, and a neat spire over it
140 feet high. This building was finished in the year
J734» and contains the guildhall, the court-room, a
very neat mason lodge, the bank, vaulted repositories
for the records, and the common prison, which is in
the upper story, and does honour to the taste and hu¬
manity of the magistrates, under whose auspices it was
constructed, being well aired commodious rooms, at
the same time very strong and secure. Each prison is
3 ® 3 20
DUN
[ 380 1
DUN
Dundee. 20 feet by 12, and 7; feet bigl), well arcbed above
v*11 1 ami below.
The meal market and shambles, which were former¬
ly on the high street, and esteemed a nuisance, were
removed some years ago ; and in the place of the sham¬
bles there is now erected by the incorporated trades,
on the east end of the above large square, a grand build¬
ing, with a large and elegant cupola : in the ground
flat of which is a very neat coffee room, and several
merchant shops j and in the upper stories public rooms
for each trade, and a common hall occasionally used
as a theatre. This hall is 50 feet long, 30 feet broad,
and 23 feet high 5 having its front to the squaie deco¬
rated with Ionic columns.
The opulence, of the corporations, nine in number,
may be inferred from this, that they had, along with
the kirk session, but very lately finished a most elegant
church when they set about building the hall. This
church, which is called St Andrew's Church, stands on
a rising ground a little north from the Cowgate street 5
and has an elegant spire 130 feet high, with a peal of
bells much admired. There is a neat entry to the
church by a broad gravel walk, with grass plots on each
side; and the whole policies around it are laid out with
excellent taste, and in a superb style, as complete and
well executed as any in Scotland.
Dundee, beside St Andrew’s church, has four 0-
ther churches, and five ministers on the legal establish¬
ment. The old church, in which were originally four-
places of worship, when entire, had been a very mag¬
nificent building, with a large square Gothic tower or
steeple 186 feet high, on the west end of the church. I h is
building was in the form of a cross, erected by David
earl of Huntingdon, brother to William I. of Scot¬
land (surnamed the Lion), and was dedicated to the
virgin Mary. This he did on his return from the third
crusade (in' which with 500 of his countrymen he had
accompanied Richard I. of England) anno 1189, in gra¬
titude for his deliverance from several imminent dan¬
gers, and particularly from shipwreck, by which he had
nearly perished when in sight of this town. At the
same time he changed the name of the town from Allec-
tum to Dei Donum, whence its present name is thought
by many to be derived ; while others maintain that its
name was Duntay, or “ the hill of Tay.” The word
Allectum in the Gaelic signifies “ beautiful, and bar-
monizes very well with the Scripture sense of the hill
of God. The word Duntay has the very same signifi¬
cation, “ the Hill of God and both agree with the
delightful situation of Dundee, and unite in giving it
with propriety the name of Bonny Dundee. Ihe hill
rises on the north of the town to a great height, and is
called The Larv of Dundee; law being a Saxon word
for a round hill such as it is. On its top there is evi¬
dently the remains of a camp, said to have been first
erected by Edward I. of England, and lastly repaired
by General Monk. Where the meal market stood is
now erected an elegant Episcopal meeting-house j with
handsome shops below. . , , ,
Dundee had an old castle which was demolished by
the famous Scots governor Sir William Wallace, who
was educated in this town. The castle had proved
very useful to Edward I. when he put a garrison into
it to awe the inhabitants *, but Wallace getting pos¬
session, ordered it to be destroyed, lest it should again
fall into the hands of the English. Tdiis treatment so Dnnr'c,!
exasperated Edward, that, taking the town by storm, ^
he set fire to the churches ; and a number of the inha¬
bitants having taken sanctuary there with their most
valuable effects, were all burnt along with them. , At
that time he burnt also a great part of the town. The
desolation he brought on the church has continued ever
since, till the year 1787, when a noble edifice began
to be built on the site of the one that was burnt down,
and is now finishing j in which the ancient Gothic ot
the outside is excellently united with internal modern
architecture, making one of the largest and neatest
churches in the kingdom, and again completing the
superb superstructure as erected at first by the earl of
Huntingdon.
This town suffered greatly last century during the
troubles of Charles II. and the usurpation of Oliver
Cromwell j being sometimes under the command of
one party, and at others in the mercy of another. In
1645 ^ie marquis of Montrose took it by storm ; and
in 1651, under the command ot its provost Major Ge¬
neral Lumsden, it vigorously opposed General Monk,
who carried it by storm the 1st of September, and put
all in arms to the sword. And so great were tlm riches
of Dundee, all the neighbouring gentlemen having re¬
tired to it with their best effects as a place of safety,
that every private soldier in General Monk’s army had
near 60I. sterling to his share of the plunder •, there
being above 60 merchant vessels in the harbour at that
time, and the like number of vessels sailed for England
loaded with the spoils of the unfortunate inhabitants.
By these and other invasions, the whole ancient records
of the town were destroyed, except a deed of Queen
Mary, signed by herself, conferring the present bury-
iinr ground j and some charters of the Charles’s, con-
firming the ancient rights and privileges as disponed
by the Alexanders and other kings, of bcotland.
This burying-ground is the only place in Scotland we
know of called The Hof, a Dutch word bearing all
the senses of the English word court, having been for¬
merly the burying-ground of one of the many religious
houses that were in this town previous to the Relorma-
tion. - , . v
Dundee at present has 154 vessels belonging to the
port, of about 16,000 tons burden, which employ 1300
seamen. Of these vessels 8 are employed in the Green¬
land fishery, 11 in the London trade, and the rest in
the Baltic and country trade. Between iS^and 1818
the bonding system was extended to Dundee by various
acts of parliament. The magistrates have been lately
and still are at great expence in enlarging and fitting
up the harbour, so as to render it of easy access, safe,
and commodious; and have now made the passage over
the Tay, where there is a great resort, so convenient,
that travellers with their horses can get over at any
time of tide, and a sufficient number of good boats pro¬
perly manned are always ready. The river Tay op¬
posite Dundee is about three miles broad y and being
sheltered by high lands on both sides is a safe road for
ships of the greatest burden : the piers are extensive,
broad, and well adapted for the purposes of loading and
discharging vessels j and when the harbour is complet¬
ed on the plan they are presently engaged in, there will
not be one superior to it in Scotland.
To enable the town to repair the damage done by
Cromwell &
DUN [ 3
itke. Cromwell’s army, and also their harbour and other
-y——' public works, Charles II. granted them a small impost
of one-sixth of a penny sterling, for 2j years, on the
pint of ale brewed or brought into the town for sale j
which grant has been frequently renewed by subsequent
parliaments ; and the fund arising therefrom is most
properly bestowed by the magistrates in improving the
town, and making it more convenient and healthy. For
these purposes, several new streets have been made, the
old ones have been widened, and a large convenient one
at a considerable expence, carried down from the mar¬
ket place to join a fine walk, shaded very neatly with
trees, that leads to the shore. This new street makes
the acces easy and commodious, which was formerly
much confined and steep.
Till the year 1745, the town had only draw wells j
but since that period it is most amply supplied from a
large fine fountain of excellent water, conveyed through
the town in lead pipes, and discharged by good wells
at proper distance. These, with a fine well in the
town’s meadows, and a stream of water that runs through
the ward and the meadows (two large beautiful greens
on the north of the town), make it as w'ell watered as
any town in Scotland ; and these greens, just at hand,
serve all the inhabitants most commodiously for the ne¬
cessary labours of washing and bleaching.
Tlie number of inhabitants in Dundee has increased
amazingly since 1780. There was then an accurate
list of them taken, when they amounted to near 16,000 ;
but by the census of 1801, the number was 26,084 ;
and by the census of 1811, it was 29,616. Beside
the established churches, there are three Episcopal
meeting-houses, two of Seceders, one of Methodists,
two of Independents, one Berean, and two Anabap¬
tists. One of the Independents is of the Glassite de¬
nomination. Mr John Glass, from whom they take
that name, resided here ; and his principles, though
spread far and wide, have always had the most exten¬
sive influence in Dundee.
Jlie trade in the town has increased amazingly of
late. Its staple is undoubtedly the linen manufacture-:
mr which in summer 1788, they imported from the
j Baltic 32 cargoes of flax, hemp, &c. (near 3000 tons),
besides several quantities from London, Leith, and
other places ; and on an average the brown linen stamp¬
ed for the two preceding seasons at the stamp office
here amounted to above four millions of yards, in value
about 115,000!. sterling. But the annual average va¬
lue of the cloth stamped in Dundee for 1815, 1816,
and 1817, was above 300,000]. The flax is wrought
up into coarse linens, chiefly osnaburgs, sheetings, sol¬
diers shirtings, &c. which 'is sold partly bleached (se-
'eral fine large bleachfields being well employed in the
neighbourhood) and partly brown. These linens are
sent principally to London, Glasgow', and Liverpool,
and from thence exported. Seven or eight vessels are
constantly employed in the trade between Dundee and
London, one of which sails every ten or twelve days.
I he making sailcloth has been long established here,
and is carried on to a good extent j and rope-works
lave succeeded well. The Dundee coloured threads
have been long justly esteemed, and give bread to a
great number of people ; indeed it was here that co-
uured threads first made a figure among the articles of
>1 ] BUN
trade in Scotland. Their sugar-house, a large under- ]-> ,-t.,
taking, and tan works, are of established reputation. [j
Iheie has been lately erected a large glass-work at a Dunkehh
gieat expence, and a plumbery and foundery are also ■v——■
now carried on to advantage. No doubt the trade of
the place has been greatly promoted by the Bank j
which is carried forward on the surest and most steady
footing, and has always managed the business of the
town and neighbourhood in such a way as to keep any
other establishment of that kind from taking place.
Of late the cotton manufactory has been introduced ; a
number of jennies being employed in spinning, and se-
veial looms in weaving it. A spirit for literature and
education has greatly prevailed of late years in Dun¬
dee : for beside the public grammar school, which has
an able rector and two good masters 5 the public Eng¬
lish and writing school, where are three very proper
masters $ there is also lately established, and much
encouraged, an academy for mathematics, French,
Italian, and the polite arts, with masters suitable for
the different branches, and a large apparatus for natu¬
ral philosophy.
I he salmon fishing in Tay is of much consequence ;
and the town is generally well supplied with fish of va¬
rious kinds, though like every other article of living
much raised in price of late years. Their other ma£
kets are also well supplied. An excellent nursery at
tne west end of the town has been much encouraged j
and its neighbourhood is now adorned with many neat
and elegant villas, showing the wealth and taste'of the
inhabitants.
Dundee is the birthplace of the celebrated and learn¬
ed Hector Boethius, whose History of Scotland has
been long in much reputation with many. Dundee,
with Perth, Forfar, St Andrew’s, and Cupar, returns
one member to the British parliament.
DUNFERMLINE. See Dumfermline.
DUNG, in Husbandry. See Agriculture Index.
DuNG-Bird. See Upupa, Ornithology Index.
DuNG-Meers, in Husbandry, places where soils and
dungs are mixed and digested together. These consist
of pits, prepared at the bottom with stone and clay,
that they may hold water, or the moisture of the dung :
and ought to be so situated, that the sinks and drips of
the houses and barns may run into them. Into these
pits they cast refuse, fodder, litter, dung, weeds, &c.
where they lie and rot together, till the farmer have oc¬
casion for them.
HuNG-Worms, a species of fly worms, of a short and
somewhat flat body, found in great plenty among cow-
dung in the months of September and October.
DUNGANNON, the chief town of the county ot
Tyrone, in the province of Ulster in Ireland. It is
seated on a hill, and is a place of some strength.
DUNGARVON, a town of Ireland, in the county
of Waterford. It stands on a bay of the same name,
has a commodious harbour for ships, and is a wall¬
ed town, with a castle. W. Long. 7. 55. N. Lat.
51. 57.
DUNIPACE. See Carron.
DUNKELD, a town of Scotland,. in the -shire
of Perth, seated on the north side of the river Tay,
in a situation truly romantic, among very high
and almost inaccessible crags, part naked and part
wooded.
2
Duukeld
DUN [38
wooded. It is the chief market town of the Highlands,
and has been greatly improved with buildings by the
Dunkirk, dukes of Athol.
The place is of great antiquity. It was the capital
of ancient Caledonia. About the dawn of Christianity,
a Pictish king made it the seat of religion, by erecting
a monastery of Culdees there 5 which King David I.
in 1130 converted into a cathedral, and it ranked as
the first in Scotland. The entire shell of the cathedral
still remains, the east end serving for a kirk, on the
north side of which is the burial place of the dukes of
Athol. The style of architecture is simple and elegant,
the pillars round. The monument of one of its bishops
remains on the south aisle of the nave, as also that of
Alexander Stuart earl of Buchan, third son of Bobert
] f. called for his cruelty The Wolf of Badenoch, who
died in 1394. The tower at the west end, with a sin¬
gular crack down one of its sides, adds to the picturesque
apneai ance which the whole makes among the venerable
pines at the end of the duke’s garden. His Grace’s
seat is a modern building, and not large, with pleasant
walks and plantations, and a fine cascade on the water
of Bran, which in its way from the western hills forms
an astonishing fall of 150 feet, called the Bumbling
Brig, from a narrow bridge made by the fall of two
rocks across the stream. The pencil of Rosa never
formed a more horrid scene. The stream has a second
fail, which, without seeing the other, would be deemed
capital. Sir James Galloway, master of requests to
James VI. and Charles I. was created Lord Dunkeld
164.9, whose grandson James was attainted at the Revo¬
lution, and dying at the beginning of this century, the
title became extinct. Population 136° in
DUNKERS, Duncards, or Tunkers. See Tun-
KER5.
DUNKIRK, a maritime town of the French Nether¬
lands, situated in E. Long. 2. 28. N. Lat. 51. IO. and
is the most easterly harbour on the side of France which
is next to Great Britain.—It was originally a mean
hamlet, consisting only of a few fishermen’s huts : but
a church being built there, it was from that, and
from its situation, which is a sandy eminence, called
Dunkirk; dun signifying, in the old Gallic language,
a hill; and kirk being the old Flemish name for
church. .
About the year 960, Baldwin earl of Flanders,
thinking the situation convenient, enlarged it into a
kind of town, and surrounded it with a wall. In the
year 1322, Robert of Flanders, who held it as an ap¬
pendage, built a castle for its defence ; which was after¬
wards demolished by the revolters of Flanders. Robert
of Bar erected a fortification round it, the remains of
which are visible on the side next the harbour. The
emperor Charles V. who held it as part of Flanders,
built another castle to defend the harbour ; but this
was also demolished soon afterwards. In 1588, the
French, under Marshal de Thermes, took Dunkirk by
storm, and almost ruined the place ; the Spaniards re¬
covered it again in about a fortnight, and put all the
French to the sword.
During a peace procured for the Dunkirkers by
Philip II. of Spain, they rebuilt their town with
greater splendour than before, and the inhabitants for
a long time subsisted by privateers fitted out against
2 ] DUN
the Dutch; and at length, growing rich by these Danklf
hostilities, they fortified their town and harbour, and v—y*
fitted out no less than 15 ships of war at their own
charge. . .
In 1634, the Dunkirkers agreed with the inhabi¬
tants of Bergues to dig a canal, at their joint expence,
for a communication between the two towns ; which
was some time afterwards effected. By this time
Dunkirk was become the best harbour the Spaniards
possessed in Flanders, which induced many foreigners to
settle there; and it being necessary to enlarge the town
for their accommodation, a new fortified wall was built
at a considerable distance from the former. In 1646,
it was besieged and taken by the prince of Conde. In
1652 it was retaken by the archduke Leopold, then
governor of the Netherlands. France entering into a
treaty with England in 1655, the Dunkirkers, with
views of pecuniary advantage, fitted out privateers
against both these powers: the consequence of which
was, that the French, assisted by Cromwell, attacked
and took it; and it was put into the hands of the Eng¬
lish, in consequence of a treaty between them and the
French. To the English it was even then of very great
importance ; for during the war in which it was taken,
the Dunkirkers had made prizes of no less than 2£Oof
their ships, many of which were of great value. They
therefore improved the fortifications, and built a cita¬
del; yet they kept it only four years; for in 1662,
two years after the Restoration, Charles II. sold this
valuable acquisition to France, for the paltry sum of
500,000!. In consequence of this sale, the town was
taken possession of for the French king Louis XIV. by
the count d’Estrades, on the 29th of November 1662.
Louis having acquainted the celebrated engineer Mon¬
sieur Vauban, that he intended to make Dunkirk one
of the strongest places in Europe, Vauban drew up a
plan with that view, which was gradually executed.
An arsenal was erected, large enough to contain all the
stores necessary for fitting out and maintaining a large
fleet of men of war ; the "fortifications on the land side
were constructed in a manner that was thought to ren¬
der them impregnable ; and, towards the sea, the en¬
trance of the harbour being properly formed, it was
fortified by the jetties, and the two forts called Green
Fort and the Fort of Good Hope at their extremities; the
famous risbank was also erected on the side of the jet¬
ties, and Fort Galliard on the other, to secure the town.
These works were all completed in 1683; and in 1685,
the whole circumference of the bason was faced with
masonry, and the keys completely formed : at the same
time care was taken to build at the entrance of this
bason a sluice, almost 45 feet wide, that the ships within
might be constantly afloat. In 1689, the fort called
the Cornichon, and some other works, were completed.
But though 30 years had been now employed in im¬
proving the fortifications of Dunkirk, it was not yet m
the state in which Louis intended to put it; and there¬
fore, in 1701, he caused a new risbank to be built,
called Fort Blanc.
At the treaty of Utrecht, it having been made ap<
pear, that the privateers of Dunkirk had, during the
war then closing, taken from the English no lees than
1614 prizes valued at l,334M5]' sterling, it was
stipulated, that the fortifications of the city
DUN
[
ilsirk Port of Dunkirk Bliould be entirely demolished, and the
H harbour filled up, so as never to be a harbour again,
•in*. The treaty of which this demolition of Dunkirk was
,v—'an article, was signed on the 28th of April 1713 ; but
the demolition did not take place till the September fol¬
lowing, when the queen deputed Colonel Armstrong
and Colonel Clayton to oversee the execution of the
treaty as far as concerned the works and harbour of Dun¬
kirk. Under the inspection of these gentlemen, the
places of arms were broken down, the ditches filled up,
and the demi-lunes, bastions, and covered way, totally
■destroyed 5 the citadel was razed, and the harbour and
bason filled up ; the jetties were also levelled with the
strand, and all the forts which defended the entrance
into the harbour were demolished. A large dam, or
bar, was also built across the mouth of the harbour be¬
tween the jetties and the town, by which all communi¬
cation between the harbour and the canal, which form¬
ed its entrance, was entirely cut off. The sluices were
also broken up, and the materials of them broken to
pieces.
But this was no sooner done, than Louis XIV. order-
ed 30)000 men to work incessantly upon a new canal,
the canal of Mardick, which in a short time they ac¬
complished j by which the harbour was rendered almost
as commodious as ever 5 but in 1717 this likewise was
rendered unserviceable. In the year 1720, during a
great storm, the sea broke up the bar or dam, and re¬
stored to the Dunkirkers the use of the harbour in a
very considerable degree. In the year 1740, when
Great Britain was engaged in a war with Spain, Louis
XV. set about improving the advantage which Dun¬
kirk had derived from the storm in 1720, by restoring
the works, and repairing the harbour ; and soon after¬
wards he espoused the cause of Spain, and became a
principal in the war against us. But at the peace of
Aix-la-Chapelle in 1748, it was stipulated, that all the
works towards the sea should be destroyed a second
time} yet, before the declaration of the American war,
the place was in a good state of defence towards the
sea. At the peace in 1783 Britain was not in a con¬
dition to insist on so obnoxious a stipulation, and its
harbour has sincefbeen unmolested. The check which the
British troops received here in 1793, was the com¬
mencement of a series of disasters.
DUNNING John, Lord Ashburton, an eminent
English lawyer. See Supplement.
DUNSE, a market town of Scotland, in the shire of
Mers, situated in W. Long. 2. 15. N. Lat. 53. 42. It
is situated on a rising ground in the middle of the shire,
and has a weekly market for cattle. It is by some re¬
puted the birthplace of the famous John Duns Scotus.
A mile south of the town is a well of mineral water, of
great use as a deobstruent and antiscorbutic, first dis¬
covered in 1747 by Dr Thomas Simpson who practised
there. Population 3082 in 1811.
DUNS Scotus, John, a Franciscan friar, common¬
ly called Doctor Subtilis, was born in the year 1274 j
but whether in England, Scotland, or Ireland, hath
°tig been a matter of dispute among the learned of
each nation. Dempster, Mackenlie, and other Scot¬
ch writers, assert positively that he was born at Dunse,
a town in Scotland, about 15 miles from Berwick ;
aiw, to secure him more effectually, Mackenzie makes
383 ] BUN
him descended from the Dunses in the Mers. Mac- n-
caghwell, an Irish author, who wrote the life of this Dunluh.
ocotus, proves him to have been born at Down in the   /—
province of Ulster in Ireland : but Leland, Bale, Cam¬
den and Pits, assure us, that he was born at Dunstone
in the parish of Emildune, near Alnwick in Northum-
berland ; and this opinion is rendered probable by the
o lowing conclusion of his manuscript works in the
library of Merton college in Oxford.—“ Here end the
writings of that subtile doctor of the ^university of
x^ans, John Duns, who was born in a certain villao-e
in the parish of E.nildune, called Dunston, in The
county of Northumberland.” We are told, that when
a boy, he became accidentally known to two Franciscan
rriars ; who, finding him to be a youth of very extra¬
ordinary capacity, took him to their convent at New¬
castle, and afterwards persuaded him to become one of
their fraternity. From thence he was sent to Oxford
where he was made fellow of Merton college, and pro¬
fessor of divinity ; and Mackenzie says, that not less
than 30,000 students came to Oxford to hear his lec¬
tures. His fame was now become so universal, that
the general of his order commanded him to go to
Paris, that the students of that university might also
profit from his lectures. He went to Paris in the year
I3°4» where he was honoured first with the degree of
bachelor, then of doctor of divinity, and in 1307 was
appointed regent of the divinity schools : during his
residence here, the famous controversy about the Imma¬
culate conception of the virgin Mary arose. Albertus
Magnus maintained that she was born in original sin.
Scotus advanced 200 arguments in support of the con¬
trary opinion, and convinced the university of Paris
that she was really conceived immaculate. This im¬
portant nonsense, however, continued to be disputed till
the year 1496, after the council of Basil, when the
university of Paris made a decree, that no student, who
did not believe the immaculate conception, should be ad¬
mitted to a degree. Our author had not been above a
year at Paris, when the same general of the Francis¬
cans ordered him to remove to Cologne ; where he was
received with great pomp and ceremony by the magi¬
strates and nobles of that city, and where he died of an
apoplexy soon after his arrival, in the year 1308, in
the 34th year of his age. Some writers have report¬
ed, that Scotus was buried in an epileptic fit j and that,
upon removing his bones, he appeared to hare turned
himself in his coffin. This Doctor Subtilis was doubt¬
less one of the first wranglers of his time, admirably well
versed in scholastic divinity, and a most indefatigable
scribbler 5 but the misfortune is, that all his huge vo¬
lumes do not contain a single page worth the perusal
of a rational being. He was the author of a new sect
of schoolmen called Scotists ; who opposed the opinions
of the Thomists, so called from St Thomas Aquinas. The
reader will find a more particular account of Scotus iu
the Franciscan Martyrology,published at Paris in 1638.
He was a most voluminous writer $ his works making 12
vols folio,as published atLyonsbyLuke Wadding, 1639.
DUNSTABLE, a town in Bedfordshire, with a
market on Wednesdays. It is seated on a chalky hill ;
and has ponds in the streets, which are never dry though
only supplied with rain-water. It is remarkable for
several good inns, it being a great thoroughfare on the
northern
DUN
[ 384 1
DUN
Duhstable northern road. It consists of four streets, intersect ng
!| each other at right angles; and in the centre stood one
Dunstan. 0f ti10Se beautiful crosses of Queen Eleanor, which \yas
' destroyed in the time of the civil wars. 1 opulation
1616 in 1811. W. Long. o. 29. N. Lat. 51. 50.
DUNSTAFFNAGE. See Lorne.
DUNSTAN, a famous saint, and archbishop of
Canterbury : of whom the monkish historians give us
the following account. He was descended Irom a noble
family in Wessex, and educated in the abbey ot Gla¬
stonbury. Here he studied so hard, that it threw him
. into a violent fever, which brought him to the very
point of death. When the whole family were stand¬
ing about his bed, dissolved in tears, and expecting
every moment to see him expire, an angel came from
heaven in a dreadful storm, and gave him a medicine
which restored him to perfect health in a moment.
Dunstan immediately started from his bed, and ran with
all his speed towards the church to return thanks tor
bis recovery j but the devil met him by the way, -nr
rounded by a great multitude ot black dogs, and en¬
deavoured’to obstruct his passage. This would have
frightened some boys; but it had no such eltect upon
Dunstan; who pronouncing a sacred name, and bran¬
dishing his stick, put the devil and all his dogs to flight.
The church doors being shut, an angel took him m
his arms, conveyed him through an opening in the
roof, and set him softly down on the floor, where he
performed his devotions. After his recovery, he pur¬
sued his studies with the greatest ardour, and soon be¬
came a perfect master in philosophy, divinity, music,
painting, writing, sculpture, working in gold, silver,
brass, and iron, &c. When he was still very young
he entered into holy orders, and was introduced by his
uncle Athelm archbishop of Canterbury to King Athel-
stan ; who, charmed with his person and accomplish¬
ments, retained him in his court, and employed him
in many great affairs. At leisure hours he used to en-
tertain the king and his courtiers with playing on his
harp, or some other musical instrument; and now and
then he wrought a miracle, which gained him great
admiration. His old enemy the devil was much of¬
fended at this, and prompted some envious courtiers to
persuade the king that his favourite was a magician,
which that prince too readily believed. Dunstan dis¬
covering by the king’s countenance that he had lost
his favour, and resolving to resign rather than be turn¬
ed out, retired from court to another uncle, who was
bishop of Winchester. This good prelate prevailed
upon his nephew to forsake the world and become a
monk; after which he retired to a little cell, built
against the church wall of Glastonbury. Here he slept,
studied, prayed, meditated, and sometimes amused him¬
self with forging several useful things in brass and iron.
One evening, as he was working very busily at his
forge, the devil, putting on the appearance ol a man,
thrust his head in at the window of his cell, and asked
him to make something or other for him. Dunstan
.was so intent upon his work that he made no answer;
on which the devil began to swear and talk obscenely,
.which betrayed the lurking fiend. The hoy b.ack-
smith, putting up a secret ejaculation, pulled his tongs,
which were red hot, out of the fire, seized the devil
with them by the nose, and squeezed him with ah his
strength ; which made his infernal majesty roar and
scold at such a rate, that he awakened and terrified all Duhsi#
the people for many miles around. Thus far the le-
gend.
Ridiculous as were these fictions, they served, in
those times of ignorance, to procure Dunstan a repu¬
tation which has been confirmed by the authority of
several succeeding historians. It appears that this
extraordinary person was called to court by King Ed¬
mund, A. D. 941 who bestowed upon him the rich
abbey of Glastonbury, which for his sake he ho¬
noured with many peculiar privileges. He enjoyed a
very high degree of the favour of this prince during
his short reign of six years; but he stood much higher
in the favour of his brother and successor King Edred,
to whom he was confessor, chief confidant, and prime
minister. He employed all his influence during this
period of court favour in promoting the interest of the
monks of the Benedictine order, to which he belong¬
ed, and of which he was a most active and zealous pa¬
tron. Having the treasures of these two princes, espe¬
cially of the last, very much at his command, he la¬
vished them away in building and endowing mona¬
steries for these monks, because almost all the old mo¬
nasteries were in the possession ofsecular canons. Not
contented with this, he persuaded Edred (who was a
bigotted valetudinary) to bestow such immense treasures
on the churches and monasteries by his last will, that
the crown was stripped of its most valuable posses¬
sions, and left in a state of indigence. This conduct
of Dunstan, while he was in power, rendered him
very odious to Edwi, who succeeded his uncle Edred
A. D. 955; and his rude behaviour to himself, and
his beloved queen Elgiva, raised the resentment of
that prince so high, that he deprived him of all Ins
preferments, and drove him into exile*. The ba-*Stei
nishment of Dunstan, the great patron, or (as Malms-Wj
bury calls him) the prince of monks, was a severe blow
to that order, who were expelled from several monaste¬
ries ; which were made the impure stables (according
to the same author) of the married clergy. But their
sufferings were not of long continuance. For Edgar
the younger brother of Edwi, having raised a success¬
ful rebellion against his unhappy brother, and usurped
all his dominions on the north side of the river Thames,
recalled Dunstan, and gave him the bishopric of Wor¬
cester, A. D. 957. From this moment he was the duet
confidant and prime minister of King Edgar, who be¬
came sole monarch of England A. D. 959, by the
death of his elder brother Edwi. In the following
year Dunstan was raised to be archbishop of Canter¬
bury ; and being thus possessed of the primacy, and as¬
sured of the royal support and assistance, he prepared
to execute the grand design which he had long medi¬
tated, of compelling the secular canons to put away
their wives and become monks; or of driving them
out, and introducing Benedictine monks in their room.
With this view he procured the promotion of Oswald
to the see of Worcester, and of Ethelwald to that ot
Winchester; two prelates who were monks themselves,
and animated with the most ardent zeal for the ad¬
vancement of their order. And these three great cham¬
pions of the order found means, by their arts and in¬
trigues, in the course of a few years, to fill no fewer
than 48 monasteries with Benedictines. But on t e
death of Edgar in 975 they received a check.
stan,
mini.
1 T.ns;-
|S°(j4
DUN [385
sufferings of the persecuted canons had excited much
compassion j and many of the nobility, who had been
overawed by the power and zeal of the late king, now
espoused their cause and promoted their restoration.
Elferc duke of Mercia drove the moaks by force out
of all the monasteries in that extensive province, and
brought back the canons, with their wives and chil¬
dren ; while El I win duke of East Anglia, and Brith-
not duke of Essex, raised their troops to protect the
monks in these countries. To allay these commotions,
several councils were held : in which Dunstan was so
hard pushed by the secular canons and their friends,
that he was obliged to practise some of his holy stra¬
tagems ; and finally, by dint of miracles, overcame all
opposition *.
&t Dunstan died A. D. 988, in the 64th year of
his age, having held the bishopric of London, toge¬
ther with the archbishopric of Canterbury, about 27
years. As this prelate was the great restorer and pro¬
moter of the monastic institutions, the grateful monks,
who were almost the only historians of those dark ages,
have loaded him with the most extravagant praises, and
represented him as the greatest wonder-worker and
highest favourite of heaven that ever lived. To say
nothing of his many conflicts with the devil, in which
he often belaboured that enemy of mankind most severe¬
ly, the following short story, which is told with great
exultation by his biographer Osbern, will give the read¬
er some idea of the astonishing impiety and impudence
of those monks, and of the no less astonishing blindness
and credulity of those unhappy times. “ The most ad¬
mirable, the most inestimable Father Dunstan (says
that author), whose perfections exceeded all human
imagination, was admitted to behold the mother of
God and his own mother in eternal glory; for before
his death he was carried up into heaven, to be present
at the nuptials of his own mother with the Eternal
King, which were celebrated by the angels with the
most sweet and joyous songs. When the angels re¬
proached him for his silence on this great occasion, so
honourable to his mother, he excused himself on ac¬
count of his being unacquainted with those sweet and
heavenly strains ; but being a little instructed by the
angels, he broke out into this melodious song, O King
and Ruler of nations,” &c. It is unnecessary to make
any comment on this most shocking story.
The violent and too successful zeal of Dunstan and
his associates, in promoting the building and endowing
so great a number of houses for the entertainment of
useless monks and nuns, was very fatal to their coun¬
try : for by this means a spirit of irrational unmanly
superstition was diffused amongst the people, which
debased their minds, and diverted them from nobler
pursuits j and a very great proportion of the lands of
England being put into hands who contributed no¬
thing to its defence, rendered it an easy prey, first to
the insulting Danes, and afterwards to the victorious
Normans.
DUNUM, a Celtic term, denoting a hill or emi¬
nence, and which often concurs to form the names of
towns, to signify their high situation, places of strength
or citadels j hills or eminences being adapted to such
structures. See Dun.
Dunum (Ptolemy), a town of Ireland ; now thought
VOL. VII. Part I. ° f
] D U P
Down or Dowti-Patricky in the county of Down
W. Long. 5. 57. N. Eat. 54. 23.
DUO, in Music, a song or composition, to be perform¬
ed on two parts only j one sung, the other played on
an instrument, or by two voices.
Duo is also when two voices sing different parts, as
accompanied with a third, which is a thorough bass.
It is seldom that unisons and octaves are used in duos
except at the beginning and end.
DUODECIMA, in Music, is the twelfth or the fifth
doubled.
DUODENUM. See Anatomy Index.
DUPIN, Lewis Ellis, a learned doctor of the
oorbonne, and one of the greatest critics of his time,
especially in ecclesiastical matters, was born at Paris in
1657. When he published the first volume of his Bi-
bhotheque Universelle des Auteurs Ecclesiastiques, in
1686, the liberty with which he treated some eccle¬
siastical writers gave such offence, that M. de Harlay
archbishop of Paris, obliged Dupin to retract many
propositions, and suppressed the work. He was never¬
theless suffered to continue it, by altering the title
from Bibliotheque Universelle to Bibliotheque Nouvelle.
his great undertaking, continued in several successive
volumes, though sufficient to occupy the life of an or-
uinary man, did not hinder M. Dupin from obliging
the world, with several other works. He was a man
of prodigious reading j and had an easy happy way of
wiiting, with an uncommon talent at analyzing the
works of an author ; which makes his Ecclesiastical
Bibliotheque so valuable. M. Dupin was professor of
philosophy in the royal college : but was banished some
time from the chair to Chateiherault, on account of the
famous Cas de Conscience; but was restored, and died
in 1719.
DUPLE, among mathematicians, denotes the ratio
of 2 to 1. Thus the ratio of 8 to 4 is duple, or as 2
to 1.
Sub-Duple Ratio, is just the reverse of the former,
or as 1 to 2. Such is 4 to 8, or 6 to 12.
DUPLICATE, among lawyers, denotes a copy of
any deed, writing, or account. It is also used for the
second letters-patent, granted by the lord chancellor
in a case wherein be bad before done the same. Also
a second letter written and sent to the same party and
purpose as a former, for fear of the first’s miscarrying,
is called a Duplicate.
Duplicate Proportion or Ratio. See Ratio.
DUPLICATION, in general, signifies the doub¬
ling of any thing, or multiplying of it by 2: also the
folding of any thing back again on itself.
DUPLICATURE, among anatomists, a term used
to denote the folds of any membrane or vessel.; thus
we say, the duplicatures of the intestines, peritonaeum,
&.C.
DUPONDIUS, in antiquity, a weight of two
pounds, or money of the value of two asses. See As.
As the as at first weighed just a pondo or libra, the
dupondius then weighed two ; and hence the name.
And though the weight of the as was afterwards
diminished, and of consequence that of the dupondius
also, yet they still retained the denomination. See
Pound and Libra.
DUPPA, Brian, a learned English bishop, born in
3 C I589
D U R
[ 386 ]
D U R
I 1:80 at Lewisham in Kent, of which place his father
was then vicar. In 1634, he was instituted chancellor
of the church at Sarum, and soon after made chaplain
to Charles I. He was appointed tutor to Char es
prince of Wales, and his brother James duke of York j
was made bishop of Chichester*, and in 1641 translated
to Salisbury, though the confusions that followed de¬
prived him of all benefit from his promotion. Charles 1.
held him in high esteem, and he is said to have assisted
the king in composing the Eikon Rasihke. On the re¬
storation he was made bishop ot Winchester, and loid
high almoner*, but died in 1662. #
DUPUIS, Charles Francis, an eminent r rench
writer. See Supplement.
DURANDUS, William, born at Puimoission in
Provence, in the 13th century, was one oi the most
knowing lawyers of his time. Pope Martin made him
one of his nuncios, and then bishop of Mende and .Lan¬
guedoc. His Speculum Juris gave him the name ot
Speculator ; his second piece was Rationale divtnorum
ojjiciorum, containing eight books. He wrote several
0t DURANTA, in Botany, a genus of plants, belong¬
ing to the didynamia class, and in the natural method
ranking under the 40th order, Personatce. See BO¬
TANY Index.
DURATION, an idea we get by attending to the
fleeting and perpetual perishing parts ot succession.
See Metaphysics. .
Duration, as marked by certain periods and mea¬
sures, is what we most properly call time. See Time.
Duration of Action, according to Aristotle, is con¬
fined to a natural day in tragedy ; but the epopea, ac¬
cording to the same critic, has no fixed time, bee
DURF.R, Albert, descended of an Hungarian
family, and’born at Nuremberg in 1471, was one ot
the best engravers and painters of his age. lie was at
the same time a man of letters and a philosopher *, and
he was an intimate friend of Erasmus, who revised some
of the pieces which he published. He was a man ot
business also, and for many years the leading magistrate
of Nuremberg. Though not the inventor, _ he was one
of the first improvers of the art of engraving ; and he
bethought himself of working also in wood, for expe¬
dition, having an inexhaustible fund of designs. In
many of those prints which he executed on copper, the
engraving is elegant to a great degree. His Hell-Scene
particularly, which was engraved in the year 1513,
is as highly finished a print as ever was engraved, and
as happily executed. In his wooden prints too we are
surprised to see so much meaning in so early a master j
the heads so well marked, and every part so well exe-
euted.—This artist seems to have understood the prin¬
ciples of design. His composition, too, is often pleas¬
ing ; and his drawing generally good. Lut he knows
very little of the management of light; and still less of
grace: and yet his ideas are purer and more elegant
than we could have supposed from the awkward arche¬
types which his country and education aftorded. In a
word, he was certainly a man of very extensive geni¬
us *, and, as Vasari remarks, would have been an ex¬
traordinary artist, if he had had an Italian instead of
a German education. His prints are very numerous.
They were much admired in his own lifetime, and
eagerly bought up *, which put his wife, who was a teas¬
ing woman, upon urging him to spend moit time upon
engraving than he was inclined to do. He was rich j
and chose rather to practice his art as an amusement
than as a business. He died in the year IJ2?*
DURESSE, Hardship, in Law, is where a person
is kept in prison or restrained of his liberty, contrary
to order of law; or is threatened to be killed, maimed,
or beaten. In which case, if a person so in prison,
or in fear of such threats, make any specialty or ob¬
ligation, by reason of such imprisonment or threats,
such deed is void in law *, and in an action brought on
such specialty, the party may plead, that it was brought
by duresse.
D’URFEY, Thomas, an eminent English satirist
and songster, whose name, though as well known as
that of any writer extant, yet there are veiy few paiti-
culars of his life to be collected. He was born in
Devonshire ; but when, where, or of what family, are
all uncertain. He was bred to the law, which he for¬
sook for the more agreeable employment of writing
plays and songs} and the latter he had so happy a ta¬
lent both of writing and singing, that he received many
favours from persons ot quality on that account. Even
crowned heads did not disdain his company. The
writer of the Guardian, N° 67. tells us, he remem¬
bered to have seen Charles II. leaning on lorn D Lr~
fey’s shoulder more than once, humming over a song
with him. This indeed was not extraordinary in so
merry a monarch *, but even the phlegmatic King M^il-
liam could relax his muscles on hearing him sing. He
was certainly by all accounts a cheerful, honest, good-
natured man *, but as this character does not include
prudence, D’Urfey grew poor as he grew old : and
prevailing on the managers of the playhouse to act his
comedy of the Plotting Sisters for his benefit, Mr Ad¬
dison wrote the above-mentioned paper in the Guardian,
with another, N° 82. representing him in a good-hu¬
moured light, to procure him a full house. He died
very old, in 1723.
DURHAM, Bishopric of, one of the counties ot
England. Before the arrival of the Romans it was
included in the British principality of the Bngantes,
and after their arrival made part of the province of
Maxima Ciesariensis. During the Heptarchy it made
part of the kingdom of Northumberland, the 5th esta¬
blished, which began in 547, and ended in 8127, having
been governed by 31 kings. It was not mentioned
by Alfred in his division of counties, being at that
time considered as a part of Yorkshire. At present it
is included in the northern circuit, in the province ot
York*, and is a diocese and principality under the go¬
vernment of its own bishop, being a county palatine,
the second in rank, and the richest in England. It i»
bounded on the north by Northumberland, on the south
by Yorkshire, onThe east by the North sea, and on the
west by Cumberland. It is 39 miles long, 35 broad,
and 107 in circumference j containing 410,000 square
acres, or 758 square miles; with 177,625 inhabitants
(1811), 80 parishes, 21 vicarages, one city (Durham;,
and 9 market towns, viz, Stockton, Sunderland, Barnar -
Castle, Darlington, Stanhope, Hartlepool, Aucklan ,
Staindrop, and Marwood ; besides 225 villages. I
D U R
tham. divided into 4 wards, sends 4 members to parliament,
*v 111 pays three portions ot the land tax, and provides 400
of the national militia. It has 21 parks, 4 castles, and
20 bridges, with the rivers Tees, Tine, Were, Tame,
Lune, Darwent, Gauntless, Skern, &c. and the Lune
and Teesdale forests. Its principal products are lead,
coals, iron, corn, mustard, salt, glass, fine ale, with
excellent butter and salmon. The soil is various;
the south is rich, but the western parts rocky and
moorish.
Durham, as already observed, is a county pala¬
tine, governed by the bishop, who had formerly great
prerogatives. He had power to create barons, ap¬
point judges, convoke parliaments, raise taxes, and
coin money. The courts of justice were kept in his
name j and he granted pardons for trespasses, aliena¬
tions, rapes, murders, and felonies of every denomi¬
nation. He erected corporations, granted markets
and fairs, created officers by patent, was lord admiral
of the seas and waters within the county palatine:
great part of the lands were held of the see in cctpite.
In a word, he exercised all the power and jurisdiction
of a sovereign prince. How and at what period
these prerogatives were obtained, it is not easy to
determine. Malmsbury says, the lands were granted
by King Alfred, who likewise made the church a sanc¬
tuary lor criminals. This see was anciently called
the patrimony of St Cuthbert, who had been bishop of
lundisfarne or Holy Island near Berwick. His bones
being transferred to Durham, were long esteemed as
precious relics j and the people of the county consi¬
dered themselves as Halvverk men, exempted from all
other but holy work, that is, the defence of St Cuth-
bert’s body. Certain it is, they pretended to hold
their lands by this tenure 5 and refused to serve out
of the county either for the king or bishop : but King
Edward I. broke through these privileges, and cur¬
tailed the prerogatives of the bishops, which were still
further abridged by Henry VIII. Nevertheless, the
bishop is still earl of Sadberg, a place in this county
which he holds by barony. He is sheriff paramount,
and appoints his own deputy, who makes up his audit
to him, instead of accounting to the exchequer. He
has all the forfeitures upon outlawries : and he and
his temporal chancellor act as justices of the peace
for the county palatine, which comprehends Creke in
Yorkshire, Bedlington, Northam, and Holy Island,
in Northumberland; the inhabitants of these places
having the benefit of the courts at Durham. The
judges of assize, and all the officers of the court, have
still their ancient salaries from the bishop ; and he con¬
stitutes the standing officers by his letters patent. He
has the power of presiding in person in any of the
courts of judicature. Even when judgment of blood
is given, this prelate may sit in court in his purple
robes, though the canons forbid any clergyman to be
present in such cases : hence the old saying, Solum
Dunelmense stolajus dicet et ense. It was not till the
reign 0f Charles II. that the bishopric sent representa¬
tives to parliament.
. Durham, the capital of the above-mentioned county,
is situated in W. Long. 1. 14. N. Lat. 54. 50. It
stands on a hill almost surrounded by the river Were •
and 13 considerable for its extent and the number of its
inhabitants, as well as for being the see or seat of
t 387 ]
D U R
the bishop, who is lord paramount. It stands about
280 miles, north from London ; being remarkable for
the salubrity of its air, and the abundance and cheap¬
ness of its provisions. These circumstances have indu¬
ced a great deal of good company to take up their re¬
sidence at Durham, which is still further animated by
tie presence and court of the bishop and his clergy
Ihe town is said to have been built about 70 years
efore the lioman conquest, on occasion of brinfing
hither the body of St Cuthbert. It was first incor¬
porated by King Diehard I. but Queen Elizabeth ex¬
tended its privileges. At length, in the year 1684, it
obtained a charter ; in consequence of which, it is now
governed by a mayor, 12 aldermen, 12 common coun¬
cil men, with a recorder and inferior officers. These
can hold a court leet and court baron within the city ;
but under the style of the bishop, who, as count pala¬
tine, appoints a judge, steward, sheriffs, and other in¬
ferior magistrates. The mayor and aldermen also keep
a piepouldres court at their fairs, and pay a yearly toll
to the bishop. Ihey have a weekly market on Saturday,
and three annual fairs. Durham is about half a mile
in length, and has been by some compared to the fi¬
gure ot a crab, the market place exhibiting the body,
and the claws being represented by the streets, which
bend according to the course of the river, which almost
surrounds one part of the city. They are, moreover,
daik and narrow; and some of them steep and danger¬
ous to wheel carriages. The number of inhabitants in
1811 was 6763. fhe houses are in general strong
built, hut neither light nor elegant. The most remark¬
able edifices are the cathedral, with six other churches,
three standing in the city, and as many in the suburbs ;
the college ; the castle, or bishop’s palace ; the tolbooth
near St JNiicholas’s church ; the cross and conduit in the
market place; with two bridges over the Were, The
cathedral was begun by Bishop Canlepho in the nth
century. It is a large, magnificent, Gothic struc¬
ture, 4-** feet long, and 80 in breadth, having a cross
aisle in the middle 170 feet in length, and two smaller
aisles at each end. On the south side is a fine cloister ;
on the east, the old library, the chapter house and
part of the deanery ; on the west, the dormitory, under
which is the treasury and chantry ; and on the west
side is the new library, an elegant building begun by
Dean Sudbury about 70 years ago, on the spot where
stood the old refectory of the convent. The middle
tovyer of the cathedral is 21 2 feet high. The whole
building is arched and supported by huge pillars. Se¬
veral of the windows are curiously painted ; and there
is a handsome screen at the entrance into the choir.
Sixteen bishops are interred in the chapter-house, which
is 75 feet long, and 33 broad, arched overhead, with a
magnificent seat at the upper end for the instalment of
the bishops. The consistory is kept in the chapel of
the west aisle called Galilee, which was built by Bishop
Puhsey, and had formerly 16 altars for women, as they
were not allowed to advance farther than the line of
marble by the side of the font; here likewise are de¬
posited the bones of the venerable Bede, whose eulogium
is written on an old parchment scroll that hangs over
his tomb. The long cross aisle at the extremity of the
church was formerly distinguished by nine altars, four
to the north, and four to the south, and the most magni¬
ficent in the middle dedicated to the patron St Cuth-
3 C 2 bert,
Durham,
D U R
[ 388 ]
bert, wliose rich shrine was in this quarter, iormerly
much frequented by pilgrims. I he church is possessed
of some old records relating to the affairs of Scotland,
the kings of which were great benefactors to this ca¬
thedral.0 The ornaments here used for administering
the divine offices, are said to be richer than those of any
other cathedral in England. Before the Reformation,
it was distinguished by the name Ecclesia sanctce Mai'ice
et sancti Cuthberti; hut it obtained the appellation ot
Ecclesia cathedralis Christiet beatce Maria, in the reign
of Henry VIII. who endowed the deanery with 12
prebendaries, 12 minor canons, a deacon, subdeacon,
16 lay singing men, a schoolmaster and usher, a mas¬
ter of the choir, a divinity reader, eight almsmen, 18
scholars, 10 choristers, two vergers, two porters, two
cooks, two butlers, and two sacristans. On tlie south
side of the cathedral is the college; a spacious court
formed by the houses of the prebendaries, who are
richly endowed and extremely well lodged. Above
the college gate, at the east end, is the exchequer j
and at the west, a large hall for entertaining strangers,
with the granary and other offices ot the convent. I he
college school, with the master’s house, stands on the
north side of the cathedral. Between the churchyard
and castle is an open area called the palace green ; at
the west end of which stands the shire hall, where the
assizes and sessions are held for the county. Close by
is the library built by Bishop Cosin j together with the
exchequer raised by Bishop Nevil, in which are kept
the offices belonging to the county palatine court.
There is an hospital on the east, endowed by Bishop
Cosin, and at each end of it are two schools founded
by Bishop Langley. On the north, is the castle built
by William the Conqueror, and afterwards converted
into the bishop’s palace, the outward gate of which is
at present the county gaol.
The city consists of three manors j the bishop s ma¬
nor, containing the city liberties and the bailey, held
of him by the service of castle guard $ the manor ot the
dean and chapter, consisting of the Elyet’s cross-gate,
South-gate street; and the manor of Gilligate, former¬
ly belonging to the dissolved hospital o( Kepyar in this
neighbourhood, but granted by Edward VI. to John
Cockburn, lord of Ormistoun, and late 111 the possession
of John Tempest, Esq. . , . .
The bishopric of Durham is deemed the richest bi¬
shopric in the kingdom; and the prebends are fre¬
quently styled the Golden Prebends of Durham. Ihe
diocese contains the whole counties of Durham and
Northumberland, except the jurisdiction of Hexham in
the latter. It hath also one parish in the county ot Cum¬
berland : making in the whole 135 parishes, whereof
87 are impropriate. The see is valued in the king’s
books at 2821I. is. 5^d. but is said to be worth about
ten times that sum annually. The clergy’s tenths a-
mount to 385I. 5s- It has two archdeacons, v,z.
of Durham and Northumberland. This see hath given
to the church of Rome eight saints and one cardinal;
and to the English nation one lord chief justice, hve
lord chancellors, three lord treasurers, one principal se¬
cretary of state, one chancellor to the university ot Ox¬
ford, and two masters of the rolls.
In the neighbourhood of this city is Nevil s cross,
famous for the battle fought in the year 1346; against
D U R
who was defeated and
David II. king of Scotland,
taken prisoner.
DURIO, a genus of plants belonging to the poly-
adelphia class. See Botany Index.
DURNIUM, or Durnovaria, a town of the Du-
rotriges in Britain ; now Dorchester, the capital of
Dorsetshire, on the Frome.
DUROBRIVj®, in Ancient Geography, a town of
the Catyeuchlani in Britain. Now in ruins, which lie
on the Nen, between Caster and Dornford, in North¬
amptonshire, on the borders of Huntingdon.
DuROBRiViE, or Durocobrivee, a town of the rI rino-
bantes, in Britain ; whose ruins are situated between
Flamstead and Redburn, in Hertfordshire.
DUROBRIVES, 25 miles to the west of Durover-
num, or Canterbury ; from which it appears to be
Rochester town : confirmed by the charter of founda¬
tion of the church, in which it is called Durobrevis.
DUROCASES, Durocassium, Durocass.®, and
Durocasses, a town of the Carnutes in Gallia Celtica;
now Dreux. See DRUlDiE.
DUROCORNOV1UM, in Ancient Geography, a
town of Britain ; now Cirencester in Gloucestershire
(Camden), called Corinium by Ptolemy.
DUROCORTORUM, or Duricortora, a town
of the Rhemi in Belgica ; now Rheims in Champagne.
E. Long. 4. 8. N. Lat. 49. 20.
DUROIA, in Botany; a genus of plants belong¬
ing to the hexandria class of plants. See Botany
Index.
DUROLENUM, a town of the Cantii in Britain ;
now Lenham, in Kent (Camden) ; Charing (lalbot.)
DUROLITUM, a town of the Trinobantes ; now
Leiton, on the Ley, in Essex (Camden).
DUROTRIGES, an ancient British nation, seated
in that part of the country which is now called Dor¬
setshire. Their name is derived from the two British
words Dur, “ water,” and Trigo, “ to dwell ;” and it
is no less evident that they got their name from the si¬
tuation of their country, which lies along the sea coast.
It is not very certain whether the Durotriges formed
an independent state, under a prince of their own, or
were united with their neighbours the Danmonii; as
they were reduced by Vespasian under the dominion
of the Romans, at the same time, and with the same
ease, and never revolted. The peaceable disposition ot
the inhabitants was probably the reason that the Ro¬
mans had so few towns, forts, and garrisons, in this
pleasant country. Dorchester, its present capital, seems
to have been a Roman city of some consideration,
though our antiquaries are not agreed about its Roman
name. It is most probable, that it was the Durno¬
varia in the 12th Iter of Antoninus. Many Roman
coins have been found at Dorchester ; the military
way, Jeening-street, passed through it ; and some
vestiges of the ancient stone wall with which it was
surrounded, and of the amphitheatre with which it was
adorned, are still visible. The country ot the Duro¬
triges was included in the Roman province called Fla¬
vin Gcesariensis, and governed by the president of that
province, as long as the Romans kept any footing in
these parts.
DURY, John, a Scots divine, who travelled much,
and laboured with great zeal to reunite the Lutherans
0 with
D U U
Dury with the Calvinists. His discouragements in this
p scheme started another still more impracticable ; and
fitimm- this was to reunite all Christians by means of a new
fate’ , explication of the Apocalypse, which he published at
Frankfort in 1677. He enjoyed then a comfortable re¬
treat in the country of Hesse 5 but the time of his death
is unknown : his letter to Peter du Moulin concerning
the state of the churches of England, Scotland, and
Ireland, was printed at London in 1658, by the care
of du Moulin, and is esteemed to be curious.
DUSKY BAY, a bay of the island of New Zealand
in the Southern Pacific ocean. It is in S. Lat. 45. 47.
and in E. Long. 166. 18.
DUSSAULX, John, a French writer of the last
century. See Supplement.
DUSSELDORF, a city of Germany, and capital
of the duchy of Berg. It is situated at the conflux of
the river Dussel with the Rhine, in E. Long. 6. 25.
N. Lat. 51. 12. It was formerly the residence of the
elector palatine. Carlstadt, or the new town, is di¬
vided into six regular quarters which open into an ex¬
tensive square ; and forms a beautiful addition to the
old city. Dusseldorf was taken by the French in 1795.
The fortifications were demolished after the peace in
1801. In 1806 it became the residence of the grand
duke of Berg; but in 1815 it was made over, with the
rest of the duchy, to Prussia. It contains, including
the garrison, i8,oSo inhabitants.
DUTENS, Louis, a French miscellaneous writer.
See Supplement.
DUTCHY. See Duchy.
DUTY, in general, denotes any thing that one is
obliged to perform.
Duty, in a moral sense. See Moral Philosophy.
Duty, in polity and commerce, signifies the impost
laid on merchandises, at importation or exportation,
commonly called the duties of customs ; also the taxes
of excise, stamp duties, &c. See Customs, Excise,
&c.
The principles on which all duties and customs should
be laid on foreign merchandises which are imported
into these kingdoms, are such as tend to cement a mu¬
tual friendship and traffic between one nation and an¬
other ; and therefore due care should be taken in the
laying of them, that they may answer so good an end,
and be reciprocal in both countries ; they should be so
laid as to make the exports of this nation at least equal
to our imports from those nations wherewith we trade,
to the end that no greater number of our landholders
and manufacturers should be deprived of their revenues
arising from the product of the lands, and the labour
of the people, by foreign importations, than are main¬
tained by exportations to such countries. These are
the national principles on which all our treaties of
commerce with other countries ought to be ground¬
ed.
Duty, in the military art, is the exercise of those
functions that belong to a soldier : with this distinction,
that mounting guard and the like, where there is no
enemy directly to be engaged, is called duty; but their
marching to meet and fight an enemy is called going
on service.
DUUMVIRATE, the office or dignity of the duum¬
viri. See the next article.
D W A
Hie duumvirate lasted till the year of Rome 388, DuuniTi.
when it was changed into a decemvirate. rate
DUUMVIRI, in Roman antiquity, a general ap- »)
pellation given to magistrates, commissioners, and offi- ,
cers, where two were joined together in the same func- v
tions.
Duumviri Capitules were the judges in criminal
causes: from their sentence it was lawful to appeal to
the people, who only had the power of condemning a
citizen to death. I hese judges were taken from the
body of the decuriones ; they had great power and au¬
thority, were members of the public council, and had
two lictors to walk before them.
DuumviriMunicipales, were two magistrates in some
cities of the empire, answering to what the consuls were
at Rome : they were chosen out of the body of the
decuriones ; their office lasted commonly five years,
upon which account they were frequently termed
quinquinales magistratus. Their jurisdiction was of
gieat extent: they had officers who walked before
them, carrying a small switch in their hands ; and
some of them assumed the privilege of having lictors,
carrying axes, and the fasces or bundles of rods, before
them.
Duumviri Navales, were the commissaries of the
fleet, first created at the request of ML Decius, tribune
of the people, in the time of the war with the Samnites.
Jhe duty of their office consisted in giving orders for
the fitting of ships, and giving their commissions to the
marine officers, &c.
Duumviri Sacrorwn, were magistrates created by
Tarquinius Superbus, for the performance of the sa¬
crifices, and keeping of the sibyls books. They were
chosen from among the patricians, and held their office
for life ; they were exempted from serving in the wars,
and from the offices imposed on the other citizens,
and without them the oracles of the sibyls could not be
consulted.
DUYVELAND, or Diveland, one of the islands
of Zealand, in the United Provinces, lying eastward of
Schonen, from which it is only separated by a narrow
channel.
DWAL, in Heraldry, the herb nightshade, used by
such as blazon with flowers and herbs, instead of metals
and colours, for sable or black.
DWARF, in general an appellation given to things
greatly inferior in size to that which is usual in their
several kinds : thus there are dwarfs of the human spe¬
cies, dwarf dogs, dwarf trees, &c.
The Romans were passionately fond of dwarfs, whom
they called nani or nance, insomuch that they often
used artificial methods to prevent the growth of boys
designed for dwarfs, by enclosing them in boxes, or by
the use of tight bandages. Augustus’s niece, Julia,
was extremely fond of a dwarf called Sonopas, who was
only two feet and a handbreadth high. We have many
other accounts of human dwarfs, but most of them de¬
formed in some way or other besides the smallness of
their size. Many relations also concerning dwarfs we
must necessarily look upon to be fabulous, as well as
those concerning giants. The fallowing history, how¬
ever, which we have reason to look upon as authentic,
is too remarkable not to be acceptable to the generali¬
ty of our readers..
[ 389 1
Jeffery.
D waif.
D W A [ 39® 3
Jeffery Hudson, the famous English dwarf, was born ments.
at Oakham, in Rutlandshire, in 1619-, and about the
age of seven or eight, being then but 18 inches high,
was retained in the service of the duke of Buckingham,
who resided at Burleigh on the Hill. Soon alter the
marriage of Charles I. the king and queen being en¬
tertained at Burleigh, little Jeffery was served up to
table in a*cold pie, and presented by the duchess to the
queen, who kept him as her dwarf. From 7 years of
age till 30, he never grew taller*, but after 30, he shot
up to three feet nine inches, and there fixed. Jeffery
became a considerable part of the entertainment of the
court. Sir William Davenant wrote a poem called
Jeffreidos, on a battle between him and a turkey cock
and in 1638, was published a very small book, called
the New Year's Gift, presented at court by the lady
Parvula to the lord Minimus (commonly called Little
Jeffery) her majesty’s servant, &c. written by Micro-
philus, with a little print of Jeffery prefixed. _ Before
this period, Jeffery was employed on a negotiation ot
great importance: he was sent to France to letch a
midwife for the queen ; and on his return with this
gentlewoman, and her majesty’s dancing master, and
many rich presents to the queen from her mother Mary
de Medicis, he was taken by the Dunkirkers. Jeffery,
thus made of consequence, grew to think himself really
so. He had borne with little temper the teasing of the
courtiers and domestics, and had many squabbles with
the king’s gigantic porter. At last, being provoked by
Mr Crofts, a young gentleman of family, a challenge
ensued *, and Mr Crofts coming to the rendezvous armed
only with a squirt, the little creature was so enraged,
that a real duel ensued 5 and the appointment being on
horseback with pistols, to put them more on a level,
Jeffery, with the first fire, shot his antagonist dead.
This happened in France, whither he had attended his
mistress in the troubles. He was again taken prisoner
bv a Turkish rover, and sold into Barbai’y. He pro¬
bably did not remain long in slavery $ for at the be¬
ginning of the civil war, he was made a captain in the
roval army and in 1644 attended the queen to trance,
where he remained till the Restoration, At last, upon
suspicion of his being privy to the popish plot, he was
taken up in 1682, and confined in the Gatehouse,
Westminster, where he ended his life, in the 63d year
of his age. .
In the memoirs of the Royal Academy ot bcr-
ences, a relation is given by the count de Tressau,
of a dwarf called J3ebe kept by the late Stanislaus,^
king of Poland, and who died in 17641 a'- tlie aSe,
23, when he measured only 32 inches. At the time
of his birth, he measured only between eight and nine
inches. Diminutive as were his dimensions, his rea¬
soning faculties were not less scanty ; appearing indeed
not to have been superior to those of a well-taught
pointer:j but that the size and strength of the intel¬
lectual powers are not affected by the diminutiveness
or tenuity of the corporeal organs, is evident horn a
still more striking instance of littleness, given us by the
same nobleman, in the person of Monsieur Borulawski,
a Polish gentleman, whom he saw at Euneville, who
has since been at Paris, and wh® at the age of 22
measured only 28 inches. This miniature of a man,
considering him only as to his bodily dimensions, appears
a giant with regard to his mental powers and attain-
2
D \V I
He is described by the count as possessing all Dwarf,
the graces of wit, united with a sound judgment and Dwitia,
an excellent memory j so that we may with justice say ' r—
of M. Borulawski, in the words of Seneca, and nearly
in the order in which he has used them, “ Posse mge-
niumfortissimum ac beatissimum sub quolibet corpusculo
latere. ” Epist. 66.
Count Borulawski was the son of a Polish noble¬
man attached to the fortunes of King Stanislaus, who
lost his property in consequence of that attachment,
and who had six children, three dwarfs, and three well
grown. What is singular enough, they were born al¬
ternately, a big one and a little one, though both pa¬
rents were of the common size. The little count’s
youngest sister was much less than him, but died at
the age of 23. The count continued to grow till he
was about 30, and has at present attained his 51st
year, and the height of three feet two inches. He
never experienced any sickness, but lived in a polite
and affluent manner under the patronage ol a lady, a
friend of the family, till love at the age of 41 intruded
into his little peaceful bosom, and involved him in ma¬
trimony, care, and perplexity. Jhe lady he chose
was ot his own country, but ot 1 rench extraction, and
the middle size. They have three children, all girls,
and none of them likely to be dwarts. io provide
for a family now became an object big with difficulty,
requiring all the exertion of his powers (which could
promise°but little) and his talents, of which music
alone afforded any view of profit. He plays extremely
well upon the guitar; and by having concerts in se¬
veral of the principal cities in Germany, he raised
temporary supplies. At ^ icnna he was persuaded to
turn his thoughts to England, where it was believed
the public curiositv might in a little time benefit him
sufficiently to enable him to live independent in so
cheap a country as Poland. He was furnished by very
respectable friends with recommendations to several of
the most distinguished characters in this kingdom, a*
the duchess of Devonshire, Rutland, &c. &c. whose
kind patronage he is not backward to acknowledge.
He was advised to let himself be seen as a curiosity,
and the price of admission was fixed at a guinea.
The number of his visitors, of course, was not very
great. After a pretty long stay in London he went
to Bath and Bristol; visited Dublin and some other
parts of Ireland ; whence he returned by way of Li¬
verpool, Manchester, and Birmingham, to London.
He also visited Edinburgh and some other towns of
Scotland. In every place he acquired a number of
friends. In reality, the ease and politeness of his man¬
ners and address please no less, than the diminutive, yet
elegant, proportions of his figure astonish those whs
visit him. His person is pleasing and graceful, and his
look manly and noble. He speaks French fluently,
and English tolerably. He is remarkably lively and
cheerful, though fitted for the most serious and rational
conversation. Such is this wonderful little man—an
object of curiosity really worthy the attention ot the
philosopher, the man of taste, and the anatomist. His
life has been published, written by himself.
DWINA, the name of two large rivers; one of
which rises in Lithuania, and, dividing Livonia from
Courland, falls into the Baltic sea a little below Riga?
the other gives name to the province of Dwma in Russia.
XI
DYE
It runs from south to north, and discharges itself into
the White sea a little befow Archangel.
DYCK. See Vandyck.
BYE, in Architecture, any square body, as the trunk
or notched part of a pedestal : or it is the middle of
the pedestal, or that part included between the base
and the corniche; so called because it is often made in
the fo rm of a cube or dye. See Architecture, N°6i.
DYER, a person who professes the art of dyeing all
manner of colours. See Dyeing.
Dyer, Sir James, an eminent English lawyer, chief
judge of the court of common pleas in the reum of
Queen Elizabeth. He died in 1581 : and about 20
years after was published his large collection of Re¬
ports, which have been highly esteemed for their sue-
cinctness and solidity. He also left other writings be¬
hind h im relative to his profession.
Dyer, John, the son of Robert Dyer, Esq. a Welsh
solicitor of great capacity, was born in 170-0. He
passed through Westminster school under the care of
Dr Freind, and was then called home to be instructed
in his father’s profession. His genius, however, led
him a different way ; for besides his early taste for
poetry, having a passion no less strong for the arts of
design, he determined to make painting his profession.
With this view, having studied a while under his master,
he became, as he tells his friend, an itinerant painter,
and wandered about South Wales, and the parts adja¬
cent; and about 1727 printed Grongar Hill. Being
probably unsatisfied with his own proficiency, he made
the tour of Italy; where, besides the usual study of
the remains of antiquity, and the works of the great
masters, he frequently spent whole days in the country
about Rome and Florence, sketching those picturesque
piospects with facility and spirit. Images from hence
naturally transferred themselves into his poetical com¬
positions : the principal beauties of The Ruins of Rome
are perhaps of this kind ; and the various landscapes in
Ihe Fleece have been particularly admired. On his
return to England, he published The Ruins of Rome,
1740 ; but soon found that he could not relish a town
life, nor submit to the assiduity required in his pro¬
fession. As his turn of mind was rather serious, and
his conduct and behaviour always irreproachable, he
C 391 ]
BYE
was advised by his friends to enter into holy orders ;
and it is presumed, though his education had not been
regular, that he found no difficulty in obtaining them.
He was ordained by the bishop of Lincoln, and had a
law degree conferred on him.
About the same time he married a lady of Coleshiil
named Ensor; “ whose grandmother (says he) was a
Shakespeare, descended from a brother of every body’s
Shakespeare.” His ecclesiastical provision was a long
time but slender. His first patron, Mr Harper, gave
him, in i^i, Calthorp in Leicestershire, of Sol. a-
year, on which he lived ten years ; and in April 1751
exchanged it for Belchford in Lincolnshire, of yyl.
which was given him by Lord-chancellor Hardwicke,
on the recommendation of a friend to virtue and the
muses. His condition now began to mend. In 1752,
Sir John Heathcote gave him Coningsby, of 140I. a-
year ; and in 1756, when he was LL. B. without any
solicitation of his own, obtained for him from the chan¬
cellor Kirby-on-Bane, of uol. In 1757, lie published
The Fleece, his greatest poetical work; of which Dr
Johnson relates this ludicrous story. Dodsley the book¬
seller was one day mentioning it to a critical visitor,
with more expectation of success than the other could
easily admit. In the conversation the author’s age was
asked : and being represented as advanced in life,
“ He will (said the critic) be buried in woollen.” He
did not indeed long outlive that publication, nor long
enjoy the increase of his preferments ; for a consump¬
tive disorder, with which he had long struggled, car¬
ried him off'at length in 1758.
Mr Dyer’s character as a writer has been fixed by
three poems, Grongar Hill, The Ruins of Rome, and
Ihe fleece; wherein a poetical imagination perfectly
original, a natural simplicity connected with and often
productive of the true sublime, and the warmest senti¬
ments of benevolence and virtue, have been universally
observed and admired. These pieces were put out se¬
parately in his lifetime t but after his death they were
collected and published in one volume 8vo, 1761 ; with
a short account of himself prefixed.
Dyer's-Wted. See Reseda, Botany and Dyeing-
Index.
Dyer.
DYEING.
><s
><V
I* r\YEING is the art of communicating a perman-
ent colour to any substance; but it is generally
employed in a more limited sense, and is applied to the
art of giving colours to wool, silk, cotton or flax, or to
thread or cloth fabricated of these substances. To this
more limited sense we propose to confine it in the fol¬
lowing treatise ; and for the dyeing or staining of other
substances, as paper, wood, bone, leather, marble, the
reader is referred to these articles.
2. Among the arts of life there are some which are
essential to man even in the earliest period of his hi¬
story ; while others derive their origin from chance,
and owe their improvement and perfection to the pro¬
gress of refinement and luxury. Those arts which
are c©nnected with the means of providing food or
shelter are necessary even in the rudest state of manr
and are practised with more or less dexterity and suc¬
cess according to the abundance or scantiness of the
supply with which he is furnished, and the varieties of
climate which he inhabits. But those arts which have
been distinguished by the name of fine arts can only
flourish and arrive at a high degree of perfection in
the more luxurious ages of refined society. To this
account of the origin and progress of the arts among
mankind, the art of dyeing forms a remarkable excep¬
tion. Totally unconnected with the means of provid¬
ing food to satisfy the urgent calls of hunger, of pre¬
paring raiment to secure the body from cold, or of pro¬
curing shelter.from the storm, this art might at first
sight be considered as one of those which exclusively
belong
dyeing.
belong to an age of luxury. But the history of man¬
kind assigns to its origin a very different period. Ihe
art of dyeing seems to be almost co-eyal with man.
In the rudest state of his existence, his simple and
Of dyeing.
Hlftory.
and pro-
scanty clothing is frequently coloured 5 and even the
naked savage, while he is yet a houseless wanderer m
the woods, has discovered the means of staining his
body with different colours. And yet the art of dye¬
ing in no respect contributes to relieve the real and
primary wants of man. It renders not his raiment
warmer, and it serves not to make his lodging more
comfortable. 0 r j
3. Whence then is the origin of this art r It de¬
pends not like others on the necessities of man, and it
exists long before he is acquainted with refinement anc
luxury. It must therefore be traced to a different
source.
We see that the desire of distinction is one of the most
active principles in the human mind. This principle
operates equally in the breast of the savage in the midst
of his naked companions, and in that of the sage and the
soldier in polished society. Man rarely rests satisfied
with the solid, but frequently less obvious pre-eminence,
which superior strength, genius, or learning, confers.
The proofs of this superiority can be but seldom ex¬
hibited j they are often not generally understood or
acknowledged, and therefore cannot always be fairly
estimated. He who possesses any of those talents which
give him a superiority to others, naturally wishes to be
distinouished by certain marks by which he may more
uniformly and more directly excite admiration and com¬
mand respect. He seeks, therefore, for some adventi¬
tious circumstances, which may be regarded as a kind
of symbolical representation of power and greatness;
and as they are constantly present to the senses,
they make a deep impression, and keep alive those feel¬
ings of admiration which are so gratifying to the vain
and ambitious. Dress and its ornaments have been
usually employed as external marks of distinction.
Hence it is, that the chief or the warrior among rude
nations is clothed with a finer and more beautiful skin ;
his head is decorated with flowers or feathers; or the
leaves of the oak, or the laurel, simply adorn his brow.
And in the progress of civilization and refinement, the
diadem of gold," and the robe of purple or of scarlet,
supplant these simpler decorations as characteristics of
dignity and power. To increase still more the beauty
and variety of those substances which are employed as
clothing or as the ornaments of dress, the aid of co¬
lours has been called in ; and accordingly we find that
coloured clothing has been held in high estimation in
.all ages. This principle, therefore, the desire of di¬
stinction, seems to be the natural origin of'the art of dye¬
ing. Nature, however, furnishes the model, and may be
regarded as the antetype of the art, in the gay plumage
with which she has’clothed the feathered tribes, and in
the splendid colours and infinite variety of shades which
are exhibited in her vegetable productions.
4. But without indulging farther in these specula¬
tions, which are to be considered as subjects of curious
investigation, rather than as topics of practical utility,
let us now take a short view of the history and progress
of this art. , , , t f
We have endeavoured to shew that the beauty ot
brilliant colours is one of the means of attracting at-
3
tention, and of acquiring distinction, which mankind in Hi«ury.
every period of society have employed. Even before '""“V—~
the use of clothing has been introduced, the rude in¬
habitants of savage nations applied them first to their
skins. This practice existed among the Britons in the
time of Caesar ; and the women of Gaul about the
same period stained themselves of a brown olive colour.
At this day, it is still the practice of many of the sa¬
vage tribes of America, as well as of the natives of the
South sea islands. But when mankind had made some
progress in arts and civilization, and bad begun
to wear clothing, the colours which they admired
were afterwards communicated to their garments.
The art of dyeing, therefore, though in a rude and im¬
perfect state, is indisputably of great antiquity ; and in¬
deed considering its nature and origin, this might have
been expected. !
5. India, the nursery of the arts and sciences, which m India
were afterwards improved and brought to perfection
among other nations, seems to have given birth to the
art of dyeing ; and it would appear that the know¬
ledge of dyeing cotton had advanced as far in the time
of Alexander the Great as at the present time, so
stationary have the arts become in that country. The
beautiful colours of the Indian linens would naturally
lead to the supposition that the art bad reached a very
high degree of perfection ; but it is known that the In¬
dian processes are so tedious, complicated and imper¬
fect, that they would be totally impracticable in any
other country.
6. It was not till the time of Alexander the Great among thl
that the art of dyeing cotton and linen, which had Greeks,
gradually spread from the east to the west, was known
in Europe. The Greeks, however, as appears from many
passages in the Iliad and Odyssey, were acquainted with
the art of dyeing purple in the time of Homer. And
it is supposed that they derived their knowledge of it
from the Phenicians, a people who were very early ce¬
lebrated for the art of dyeing. But their art seems to
have been confined to wool; silk, indeed, was at that
time unknown, and linen was usually worn white.
7. Dyeing and coloured stuffs are frequently mcn-theJewi
tinned in the sacred writings. It would appear that
the art had made considerable progress in the time of
the patriarchs, from what is mentioned in the book of
Genesis. The dyed stuffs which are described in the
book of Exodus were purchased by the Jews from the
Phenicians.
8. The Egyptians, according to Pliny, practised atheEgyf
kind of topical dyeing or calico-printing, which fromtians.
his general description seems to have been similar to
that Which was found many ages after to exist in differ¬
ent parts of India, and was from thence introduced in¬
to the different countries of Europe. He says, the
Egyptians began by painting on white cloths, which
were no doubt of linen or cotton, with certain drugs
which were themselves colourless, but possessed the
property of absorbing colouring substances. These
cloths were afterwards immersed in a heated dyeing
liquor which was of one uniform colour, and although
they were formerly colourless, yet when they were
taken out, they were found to be dyed of different
colours, according to the different qualities of the sub¬
stances which had been applied to their different parts;
acd these colours could not afterwards be discharged
by
by washing+. This art was probably borrowed from
1 the natives of India.
9. The Tyrian purple, so celebrated among the an-
DYEING.
irpie,
Tyrian c*en^s> was probably from the name discovered at
Tyre, and nerhans contrihnfprl nnf q KhIo
the
ff.
Tyre, and perhaps contributed not a little to the opu¬
lence of that city. The liquor which was employed
in dyeing the purple was extracted from two kinds of
shell-fish, one of which, the larger, was called the pur¬
ple, and the other was a species of whelk. Each of
these species was subdivided into different varieties,
and were otherwise distinguished, according to the
places where they were found, and as they yielded
more or less of a beautiful colour. It is in a vessel in
the throat of the fish that the colouring liquor is found,
epaia- Each fish only afforded a single drop. When a certain
iii^oft e quantity of the liquor had been obtained, it was mixed
‘ with a proportion of common salt, macerated together
for three days, and five times the quantity of water
was added. The mixture being kept in a moderate
heat, the animal parts which happened to be mixed
with it, separated and rose to the surface. At the end
of ten days, when these operations were finished, a
piece of white wool w'as immersed, by which means
they ascertained whether the liquor had acquired the
proper shade.
\ arious processes wrere followed to prepare the stuff”
to receive the dye. By some it was immersed in lime
water, and by others it was prepared with a kind of
focus, which acted as a mordant to give it a more
fixed colour. Alkanet was used by some for the same
purpose.
The liquor of the whelk did not alone yield a du¬
rable colour. The liquor from the other shell-fish
served to increase its brightness ; and thus two opera¬
tions were in use to communicate this colour. A first
dye was given by the liquor of the purple, and a second
by. that of the whelk 5 from which it was called by
Pliny putpura dibapha, or purple twice dipped.
10. Some kinds of purple have been found to possess
great durability. Plutarch, in his life of Alexander
the Great, mentions that the Greeks discovered in the
treasury of the king of Persia a great quantity of pur¬
ple which was 190 years old, and still retained all its
beauty.
11. The small quantity of liquor which could be ob¬
tained from each shell-fish, and the tedious process in
its preparation and application to the stuffs, raised the
price of purple so high, that in the time of Augustus
a pound of wool of the Tyrian purple dye, could not
be purchased for one thousand denarii, equal to about
36I. sterling.
12. I he purple, which has been almost everywhere
a mark of distinction attached to high birth and dig-
nity, was worn by those who held the first offices in
Rome. The emperors at last reserved to themselves
the right of wearing it, and prohibited all others from
using it on pain of death.
13* A he substances which have been discovered and
used in dyeing by the moderns, and the superiority
which they have obtained in many colours, have su¬
perseded the use.of the purple of the ancients. The
•hell-fish from which the liquor is extracted, is suppo¬
sed to be now as abundant as ever. Similar shell-fish
have been found near Nicoya, a small Spanish town in
South America, and they are at present used for dve-
Vol. VII. Part I.
Una-
• ICY,
h price.
Vtn by
tl Ro-
w ..
^ used
'sing
ing cotton on the coasts of Guaiaquil and Guati-
mala. v 
14. In the year 1683, Mr Cole of Bristol discover-The »hell-
ed, on the coast of England, the shell-fish which yields,,sl1 fuund
the purple liquor. The liquor was contained in awhiteon,
vein, lying transversely in a little furrow or cleft, next England
to the head of the fish. He found by experiment, that
letters or marks, made with this white liquor, appear¬
ed when first exposed to the air of a green colour.
When exposed to the sun, it became of a deeper green,
afterwards of a purplish red, and by the continued ac¬
tion of the sun’s rays, of a deep purple red. Mr Cole
sent some of the first linen marked with this liquor to
Dr Plot, one of the secretaries of the Royal Society,
in the year 1684. It was soon after shown to King
Charles II. who greatly admired it. and desired that
some of the shell-fish might be collected, and brought to
town, that he might have an opportunity of seeing the
liquor applied, and the successive changes of colour
through which it passed.
A species of this shell-fish was also found by Plu¬
nder at the Antilles ; and Reaumur made a number of
experiments on whelks, which were collected on the
coast of Poitou. Duhamel found the same shell-fish in and
great abundance on the coast of Provence. The expe- FrancC*
riments of these philosophers on this liquor afforded the
same result as those of Mr Cole. They observed that,
although at first white, it becomes by the action of
light, of a yellowish green, then deepens to a kind of
blue, which is afterwards changed to a red. In less
than five minutes, the latter is converted into a fine
deep purple, having all the characters of the purple of
the ancients.
Eudocia Macrembolitissa, daughter of the emperor
Constantine VIII. who lived in the nth century, while
the knowledge and practice of dyeing that colour for
the use and at the expence of the Greek emperors still
subsisted, has given q. minute account of the mode of
catching the shell-fish which produced the purple. Of
this operation she herself, it would appear, was an eye¬
witness. As it was applied at that time, it did not ac¬
quire its full lustre and perfection of colour, till it had
been exposed to the action of the sun’s rays.
15. A liquor which yields the same colour, and has Parple li-
otherwise similar properties, is found in different parts |lnor f«und
of the world. Abundance of purple snails, it is said,in snails'
are found in the islands opposite to Batavia. They
are boiled and eaten by the Chinese, who polish
the shells, and pick out of the middle of the snail a
purple-coloured substance, which they use in colouring
and making red ink. Dr Peysonnel describes what he
calls the naked snail, which is found in the seas of the
Antilles, and affords a liquor of a beautiful purple
colour. This liquor is thrown out by the animal when
it is disturbed, in the same way as the cuttle-fish dis-
charges the ink. The liquor of the snail is naturally
of a purple colour, without the application of light *. *
Two shell-fishes, which yield a similar colouring li_^a”s*
quor, are described by Dr Brown in his history of Ja- ° **
maica. The one, he says, is frequent in the Ameri¬
can seas, and emits on being touched a considerable
quantity of viscid purple liquor, which thickens and
colours water. The other is called the purple ocean
shell, and yields a beautiful purple liquor, which seems
to resemble the former. But investigations concern-
3 ^ ing
The arls
lost.
Are revi-
Ted in
Italy.
Dyeing re
■wed in
Italy.
DYEING.
ing the nature and application of the purple dye from
shell-fish are now to be considered merely as subjects of
curiosity *, because the colours which are obtained by
the processes of the moderns are more beautilul, and
far less expensive.
16. In the 5th century, during the irruption of the
northern barbarians, the arts, which had been encou¬
raged and protected by the Romans, were lost amidst
the devastations of the western empire. A few', indeed,
were preserved in Italy, but they were in a state of de¬
cay *, and otherwise no traces remained of knowledge,
industry, or humanity. A manuscript of the 8th cen¬
tury is quoted by Muratori, which contains a descrip¬
tion of some dyes, principally lor skins, as vvell as some
processes connected with other arts j but Irom the bar¬
barous Latin in which it is written, no distinct notion
can be formed of the nature of these processes. Ihe
arts met with a better fate in the East, where they were
protected and encouraged. So late as the I2th cen¬
tury, articles of luxury were procured by some of the
great from eastern countries.
43 17. During the time of the crusades, Venice and
other cities of Italy became rich and powerful, first by
supplying with provisions the Europeans who engaged
in these frantic and destructive expeditions, and alter-
wards by establishing an intercourse with the Grecian
empire. By these means the arts, which had been preser¬
ved among the Greeks, were established in Italy. In the
year 1338, the city of Florence contained 200 manu¬
facturers, who are said to have produced from J0,000
to 80,000 pieces of cloth. In the year I3GC> orchil
was accidentally discovered by a Florentine merchant.
Observing that urine produced a fine colour on certain
species of moss, he made experiments, and from these
learned the mode of preparing this substance. The
discovery was long kept secret. His posterity, a branch
of which it is said still exists, have retained the appel¬
lation of Rucellai, from the Spanish word which signifies
that kind of moss. .
18. The arts, after being revived in Italy, continued
for a long time to be cultivated and improved with in¬
creasing success. Along with these, the art of dyeing^
made considerable progress. The first collection of
the processes employed in this art appeared at Venice
in the year 1429. It was entitled Mariegola del'' arte
de itcntori. To render this description more useful
and extensive, a person of the name of Giovanni Ven¬
tura Rosetti, travelled through different parts of Italy,
and the neighbouring countries, where the arts had
begun to flourish, that he might acquire a knowledge
of the processes which were employed by different
dyers. These were collected and published in 154^*
under the title of Plictho. This treatise has been by
some considered as the leading step towards the perfec¬
tion, which the art of dyeing has attained j for it is the
first in which.the different processes are collected. No
mention is made either of cochineal or of indigo j so
that it would appear, these dyes were either not known,
or not employed in Italy previous to the time in which
it was written. . .
19. Italy, but especially Venice, for a long time
almost exclusively possessed the art of dyeing, and this
seems to have contributed greatly to the prosperity of
the manufactures and commerce which the Italian states
long enjoyed. By degrees it was. introduced into
France, Holland, and Britain. The process for dyeing History,
the true scarlet had been communicated to a person of v—■<
the name of Gobelin, who established a manufactory
near Paris, which still bears his name. At the time,
this was considered so rash an enterprise,that it received &c<
the name of Gobelin's folly > hut such was his success,
and such was the ignorance of the times, that it was
supposed he derived his knowledge of the processes he
employed, from the devil !
20. The discovery of America brought the know¬
ledge of the cochineal insect into Europe. The Spa¬
niards observing that the Mexicans eurployed it in
painting their houses, and in dyeing cotton, transmit¬
ted an account of the beauty of that colour, to their
government, whose attention was afterwards dnected.to
encourage and promote the increase of this valuable in¬
sect from which it is obtained. The discovery of co¬
chineal was soon followed by that of the process lor dye¬
ing scarlet, by means of a solution of tin. For thia
discovery we are indebted to a German chemist of the
name of Kuster, or Kufler, who carried the secret to
London in the year 1643. Gluck or Kloeck, a Fle¬
mish painter, having obtained possession of this secret,
communicated it to Gobelin, and afterwards the know¬
ledge of it spread throughout all Europe. The use ofindigoJr,
indigo, which was a great acquisition to the art of dye-used^
ing, was more slowly established than that of cochi-
neal. In the reign of Queen Elizabeth, the use of this
substance, as well as of logwood, was strictly prohibited
in England, and, if found in any manufactory, was or¬
dered to be burned. This, as must appear at the pre¬
sent time, very strange prohibition, was not withdrawn
till the reign of Charles II. It met with the same fate
in Saxony. In the edict in which the use of it is for¬
bidden, it is said to be a corrosive colour, and called
food for the devil! ! _ .
21. In France also, some prejudice was entertained
against it, and although it was not entirely prohibited,
the use of it was limited to a certain proportion. The
reason on which this prejudice was founded, on a nar¬
row view of the principles of political economy, might
even in the present day be admitted as specious, if
not satisfactory. It was held out by those who dyed
blue, and were accustomed to use pastil and woad,
that the introduction of indigo would supersede the
use of these substances 5 and it was represented that
their consumption would be destroyed, and the en¬
couragement for the productions of the country dimi¬
nished.
22. Previous to the administration of the celebra-Dyeingf
ted Colbert, the industry and arts of France long re-courage^
mained in a state of languor and decay. By the wise
measures which were adopted by this minister, she
soon rose to distinction among the nations of Europe,
and in a short time saw her commerce and manu¬
factures greatly extended. He invited the most s^"
ful artists, encouraged and rewarded their talents, and
thus established many arts and manufactures. Among
these, the art of dyeing received its share of attention.
In the year 1672, he published a table of instructions
for dyeing, which, although it contains- many useless
and improper restrictions, is on many accounts worthy
of attention, and particularly.the reasons which he has,'
given for considering it as an object of consequence.
As a proof of this, we may refer to the following ex*
^ tract.
dyeing,
History, tract from the instructions : “If, it is said, the manu-
factories of silk, wool, and thread, are to be reckoned
among those which most contribute to the support of
commerce ; dyeing, which gives them that striking va¬
riety of colour, by which they resemble what is most
beautiful in nature, may be considered as the soul of
them, without which a body could scarcely exist.
“ Wool and silk, the natural colour of which ra¬
ther indicates the rudeness of former ages, than the
genius and improvement of the present, would be in
no great request, if the art of dyeing did not furnish
attractions which recommend them, even to the most
barbarous nations. All visible objects are distinguished
and recommended by colours ; but for the purposes of
commerce, it is not only necessary that they should be
beautiful, but that they should be good, and that their
duration should equal that of the materials which they
adorn.”
stric- 23. But notwithstanding these just and liberal views,
ns. and many useful regulations, which were published for
instruction in the art of dyeing, the restrictions impo¬
sed upon it, as we have already observed, were from
mistaken views improper and injurious, because in this,
as in every other art, these restraints infallibly operate
as checks on industry and improvement. The effects
of these prohibitions, however, were moderated by
the facility with which they might be eluded, and by
the rewards bestowed on those whose experiments pro¬
moted the progress of the art, and whose discoveries
being afterwards published, served to modify the exist¬
ing regulations. The effects of these prohibitions,
too, were in a great measure obviated, by the ju¬
dicious appointment of men of science, to whom the
superintendence of arts and manufactures was en¬
trusted. ^ By their prudent exertions, and by the still
more efficacious means of the diffusion of knowledge,
this art, as well as others, has been encouraged and
improved.
24. The French government continued to direct its
attention to promote the plan which was thus begun by
Colbert, and many eminent chemists have been em¬
ployed to superintend and improve the processes of the
art of dyeing. Dufay, Hellot, Macquer, and Berthol-
let, have been successively charged with the care of
this department ^ and to their labours and exertions
we are indebted for many valuable acquisitions which
have been made in the art of dveing, during the 18th
century. Dufay was the first who entertained just views
of the nature of colouring matters, and the powers by
which they adhere. In the examination of certain pro¬
cesses he discovered great sagacity, and established the
surest means which the state of knowledge at the
time afforded, to ascertain the durability of a colour.
Under his direction a new table of instructions, which
superseded that of Colbert, was published in 1737.
Hellot, who succeeded him, published in 1740 a me¬
thodical description of the processes for dyeing wool j
and this treatise may be considered, even at the pre¬
sent day, as one of the best systems on the subject.
Macquer in 1763 published a treatise on dyeing silk,
in which he has given an accurate description of the
processes, has discovered the combinations of the co¬
louring principle of Prussian blue, and has endeavour¬
ed to make an application of it to the art of dyeing.
Macquer died in 1784, and was succeeded in that de¬
partment by the celebrated Berthollet, to whom was
intrusted the superintendence of the arts connected
with chemistry, and particularly that of dyeing. To
his being placed in this department, we are probably
indebted for the excellent work which he has publish¬
ed on this subject, and for different memoirs which
have appeared in different periodical works. To these
we must acknowledge ourselves greatly indebted for
much of the information, both of the theory and prac¬
tice of this art, which we propose to lay before our
readers in the following treatise. He has endeavour¬
ed, he observes, to bring into one point of view the
processes of industry, and the operations of nature ; to
take his situation between the philosopher and the ar¬
tist. To the first he has shown, where it is that the
phenomena of the art of dyeing and those of nature
meet, and what are the principles which their disco¬
veries have established. When these comprehensive
views, we may add, are completed, the art of dyeing
may be considered as perfect.
25. Hie art of dyeing has been long successfully State of ia
practised in Britain, although little lias been done to- Britain,
wards the investigation of the theory on which it
depends. At an early period of the Royal Society,
it attracted the attention of some of its members 5
but nothing was published on the subject. Many
years afterwards, some useful observations on dyeing
weie published by Dr Tewis, but these were limited to
a very few processes. The only work with which the
British dyers were acquainted, till within these few
years, was a translation of the treatise of Hellot, men¬
tioned above.
26. But since the progress of chemical science has Improved
opened so wide a field of investigation j and since allby chemi-
the essential processes in the art of dyeing are to be8^*
considered as purely chemical, the attention of philoso¬
phers has been greatly occupied with its investigation
and improvement. By their experiments and observa¬
tions a great deal of new information lias been accu¬
mulated, and much new light has been thrown upon
the art.
27. The only treatise which has appeared in Sweden Authors oa
on this subject, is that of Scheffer, accompanied with dyeing,
notes by the celebrated Bergman. In Germany, experi¬
ments in different processes of dyeing have been publish¬
ed by Beckmann, Poerner, Vogler, and Francheville.
The authors of the different treatises in France on this
subject, which have greatly contributed to the improve¬
ment of the art, are D’Ambourney, D’Apligny,
Haussmann, Chaptal, and Berthollet, whose works we
have already mentioned. In Britain, two very valu¬
able essays by Delaval and Henry have appeared : and
to these we may add, the excellent treatise on the Phi¬
losophy of Permanent Colours, by Dr Bancroft.
In the following treatise, we propose to give a
pretty full view, both of the theory and practice
of dyeing, This subject naturally divides itself in¬
to two parts. In the first, we shall treat of dyeing
in general, or of those departments of physical science,
the knowledge and application of which may he con¬
sidered as constituting the theory of the art. In the
second part, we shall take a view of the different pro¬
cesses which are employed in communicating colours
to different stuffs, or, in general terms, the practice of
dyeing.
3 D 2
PART L
39*5
DYEING.
PART I. OF DYEING IN GENERAL.
Parti
Of Colours, UNDER this head we propose to take a general
Scc- view of what may be regarded as the theory of dye-
* ing*, and investigate those principles of physical science
which are immediately connected with the art, and
by the application of which the phenomena ol the art
can only be accounted for, or satisfactorily explained.
With this view we shall treat the subjects which come
under this part in the four following chapters. In the
first, we shall consider the nature of colours and co¬
louring matters j in the second, we shall treat of the
nature and operations of mordants j the third will in¬
clude an account of the properties of the substances
to which colours are communicated $ and, in \\ie fourth,
we shall add some general observations on the opera¬
tions of dyeing.
Chap. I. Of Colours and Colouring Matters.
28. The physical theory of light and vision proper¬
ly belongs to optics; and the changes produced by the
action of light on different substances are detailed
under chemistry. In this place, therefore, we shall
only make a few observations on the nature of light
and colours, which are more immediately connected
with the subject under consideration. For our know¬
ledge of light and vision we are indebted to Sir Isaac
Newton. It was first demonstrated by that sagacious
philosopher, that the light of the sun is composed of
seven rays which have different powers of refrangibility.
Nature of The colours of these seven rays are red, orange, yel-
light. ]ow> green, blue, indigo, violet. When these rays are
separated by the prism, as they run gradually into each
other, according to their different degrees of refrangi¬
bility, they produce every various shade of colour.
The violet ray is the most refracted, the indigo next,
and so on to the red, which is the least refracted of all
the rays. The same rays of light also differ in their
degrees of reflexibility. All known colours, and their
different shades, are produced by mixing together the
different rays. Thus, for instance, by mixing to¬
gether red and yellow, an orange colour is obtained ;
yellow and blue give a green colour j and blue and
red, according to their different proportions, produce
a violet, purple, &c. and thus, as Sir Isaac Newton
has observed, the variety of colours depends on the
composition of light j for if the sun’s light consisted but
of one sort of rays, there would be but one colour.
Nature of 29. Colours in an object, the same philosopher
colours. farther observes, are nothing but a disposition to re¬
flect this or that sort of rays more copiously than the
rest j in the rays there are nothing but their dispositions
to propagate this or that motion into the sensorium;
and in the sensorium they are sensations of those mo¬
tions under the foi*ms of colours. In their power of
reflecting light, bodies, it is well known, differ greatly
from each other. Some bodies reflect it in such quan¬
tities, that the eye cannot bear it. Such, for instance,
are metallic substances highly polished. Others again,
as dark coloured or black substances, reflect it. very,
feebly. It is found in general, that the quantity oi
light reflected from a body depends greatly on the Of Coloim
smoothness of its surface. On this account bodies ,
which have the smoothest surface, or are most highly
polished, are the brightest: that is, they reflect the
greatest quantity of light. But there is also a very
great difference among bodies, in the nature or quality
of the rays of light which they have the power of re¬
flecting. When all the rays of light are equally re¬
flected0 by any body, that body is said to be white}
but when a very few rays only are reflected from a
body, that body is said to be black, because the greater
number of the rays being absorbed by the body, the
few that are reflected make a very faint impression on
the organ of vision. A body which has the power of
reflecting the red rays only, is said to be red ; a body
which reflects the blue rays, is said to be bluej the
body reflecting only the yellow rays, is yellow : but
when any two of these rays are reflected in combina¬
tion with each other, a different colour is produced j
as for instance, the red and the yellow rays afford an
orange colour ; and, as we have already observed, the
various shades of colour exhibited by different bodies,
depend on the different combinations of rays reflected
from their surface. Thus it appears, that colour in
bodies is to be ascribed to their disposition of absorbing
certain rays, and reflecting the rest. In opaque bodies,
it is owing to their disposition to absorb some rays, and
to reflect the rest. In transparent bodies, it is owing
to their disposition to absorb certain rays, and to trans¬
mit the rest. ,
30. Newton has demonstratsd, that transparent Cause of
bodies reflect the rays of one colour, and transmit thosecoou"ia
of another, according to the difference of their thick¬
ness or density. He observes that transparent sub¬
stances, such as glass, water, air, &c. when made very
thin by being blown into bubbles, or otherwise formed
into plates, exhibit various colours, according to their
various thinness ; although at a greater thickness they
appear very clear and colourless. His method of con¬
ducting these experiments was the following. He took
two object-glasses, the one a plano-convex tor a 14
feet telescope, and the other a large, double convex,
for one of about 50 feet; and upon this laying the
other with its plain side downwards, he pressed them
slowly together, to make the colours successively
emerge in the middle of the circles, and then slowly
lifted the upper glass from the lower, to make them
successively vanish again, in the same place. The
colour which, by pressing the glasses together, emer¬
ged last in the middle of the other colours, would, upon
its first appearance, look like a circle of a colour al¬
most uniform from the circumference to the centre j
and by compressing the glasses still more, grow conti¬
nually broader, until a new colour emerged in its cen¬
tre, and thereby it became a ring, encompassing that
new colour ■, and by compressing the glasses still more,
the diameter of this ring would increase, until another
new colour emerged in the centre of the last, and* so
on, until a third, a fourth, a fifth, and other follow¬
ing new colours successively emerged there, and be-
° came
thap. I. DYE
i Colours, came rings, encompassing the Innermost colour, the
&c. last of which was the black spot. And on the con-
M“Y—trary, by lifting up the upper glass from the lower, the
diameter of the rings would decrease, and the breadth
of their orbit Increase, until their colours reached suc¬
cessively to the centre, and then, as they were of con¬
siderable breadth, he could more easily discern their
species than before. By proceeding in this manner,
he produced 25 difterent-coloured, circular rings, which
he divided into seven orders, because the same co¬
lour was always repeated. They are reckoned from the
central colour, which was always black, in the fol¬
lowing order:
Blue, white, yellow, and red.
Violet, blue, green, yellow, red.
Purple, blue, green, yellow, red.
Green, red.
Greenish blue, and red.
6. Greenish blue, and pale red.
7. Greenish blue, and reddish white.
But in the three last orders the colours were very in¬
distinct, and terminated in perfect whiteness.
31. Ihese colours were occasioned by the thin
films of air which were included between the two
glasses. For he found, he observes, by looking
through the two object-glasses, that the interjacent air
exhibited rings of difterent colours, as well by trans¬
mitting light, as by reflecting it. The film of air
varies in thickness from the centre of the glasses to the
circumference. In the centre where the film is thin¬
nest the colour is black; and the other colours from
the centre to the circumference are produced in their
order by the gradual increase of the thickness of the
film.
32. These experiments were repeated on films of
water and also of glass ; and it was found that the
thickness of the films in these cases, reflecting any par¬
ticular colour, was diminished, and this diminution ap¬
peared to be proportional to the density of the re¬
flecting film. As there is no method of measuring the
distance between the two glasses where the black spot
appears, it is impossible to ascertain the absolute thick¬
ness of the films 5 but it certainly does not exceed the
1000th part of an inch. Newton, however, endeavour¬
ed by a mathematical investigation to measure the rela¬
tive thickness of air, water, and glass, at which the seve¬
ral orders of colour appear. The following table ex¬
hibits the relative thickness of air which produced the
coloured circles.
1. Black
blue
white
yellow
red
2. Violet
blue
green
yellow
red
3. Purple
blue
I
2f
84-
11
s
I4
164
18
21
2ll
green
yellow
red
. Green
red
. Green-blue
red
. Green-blue
red
. Green-blue
reddish-white
25y
27t
31
35
4°t
46
52£
58,5
65
71
77
33. The conclusion which Newton drew from these
experiments was, that the power or disposition of the
I N G. 397
particles of bodies to reflect or transmit particular rays of Colours
depended on the size and density of these particles ; &c. 5
and proceeding on this theory he attempted to mea- v—<
sure the size, or at least the thickness, of the particles
of bodies, from the colours which they reflected or
transmitted.
34. 'Ibis subject was still farther investigated by Mr Supported
Delava!. In the year 1765, he published, in the Philo-by Delaval.
sophical Transactions, an account of bis “ Experiments
and Observations on the agreement between the speci¬
fic gravities of the several metals, and their colours,
when united to glass, as well as of their other prepara¬
tions.” In this paper, Mr Delaval treats of the differ¬
ence of density, and of the colours produced by that
cause j and yet he considers colours as arising from a
difference of the size of the colouring particles. For
since the particles of a coloured substance being sepa¬
rated they are removed to a greater distance from each
other, and thus occupy a greater space, that substance
must undergo a diminution of its specific gravity, while
at the same time the size of its particles is smaller.
According to Sir Isaac Newton, the refractive and re¬
flective powers of bodies are nearly proportional to
their densities, and the least refrangible rays require the
greatest power to reflect them. From this, Mr Delaval
supposed, that denser substances, by their greater re¬
flective power, ought in similar circumstances to reflect
the less refrangible rays ; and that substances of less
density should reflect rays proportionably more refran¬
gible, and therefore appear of several colours in the or¬
der of their density. The densest bodies, he supposes,
are the red ; the next in density are the orange; the
next are the yellow ; and so, according to the order
of the refrangibility of the different rays. Mr Delaval
some time after extended his researches to animal and
vegetable substances, and endeavoured to establish the
theory of Newton by a great number of experiments,
an account of which he published in an essay entitled,
an Experimental Inquiry into the cause of the Perma¬
nent Colours of Opaque Bodies t. ^Manchts-
35. According to the theory of Newton, with the?frM<m
exception of combustible bodies, which follow a differ-”* I31‘
ent law, colour depends solely upon the size of the in¬
tegrant particles of bodies, in which the density is the
same } and upon the size and density of all bodies taken
together. But the evidence for the truth of this theory
can only be derived from experiment. Newton ad¬
duced but a small number of experiments in support of
it. The experiments of Mr Delaval were more nu¬
merous and more varied ; but they were made long be¬
fore the important facts in chemical science, which have
completely changed the views and opinions of philo¬
sophers, with regard to the nature and action of the
constituent principles of bodies, were discovered j so
that it is now universally acknowledged that they pro¬
ceeded on a false hypothesis. It was supposed that al¬
kalies enlarge, and that acids diminish, the size of the
particles of bodies on which they act, without indu¬
cing any other change. This opinion, in the present
state of chemical knowledge, will not readily find a
place.
36. But if this theory were true, every change inisimper-
the size of the integrant particles of bodies would oc-lect.
casion a different colour in these particles } and in all
these changes, if they correspond with the theory,
the
393
Of Colour*,
&c.
Inconsis¬
tent with
the facts.
The same
colours re¬
flected in
different
orders.
* Phil, of
Term. Col.
7-
Colours of
juetals in¬
dependent
sf density.
Chemical
changes af
feet the co
lour.
DYEING.
tlie colour produced must be precisely that colour
which is the result of a diminution or increase of
size.
37. But there is no such coincidence with the facts.
The magnitude of the integrant particles of bodies can¬
not he ascertained j and there is no method by which
the increase or diminution of the particles in the chan¬
ges which they undergo can be measured $ but the ad¬
dition or abstraction of matter to particles can in many
cases be distinctly determined. In the change which
takes place on gold by the process of oxidation, that is,
by combining with oxygen, an integrant particle of the
oxide is larger than the integrant particle of gold in the
metallic state ; for it has united with one particle at least
of oxygen. But if the theory were true, there should
be a difference of colour between the oxide and the
gold, which is not the case, for they are both yellow.
In the amalgam of silver, a compound of silver and
mercury, the colour is white, which is the colour of
both metals ; and yet an integrant particle of the com¬
pound must be larger than an integrant particle of ei¬
ther the mercury or the silver.
38. But the same colour, it may be said, is reflected in
the different orders of colours, in which the particles
are of very different sizes. This circumstance, as Dr
Bancroft* justly observes, proves incontestably, that al¬
though thickness or size of the particles may be one,
it cannot be the only cause of the repeated variation of
colour. It follows, therefore, that there must be some
other cause. But besides, the most common colour re¬
maining after an increase of the size of the integrant
particles of bodies is white : and yet this colour does
not appear in any of the orders except the first; its
permanency, therefore, cannot be accounted for in any
way which is at all compatible witlnthis theory.
39. And in the changes of colour which are observed
to follow the increase or diminution of the sizes of the
particles of bodies, the order of these changes is not
such as will correspond with the theory. It is obvious
that the colours of metallic substances do not depend
on their density. The colour of platina, the densest
body known, is not red, as it should he according to the
theory, but white; in this respect resembling tin, one
of the metals which has the least density, and little
more than one-third that of the former.
40. The size of the particles of the green oxide of
iron must he increased when they enter into combina¬
tion with the prussic acid. But the colour of the com¬
pound is white 5 and, according to the theory, it should
be accompanied with a diminution of the size of the
particles, which is not the case. The colour of indigo
is naturally green. The addition of oxygen, which
must increase the size of the particles, converts it to a
blue colour. This, then, is another case incompatible
' with the Newtonian theory; and from these facts it
must appear, that this theory is deficient in accounting
for the reflection or transmission of particular rays, and
the absorption of the rest. It is not sufficient for the
explanation of the causes of colour. The smallness and
the density of particles are not the only circumstances
which ought to be taken into the account, in explain¬
ing the cause ot colour in bodies. It appears, irom
Newton’s own experiments, that we must have recourse
to the chemical properties of bodies, which have a con¬
siderable influence on their colour. It cannot be sup-
Part 1
posed, that a force which acts powerfully in refracting Of Cokutt;
the rays, will not also have great influence in their re- Stc.
flection. > Hi
41. Numerous facts tend to prove that bodies have Affinity oi
a particular affinity for the rays of light; and indeedbo(3k»for
it is entirely upon these affinities that the phenomena
of light depend. Coloured bodies have a certain affi-cavigeof ;
nity for some of the rays of light. Those rays for colour, i
which any body has a strong affinity, are absorbed by
it, and retained ; while the other rays, for which it has
no affinity, are either reflected or transmitted, accord¬
ing to the nature of the body, as it may be opaque or
transparent, and according to the direction of the inci¬
dent ray. A red body, for instance, reflects only the
red rays, because it has an affinity for all the other
rays, excepting the red. It therefore absorbs them, if
it be an opaque body, or transmits them if it be trans¬
parent. A green body absorbs all the rays excepting
the green ; a black body has a strong affinity for all
the rays, and therefore they are all absorbed ; while a
white body, which has little affinity for any of the
rays, if it be opaque, reflects, or if transparent, trans¬
mits them all.
42. The differences which exist between the parti-Changes
cles of bodies, maybe conceived to be differences in colour
size, density, and figure ; and changes in these cir-
cumstances may account for all the varieties of affinity.in sjze j,.
If then affinity depends upon these circumstances, and 0f the pa
if the colour of bodies is to be ascribed to the affinity tides,
between their particles and the different rays of light,
the cause of the colour of bodies, it seems obvious, is
capable of being accounted for from the size, density,
and figure of their particles. It cannot be accounted
for, according to the theories of Newton and Delaval,
solely on the variations in size and density.
43. If then the colour of bodies depends upon their
affinity for light, and every body have some colour
in consequence of the absorption of particular rays
which it retains, and the reflection or transmission of all
the rest, it is obvious, that it must continue of its first
colour without suffering any change, till it is either sa¬
turated with the particular rays which it absorbs, or
till the particles of the body have undergone someandton
change by decomposition or combination with new sub-combina
stances. As many substances have been long exposed11*0118,
to the action of light without their colours being
changed, there is no certain evidence that the changes
in the colours of bodies are to he ascribed to the first
cause. The light which is absorbed either escapes un¬
changed or under some unknown form. But the ac¬
tion of the second cause which has been mentioned,
may be traced in almost all cases where alterations of
the colours of bodies have been observed. We may
take as an example of this change of colour the green
oxide of iron, which readily combines with oxygen, and
is converted into the red oxide. The latter oxide, in
combination with the gallic acid, assumes a black co¬
lour, and with prussic acid a blue colour. In these
cases, where there is a change in the composition of the
body, accompanied with a change of colour, the cause
of this change is obvious ; because every change in the
composition of a body produces some change in the af¬
finity, and therefore in the size, density, and figure of
the particles ; and it is not improbable in all ot these
circumstances together. But if the affinity of any bo¬
dy
—.5
-hap.
Colours,
&c.
i.
I loured
i iters do
reflect
lit.
tics,
i.
i.
5«
dy for other substances has undergone a change, it is
natural to suppose that its affinity for light is also in
some degree altered. This, however, although it hap¬
pens in many instances, is not constant and uniform j
because it may happen, that the changes in the size,
density, or figure of the particles of the body, are such
as to render it capable of combining with, or reflecting,
the same rays of light as before it suffered any chemi¬
cal change. Thus it must appear, that in most cases,
the permanency of the colours of bodies will depend
greatly on the permanency of their composition, and on
the force of the affinities which they have for other bo¬
dies, to whose action they may be exposed.
44. In the ingenious experiments of Mr Delaval,
which we have already alluded to, he has shown that
coloured matters do not reflect any light. “ Keflec-
tive media, (he observes), act indiscriminately on all
the different rays. It does not appear from the opti¬
cal phenomena which have hitherto been observed,
that nature affords any kind of matter endowed with
a power of reflecting one sort of rays more copiously
than the other sorts ; consequently no reflective sub¬
stances are capable of separating the differently refran¬
gible rays, and thereby producing colours. There
are several experiments and observations in Sir Isaac
Newton’s optics, from which it might have been in¬
ferred, that coloured light is not reflected from co¬
loured matter, but from white or colourless matter
only. Although that great philosopher supposes that
all coloured bodies reflect the rays of their own co¬
lours more copiously than the rest, yet he observes
that they do not reflect the light of their own colours
so copiously as white bodies do. If red-lead, for in¬
stance, and white paper, be placed in the red light of
the coloured spectrum, made in a dark chamber by the
refraction of a prism, the paper will appear more lucid
than the red-lead, and therefore reflects the red-making
rays more copiously than red-lead doth *.
. ** it be supposed that the red particles of the mi¬
nium reflect the red rays more strongly than the rest,
what reason can be assigned why minium should not
exhibit the red rays as vividly as white paper, which
acts indifferently on all the rays ? But if it be consi¬
dered that in opaque coloured bodies, the rays which
are reflected from white reflective matter pass back
through the transparent coloured media with which the
reflective matter is covered, it will evidently appear
why the coloured light reflected from white paper is
more copious and bright than that which is exhibited
by red-lead.
“ A considerable part of the incident light is lost in
passing through transparent coloured media ; therefore
the light reflected immediately from the white paper,
must be more copious and lucid than that which has
dyeing.
399
undergone a diminution in its passage to and from the of Colour,
reflective particles of the opaque coloured body, throno-h &c.
the transparent coloured medium. * w 1 > - *
“ When a small portion of colouring matter is mix¬
ed with a colourless medium, the mass appears tinged
with colour j but when a great quantity of colouring
matter is added, the mass exhibits no colour, but ap¬
pears black ; therefore, to attribute to colouring mat¬
ter a reflective power, is to advance an inexplicable
and contradictory proposition ; for it is asserting that
in proportion as more reflective colouring matter is op¬
posed to the incident light, less colour is reflected 5 and
that when the quantity of colouring matter is very great
no colour at all is reflected, but blackness is thereby
produced.” 3
45. “ From these arguments it might have been Proved,
shewn, that the reflective power does not exist in co-
lounng matter, but in opaque white substances only.
Nevertheless, in this disquisition, I have not entirely
relied on arguments drawn from a few known and ob¬
vious appearances, but have endeavoured, by numerous
experiments, to ascertain the cause of the colours of
natural as well as artificial bodies, and the manner in
which they are produced.
46. “ M. Euler observed, that the colours of bodies
are not produced by reflection. He supposes that the
coloured rays are emitted by the colorific particles,
llns hypothesis, however, is not agreeable to experi¬
ment j for as the colouring matter acts upon light by
transmission only, it is evident that bodies do not ap¬
pear coloured, either by reflecting or emitting the rays.
I have not attended to any other hypotheses which are
unsupported by experiments. Sir Isaac Newton, and
I believe all later philosophers, except M. Euler, have
attributed to colouring matter a reflective power ; and
the artists whose works depend upon the preparation
and use of colouring materials, seem in general to have
adopted the same theory. As an instance of this agree¬
ment, I have cited, from M. Hellot, one of the most
skilful and intelligent authors who have treated of the
art ot dyeing, a passage which comprises his opinion
respecting the action oi the tinging particles on the
rays of light (a). All the other writers on the same
subject, appear to agree in that established opinion ;
but they seem rather to have yielded to the authority
of Sir Isaac Newton and other theorists, than to have
appealed to the operations of their own art, from which
the real cause and origin of colours is obviously de-
duciblet.” , ,, ,
rp. r i • • Munch'*
47. Ihe art of dyeing consists principally in co- Mem. ii.
vering white substances, from which light is strongly?-131-
reflected, with transparent coloured media, which, ac¬
cording to their several colours, transmit more or less
copiously the several rays reflected from the white sub¬
stances.
,Jhe P^sfage fr°m Hellot is the following. “ At present we only know of two plants which afford a blue
our a er <ieir preparation. Ihe one is the tsatis or glastum, otherwise called pastel or woad. In the pre¬
para ion 0 these plants, the. fermentation is continued till the putrefactive process of all the parts of the plant
e root excepted, has been induced ; consequently there takes place a separation of all their principles, with a*
ew combination and arrangement of these same principles, from which results an assemblage of particles ereat-
Jh ’ W UC • , n£ aPplie<3 to any substance, reflect the light in a very different manner from what they did
en . ose particles were combined with the other parts of the plant, previous to fermentation.” Art de la
seinture des Lames, p. 117.
4CO
Of Colour*.
8te.
Coiourcd
matters ap¬
pear black
by incident
light.
Shewn bjr
experiment
Effect of
colours on
white bo¬
dies.
* Bid.
DYE
stances. The transparent coloured media themselves
reflect no light; and it is evident that, it they yielded
their colours by reflecting instead of transmitting the
rays, the whiteness or colour of the ground on which
they are applied would not anywise alter or affect the
colours which they exhibit. Such an erroneous con¬
ception of the principles of the art cannot fail
greatly to obstruct its progress and improvement.
AH colouring matter is black when viewed by inci-
-dent light, and all substances inclined to blackness,
in proportion as they are copiously stored with tinging
barticies.
48. As a farther illustration of this subject, wehall
make another extract from the same author. “ lor
the purpose,” he observes, “ of procuring masses made
up of colouring particles, I reduced several transpa¬
rent coloured liquors to a solid consistence by evapora¬
tion. When a gentle heat is employed m this opera¬
tion, the colouring matter, which is thus concentrate ,
remains unimpaired, and capable of again imparting
its colour unaltered, to other liquors. In this state
•the colouring particles reflect no colour; and as no
light is transmitted through them, they are black.
Among the liquors which I evaporated, were the tinc¬
tures and infusions of the colouring particles of red,
purple, blue, and yellow flowers ; of logwood, Brazil¬
wood, fustic, turmeric, red sanders, alkanet, sap-green,
kermes, and other transparent coloured liquors, which
are capable of being reduced to a solid consistence,
without undergoing such changes during their evapora¬
tion, as to render them opaque. .
40. “ White paper and linen may he tinged by dip¬
ping them in the infusions of flowers of different co¬
lours ; and by spreading upon those white grounds the
expressed juices of such flowers, their colours may be
communicated to the paper and the linen. These
means of tinging are somewhat similar to the applica¬
tion of vegetable dyes to linen, and of transparent wa¬
ter colours to paper, many of which consist of the co¬
louring matter of plants, such as indigo, litmus, gam-
boge^.&c^The congiderat;on 0f tjjese white substances af¬
fords much insight into the manner in which the natu¬
ral colours of vegetables are produced. W hen the co¬
louring matter of plants is extracted from them, the
solid fibrous parts, thus divested of their covering,
display that whiteness which is their distinguishing cha¬
racter. White paper and linen are formed of such fi¬
brous vegetable matter, which is bleached by dissol¬
ving and detaching the heterogeneous coloured parti¬
cles. When these are dyed or painted with vegetable
-colours, it is evident that they do not differ, in their
manner of acting on the rays of light, from natuial
vegetable bodies, both yielding their colours, by trans-
mitting through the transparent coloured matter the
light which is reflected from the white ground , for it
appears, that no reflective power resides in any 0 heir
exponent parts, except in tbe.r white matter only *.
r!L Thus then it appears, that the colouring pai ti¬
des with which stuffs are dyed, being transparent the
reflected light must proceed entirely from the hbies of
the cloth or stuff which are covered with the transpa¬
rent colouring matter. If the stuff be already of a
black colour, ^ other colour can be communicated to
it; because it has not the power of reflecting any co-
Part
I N G.
lour, and therefore it cannot transmit any. And ifof Colon
the stuff were of a red, blue, or yellow colour, it could &c.
not be dyed of any other colour excepting black; be- ^
cause the red, blue, or yellow rays only being reflect¬
ed, no other rays could be transmitted. But these
observations will strictly apply only when the whole
of the surface of the cloth is of one uniform colour.
They point out also the importance of the cloth being Stuffs tc
of a pure white colour before it is dyed, especially dyed she
when it is to be dyed any bright colour; for then^P^
the rays are copiously reflected ; so that any colour
may he given by combining with it any colouring mat¬
ter which has the power of transmitting only particu-
lar rays^ ^ ^ ^ force 0f affinity that the colour-Colour!.:
ing matter enters into combination with the slu^s1
which are dyed, that this chemical action he complete, sluffjsllB,
it is necessary that the matter be in a state of minute i,eminm(f
division. No permanent colour could he produced by divided,
merely covering the surface of the fibres of the stufts
with the colouring substance ; for unless it adhere so
strongly that it cannot be separated by mechanical ac¬
tion, or by means of any of the processes to which
dyed stuffs must be subjected, it must appear to be of
little value, and the object in view is not obtained.
To allow the chemical action to take place between
the colouring matter and the stuffs, the former is dis¬
solved in some liquid, for which it has a weaker at¬
traction than for the stuffs; so that when they are im¬
mersed in the solution, the colouring matter, in conse¬
quence of the stronger attraction which it has for the
stuffs than for the solvent, combines with them, and
thus they are dyed ; and the facility with which this
combination takes place, must obviously depend on the
affinity between the colouring matter and the liquid
holding it in solution, and the affinity between the
cloth and the colouring matter. "When these two affi¬
nities balance each other, no change takes place ; but
when the affinity between the stuff and the colouring
matter prevails, the combination is effected, and the
process proceeds more or less rapidly according to the
force of this affinity.
ca. Coloured bodies are compounds; seyeral f 0!?“r“
substances enter into their composition. In all colour- 0 ,
ed bodies some of the component parts have a strong
affinity for oxygen, which they attract from the at¬
mosphere. The permanency of a colour consists in its
power of resisting the action of all substances to which
it is exposed. This power varies greatly according to
the nature of the colour and the kind of stuff, ine
durability of the same colours on animal and vegetable
matters is very different. But before the colour of a
body can be permanent, all its component parts must
be combined together by such strong affinities, that the
substances which come in contact with them shall not be
able to unite with any of these parts, and thus form a
new compound. Should such a decorxposition take place,
the colour of the body cannot b/: permanent; and it
the decomposition be suddenly effected, the colour is
immediately destroyed. If the new combination pro¬
ceeds slowly, the decay of the colour is also slow and binilliol,
gradual. . f
c4. The combination of oxygen with some of
component parts of a coloured body, is one 0 t e
principal causes of the change of colours. The action
1 The co'
of
hap. I. DYE
Colouri,°f oxygen on bodies is greatly promoted in particular
Sue. circumstances. With the assistance ofheat, almost all
-~v 11 J coloured bodies are decomposed by means of oxygen.
At the temperature of 448°, wheat flour is deprived
of its white colour, becomes first brown, and then
changes to black. The oxygen enters into combina¬
tion with the hydrogen, one of the component parts of
the vegetable matter, and in this state it is driven off.
The action of light produces effects similar to those of
heat. A decomposition of the colouring matter takes
place by means of the light to which the body is ex¬
posed j and one of its component parts combines with
oxygen. The effects of light on the colour of wood
have been long observed. Wood kept in the dark re¬
tains its natural appearance j but when it is exposed to
the light it becomes yellow, brown, or of some other
shade. This efiect is found to be subject to consider¬
able variations in different kinds of wood, and bears
some proportion to the intensity of the light. If the
solution of the green part of vegetables in alcohol,
which is of a fine green colour, be exposed to the light
of the sun, it very soon assumes an olive hue, and in the
course of a few minutes it is entirely deprived of its
colour. When the light is weak the change proceeds
more slowly ; and if it be kept in the dark no change
whatever takes place ; at least it requires a great lengUi
of time. Light seems to favour the tendency to de¬
composition in many bodies, by producing combinations
of some of their constituent principles, as when water
i> formed by the union of oxygen and hydrogen, or
carbonic acid by the union of carbone and oxygen.
Some bodies even are deprived of the whole or part
of their oxygen by the action of light. Oxymuriatic
acid exposed to the light, becomes common muriatic
acid by losing its oxygen j and the nitrate of silver be¬
comes black by a partial decomposition and loss of its
oxygen.
55. Such then seem to be the most general causes,
the action of which produces changes in the colour of
coloured bodies. It is either by the decomposition of
the substances, in consequence of new compounds form¬
ed by the combination of some of the constituent parts \
by some of these parts combining with oxygen j or by
the addition or abstraction of oxygen. And to such
changes colouring matters must be'subjected from their
compound nature ; since they are most generally derived
from animal or vegetable substances. The selection of
such substances as resist the action of these causes, must
therefore be an object of the greatest importance in the
ait of dyeing. A colour too which is sufficiently per¬
manent ought to be such as will resist the action of
acids, alkalies, soap, and other substances to which
dyed cloth may be exposed.
56. There is a great difi'erence in colours with re-
1 N G. 4CI
to punishment if he produced colours which were too of Colour*
M of
Pr jng the gard to their power of resisting the action of air and
Cy 1,|le11* > an^ as it is in this that their permanency chiefly
,l co- consists, independent of their lustre, it becomes an ob¬
ject of great importance, to he able to ascertain by
easy tests the durability or goodness of any colour. In
France, where the art of dyeing was more under the
regulation of government than in other countries, and
a distinction was established by law between dyers of
durable and fading colours, the means of ascertaining
the permanency of colours became of still greater con¬
sequence. For the dyer of fading colours was subiect
Vol. Vir. Part II. 0 J f
permanent; so rigorous and capricious were the laws &e.
which regulated these matters. The observations of’ 
, I?ufa.v 0,1 this subject laid the foundation of the re¬
gulations which were made to ascertain this point.
~,or ^u*s purpose he made experiments by dyeing wool
ot all colours, with all kinds of colouring matters 5 and
setting entirely aside the prejudices of the dyers, he
collected most of the substances which he supposed
might be employed in the art, and tried a great num¬
ber of them, investigating their good or bad qualities
with great care.
57. His first experiments were made on woollen yarn; Dufay.s
but finding afterwards that pieces of white cloth were
more suitable to the purpose, he employed them. And
that he might distinguish between permanent and fad¬
ing colours, he exposed to the action of the sun and air
for the space of twelve days, patterns of all colours
which he had dyed with known substances. In this
time durable colours were little injured, but those
which were of a fading nature were almost entirely
obliterated. . But as the action of the sun might be
less intense in cloudy weather, and thus the test would
be less severe when that happened than during twelve
ays of bright sunshine j to obviate this inconvenience
and uncertainty, he selected one of the worst colours,
that is, one on which the sun had the greatest effect
in the same time. T his colour served as a standard in
his experiments j and whenever he exposed stuffs to the
air to prove the colour, he exposed a piece of this stuff
along with them. He did not calculate by the num¬
ber of days, but by the change on the colour of the
standard stuff. For he kept the pattern exposed to the
air till it had lost as much as the standard would have
done by the action of the sun during twelve days in
summer. Fie found from these experiments that it re¬
quired four or five days longer in winter than in sum¬
mer to produce the same effect.
58. But by this method of exposure to the air he
had another object in view. This was to discover the
proper proof for each colour. By the application of
this proof a stuff is tried whether its colour be perma¬
nent or not. The pattern for instance is boiled with
alum, tartar, soap, vinegar, &c. and by the effect
of these substances its quality is ascertained. But
from the component parts of the substances employed
being then unknown, and the imperfect state of chemi¬
cal science, these proofs must appear now to have been
extremely precarious and insufficient. Some which
were applied, from their natural effects, destroyed good
colours, and produced no effect whatever on bad co¬
lours.
As the method he employed may suggest the
59-
means of discovering others founded on more correct
principles and more accurate knowledge of the sub¬
stances whose action is investigated, we shall mention
the ingenious process which he followed. Having ob¬
served the effects of air and light on each colour, whe¬
ther it were a good or bad colour j lie tried the same
stuff with different proofs, and stopped as soon as he dis¬
covered one which produced the same effects as the air.
He then noted the weight of the ingredients, the
quantity of water, and the length of time; and thus
he was certain of producing on a colour an effect simi¬
lar to that which the air would have produced, on the
3 E supposition
402
Hellot’s.
Bertliol-
let’s.
* iVem.
Dyeing,
i. i So.
DYE
supposition that it was dyed in the same way with his,
as was the case in trance where all the processes were
then regulated by law. In this way lie was enabled to
ascertain the qualities of any colour, by making an ana¬
lysis of the ingredients of which it was composed. By
means of the proofs which were invented by this ingeni¬
ous chemist, as much of a colour which was not of a du¬
rable nature, could be discharged in a few minutes, as
would be lost by the action of the air and light in twelve
or fifteen days. But as general rules framed for such
trials are liable to many exceptions, from different un¬
avoidable causes, their application in many cases may
be considered as too severe. I or instance, light co¬
lours require less active proofs than those which are
of a deeper dye, and are more loaded with colouring
matter ; in the latter case, a considerable proportion of
colouring substance maybe carried oft without much
visible change on the colour j but in the former, bj
means of the same active test, the colour would be en¬
tirely obliterated. Every variety of shade,^ therefore,
would have required a separate proof. The sun and
the air must always be considered as the true test ; and
those colours which undergo no change in a certain time
by this exposure, may be considered permanent co¬
lours, although they may be greatly changed by the
application of proofs. Scarlet, which is dyed with co¬
chineal alone, assumes a purple colour when tried by
means of alum : but if scarlet be exposed to the sun, it
loses some of its brightness, and becomes of a deeper
shade j but this shade is different from that which is
" produced by alum. In certain cases then the same ef¬
fect is not to be expected from the action of proofs
and that of air and light. #
60. An experiment by Plellot is added as a farther
illustration of a colour resisting the effects of exposure
to the air, and yet being destroyed by the action of
other substances. Brazil wood, he mentions, like other
woods loaded with colour, produces a fading dye. 'With
this he prepared a red, much finer than madder reds,
and as bright as those made with kermes. This red was
exposed to the air for the two last months of the year
1740, in winch much rain fell, and for the two fiist of
1741 J and notwithstanding the rain and bad weather,
it was so far from losing, that it gained body. _ Yet
this red, so durable in the air, is incapable of resisting
the trial by tartar. Colours then may be reckoned
sufficiently durable when they resist the effects of the
air although they are decomposed or destroyed by
means of powerful chemical agents. From these ob¬
servations, it is therefore obvious, that the only sure
mode of ascertaining the permanency of colours, is by
exposing the dyed stufts for a certain length of time to
the action of light and air.
61 Berthollet* proposes to employ the oxygenated
muriatic acid as a quick and easy method of ascertain-
o/ing the degree of durability which a colour may pos¬
sess ; because it acts like the air itself. When a trial
is to be made on any piece of stuff, all that is necessary
is put a pattern of it into tl.e aci.l, along one of
a stuff which is known to have been dyed properly.
The relative power of resisting its action, which appears
in the two patterns, becomes the test or measure of the
quality of the colour. This liquor having a very power¬
ful action on the colouring particles, must be employ¬
ed in a very diluted state. In the use of this proof,
3
I N G. Parti.
it is attended with the advantage of exhibiting nearly Of Colours,
the shades and changes through which a stuff must pass &c.
when it comes to be acted on by the air. Still, how- ' V'—J
ever, the same philosopher adds, the oxygenated muria¬
tic acid is not to be considered as an infallible test •, en¬
tire confidence can only be placed in the results obtain¬
ed by the action of the air and light.
62. To prove the colours of silk, it has been thought Test for
sufficient to expose them to heat in acetous acid or le- silk,
mon juice *, and those colours which stand this test are
considered as permanent. When the colours have been
obtained from the woods or archil alone, they are red¬
dened by means of a vegetable acid j but if the solu¬
tion of tin has been used to dye with these substances,
the colour which has been prepared in an acid liquor
suffers no change from vegetable acids, ihus the co¬
lour which is the least expensive in the preparation may
be reckoned good by the test, although it will prove
the least permanent. For silk, therefore, the oxygen¬
ated muriatic acid should be employed ; but more espe¬
cially exposure to the air.
63. It must appear an object of much importance For dye-
to the dyer to be able to estimate the relative qualities stuffs,
of colouring substances of the same kind. The oxy¬
genated muriatic acid may also be employ ed as a test
for this purpose. By its use we may ascertain the pro¬
portional quantity of colouring matter in those sub¬
stances, the nature of whose colouring particles is the
same *, as, for instance, when different parcels of indi¬
go are to be compai'ed together. In this case no fo¬
reign affinity can interrupt the action of the acid. And
even if it should happen, that any considerable differ¬
ence exists in the nature of colouring particles sup¬
posed to be the same, the action of this acid, it is pro¬
bable, would still be a measure of their comparative
goodness. If then it is proposed to compare together
two or more colouring substances of the same natuie,
and to ascertain the relative quantity and quality of
the colouring particles in each, all that is necessary
is to compare the quantity of the same oxygenated mu¬
riatic acid which is required to produce the same de¬
gree of change in equal weights of each. For the
qualities of these substances, or the quantities of co¬
louring particles they contain, are directly proportional
to the quantities of liquor required to produce the
same effect on each. In conducting this experiment
it is scarcely necessary to observe, that the colouring
matter of each substance should be dissolved in a pro¬
per liquor, and that all the circumstances attending
the comparison should be as nearly as possible the
64. If different kinds of indigo are to be compared Indigo,
together, let an equal weight of each be carefully
powdered and introduced into separate matrasses with
eight times their weight of concentrated sulphuric
acid, and let them remain for 24 hours in a heat ot
from ioo° to 120° Fahrenheit. Each solution is then
to be diluted with water, and filtered. What remains
on the filter is to he collected, ground in a glass mor¬
tar, and again digested with a little more sulphuric
acid. These last solutions are then to be diluted with
equal quantities of water, filtered and added to its cor¬
responding liquor. As much oxygenated muriatic
acid is then to he added to each solution as will dis¬
charge the colour, or bring them to a shade of yel*
0 low:
•hap. II. DYE
tfMor- low : Thus the qualities of the different kinds of in-
dants. digo may be ascertained by the quantity of oxygenated
—'Y’—' muriatic acid which is required to discharge their co¬
lour.
, 65* ^ he process is more simple to compare the qua¬
lities of those colouring matters which are soluble in
water. To equal bulks of the decoction, containing
the same weight of each substance, the oxygenated mu¬
riatic acid is added till they are all brought to the same
shade ; and the quality of the substance is proportionate
to the quantity of acid required.
Chap. II. Of Mordants.
66. The term mordant, derived from the French
word mordre, to bite or corrode, is applied to those
substances which are employed in dyeing, to facilitate
or modify the combination of the colouring particles
with the stuff. This name was given to these sub¬
stances, from a supposed mechanical action which they
produced on the substance to which the colour was
communicated $ and as no equivalent word has yet
been proposed, the original is retained in the English
language.
mance 67. The knowledge of this class of substances is
li0r- not less important in the art of dyeing than that of
K colouring matters themselves, because on their action
depend the variety, brightness, and durability of co¬
lours. The action of mordants is undoubtedly owing
to chemical changes, so that more extensive observa¬
tion and a complete knowledge of their effects, must
greatly contribute to the improvement and perfection
of the art of dyeing. It is by a new series of attrac¬
tions which are introduced by their action, that the
colouring particles are combined with the stuff, and
the qualities and degrees of the colours are affected.
68. A mordant is not always to be considered as a
simple agent j for, of the different ingredients which
enter into its composition, new combinations are some¬
times formed, so that the substances which are imme¬
diately employed, are not the direct agents in effect¬
ing the changes, but the new compounds which are
produced.
Me of 69. Mordants are applied in different w'ays, accord-
■ licatioDlng to their nature, according to the nature"of the co¬
louring matter, and that of the stuff to be dyed. Some¬
times they are mixed with the colouring particles, and
sometimes the stuffs to which the colour is to be com¬
municated, are impregnated with them 5 and sometimes
both these processes are combined. In some of the
more complicated operations of dyeing, substances are
successively applied to stuffs in which the action of the
last only produces the effect. In such cases, there is a
gradual progress of combination j but it is only by the
effect of the last compound which is formed, that the
colour is evolved.
®{rated. 70. The effects of mordants are well illustrated in
many of the processes which are followed in the art of
printing linen ; and for the illustration of these effects,
we shall extract from Berthollet a short account of
some of these processes. For linens to which it is pro¬
posed to give different shades of red, the mordant em-
ployed is prepared by dissolving in eight pounds of hot
water, three pounds of alum, and one pound of ace¬
tate of lead, or sugar of lead. To this solution two
I N G.
ounces of potash, and afterwards two ounces of pow-
deied chalk, are to be added. Our chemical readers
will readily perceive, that the first change which takes
place, is the decomposition of the alum, by means of
the acetate of lead. I he oxide of lead combines with
the acid of the alum, and forms an insoluble salt,
which is precipitated. The alumina which constitutes
the base ol the alum, unites with the acetous acid,
and forms an acetate of alumina. The chalk and pot¬
ash, according to Berthollet, serve to saturate the ex¬
cess of acid ; but it seems more probable that the ad¬
dition ot these substances is found necessary, on ac¬
count of new decompositions which are effected by
their action. Several advantages arise from the for¬
mation of the acetate of alumina, in the future changes
which are to be effected. rI he alumina, or earthy
basis of this salt, is retained in combination with the
acid, by a much weaker affinity than when combined
with sulphuric acid in the state of alum. Its affinity
being thus weakened, it is more easily decomposed,
and unites more readily with the stuff and colouring
pai tides. Another advantage not less important is,
that the effect of the acetous acid on the colouring
matter being less powerful than the sulphuric acid, the
acid liquor which remains after the separation of the
alumina, does not produce such hurtful effects. And
besides, as the acetate of alumina does not crystallize,
the mordant which is thickened with starch or gum’
to prepare it for being applied to the block on which
the design ^engraved, retains the same uniform con¬
sistence, which would not be the case if it contained
alum, the latter being disposed to crystallize.
71. Let us now trace the different steps of the ope¬
ration in printing a piece of cloth. When it has been
impregnated with the mordant, in the manner deter¬
mined by the design, it is immersed into a madder
bath. Thus the whole of the cloth is coloured ; but
the colours are deeper on those parts to which the mor¬
dant has been communicated ; because in those parts
the colouring particles of the madder have entered in¬
to combination with the alumina and the stuff, forming
a triple compound. 'I he acetous acid separated from
its earthy basis remains in the bath.
72. 1 he effect of external agents on the colouring
particles in this state of combination is much less con¬
siderable than when they are in a separate state, or
only combined with the stuff, without the intermediate
action of another substance. It is on this property
that the subsequent operations depend. Having been
immersed in the madder bath, the cloth is afterwards
boiled with bran, and exposed to the open air by
spreading it out on the grass ; and the ultimate repe¬
tition of these operations is continued till the ground
is whitened. The colouring particles of the madder
which have not come in contact with the alumina are
completely changed by entering into new combina¬
tions j while those which have united with it remain
unaltered in consequence of the stronger affinity, so that
those parts of the cloth which have been impregnated
with the mordant, retain the colour and exhibit the de¬
sign.
73. The decomposition of the colouring particles by
boiling the stuff’ with bran, and exposure to the air,
seems to be effected in a manner similar to the destruc¬
tion of the colouring matter of flax, and is to be ac-
3 E 2 counted
403
4° 4-
Of Mor¬
dants.
DYEING.
Part II
counted for in the same way. Ir. the process of bleach¬
ing, indeed, alkaline substances are employed. But
for the purpose of discharging the superfluous colour¬
ing-matter from printed cloths, bran is preferred as a
substitute because part of the colouring-matter, even
when fixed by alumina, would be destroyed by the
stronger action of alkalies} but as the action of the
bran is much weaker, it affects only the colouring par¬
ticles which have not come in contact with the alumi¬
na, and which by the action of the air are disposed to
undergo a more easy solution.
74. Let us take another example with a different
mordant. If, instead of alum, a solution of iron, as
the acetate of iron, be employed, similar phenomena
are exhibited. The solution of iron is decomposed by
the particles of colouring-matter, and a triple com¬
pound is thus formed of the colouring-matter, the
oxide of iron, and the stuff. But when this mordant is
employed, a great variety of shades from brown to a
deep black are obtained by the use of madder j and
by a combination of alum and iron, the colours pro¬
duced are of a mixed nature, inclining on the one
hand to red, and to black on the other. And if ano¬
ther substance, as dyers weed, be substituted for the
madder, other colours are obtained. Indeed the great
variety of shades which are communicated to printed
stuffs are derived from the colouring matter of madder,
dyers weed, and indigo, fixed by alumina or the oxide
of iron as mordants.
7 q. The different substances which enter into the
composition of a mordant remain in combination till a
new action is induced by the application of another
substance. Thus, the affinity of the stuff for one of
their constituent parts produces a decomposition and.
new combinations. But even this effect is sometimes
incomplete, or does not at all take place without the
action of another affinity, namely, that of the colour-
ing-particles. We have an example of this in the
mixture of alum and tartar, which is one of the most
common mordants in the dyeing of wool.
76. The following experiments were made by Ber-
thollet, to ascertain the effects of these substances as
mordants. He dissolved equal weights of alum and
of tartar j and he found that the solubility of the tar¬
tar was increased by the mixture. By evaporation
and a second crystallization, the two salts were sepa¬
rated, so that no decomposition had taken place. Half
an ounce of alum and one ounce of wool were boiled
together for an hour, a precipitate was formed, which
being carefully washed, was found to consist of fila¬
ments of wool incrusted with earth. To this sul¬
phuric acid was added, and the solution being evapo¬
rated to dryness, crystals of alum were obtained, with
the separation of some particles of carbonaceous matter.
The liquid in which the wool had been, boiled being
evaporated, yielded only a few grains of alum j what
remained would not crystallize. This being redissol¬
ved and precipitated by means of an alkali, the alumi¬
na which was thrown down was of a slate colour, be¬
came black when placed on red-hot coals, ana emitted
alkaline vapours. In this experiment it appears that
the alum was decomposed by the wool, and part of
the alumina had combined with its most detached fila¬
ments which were least retained by the force of aggre¬
gation y that part of its animal substance bad been dis¬
solved and precipitated by the alkali from the triple of Mor.
compound. ilanb.
77. The same experiment was repeated with halL^ v—<
an ounce of alum and two drams of tartar ; but no
precipitation followed. A small portion of the tartar,
and some irregular crystals of alum, were obtained by
crystallization: the remainder refused to crystallize 5
but being diluted with water, precipitated by potash,
and evaporated, it yielded a salt which burned like tar¬
tar. The wool which was boiled with the alum had
a harsh feel 5 hut the other retained all its softness.
The first, after being subjected to the process of mad-
dering, had a duller and lighter tint j but the colour
of the latter was fuller and brighter.
78. In the first of these experiments the wool had
effected a decomposition of the alum, had united with
part of the alumina y and even part of the alum which
retained its alumina had dissolved some portion of the
animal matter. In the second experiment it appears,
that the tartar and alum, between which there seems to
exist a balance of affinities, can only act on each other
by the intermediate action of the wool. The principal
use of the tartar seems to he to moderate the action
of the alum on the wool, by which it is injured. In
the aluming of silk and thread, whose action on alum
is less powerful than that of wool, tartar is not found
requisite. •
79. Whatever be the mode adopted in aluming, or
whatever be the chemical changes which are produced,
its final effect is the union of the alumina with the
stuff'. At first this combination has probably been in¬
complete, and a partial separation only of the acids
has taken place j but it is perfected after the cloth has
been boiled with the madder, as appeared in the case
of printed stuffs*.
80. The principal substances which are employed
for the purposes of mordants in the process of dyeing,!. 34.
are earths, metallic oxides, and some astringent mat'^uebdSla*ace
ters. Alumina, which is now one of the most import-mor(jan$Si
tant, and in most general use, was very early employed
as a mordant. This earth, as has been proved by di¬
rect experiment, and which is still farther confirmed
by daily practice and observation, is useful in the art
of dyeing, in consequence of the affinity which exists
between it, the stuffs to be dyed, and the colouring
matter. The affinity of alumina for animal matters,
as wool and silk, as much stronger than that for vege¬
table productions, as cotton and linen $ and hence the
difference in the facility of fixing the colours on these
different substances, and in their durability.
81. When alumina is employed'as a mordant, it is Ah®*
always in a state of combination, either in that of alum,
which is the sulphate of alumina and potash, or united
with the acetous acid, forming the acetate of alumina.
Alum was employed at a very early period as a mor¬
dant. It was used by the ancients as it was found na¬
tive, and therefore far from being in a state of purity.
But as the nature of the constituent parts of alum
was long unknown, its use in dyeing, as well as that
of mordants in general, can only be ranked among the
discoveries of modern chemistry. Alumina is also em¬
ployed for a similar tpurpose, in combination with the
acetous acid. This combination of alumina seems to
have been first introduced about the beginning of the
18th century, and its introduction, like other valuable
improvements.
i ap.
! Mor-
ants,
i-iV—'
II- DYE
improvements, was owing to accident. It was first em¬
ployed by the calico-printers j but at what time, or
by whom it was first used, is not exactly known. In
one of the earliest recipes for preparing the mixtures
employed as mordants in calico-printing, which Dr
tetfic
[id
Bancroft, in his investigation of this subject, informs us
he examined, the substances directed to be used are
alum, sal ammoniac, saltpetre, red orpiment, and
kelpand these were to be mixed with water. In
another, which he observes probably followed this,
these ingredients were to be dissolved in vinegar.
Sugar-of-lead was afterwards added in small quantity,
and among a great variety of other substances which
were employed at different times, litharge and white-
lead came into use. In cases where vinegar was em¬
ployed as the solvent, after different decompositions
had taken place, a portion ot acetate of alumina was
formed, and the use of it was found to be followed
with good effects. The quantity of sugar-of-lead, from
observing the advantages derived from it, was gradual¬
ly increased, and the employment of many of the
other substances which were found by experience to
be useless, was omitted. As the introduction of acetate
of alumina was at first owing to chance, and as the
changes and decompositions which took place in its
formation were entuely unknown, it is not to be
wondered at that the discovery or invention of this
substance as a mordant, should not be distinctly ascer*
tained.
82. The usual method of preparing the acetate of
alumina is by pouring acetate of lead into a solution of
alum.. Both the salts are decomposed, by an exchange
of their constituent parts. I he sulphuric acid and the
lead having a stronger affinity than the sulphuric acid
and the alumina, combine together, and fall to the bot¬
tom in the form of an insoluble powder. The alumina
at the same time enters into combination with the ace¬
tous acid, and remains dissolved in the liquid. But
the application and effects of this substance in dyeinw
have been fully illustrated in treating of mordants in
general.
83. Lime is the only earth, besides alumina, which
is employed in dyeing. The affinity of lime for cloth
is sufficiently strong $ it is, however, found to answer
the purpose of a mordant less perfectly than alumina,
on account of the colour, which is not so good. It is
employed, either in the state of lime water, or in that
of sulphate of lime dissolved in water.
84. Metallic oxides have a strong affinity for animal
substances. They have also so great an attraction for
many colouring matters, that they separate from the
acids with which they are combined, and are precipi¬
tated in combination with the colouring matters. In
consequence of these different affinities, metallic oxides
are of great importance in dyeing, and hence they
were early applied in that art, and are now extensive¬
ly used. But besides the affinity of these oxides for
the colouring particles, and for animal substances, their
solutions in acids possess properties by which they are
more or less fit to be employed as mordants. Thus,
those oxides which easily part with their acids, such as
that of tin, are capable of entering into combination
with animal substances, without the aid of colouring
particles. A.11 that is necessary is to impregnate the
wool or the silk with a solution of tin. Some metallic
I N G. _ . 405
substances yield only in combination, a white and co- Q( Mor-
lourless basis ; but there are others which, by means of dant*.
their own colour, produce modifications on the peculiar v—
colour of the colouring particles. But the effects of
many metallic oxides are extremely different, accord¬
ing to the proportion of oxygen with which they are
combined 5 and this proportion is variable.
85. I he affinity ot metallic oxides for vegetable
matters is considerably weaker than that which they
have for animal substances. Metallic solutions, there¬
fore, are found not to answer so well as mordants for
colours in dyeing cotton or linen. Iron, indeed, is an
exception, the oxide of which, it is well known, has a
strong affinity for vegetable substances. Iron moulds
on cotton or linen are owing to a combination of the
oxide of iron with the vegetable matter.
86. Although almost all metallic oxides have an
affinity for animal and vegetable matters, and might
therefore be employed as mordants, yet two only,
either because they are found to answer the purpose
better, or because they are cheaper, are used to any
extent.^ These are the oxides of tin and of iron.
°7* Tlie use of the oxide of tin seems to have been Oxide 0f
first discovered by a German chemist of the name of tin.
Kuster or Kuffler. Observing the effects of a solution
of tin in nitric acid, in giving a more vivid colour to
stuffs dyed with cochineal, he was led to the discovery
of the method of producing what has since been deno¬
minated cochineal scarlet. This discovery has been
ascribed by others to Drebel, a Dutch chemist : and
Macquer, who is of this opinion, supposes that the first
solutions of tin were made with nitro-muriatic acidj but
Di Bancroft thinks that there is good reason to be¬
lieve, that nitric acid only was used for some years for
this purpose. According to Mr Delava], the use of tin
111 dyeing was known to the ancients} and he supposes
that the tin which the Phoenicians carried from Bri¬
tain, was employed in this way, because he thinks that
it is necessary to the production of red colours, whe¬
ther from animal or vegetable matter. Dr Bancroft,
however, has proved, that this opinion is founded in
mistake.
88. About the year 1543, Kuster brought his secret
to London, and it appears that it was first employed
for this purpose at Bow. Hence the scarlet colour
thus produced was denominated in this country the
Bow dye. It seems too, that this mode of dyeing scar¬
let was very early introduced into Holland. A
Frenchman of the name of Gobelins, received an ac¬
count of the process from a Flemish painter called
Kloeck, to whom it had been communicated by Kus¬
ter himself, and established it in France. Hence the
Bow dye of England was known in other parts of Eu¬
rope under the names of Dutch scarlet, scarlet of the
Gobelins.
89. We have mentioned above, that the effects of
metallic oxides as mordants in dyeing, depend on the
different proportions of oxygen with which’ they may
be combined. Thus, there are two oxides of tin con¬
taining different proportions of oxygen j the one con¬
tains 30 parts of oxygen in the 100, and the other con¬
tains 40. The oxide having the smaller proportion of
oxygen, being exposed to the air, combines with a new
portion of oxygen, and is soon converted into the oxide
with the greater proportion, or the white oxide. It is
this,.
406
O f Mor- this last which is the mordant, for if the other vyere ap-
dants. plied to the stuff, it would soon be converted into the
1 1 v white oxide, by combining with an additional poition
of oxygen.
90. Tin was first used as a mordant dissolved in ni¬
tric acid •, but this preparation was found not to an¬
swer well, because the nittic acid readily conveited the
tin to the state of white oxide, in which state it is in¬
capable of dissolving it. A precipitation of the tin
took place, to prevent which, diflerent substances were
added, as common salt, or sal ammoniac *, and thus a
nitro-muriatic acid was produced, by which means the
white oxide of tin was held in solution. It appears,
however, that it was a considerable time before this
method came into general use. Hellot, in an account
of the process employed in his time for dyeing scarlet
at Carcassonne, mentions that the tin was dissolved
only in diluted nitric acid, adding that a Mr Baron
was the first in that city who employed nitro muriatic
acid for the solution of tin, to prevent the precipitation
of the oxide. > #
Prepara* The ordinary solution of tin is made with that
species of nitric acid called single aquafortis, and as it
is usually prepared, it is found capable ot dissolving a-
bout ^ part of its weight of granulated tin. lo each
pound of aquafortis from one “to two ounces of sea salt,
or, what is deemed preferable by some, of sal ammoniac,
are added. The acid is commonly diluted with a little
water. The solutions which are made most slowly,
and with the least separation of vapours, are found to
succeed best. Two ounces of granulated tin are usu¬
ally allowed for each pound of aquafortis ; and the
metal should be added at different times to moderate
the rapidity of the solution. The water added to
the acid should be weighed or measured, that a solu¬
tion of the same strength ^ may be always obtained.
•Eighteen or 20 pounds of this solution (b) are required
to give a full cochineal scarlet to 100 pounds of wool-
^02. But in the dyeing of scarlet, according to the
ordinary process, a quantity of tartar is dissolved in the
water, along with the nitromuriate of tin and it the
tartar be employed in sufficient quantity, the mordant
is not to be considered as a nitromuriate of tin, but a
tartrate or combination of tin with tartaric acid, in
consequence of the decomposition which takes place,
when these substances are brought to act on each other ;
for the nitromuriatic acid enters into combination with
the potash or the tartar, while the acid ot the tartar
forms a compound with the oxide of tin.
93. It has been proposed by Haussman to employ the
acetate of tin as a mordant for cotton and linen, in¬
stead of the nitromuriate. The acetate of tin is pre¬
pared by mixing together acetate of lead and nitro¬
muriate of tin *, and as the affinity between metallic
oxides and vegetable substances is less powerful than
the affinity between these oxides and animal matters,
tliis mordant has been found preferable for cotton and
linen stuffs *, for the affinity of the oxide of tin for the
acetous acid being weaker than for the nitromuriatic
acid, it is more easily decomposed.
Part lj|
94. Dr Bancroft * tried the solution of tin in sulphu- of MC1;
ric acid, but found that it would not answer, on ac- dam?.
count of its destructive action on the cochineal colour *,
but he found afterwards, that, by the use of muriatic
acid combined with its weight of sulphuric acid, fo/, ^ 1
good effects were obtained. The proportions which
he employed were about 14 ounces of tin in a mix¬
ture of two pounds of sulphuric acid of the ordinary
strength, with about 3 pounds of muriatic acid. Ibis
preparation may be made in tbe cold ] but the solu¬
tion is very rapidly promoted with a sand heat. I he
solution of tin made in these proportions, Dr Bancroft
observes, is perfectly transparent and colourless *, and in
the space of three years, during which time he kept a
solution of it, no precipitation had taken place. It pro¬
duces, he adds, full twice as much effect as the dyer’s
spirit, or nitromuriatic solution of tin, and at less than
one-third of the ex pence.
95. Iron exists in two states of combination with Oxide of
oxygen. In the state of green oxide it contains theiron,
smaller proportion of oxygen, and in that of red oxide
the greater proportion. In the last state it can only
be employed as a mordant in dyeing ; for if it be ap¬
plied in the state of green oxide, in consequence of its
strong affinity for oxygen, it attracts it from the atmo¬
sphere, and is soon converted into red oxide. The dif¬
ficulty of removing iron spots or mould from cotton
or linen shows with what force of affinity the red oxide
of iron adheres to cloth. Iron is employed as a mor¬
dant in two states of combination, either in that of sul¬
phate or acetate of iron. The sulphate of iron is ge¬
nerally employed for wool. The stuff is immersed in
the solution of the salt in water. In this state it may
be also used for cotton *, but it is more commonly pre¬
ferred in the state of acetate of iron. This is the com¬
bination of iron with the acetous acid, and it is usually
prepared by dissolving iron in vinegar or sour beer j
and the longer it is retained in the solution, it is found
to act more powerfully as a mordant, because it is then
in a state of more complete oxidation.
96. Some other saline bodies are also employed as
mordants, to facilitate the combination of the co*
louring matter with the cloth, or to produce greater
variety of shades of colour. Among these substances
may be mentioned common salt, sal ammoniac, ace¬
tate of lead, sulphate and acetate of copper, sulphate
97. Besides the mordants obtained from the class of Animal
salts, vegetable and animal substances also serve a siniilar*^J^
purposed In the process for dyeing the Turkey red,^
which will be afterwards described, the cotton stults
should be impregnated with an animal substance, as oil;
and the astringent principle is often employed as a me¬
dium of combination between colouring particles and
stuffs. Tan, or the astringent principle, having a strong
affinity for cloth, is found extremely useful as a mor¬
dant. It is commonly prepared by infusing nut-galU
in water. The cloth is immersed in this solution, and
allowed to remain till it is sufficiently impregnated
with the tan. Sumach, which is the shoots of the Rhus
coriaria Lin. a shrub which grows in the southern parts
DYEING.
(b) This solution is called spirit by the dyers in this country.
i. II. , DYE
.. of Europe, is often used and prepared in the same way
as the nut galls.
T* 98. Mordants have a very considerable effect on the
^ colour j and, by varying the mordant, very different
colours, and a great variety of shades, may be obtained
from the same colouring matter. Some mordants
themselves may be considered as communicating a co¬
lour without the addition of any colouring substance ;
and although, when the latter is added, a new set of
affinities is brought into action, yet there is little
doubt that the mordant also has a considerable share in
fixing the shades of colour. Let us take an example
in dyeing with cochineal. When the aluminous mor¬
dant is employed, the colour produced is crimson •, but
when the oxide of iron is substituted for the alumina,
the colour obtained is black. The effect is obvious¬
ly produced by a change in the action of the affinities
between the colouring matter and the mordant, and
the colouring matter and light. In the use of mor¬
dants, therefore, it is necessary to attend to their com¬
bined effects with the colouring matter employed, and
to be able to communicate particular colours to stuffs
with any degree of certainty, to know the amount of
that effect.
99. Even in the mode of applying mordants, the
variety of shades may be greatly multiplied. Different
effects, for instance, are produced by previously im¬
pregnating the stuff with the mordant, or by mixing it
with the bath. Different effects also arise from using
heat, or, as the stuff is more or less rapidly dried ; and
this must appear to be the case, if we consider the dif¬
ferent affinities which are in action, and the change on
the action of these affinities in these different circum¬
stances, as well as in others which can scarcely be ap¬
preciated. The combination of these substances which
have an affinity for the stuff, and the decompositions
which are the result of that combination, are greatly
facilitated by the evaporation of the water or other li¬
quid which held these substances in solution 5 because
by its affinity, which is opposed to the action of the affi¬
nity between these substances and the stuff, the affinity
of the latter produces a more limited effect. But in
dyeing, the process should proceed slowly, that the sub¬
stances may not be separated before their mutual affi¬
nities have begun to operate.
100. Considerable differences must be observed in the
mode of employing the mordant, as the force of affinity
between the stuff and the colouring matter is greater
or less. When this affinity is strong, the mordant and
the colouring substance may be mixed together ; the
compound thus formed, immediately enters into combi¬
nation with the stuff. But if the affinity between the
stuff and the colouring particles be weak, the compound
formed of the latter and the mordant may separate,
and a precipitation take place, before it can be attach¬
ed to the stuff; and hence it is in these cases, that the
mordant which is to serve as the medium of union be¬
tween the stuff and the colouring matter, must be
combined with the former, before the application of
the latter. It is from these differences that different
processes must be followed in fixing colouring mat¬
ters on animal and vegetable productions ; as for
instance, in dyeing wool or silk black, or with co¬
chineal.
* ^ . . 407
. I°1, estimating the effects of mordants, and in orSuh-
jueging of the most advantageous manner of applying stances to
them, it is necessary to attend to the combinations which tje e°lou:-
may be formed, either by the action of the ingredients ed-
of which they are composed, or, by that of the colour-
ing matter and the stuff. It is necessary also, to take
into consideration the circumstances which may tend to
bring about these combinations with more or less rapi-
< ity, or. that may render them more or less perff^t.
I he action which the liquor in which the stuff is im¬
mersed may have, either on its colour or texture, must
also be considered 5 and to be aide accurately to judge
of the extent of this action, we must know the propor¬
tions of the principles of which the mordant is com¬
posed ; which of these principles remains in an uncom-
bined state in the liquor, and the proportion or quanti¬
ty which is thus separated.
Chap. III. Of the Nature and Properties of the Sub¬
stances to winch Colours are communicated in the
Processes of Dyeing.
102. In the more limited sense to which we have here
restricted the art of dyeing, the substances to which
colours are usually communicated by means of this
art, are wool, silk, cotton, flax, and hemp. Of these,
the two first are animal substances, and the three lat¬
ter are derived from the vegetable kingdom. These
two classes of bodies present striking differences, not
only in structure, but also in their composition and
chemical properties.
103. Animal substances are distinguished from those Difference
which have a vegetable origin, by the nature of their between
constituent parts. I he former contain a large proportion animal and
of azote, which exists sparingly in the latter. Hydro-ve£etable
gen, or the base of hydrogen gas or inflammable air, jsmatters*
found in greater abundance in animal matters, than in
vegetable productions. In the distillation of animal
and vegetable substances, the difference of their con¬
stituent parts is not less remarkable. The former af¬
ford a large proportion of ammonia, or volatile alkali 5
the latter yield very little, and sometimes give out an
acid substance. Animal matters afford much oil, while
vegetable substances sometimes do not afford it in any
perceptible quantity. From the nature of their com¬
ponent parts, animal substances produce a bright flame
in burning ; and their combustion is accompanied with
a penetrating odour, which is owing to the formation
and emission of ammonia and oil. Animal matters run
rapidly into the putrefactive process, while vegetable,
substances more slowly undergo the changes which are
induced by the vinous or acetous fermentation.
IC4. The constituent principles of animal substances
have a stronger tendency than those which enter into the
composition of vegetable matters, to assume the elastic
foi •m. On this account the cohesive force existing be*
tween the particles of the former is inferior to that of
the particles of the latter. Hence animal matters are
more disposed to combine with other substances, more,
liable to be destroyed by different agents, and to en¬
ter into combination with colouring particles. Thus,
animal substances are destroyed by the caustic fixed al¬
kalies, and they are decomposed by the nitric and sul-,
phuric
40$
Of Sub- plume acids. The action of acids and alkalies on silk
stances to is less powerful than upon wool, and it is less disposed
be colour- t0 combine with the particles of colouring matter. In
^ e^' this respect it bears some resemblance to vegetable sub¬
stances ; but on vegetable matters, the action of alka¬
lies and acids is less powerful than on animal sub¬
stances •, and the action of acids is more leeble on
cotton than on flax or hemp. It is even decompo¬
sed with considerable difficulty by means of nitric
acid.
In the four following sections, we shall consider
the peculiarities of these substances at greater length.
Sect. I. Of Wool.
Structure. IOJ. Wool, which is well known as the covering of
sheep, derives its value from the length and fineness of
its filaments. The filaments of wool are considerably
elastic, for they may be drawn out beyond their usual
length, and when the force is removed, they recover
it again. The surface of the filaments of wool or hair
is not perfectly smooth ; for although no roughness or
inequality can be discovered by the microscope, yet
they seem to be formed of small laminee placed over
each other in a slanting direction, from the root of the
filament towards its point, resembling the arrangement
of the scales of a fish, which cover each other from the
head of the animal to its tail; or perhaps they consist
of zones placed over each other, as is observed in the
boms of animals. This peculiarity of structuie of the
filaments of hair and wool is proved by a simple expe¬
riment. If a hair be laid hold of by the root in one
hand, and drawn between the fingers of the other hand,
from the root towards the point, scarcely any friction
or resistance is perceived, and no noise is heard ; but
if it be grasped by the point, and passed in the same
manner between the fingers from the point towards the
root, a resistance is felt, and a tremulous motion is
perceptible to the touch, while the ear is sensible to a
slight noise. Thus it appears, that the texture of the
surface of hair or wool is not the same from the root
towards the point, as it is from the point towards the
root. This is farther confirmed by another experi¬
ment. If a hair be held between the thumb and fore¬
finger, and they are rubbed against each other in the
longitudinal direction of the hair, it acquires a progres¬
sive motion towards the root. This efiect depends not
on the nature of the skin of the finger, or on its texture,
for if the hair be turned, and the point placed where
the root formerly was, the motion is reversed, that is,
it will still be towards the root.
F Uir , ic6. On this peculiarity of structure, which was ob-
e 1 ^ served by M. Monge, depend the processes of felting and
fulling, to which hair and wool are subjected, for differ¬
ent purposes. In the process of felting, the flocculi of
wool are struck with the string of the bow, by which
the filaments are separately detached, and dispersed in
the air. These filaments fall back on each other in all
directions on the table, and when a layer of a certain
thickness is formed, they are covered with a cloth, on
which the workman presses with his hands in all parts.
Bv this pressure the filaments of wool are brought
nearer to each other the points of contact are multi¬
plied 5 the progressive motion towards the root is pro*
Part
duced by the agitation j the filaments entangle each OfSabtj
other $ and the laminae of each filament, taking hold of stances:
those of the other filaments, which are in an opposite be ^Hl
direction, the whole is retained in the state ol closet
contexture. _ . .. |
107. Connected with this operation is that of fulling.
The roughness on the surface of the filaments of wool,
and their tendency to acquire a progressive motion to¬
wards the root, produces considerable inconvenience in
the operations of spinning and weaving. T-hese incon¬
veniences are obviated by covering the filaments with
a coat of oil, which fills up the cavities, and renders
the asperities less sensible. When these operations are
finished, the stuff must be freed from the oil, which
would prevent it from taking the colour with which it
is to be dyed. For this purpose it is taken to the ful¬
ling-mill, where it is beaten with large beetles, in a
trough of water, through which clay has been diffused.
The clay unites with the oil, which being thus ren¬
dered soluble in the water, is carried off by fresh por¬
tions of water, conveyed to it by proper apparatus.
In this way the stuff is scoured ; but this is not the sole
object of the operation. By the alternate pressure ol
the beetles, an effect similar to that of the hands in the
operation of felting, is produced. The filaments com¬
posing a thread of warp or woof, acquire a progressive
motion, are entangled with the filaments of the ad¬
joining threads j those of the latter into the next, ^and
so on, till the whole threads are felted together. The
stuft is now contracted in all its dimensions, and parti¬
cipating both of the nature of cloth and ol felt, may
be cut without being subjected to ravel; and when
employed to make a garment, requires no hemming.
In a common woollen stocking web, after this opera¬
tion, the stitches, when one happens to slip, are now
no longer subject to run, and the threads of the warp
and woof being less distinct from each other, the
whole stuff is thickened, and forms a warmer cloth-
ing.
108. The various manufactures of which wool con-Importa 1
stitutes the basis, are justly regarded among the mostof',®0,
important to man in civilized society. Accordingly, the
production of fine wool, and the causes which retard
or improve the breed of sheep from which it is obtain¬
ed have greatly occupied the attention of economists
and philosophers in our own, as well as in other coun¬
tries. The wool of different breeds of sheep, in differ¬
ent countries, it is well known, possesses very different
qualities, both with regard to the fiueness cl the fila¬
ment, and the colour. Some is of a white, or yellow,
and some of a reddish, and black colour. Excepting
the wool of the breed of sheep in Andalusia, the Spa¬
nish wool was formerly all of a brownish black colour.
This was preferred by the native Spaniards j and even
at this day, the dress of some religious orders in Konian
Catholic countries, consists of cloth manufactured from
this wool, and retaining its natural colour. But lor
the purposes of dyeing, white wool is now always pre¬
ferred, because it "is found susceptible of receiving bet¬
ter and more durable colours.
109. Wool is naturally covered with a kind of grease Scours
or oil, which is found to preserve it from insects or moths,
and on this account this greasy matter is not remov¬
ed or the wool is not scoured, till it is to be dyed
s ’ or
DYEING.
III.
J :ing.
Or
or spun (c). The process for scouring wool is the fol¬
lowing. It is put for about a quarter of an hour into a
kettle, with a sufficient quantity of water, to which a
fourth part of putrid urine has been added. It is then
heated to such a degree as the hand can bear, occa¬
sionally stirred, and after being taken out, is allowed
to drain. It is then put into a basket, and exposed to
a stream of running water, and moved about till the
grease is so completely separated, that it no longer ren¬
ders the water turbid. After being drained, it is some¬
times found to lose by this operation above one-fifth of
its weight. It is almost unnecessary to observe, that
the more carefully and completely this process is per ¬
formed, the better the wool is fitted to receive the co¬
louring matter. Our chemical readers will readily
perceive the nature of the changes which are effected
in this process of scouring. The ammonia, or volatile
alkali, which exists in the urine, combines with the oil
of the wool, and forms a soap, which being soluble in
water, is dissolved, and carried off.
no. Wool is either dyed in the fleece, or after it is
spun into threads, or when it has been manufactured into
cloth. For the purpose of forming cloths of mixed
colours, it is dyed before it is spun ; for the purposes
of tapestry, it is dyed in the state of thread ; but most
commonly it is subjected to this process after it has
been manufactured into cloth. In these different states,
the quantity of colouring matter which is taken up is
very different. The proportion is largest when it is
dyed in the fleece, because then the filaments being
more separated, a greater surface is exposed to the
action of the colouring particles. For a similar reason
the quantity of colouring matter taken up is greater
when in the state of thread or yarn, than when it is
formed into cloth. But cloths themselves must vary
greatly in this respect, according to their different
qualities. Their different degrees of fineness, or close¬
ness of texture, will produce considerable variations;
and besides, the difference in the quantity and dimen¬
sions of the substances to be dyed, the different quali¬
ties of the ingredients employed in the process, and
the different circumstances in which it is performed,
should be a caution against trusting to precise quanti¬
ties, regulated by weight or measure, which are re¬
commended according to general rules. According to
the fineness of the texture of the wool, and the nature
of the colouring matter employed, it is found to be
more or less penetrated with this matter. The coarse
wool from the thighs and tails of some sheep, receives
colours with difficulty, and the finest cloth is never
completely penetrated with the scarlet dye. The in¬
terior of the cloth appears always, when cut, of a light¬
er shade, and sometimes even white.
Sect. II. Of Silk.
Hi. Silk, which forms the basis of one of the richest
and most splendid parts of dress, among the wealthy
and luxurious, in civilized society, is the production
of different species of insects. The phalcena bombyx, or
silk-worm, which is a native of China, attracted the
Vol. VII. Part II. f
I) Y E I N G.
attention of mankind in that country, from the earliest of Sub.
The honour of having first collected and pre- stances to
ages.
pared silk from the cocoons or balls in which it is be colour-
wound up by the insect, during its metamorphosis, is , ccl'
ascribed by tbe Chinese historians, to the wife of an v"'
emperor. The phal&na atlas, Lin. which is also a na¬
tive of China, is said to form larger cocoons, and to
yield a stronger silk. The silk-worm was first carried
from China to Hindostan, and afterwards to Persia,
Silk seems not to have been known to the Greeks or
Romans till the time of Augustus. Its nature and ori¬
gin were little understood, and for many ages it was
so scarce, that it could only he purchased at a price
which was equal to its weight in gold. The emperor
Auielian, it is said, from a principle of economy, re¬
sisted the urgent solicitations of his empress, who wish¬
ed to have a silken robe, alleging the extravagance of
the expence. About the middle of the sixth century,
two monks returned from India to Constantinople, and
brought with them a considerable number of silk¬
worms, with instructions for managing and breeding
them, as well as for collecting, preparing, and manu¬
facturing the silk. Establishments were thus formed
at Corinth, Athens, and other parts of Greece. The
crusades, which greatly contributed to the diffusion of
different kinds of knowledge, by the intercourse which
took place between different countries, proved useful
in disseminating the knowledge of rearing the silk-
worm, and preparing and manufacturing its valuable
productions. Roger, king of Sicily, about the year
1130, returning from one of these frantic expeditions,
brought with him from Athens and Corinth, several
prisoners, who were acquainted with the management
of silk-worms, and the manufacturing of silk. Under
their superintendance, manufactories were established
Palermo and Cagliari in Sicily. This example was
soon adopted, and followed in different parts of Italy
and Spain. In the time of James I. an attempt was
made to establish the silk-worm in England. For this
purpose the culture of the mulberry-tree, on which the
insects feed, was strongly recommended by that prince
to his subjects j but tbe attempts which were made
have been hitherto unsuccessful.
112. The fibres of silk are covered with a coating or Scouring*
natural varnish of a gummy nature. To this are ascrib¬
ed its stiffness and elasticity. Resides this varnish, the
silk which is usually met with in Europe is impregna¬
ted with a substance of a yellow colour, and for most
ol the purposes to which silk is applied, it is necessary
that it should be deprived, both of the varnish and of
the colouring matter. On this account it must be sub¬
jected to the operation of scouring; but for silks which
are to be dyed, this process should not be carried so
far as for those which are merely to be whitened ; and
different colours, it is observed, require diflerent de¬
grees of this operation. The quantity of soap consti¬
tutes the chief difference. A hundred pounds of silk
boiled in a solution of 20 lbs. of soap for three or four
hours, adding new portions of water during tbe evapo¬
ration, are sufficiently prepared for receiving common
3 ^ colours.
fr^ ^c<>r(^n§ to an observation of Reaumur, rubbing any stuff with greasy wool, is sufficient to preserve it
Process,
when cm
ployed
white.
410 DYE
Of Sub- colours. For blue colours, the proportion of soap must
stances to be increased j and scarlet, cherry-colour, &c. require
a still greater proportion, for the ground must be
whiter for these colours.
113. Silk which is to be employed white, must undergo
three operations. In the first the hanks are immersed
in a hot but not boiling solution of 3olbs. of soap to 100
of silk. When the immersed part is freed from its
gum, which is known by its whiteness, the hanks are
shaken over, as the workmen term it, so that the part
which was not previously immersed may undergo the
same operation. They are then wrung out as the pro¬
cess is completed. In the second operation the silk is
put into bags of coarse cloth, each bag containing 20
or 30 lbs. These bags are boiled for an hour and a
half, in a solution of soap prepared as before, but with
a smaller proportion ot soap and that they may. not
receive too much heat, by touching the bottom of the
kettle, they must be constantly stirred during the ope¬
ration. The object of the third operation is to com¬
municate to the silk different shades, to lender the
white more agreeable. Phese are known by different
names, as China-white, silver-white, azure-white, or
thread-white. For this purpose a solution of soap is
also prepared, of which the proper degree of strength
is ascertained by its manner of frothing by agitation.
For the China-white, which is required to have a slight
tinge of red, a small quantity of anatto is added, and
the silk is shaken over in 'it till it has acquired the
shade which is wanted. In other whites, a blue tinge
is given by adding a little blue to the solution of soap.
The azure-white is communicated by means of indigo.
To prepare the azure, fine indigo is well washed two or
three times in moderately warm water, ground fine in a
mortar, and boiling water poured upon it. It is then
left to settle, and the liquid part only, which contains
the finer and more soluble parts, is employed.
114. Some use no soap in the third operation j but when
the second is completed, they wash the silks, fumigate
with sulphur, and azure, them with river water, which
should be very pure. But all these operations are not
sufficient to give silk that degree of brightness which
is necessary, when it is to be employed in the manu¬
facture of white stuffs. For this purpose it must un¬
dergo the process of sulphuration, in which the silk is
exposed to the vapour of sulphur; for an account of
which see Bleaching. But before the silk which has
been treated in this way is fit for receiving colours,
and retaining them in their full lustre, the sulphur
which adheres to it must be separated by immersion and
agitation for some time in warm water, otherwise the
colours are tarnished and greatly injured.
, 11 It has long been an object of considerable im-
mctino importance, to deprive silk of its colouring matter, with-
colouring out destroying the gum, on which its stiffness and elasti¬
city depend. A process for this purpose was discoveret.
by Beaume, but as it was not made public, others have
been led to it by conjecture and experiment. The
following account, given by Berthollet, is all that has
transpired concerning this process. A mixture is made
with a small quantity of muriatic acid and alcohol.
The muriatic acid should be in a state of purity^ and
particularly should he entirely free from nitric acid,
which would give the silk a yellow colour. In the
mixture, thus prepared, the silk is to be immersed.
matter,
I N G. Parti;
One of the most difficult parts of the process, especial- ofSnb-
ly when large quantities are operated upon, is to pro- stances t:
duce a uniform whiteness. In dyeing the whitened be colour,
silk, there is also considerable difficulty to prevent its, ^
curling, so that it is recommended to keep it constantly S|
stretched during the drying. The muriatic acid seems
to be useful in this process, by softening the gum, and
assisting the alcohol to dissolve the colouring particles
which are combined with it. The alcohol which has
been impregnated with the colouring matter may be
again separated from it and purified, that it may serve
for future operations, and thus render the process
more economical. This may be done by means of
distillation with a moderate heat, in glass or stone-ware
vessels.
116. The preparation with alum is a very important Aluming,
preliminary operation in the dyeing of silk. Without
this process, few colours would have either beauty or
durability. Forty or fifty pounds of alum, previously
dissolved in warm water, are mixed in a vat, with
forty or fifty pailfuls of water; and to prevent the cry¬
stallization of the salt, the solution must be carefully
stirred during the mixture. The silk being previously
washed and beetled, to separate any remains of soap,
is immersed in this alum liquor, and at the end of
eight or nine hours is wrung out, and washed in a
stream of water. A hundred and fifty pounds of silk
may be prepared in the above quantity of liquor; but
when it begins to grow weak, which may be known
by the taste, 20 or 25 lbs. of dissolved alum are to be
added, and the addition repeated till the liquor acquires
a disagreeable smell. It may then be employed in the
preparation of silk intended for darker colours, till its
whole strength is dissipated. This preparation of silk
with alum must be made in the cold ; for when the
liquor is employed hot, the lustre is apt to be im¬
paired.
Sect. III. Of Cotton.
uy. Cotton is the down or wool contained in the Origin,
pods of a shrubby plant, which is a native of warm cli¬
mates. Of this genus of plants (Gossypium Lin.) there
are four species, one of which only is perennial ; the
other three are annual plants ; but of these there are
many varieties, occasioned by the difference of soil or
temperature in which they are produced. The princi¬
pal differences among cottons consist in the length and
fineness of the filaments, and in their strength and co¬
lour.
118. The peculiar structure of the fibres of cotton isgtructtire.
not well known. According to the microscopic observa¬
tions of Leeuwenhoeck, they have two sharp sides, to
which are ascribed the irritation and inflammation of
wounds and ulcers, when they are dressed with cotton
instead of lint. This peculiarity of structure, it is also
supposed, may occasion some difference in the conlor-
mation, and number of the pores, on which alone the
disposition of cotton to admit and retain colours better
than linen, seems to depend. Ip this respect, however,
it is inferior to wool and silk, because, on account of its
vegetable nature, its affinity for colouring matter is less
powerful. j}aJ a le*s
119. It is well known that silk, cotton, and linen baveflj£n;tytiia
a weaker affinity for colouring matter than wool. Lewoolfor*c
Pileur d’Apligny attempts to explain this by supposing
hap. HI. DYE
j;jf Sub- ^at the pores of these substances are smaller than those
auces to of wool, and that the colouring particles enter them
;i coloui- Jess easily and freely. But according to the observa-
e ' tion of Dr Bancroft, the reverse of this seems to be the
fat;t $ for there is little difficulty in making silk, cot¬
ton, and linen, imbibe colouring matter, even when it is
applied cold, without any artificial dilatation of the
pores, which is always necessary in the dyeing of wool.
The only real difficulty is to make them retain the
colours after the matter has been imbibed j because
being admitted so readily into their undilated pores,
the particles cannot be afterwards compressed and re¬
tained by the contraction of these pores, as is the case
with wool. It requires double the quantity of cochi¬
neal which is necessary for wool to communicate a crim¬
son colour to silk ; a certain proof that it can take up
a greater quantity, and consequently that the pores are
sufficiently large and accessible. Unbleached cotton
is always preferred for dyeing Turkey red j because
in this state the colour is found to be most permanent}
and this is ascribed to the pores or interstices being less
open than after it has undergone the process of bleach-
ing.. 1. he same thing is observed of raw or unscour¬
ed silk. It is found to combine more easily with the
colouring matter, and to receive a more permanent co¬
lour in this state than after it has been scoured and
whitened. “ I he openness of cotton and linen (says
Dr Bancroft), and their Cbnsequent readiness to im¬
bibe, both colouring particles, and the earthy or metallic
bases employed to fix most of them, are circumstances
upon which the art of dyeing and calico-printing is in
of a. great degree founded*.” But is not this too me-
P wmnt chanical an explanation of the phenomenon ? Might
s* 'It not rather be alleged that It Is owing to a difference
of affinities which exists between the particles of colour¬
ing matter and the substance which is separated from
the silk or cotton by the process of bleaching or scour¬
ing ? This substance probably acts the part of a mor¬
dant ; and having a stronger affinity for the stuff and
for the colouring matter than the stuff has for the lat¬
ter, the colour communicated is more durable when
silk or cotton is dyed in the unbleached or unscoured
state.
120. lo prepare cotton stuffs for receiving the dye,
several operations are necessary. It must first under¬
go the process of scouring. By some it is boiled in sour
water, or in alkaline ley. It should be kept boiling for
two hours, then wrung out, and rinsed in a stream of
water till the water comes oft' clear. The stuffs to be
prepared should be soaked for some time in water, mix¬
ed with not more than yToth part of sulphuric acid, and
then carefully washed in a stream of water, and dried.
In this operation the acid combines with a portion of
calcareous earth and iron, which would have interrupt¬
ed the full effect of the colouring matter in the process
of dyeing.
Mving. 121. Aluming is another preliminary process in the
dyeing of cotton. The alum is to be dissolved in the
manneralready described, in preparing silk. Each pound
cf cotton stuff requires four ounces of alum. By some
a solution of soda, about Tf7th part of the alum, and
by others a small quantity of tartar and arsenic are add¬
ed. 1 he thread is to be impregnated by working it
m small quantities with this solution. The whole is
then put into a vessel, and the remaining part of the
*NG- , 4U
liquor is poured upon it. In this state it is left for 24 0f Sub-
hours after which it is removed to a stream of water, stances to
and allowed to remain for an hour and a half, or two colour-
hours, to extract part of the alum. It is then to be ed‘
washed. By this operation, cotton is found to gain an
addition of about-^th part of its weight,
122. I he operation of galling is another preparatory Gallin'1-
process in the dyeing of cotton stuffs. The quantity of
astringent matter employed must be proportioned to its
quality, and the amount of the effect required. Pow¬
dered galls are boiled for two hours in a proportion of
water, regulated by the quantity of thread to be galled.
1 his solution being reduced to such a'temperature as
the hand can bear, is divided into a number of equal
paits, that the thread may be wrought pound by pound.
The whole stuff is then put into a vessel, and the re¬
maining liquor poured upon it, as in the former pro¬
cess. It is then left for 24 hours, if it is to be dyed
black, but for other colours, 12 or 15 hours are found
sufficient. It is then wrung out and dried.
.In the galling of cotton stuffs, which have already re¬
ceived a colour, the precaution should be observed of
performing this operation in the cold, otherwise the co¬
lour is subject to injury.
123. Berthollet informs us, that cotton which had
been alumed acquired more weight in the galling than
that which had not previously undergone that process }
foi although alum adheres but in small quantities to
cotton, it communicates to it a greater power of com¬
bining, both with the astringent principle, and with the
colouring particles. This, we may add, may be con¬
sidered as a good instance of the action of intermediate
affinities, and of the advantage to be derived j,to the
art of dyeing, from investigating and observing this ac¬
tion.
Sect. IV. Of Flax.
124. Flax and hemp nearly resemble each other in Origin,
their general properties } and so far as relates to the pro¬
cess of dyeing, what is said of the one may be ap¬
plied to the other. Flax or lint is obtained from the
bark of Linum usitatissimum, and hemp from that of
Cannabis saliva.
I 25. Before flax is properly prepared to receive the Watering,
dye, it must be subjected to several processes. One of
the most important is that of watering, by which the fi¬
brous parts of the plant are separated, and brought to
that state in which they can be spun into threads. As
the quantity and quality of the product depend much
on this preliminary operation, it becomes of the great¬
est consequence that it be properly conducted. During
this process, carbonic acid and hydrogen gas are given
out. The extrication of these gases is owing to a glutin¬
ous juice which holds the green colouring part of the
plant in solution, and which is the medium of union
between its cortical and ligneous parts, undergoing a
certain degree of putrefaction. This substance seems
to resemble the glutinous part which is held dissolved
in the juice obtained from plants by pressure } is se¬
parated from the colouring particles by means of heat ;
readily becomes putrid, and by distillation affords am¬
monia. But although it is held in solution with the
expressed juice, it would appear that it cannot be se¬
parated from the cortical parts completely, by means
of water} and hence it happens, that Ii^mp or flax
3 -f' 3 watered
412
DYE
Operations'vatered in t00 strong a current, has not the requisite
of Dyeing, softness and flexibility. But on the other hand, if the
1 v ' water employed in this operation be stagnant and in a
putrid state, the hemp or flax becomes of a brown co¬
lour, and loses its firmness. In the one case, the pu¬
trefactive process is interrupted ; in the other it is con¬
tinued too long, and carried too far. This process,
therefore, is performed with the greatest advantage in
places near the banks of rivers, where the water may
be changed so frequently as to prevent such a degree
of putrefaction as would be injurious to the flax, as
well as prejudicial to the workmen, from noxious
exhalations ; and, at the same time, not so frequently
as to retard or interrupt those changes which are ne¬
cessary for rendering the glutinous substance soluble
in water. # .
126. By the process of watering flax, and by drying
before and after that process, the green coloured par¬
ticles undergo a similar change to that which is obser¬
ved in the green substance of the plants exposed to the
action of air and light. The next part of the process,
therefore, after watering, is to spread it out upon the
orass, and thus expose it for some time to the air and
sun. By this means the colour of the lint is im¬
proved, and the ligneous part becomes so brittle, that
it is easily separated from the fibrous part. Ibis ope¬
ration, as is well known, is usually performed by ma¬
chinery.
127. The fibres of lint possess no perceptible degree
of elasticity, and they appear to be perfectly smooth.
No roughness or inequality can be detected by the
feel, and no asperities can be perceived, even with the
assistance of the microscope. Experience shows, that
it produces no irritation on wounds or sores which are
dressed with it, as is known to happen from a similar
application of cotton stuffs.
128. Flax which is intended for dyeing must be sub¬
jected to a similar series of operations with cotton, in
the different processes of scouring, aluming and galling.
A repetition of the mode of performing these operations
is therefore unnecessary.
Structure.
Prepara¬
tions.for
dyeing.
Chap. IV. Of the Operations of Dyeing.
129. Before we proceed to the detail of the processes
of dyeing, we shall throw out a few hints on the opera¬
tions in general, some of which may perhaps be useful
to the practical dyer.
120. The works which are carried on in extensive ma-
of Urge^^ufactories, it has been observed, are followed with ad-
manufacto- vantages which are unknown to those which are con-
ries* ducted on a limited scale or in a detached manner.
By the subdivision of labour, each workman directing
his attention to one or a few objects, acquires a great
facility and perfection of execution, by which means
the saving of time and labour becomes considerable.
This principle is particularly applicable to the art of
dyeing, because the preparation which remains alter one
operation may often be advantageously employed in
another. A bath from which the colouring matter
has been in a great measure extracted in the first ope¬
ration, may be used as a ground for other stufts, or
with the addition of a fresh portion of ingredients may
form a new bath. The galls which have been apphei
to the galling of silk may answer a similar purpose for
3
I N G. Parti
cotton or wool. From this it must appear that the Operatic,
limitations and restrictions under which the art of dye-of Dveinj;
ing labours in some countries must tend to obstruct its
progress and improvement. An extensive plan of ope¬
rations, by which the different branches of the art are
connected together, would effectually prevent the loss
of ingredients, time, fuel, and labour.
1 ^ 1. A dye-house, which should be set down as near Dye-hoBy
as possible to a stream of water, should be spacious and
well lighted. It should be floored with lime and pla¬
ster 5 and proper means should be adopted to carry off
water or spent baths by forming channels or gutters,
so that every operation may be conducted with the ut¬
most attention to cleanliness.
132. The size and position of the caldrons are to beCaldroiu
regulated by the nature and extent of the operations
for which they are designed. Excepting for scarlet
and other delicate colours, in which the tin is used as a
mordant, in which case tin vessels are preferable, the
caldrons should be of brass or copper. Brass, being less
apt than copper to be acted on by means of chemical
agents, and to communicate spots to the stuffs, is fitter
for the purpose of a dyeing vessel. It is scarcely ne¬
cessary to say that it is of the greatest consequence that
the coppers or caldrons be well cleaned for every ope¬
ration j and that vessels of a large size should be fur¬
nished at the bottom with a pipe and stop-cock for the
greater conveniency of emptying them : and there must
be a hole in the wall or chimney above each copper to
admit poles for the purpose of draining the stufts which
are immersed, so that the liquor may fall back into the
vessel, and no part may be lost.
I33* Dyes f°r where a hoiling heat is not found Apparata
necessary, are prepared in troughs or backs, which are
long copper or wooden vessels. ’Ihe colours which
are used for silk are extremely delicate. They must
therefore be dried quickly, that they may not be long
exposed to the action ot the air, and there may be no
risk of change. For this purpose, it is necessary to have
a drying room heated with a stove. The silk is stretch¬
ed on a moveable pole, which by the dyers is called
a shaker. This is hung up in the heated chamber,
and kept in constant motion to promote the evapora-
tion.
134. For pieces of stuffs, a winch or reel must beforstuflf
constructed; the ends of which are supported by two of eloth.
iron forks which may be put up at pleasure in holes
made in the curb on which the edges of the copper
rest. The manipulations in dyeing are neither diffi¬
cult nor complicated. Their object is to impregnate
the stuff to be dyed with the colouring particles, which
are dissolved in the bath. For this purpose, the action
of the air is necessary, not only in fixing the. colouring
particles, but also in rendering them more vivid ; while
those which have not been fixed in the stuff are to be
carefully removed. In dyeing whole pieces of stuff, ora
number of pieces at once, the winch or reel mentioned
above must be employed. One end of the stuff is first
laid across it, and by turning it quickly round, the
whole passes successively over it. By turning it after¬
wards the contrary way, that part of the stuff which was
first immersed, will be the last in the second immersion,
and thus the colouring mattei* will be communicated
as equally as possible. ,
13 c. In dyeing wool in the fleece, a kind of broad For *
J b ladder
\ ogmg
01
R tfg.
G:3g a
F:d-
Di |ag.
Fe s for
ap. IV.
rations ladder with very close rounds, called by the dyers of
siyeing. this country, a scratv, or scray, is used. This is pla-
ced over the copper, and the wool is put upon it, for
the purpose of draining and exposure to the air, or
when the bath is to be changed. If wool is dyed in
the state of thread, or in skains, rods are to be passed
through them, and the hanks turned upon the skain
sticks in the liquor. This is called shakitig over.
When silk or thread is in the same state, it undergoes
a similar operation.
136. To separate the superabundant colouring par¬
ticles, or those which have not been fixed in the stulf,
silk or thread, after being dyed, it must be wrung out.
This operation is performed with a cylindrical piece of
wood, one end of which is fixed in the wall, or in a
post. This operation is often repeated a number of
times successively, for the purpose of drying the stuffs
more rapidly, and communicating a brighter lustre.
137. When, after a certain quantity of fresh ingre¬
dients is added to a liquor, and it is stirred about, it is
said to be raked, because it is mixed with the rake.
138. In dyeing, one colour is frequently communi¬
cated to stuffs, with the intention of applying another
upon it, and thus a compound colour is produced.
The first of these operations is called giving a ground.
139. When it is found necessary to pass stuffs several
times through the same liquor, each particular operation
is called a dip.
140. A colour is said to be rosed, when a red co-
lour having a yellow tinge, is changed to a shade in¬
clining to a crimson or ruby colour; and the conver¬
sion of a yellow red to a more complete red, is called
heightening the colour.
141. In addition to these general remarks, we might
give more minute details of the different operations
which are employed in dyeing; but as we cannot pre¬
sume that they would be of much advantage to the
practical dyer, we shall not indulge ourselves in use¬
less description. “ Although the manipulations of dye¬
ing,” says Berthollet, “ are not very various, and ap¬
pear extremely simple, they require very particular at¬
tention, and an experienced eye, in order to judge
of the qualities of the bath, to produce and sustain the
degree of heat suited to each operation j to avoid all
circumstances that might occasion inequalities of co-
lour, to judge accurately whether the shade of what
dun.ot comes out of the bath suits the pattern, and to establish
the proper gradations in a series of shades
142. We shall conclude this chapter with a few ob¬
servations on the qualities and effects of different kinds
of water, which may be considered as one of the most
essential agents in the art of dyeing. It is almost un¬
necessary to say, that water which is muddy, or con¬
tains putrid substances, should not be employed ; and
indeed no kind of water which possesses qualities dis¬
tinguished by the taste, ought to be used. Water
which holds in solution earthy salts, has a very consi¬
derable action on colouring matters, and it is chiefly
by means of these salts. Such, for instance, are the
nitrates of lime and magnesia, muriate of lime and
magnesia, sulphate of lime, and carbonate of lime and
of magnesia.
I43* These salts which have earthy bases, oppose the
solution of the colouring particles, and by entering in¬
to combination with many of them, cause a precipita- -
dyeing.
413
m,
^ ira-
Mt !,
tion, by which means the colour is at one time deeper, Operations
and at other times duller and more laint than would of Dyemg.
otherwise be the case. Waters impregnated with the — 1 ^
carbonates of lime and magnesia, yield a precipitate
when they are boiled ’, for the excess of carbonic acid
which held them in solution is driven off by the heat j
the earths are thus precipitated, and adhering to the
stuffs to be dyed, render them dirty, and prevent the
colouring matter from combining with them.
144. It is of much consequence to be able to dis¬
tinguish the different kinds of water which come under
the denomination of hard water, that they may be a-
voided in the essential operations of dyeing; but to de¬
tect different principles contained in such waters, and to
ascertain their quantity with precision, require great
skill, and very delicate management of chemical ope¬
rations, which the experienced chemist only can be sup¬
posed to possess. lor the methods to be followed when
such accuracy is required, we must refer to the analysis
of mineral waters, of which a full view is given in
the treatise on chemistry, and content ourselves with
mentioning some simple tests which are of easy appli¬
cation.
145. One of these tests is the solution of soap, by
which it may be discovered whether water contain so
large a portion of any of these saline matters as may be
injurious to the processes. Salts which have earthy
bases, have the property of decomposing soap by the
action of double affinity. The acid of the salt combines
with the alkali of the soap, and remains in solution,
while the earth of the salt and the oil of the soap enter
into combination, and form an earthy soap which is
insoluble in water, and produces the curdling appear¬
ance which is the consequence of this new combina¬
tion. Water, then, which is limpid and not stagnant,
which has no perceptible taste or smell, and has the
property of dissolving soap without decomposition,
may be considered as sufficiently pure for the pro¬
cesses of dyeing. All waters which possess these
qualities will be found equally proper for these pur¬
poses.
146. But, as it is not always in the power of the Method of
dyer to choose pure water, means of correcting the water Pu,'ifyin£*
which would be injurious to his processes, and particu¬
larly for the dyeing of delicate colours, have been pro¬
posed. Water in which bran has been allowed to be¬
come sour, is most commonly employed for this pur¬
pose. This is known by the name of sours, or sour
water. The method of preparing sour water is the fol¬
lowing. Twenty-four bushels of bran are put into a
vessel that will contain about 10 hogsheads. A larcre
boiler is filled with water, and when it is just ready to,
boil, it is poured into the vessel. Soon after the acid
fermentation commences, and in about 24 hours the li¬
quor is fit to be applied to use. Water which is im¬
pregnated with earthy salts, after being treated in this
way, forms no precipitate by boiling. It is probable
that the sour water decomposes the carbonate of lime
and magnesia, because the vegetable acid which is
formed during the fermentation, combines with the
earthy basis, and sets the carbonic acid at liberty.
147. Some of the substances, with which waters are
impregnated, or those which are merely diffused in
them in a state of very minute division, may be separa¬
ted by means of mucilaginous matters. The mucilage
coagulates
f
4X4-
Practice ofcoagulates by means of heat, ami carrying with it the
Dyeiiijr. earths separated by boiling, as well as those substances
' wineh are simply mixed with the water, and render it
turbid, rises to the surface, and forming a scum, may
be easily removed.
148. Saline matters having earthy bases, which in
general are injurious in dyeing, may in some cases be
useful, because by their action, modifications ofdifterent
colours may be produced. A water ot this kind, for
instance, would have the effect of communicating to the
colour of cochineal a crimson shade.
149. River water, which is apt to be impregnated
Parti
with earthy salts, may, at different times, contain very Practic f
different proportions of these salts ; and although the Dyei-
dyer may follow exactly the same process, he may be '—^4
surprised to find considerable variations in the shades
of his colours. This arises from the different degrees
of impregnation with these saline matters which the wa¬
ter undergoes, as the bed of the river is of greater or
less extent, or the waters flow over those places from
which they derive these earthy salts. To obtain the
same result in the process, therefore, it would be neces¬
sary to make certain variations according to the state ol
impregnation of the water.
DYEING.
PART II. OF THE PRACTICE OF DYEING
I 50. IN the preceding part, we have endeavoured
to give a general view of the principles on which the
art of dyeing depends. We have considered the phy¬
sical and chemical properties of colours and colouring
matters, the nature of the substances to which colours
are communicated, and the agents or means by which
this is effected j and from the experiments and obser¬
vations of philosophers, whose investigations have been
directed to this subject, it appears that these changes
are entirely owing to chemical affinities, by which de¬
compositions are effected, and new combinations form¬
ed, among the constituent parts of the substances em¬
ployed. A precise and full knowledge of the effects
of these chemical agents would render the theory of
dyeing complete, and although much has been aheady
done by the chemical philosophers whom we have had
occasion frequently to quote, yet experiments and ob¬
servations are still wanting to form a theory of this art
on fixed and rational principles. This, it is obvious,
Importance can on)y be done by chemical investigations, lo the
of chemist- ct;cal therefore, the study of chemical science
iiiJ.11 d'Ve" must be essentially requisite, as this only can be his
true guide in estimating and managing the complicated
changes in the different processes of his art. It is on¬
ly by the application of the principles of chemistry
that this art can be improved and perfected. But the
application of these principles must be made by the
practical dyer himself, not by the chemist in his labo¬
ratory, or during an occasional visit to the manufactory.
For in the complicated processes of dyeing conducted
on an extensive scale, a thousand circumstances will be
overlooked by the most acute and discerning chemist,
which will not escape the habitual observation of the
philosophical artist. Convinced ourselves of the incal¬
culable advantages which the art of dyeing may derive
from chemical science, and the innumerable resources
which ingenuity and address may discover in the proper
application of its principles towards the improvement
of the different processes of this art, we shall not be
thought, we hope, too sanguine in looking forward to a
degree of perfection which is little to be expected from
its present state. . . ,.
The processes of the art of dyeing form the subject
of the second part of this treatise, the consideration of
which we are now to enter upon. .
Division of ici. Colours have been usually distributed by dyers
eolours. jnt0 two classes. These have been denominated simple
and compound colours. Simple colours, which are com¬
monly reckoned four in number, are such as cannot be
produced by the mixing together different colours.
Colours denominated compound may be produced by
the mixture of any two of the simple colours in differ¬
ent proportions. Thus red, yellow, and blue are inca¬
pable of being produced by any combination of others,
and are therefore considered as simple colours. Blue
and red, which compose a purple, blue and yellow, a
green, and red and yellow, an orange, are compound
colours; but none of these, by any composition what¬
ever, will afford a red, yellow, or blue.
152. Dr Bancroft, in his elaborate treatise on theDrfial
philosophy of permanent colours, divides colouring croft’s,
matters into two classes. The first includes those.co-
louring substances which, being in a state of solution,
may be permanently fixed on any stuff without any
mordant, or the intermediate action of earthy or me¬
tallic bases. In the second class are comprehended
those matters which cannot be fixed without the action
of mordants. The first he has denominated substantive
colours j because the colour is fixed without the aid of
any other body, and the second adjective; because
they become permanent only with the addition of a
mordant. The celebrated purple produced by the
liquor obtained from shell-fish and indigo, are examples
of substantive colours. Prussian blue and cochineal are
adjective colours.
The usual division of colours into simple and com¬
pound seems to form an arrangement equally conveni¬
ent and perspicuous. We shall therefore adopt it in
the following chapters. In the first we shall treat of
simple colours $ in the second of compound colours; and
to these we shall add a third chapter on topical dyeing,
or calico printing.
Chap. I. Of Simple Colours,
153. Simple colours, we have already observed,Simple
are such as cannot be produced by the mixture of otherluaa
colours. They are the foundation of all other colours,
and therefore come naturally to be first treated oh
The simple colours are four, viz. I. Red. 2. Yellow.
3. Blue. 4. Black. To these a fifth is added by some;
namely, brown, or fawn colour ; although it niay j*6
produced by the combination of other colours. Ihe
nature of the colouring substances which are employed
w fn
(lip. I.
0 niple produce these colours, and the processes by which
Trins. they are fixed on the several stuffs, will form the sub-
W""—' ject of the four following sections.
Sect. I. Of Bed.
154. Red colours, from different degrees of intensi¬
ty, have received different names, as crimson, scarlet,
besides a great variety of shades which are less striking,
and come under no particular denomination. In this*
section we shall treat of the nature and properties of the
substances which are employed in dyeing red, and then
give an account of the different processes which are fol¬
lowed in fixing these colouring matters on animal and
vegetable productions.
Of the Substances employed in Dijeing Red.
1 he colouring matters which are principally em¬
ployed in dyeing red, are madder, cochineal, kermes,
lac, archil, carthamus, brazil wood, and logwood.
aiir. _ 155. Madder is very extensively employed in dye-
ing. It is the root of a plant (rubia tinctorum, Lin.)
of which there are two varieties. It is cultivated in
different parts of Europe, and the best, it is said, is
brought from Zealand. Madder, as it is prepared for
dyeing-, is distinguished into different kinds. What
is called grape madder, is obtained from the principal
roots; the none grape is produced from the stalks,
which by being buried in the earth, are converted in¬
to roots, and are called layers. When the roots are
gathered, these layers are separated, with such of the
fibres of the roots as do not exceed a certain degree of
thickness, as well as those which are too thick ; the lat¬
ter containing a great deal of woody matter. The
best roots are about the thickness of a goose quill, they
have some degree of transparency •, are of a reddish co¬
lour, and have a strong smell, and a smooth bark.
When the madder is gathered, it must be dried, to
render it fit for being reduced to powder, and being
preserved. This operation is performed in warm cli¬
mates in the open air. In Holland, stoves are employ¬
ed for the same purpose ; but when treated in this way,
it is often injured, from too great a degree of heat,
and being mixed with particles of soot. The superi¬
ority of madder from the Levant is ascribed to its hav¬
ing been dried in the Open air.
W ^ie roots being dried, and the earthy matters
11 which adhere to them being separated, by shaking
them in a bag, or beating them lightly on a wooden
hurdle, they are reduced to powder by means of ma¬
nual labour, or with the aid of machinery. All the
parts of madder do not yield the same colouring mat¬
ter. I he outer bark, and the ligneous part within,
j give a yellowish dye, which injures the red. These
parts may be separated, in consequence of the different
degrees of facility with which they are reduced to
powder. The outer bark and woody parts are more
easily powdered than the parenchymatous parts, which
contain the fine red dye. To effect the separation of
these different parts, three operations are performed.
^ ter the first, ^the madder is passed through a sieve,
y wnich, what is called the short madder, {courte of
the french), intended for tan, and inferior colours, is
flbtamed. What remains is again ground and sifted.
v'hat the French call mirobie, is obtained by this
dyeing.
415
operation. A third operation of the same kind affords 0f SmmJ
the robiC' or finer kind of madder. Colour?.
IS7- The result of the experiments of D’Am-'—"“v 
bourney show, that the fresh root of madder may be
used with as much advantage in dyeing, as when it is
dried and powdered. Four pounds of fresh madder,
lie observed, are equal to one of the dry, although in
drying it loses seven-eighths of its weight. When the
fresh roots are to be used, they are to be well washed
m a current of water, immediately after they are taken
out of the ground, and afterwards cut into pieces and
bruised. In dyeing with the fresh roots, allowance
should be made for the quantity of water which they
contain, so that a smaller proportion should be put into
the bath. Beckmann seems to be of the same opinion
with regard to the use of the fresh roots of madder,
and yet he has frequently observed that it is more fit
for dyeing after it has been preserved for two or three
years.
158. The madder which is cultivated in the neigh¬
bourhood of Smyrna, and in the island of Cyprus,
affords a brighter red than the European madder, and
therefore it is preferred in the preparation of the
Adrianople red. I his is known by the name liosari.
Berthollet informs us that it is cultivated in Provence
in France, and Beckmann has been very successful in
raising it at Gottingen.
159. The colouring matter of madder is soluble in Properties,
alcohol, and by evaporation a deep-red residuum is
formed. In this solution sulphuric acid produces a
fawn-coloured precipitate ; fixed alkali, one of a violet
colour, and the sulphate of potash, a precipitate of a
fine red. Alum, nitre, chalk, acetate of lead, and
muriate of tin, afford precipitates in the solution of
madder in alcohol, of various shades. The colouring
matter of madder is also soluble in water. By mace¬
ration in several portions of cold water successively,
the last receives only a fawn colour, which appears en¬
tirely different from the peculiar colouring particles of
this substance. It resembles what is extracted from
woods and other roots, and perhaps exists only in the
ligneous and cortical parts. By repeated boiling, Ber¬
thollet exhausted the madder of all its colouring par¬
ticles which are soluble in water. It still retained,
however, a deep colour, and yielded a considerable
quantity of colouring matter to an alkali. There was
an inconsiderable residuum, which still remained colour¬
ed. The pulp, therefore, appears entirely composed of
colouring matter, part of which is insoluble in simple
water. When oxymuriatic acid is employed in sufficient
quantity, to change an infusion of madder from red to
yellow, it produces a small portion of a pale-yellow pre¬
cipitate j the supernatant liquor is transparent, and re¬
tains more or less of a deep yellow colour, according to
the proportion and strength of the acid. Double the
quantity of acid is required to discharge the colour of
a decoction of madder of what is necessary to destroy
that of the same weight of Brazil wood. This shows that
the colouring matter of madder is more durable than
that of Brazil wood. The infusion of madder in water
is of a brownish orange colour. The colouring matter
may be extracted, either by cold or hot water j in the
latter the colour is most beautiful. The decoction is
of a brownish colour. The colouring matter of mad¬
ders
416 DYE
Of Simple der cannot be extracted without a great deal of vvater.^_
Colours. Two ounces of madder require three quarts of water.
' '(—J Alum forms, in the infusion of madder, a deep brown¬
ish red precipitate •, the supernatant liquor is yellowish,
inclining to brown. Alkaline carbonates precipitate
from this last liquor a lake of a blood-red colour 5 with
the addition of more alkali, the precipitate is redissol¬
ved, and the liquor becomes red. Calcareous earth
precipitates a darker and browner coloured lake than
alkalies. Carbonate of magnesia forms a clear blood-
red precipitate, which by evaporation produces a
blood-red extract, soluble in water. T. he solution of
this extract is employed as a red ink, but it becomes
yellow by exposure to the sun. Metallic salts also form
precipitates in a solution of madder. I he precipitate
with acetate of lead is of a brownish red colour •, with
nitrate of mercury and sulphate of manganese, a pur¬
plish brown j with sulphate of iron, a fine blight
brown.
Cochineal. I6o. Cochineal, which furnishes a valuable dye stuff,
and about the nature of which there was at first a good
deal of uncertainty, is an insect. It is produced on
different species of the cactus, or Indian fig. The most
perfect variety of the cochineal insect, is that which
breeds on the cactus coccinillifcr, Lin. To this plant
History. the Mexican Spaniards gave the name of nopal. When
the Spaniards first arrived in Mexico, they saw the
cochineal employed by the native inhabitants, in com¬
municating colours to some part of their habitations,
ornaments, and in dyeing cotton. Struck with its
beautiful colour, they transmitted accounts of it to the
Spanish ministry, who about the year 1523, ordered
Cortes to direct his attention to the propagation of this
substance. The inhabitants of Europe were long mis¬
taken concerning the nature and origin of cochineal,
by supposing it to be the grain or seed of a plant.
This opinion was first contradicted in a paper publish¬
ed in the third volume of the Philosophical Iransac-
tions in 1668 j and four years afterwards, Dr Lister,
in the seventh volume of the same work, throws out a
conjecture, that cochineal may be a sort of kermes.
Different opinions concerning the origin of this sub¬
stance were entertained, till about the beginning of the
year 1757* Mr Ellis obtained some of the joints of the
plant on which the insects breed, from South Carolina,
and presented them the same year to the Royal Society.
These specimens, Mr Ellis observes, were full of the
nests of this insect, in which it appeared in its various
states, in the most minute when it walks about, to
the state when it becomes fixed, and wrapt up in a fine
web, which it spins about itself. With the assist¬
ance of the microscope, Mr Ellis discovered the true
male insect in the parcels which had been sent to him
from America ; and in August 1756, in consequence
of Mr Ellis’s discovery, Dr Garden caught a male co¬
chineal fly, which he observes is rarely to be met with.
I N G. Part;
He supposes that there may be 150 or 205 females for Of Sln,i
one male. These discoveries proved indisputably, that Colon
the cochineal is an animal production *. itTpr/J
161. The body of the female insect is flat on the
belly, and hemispherical on the back, and transversely ‘ j
wrinkled. The skin is dark brown *, it has no wings,
but is furnished with six short brown legs. The body
of the male, which is of a deep red colour, is rather
long, and covered with two wings, extending horizon¬
tally, and crossing a little upon the back. It has two
small antennae, and six legs which are larger than
those of the female. It has a fluttering kind of mo¬
tion. The life of the male is only of a month dura¬
tion, but the fecundated female lives a month longer.
The female is sometimes oviparous and sometimes vi¬
viparous j but this is not a peculiarity confined to this
insect. It belongs to some others, and seems to be re¬
gulated by the temperature and season of the year.
The female cochineal insect adheres to the same spot
of the tree on which it is produced during her whole
life. At soon as the female is delivered of its nume¬
rous progeny', it becomes a mere husk and dies. In
Mexico it is therefore an object of great importance
to prevent this, and to collect them in the fecundated
state. For this purpose they are picked from the
plants, put into a linen bag, which is immersed in hot
water, to destroy the life of the young insects, and then
carefully dried. In this state they are imported into
Europe.
162. There are two kinds of cochineal. The best,Varie:
or domesticated kind, is called by the Spaniards, gra-
nafina. This variety breeds upon the cactus coccinil-
lifer, or nopal j and being of a larger size, and contain¬
ing a greater proportion of colouring matter, it is al¬
ways preferred. The other variety is the^rana sylvestra
of the Spaniards, or wild cochineal. It is produced
from other species of the cactus. It is smaller than
the other, and as it is covered with a downy matter,
produced by the insect to defend itself against the cold,
this increases the weight, but is of no use in dyeing.
An equal weight of the wild cochineal yields a smaller
quantity of colouring matter, and is therefore less va¬
luable. It ought, however, to be observed, that it
can be reared with greater facility, and at much less
expence *, and when it is bred upon the nopal, it ac¬
quires double the size, and has a smaller quantity of
downy matter for its covering, so that it approaches, by
this management, to the nature of fine cochineal.
163. As the quantity of cochineal consumed in Eu¬
rope is very great (d), and as the Spaniards have hi¬
therto enjoyed the exclusive advantages of rearing and
supplying the market with this valuable substance, it
has become an object with other nations to share them.
Attempts have therefore been made to form establish¬
ments for rearing these insects in those colonies whose
soil and climate seem suitable for the purpose.
164.
CdI The average quantity, says Dr Bancroft, of fine cochineal annually consumej in Europe, “
-ahout\ooo bans, or 600,000 Ibs/vveight, of which about 1200 bags, or 240,000 lbs. weight may be j
as the3presentgan„ual consumption of Great Britain. A greater quantity comes 0 ‘ £
surplus is again exported to other countries. '1 hese 1200 bags may be snppo ed ^ Co-
lued at 15s. per lb. which has been about the average price for some years past. Philosophy oj 1 ermaneni
lours, p. 258.
iap. I- DYEING.
simple I^4‘ 0‘le of.tke most successful of these attempts
it.
(Jours, was made by M. Thiery de Menonville, in 1777. He
exposed himself to great danger, by going to Mexico
/ >>Jp that he might observe the mode of rearing the cochi¬
neal insect, and procure that valuable production, to
plant it in St Domingo. He proceeded by the Pla-
vannah to La Vera Cruz, where he was informed that
the finest cochineal insects were reared at Guaxaca, 70
leagues distant. On the pretence of ill health, he’re¬
ceived permission to use the baths of the river Magda¬
lene. but instead of accepting this privilege, which
was not his object, he directed his course, not with-
out much difficulty and danger, to Guaxaca j where
having obtained the information he wanted, and hav-
ing puichased a quantity ol nopals, covered with the
insects of the fine or domestic breed, which he pretend¬
ed were of great use in preparing an ointment for his
feigned disorder, the gout, he put them into boxes
along with other plants, and succeeded in bringing
them away without notice or suspicion. On his return
he was driven by a storm into the bay of Campeachy’
where he found a living cactus of a species which was
fit tor the nourishment of the fine cochineal. He re¬
turned in safety towards the end of the same year, to
bt Domingo, with his prize, and immediately formed
a plantation of nopals, with the view of propagating
both varieties of the cochineal. Soon after his return,
he found the wild kind living naturally on the cactus
pereskia, a native of that island. Unfortunately, how¬
ever for the establishment, Thiery de Menonville died
111 the year 1780, through disappointment and vexa¬
tion, it is said, at seeing his patriotic endeavours so
lithe assisted, and his services so sparingly rewarded by
government; and soon after his death, the fine cochi¬
neal perished. But the discovery of the wild kind in
bt Domingo was not neglected. M. Bruley succeed¬
ed in his attempts to rear this species of cochineal. A
posthumous work of Thiery de Menonville w'as pub¬
lished by the Royal Society of arts and sciences at Cape
xran^oise, containing minute instructions with regard
to every thing respecting the cultivation of the nopal,
and the other species of cactus, which may be more or
less successfully substituted for breeding or rearing the
cochineal. Of this Berthollet has given an extract in
the jth volume of the Annales de Chimie. Some of our
own countrymen, a few years ago, succeeded in pro¬
curing some of the fine cochineal insects 5 and attempts
have been made, with what success we know not, to
lear them in the East Indies.
Fine cochineal, if it has been properly pre¬
pared and kept, ought to be of a gray colour, with a
shade of purple. The gray colour is owing to a pow¬
der with which it is naturally covered, and part of
which it still retains. The colouring matter extracted
hy the water in which the insect has been killed, pro¬
duces the purple shade. In a dry place, cochineal
may be kept for a long time, without losing any of its
properties. Hellot made experiments on cochineal 130
years old, and found that it produced the same effect
'^Ptics.
as if it had been quite new. Cochineal yields its co- of Sim
louring matter to water ; and the decoction, which is ('olou
of a crimson colour, inclining to violet, may be kept' 
tor a long time, without losing its transparency, or
becoming putrid. If this decoction be evaporated, and
the residuum or extract be digested in alcohol, the co¬
louring part dissolves, and leaves a residuum of the co¬
lour of wine lees, of which fresh alcohol cannot de¬
prive it. Hie alcohol of cochineal affords, by evapo¬
ration, a transparent residuum of a deep red’ which,
being dried, has the appearance of a resin. A small
quantity of sulphuric acid added to the decoction of
cochineal, produces a red colour, inclining to yellow,
and a small quantity of a beautiful red precipitate.
ith muriatic acid the same change is produced, but
there is no precipitate. A solution of tartar converts
the decoction to a yellowish red colour. A precipi-
tate of a pale red colour is slowly formed, and the su¬
pernatant liquor remains yellow but with the addition
of an alkali becomes purple. With the yellow liquor,
solution of tin forms a rose-coloured precipitate; solu¬
tion of alum brightens the colour of the infusion, gives
it a redder hue, and produces a crimson precipitate.
With a mixture of alum and tartar the colour is bright¬
er, more lively, and inclines to a yellowish red. Mu¬
riate of tin occasions a copious sediment of a beautiful
red. Hie supernatant liquor is colourless and transpa¬
rent, and no change is produced on it by adding an
alkali. Sulphate of iron forms a brown violet precipi¬
tate, and the supernatant liquor remains clear, with a
slight darkish hue. Sulphate of zinc gives a deep vio¬
let precipitate; the supernatant liquor remains colour¬
less and transparent. The precipitate with sulphate of
copper is of a violet colour, and forms slowly : the su¬
pernatant liquor is also violet and transparent. Acetate
of lead gives a purple violet precipitate, and the super¬
natant liquor remains limpid.
166. The experiments of Berthollet and Bancroft
sjiew, that the colouring matter of cochineal is not en¬
tirely extracted by means of w-ater. Dr Bancroft
found, that after the whole of it which could be ex¬
tracted by water was obtained, by adding a little pot-
ash fo the seemingly exhausted sediment, and pouring
on it fresh boiling water, it yielded a new quantity of
colouring matter, equal to one-eighth of what had been
given out to the water } and Berthollet found the same
effect produced with the addition of tartar ; from which
he concludes that tartar favours the solution of the co¬
louring part of the cochineal.
167. KermeS (e), another animal substance, which Kermes.
is extensively employed in dyeing, is an insect, (coccus
ilicis, Lin.) which breeds on a species of oak (quercus
coccifera, Lin.) which grows in most of the southern
parts of Europe, and in many parts in Asia. Kermes History,
was known to the ancients, under the names of coccum
scarlatinum, coccus bapticus, coccus infectorius,granum
tinctorium. Kermes is chiefly obtained from Langue¬
doc, Spain, and Portugal. The insects are collected
in the month of May or June, when the female, which
alone
(e) This word is supposed to have been
mien us, and from this we have the word
ingredient.
V°L. VIE Part II.
derived from the Arabic language, and signifies a little worm, ver-
vermilion, the pigment in the manufacture of which it is the principal
f 3 G
4i 8 DYE
Of Simple alone- is useful, is distended with eggs. To destroy the
Colours, young insects, the kermes is exposed to the steam of
* V—1 vinegar for about half an hour, or steeped in vinegar
for lo or 12 hours. They are afterwards dried on li¬
nen cloths, and brought to market.
Properties. 168. When the living insect is bruised, it gives out
a red colour. The smell is somewhat pleasant j the
taste is bitter and pungent. It gives out its colouring
matter both to water and alcohol, to which also it im¬
parts its smell and taste. The colour is also retained
in the extract which is obtained, both from the tinc¬
ture, and from the infusion. Kermes is one of the
most ancient dyeing drugs j and although the colours
which it communicates to cloth are less bright and vi¬
vid than those of cochineal, and on that account it has
been less extensively employed in dyeing since the lat¬
ter was known, yet they have been found to be ex¬
ceedingly permanent. The fine blood-red colour which
is to be seen on old tapestries in different parts of Eu¬
rope, was produced from kermes, with an aluminous
mordant, and seems to have suffered no change, though
some of them are 200 or 300 years old. The colour
obtained from kermes was formerly called scarlet in
grain, because it was supposed that the insect was a
grain j and from the chief manufactory having been
at one time in Venice, it was called Venetian scarlet.
Eac. 169. Lac is an animal production which has been
long known in India, and used for dyeing silk and
other purposes. It is the nidus of the coccus lacca, Lin.
and is generally produced on the small branches of the
croton lacciferum. Three kinds of lac are well known
in commerce: 1. Stick lac is the substance or comb,
in its natural state, forming a crust on the small bran¬
ches or twigs. Seed lac is said to be only the above,
separated from the twigs, and reduced into small
History. fragments. Mr Hatchett, who has examined this sub¬
stance with his usual skill and precision, found the best
specimens considerably deprived of their colouring
^ Phil. matter According to the information which he re-
Trans. ceived from Mr Wilkins, the silk dyers in Bengal
l!>04* produce the seed lac by pounding crude lac into small
fragments, and extracting part of the colouring mat¬
ter by boiling. 3. Shell lac is prepared from the cells,
liquefied, strained, and formed into thin transparent
laminae. There is also a fourth kind called lump lac,
which is obtained from the seed lac by liquefaction,
and afterwards formed into cakes. The best lac is of
a deep red colour ; when it is pale, and pierced at the
top, the value is greatly diminished, for then the in¬
sects have left their cells, and it can no longer be of
use as a dye stuff.
Properties. 170. The decoction of powdered stick lac in water,
gives a deep crimsofi colour. With one-fifth of borax,
lac becomes more soluble in water. Pure soda, and
carbonate of soda, completely dissolve the different
kinds of lac, and produce a deeper colour than that
which is obtained by means of borax. Pure potash
speedily dissolves all the varieties of lac ; the colour
approaches to purple. Pure ammonia and carbonate
of ammonia readily act on the colouring matter of lac.
Alcohol dissolves a considerable part ol the lac $
and according to Geoffroy, yields a fine red colour.
When the solution is heated it becomes turbid. Sul¬
phuric acid dissolves the colouring matter of lac, as
well as muriatic and acetic acids. In the use of lac in
I N G. _ Partl j
dyeing, it has been considered superior to kermes, be- OfSiJ
cause it is able to bear the action of a solution of tin, CoW
without the colour being changed to yellow.
171. Archil is a vegetable substance of great use in Archil
dyeing. It is employed in the form of a paste, which
is of a red violet colour. It is chiefly obtained from
two species of lichen, roccella, and parellus, Lin.
The first, which is called Canary archil, because
the lichen from which it is prepared grows abun¬
dantly in the Canary islands, is most valued. It is
prepared by reducing the plant to a fine powder, which
is afterwards passed through a sieve, and slightly mois¬
tened with stale urine. The mixture is daily stirred,
each time adding a certain proportion of soda in pow¬
der, till it acquire a clove colour. It is then put into
a wooden cask, and urine, lime-water, or a solution of
sulphate of lime, {gypsum,') is added in sufficient quanti¬
ty to cover the mixture. In this state it is kept; but to
preserve it any length of time, it is necessary to mois¬
ten it occasionally with urine. By a similar prepara¬
tion, other species of lichen may be used in dyeing.
In this country the lichen omphalodes and tartareus are
frequently employed for dyeing coarse cloths.
J72. Archil gives out its colouring matter to water, Prop^
ammonia, and alcohol. The infusion of archil is of a
crimson colour, with a shade of violet. Phe addition
of an acid converts it to a red colour. Fixed alkalies
only render it of a deeper shade j because its natural
colour has been already modified by the ammonia with
which it is combined in the preparation. Alum pro¬
duces in the solution of archil a dark-red precipitate j
the supernatant liquor is of a yellowish red colour.
With solution of tin a reddish precipitate is formed,
which subsides slowly ; and the liquor retains, a slight
tinge of red. This infusion loses its colour in a few
days if it be entirely excluded from the air. To cold
marble the aqueous infusion of archil communicates a
fine violet colour, or blue inclining to purple. The
affinity between the stone and the colouring matter is
so strong, that it resists the action of the air longer
than colours which it gives to other substances. Hie
colour thus communicated to marble, has remained for
two years unchanged. # , |
173. Archil is also soluble in alcohol. This tmc-Singul;
ture is employed for making spirit of wine thermome-cM;'
ters. A singular phenomenon was observed by the
Abbe Nollet when the tincture was excluded from the
air. In a few years it was entirely deprived of its co¬
lour. The contact of air restored the colour j but it
was again destroyed when deprived of it. ^
174. Carthamus, or bastard saffron, a vegetable sub-Cards
stance used in dyeing, is the flower of an annual plant
which is cultivated in Spain, Egypt, and the Levant.
There are two varieties of this plant, the one with
larger, the other with smaller leaves. The variety
with larger leaves is cultivated in Egypt.
17 5. The method of preparing the flowers of car- Prepai
thamus in Egypt, as it is described by Hasselquist, isti®11
the following. After being pressed between two stones,
to squeeze out the juice, they are washed several times
with salt water, pressed between the hands, and spread
out on mats in the open air to dry. In the day tune
they are covered, that they may not dry too fast with
the heat of the sun, but they are left exposed to the dew
of the night. When they are sufficiently dry, they are
P crties.
'ra ;a
|ap. I. DYE
li iimple Put op, and kept for sale, under the name of saffranon.
j ours. Care should be taken afterwards, not to keep it in too
^ dry a place ; for unless it is a little moist, its properties
are considerably impaired.
176. Carthamus contains two colouring substances,
a yellow substance, which is soluble in water j and as it
is of no use, it is extracted by the process mentioned
above, by squeezing the flowers between stones till no
more colour can be pressed out. The flowers become
reddish in this operation, and lose nearly one half of
their weight. The other colouring matter, which is
red, is soluble in alkaline carbonates, and it is preci¬
pitated by means of an acid. A vegetable acid, as le¬
mon juice, has been found to produce the finest colour.
Next to this, sulphuric acid produces the best effect,
provided too great a quantity, which would alter and
destroy the colour, be not employed. The juice of
the berries of the mountain-ash, or rowan tree, (sorbus
aucuparia, Lin.) is recommended by Scheffer as a sub¬
stitute for lemon juice, and it is thus prepared. The
berries are bruised in a mortar with a wooden pestle,
and the expressed juice, after it has been allowed to
ferment, is bottled up. The clear part, which is most
acid, becomes fitter for use the longer it is kept ; but
this operation requires a period of some months, and
can only be conducted in summer.
177* From the colouring matter extracted by means
of an alkali, and precipitated with an acid, is procured
the substance called rouge, which is employed as a
paint for the skin. The solution of carthamus is pre¬
pared with crystals of soda, and precipitated with le¬
mon juice which has stood some days to settle. After
being dried on delft plates with a gentle heat, the pre¬
cipitate is separated, and ground accurately with talc
which has been previously reduced to a very subtile
powder j and on the fineness of the talc depends the
difference between the cheaper and dearer kinds of
rouge.
178. Brazil wood is of very extensive use in dyeing.
It is the wood of the ecesalpinia crista, Lin. and is a na¬
tive of America and the West Indies. It is known un¬
der different names, according to the place where it
is produced; as, Fernambouc, Braxiletto, wood of St
Martha, and of Sapan. It has a very hard wood, and
has so much density as to sink in water. When fresh
cut, it is of a pale colour, but becomes reddish by ex¬
posure to the air; and it has a sweetish taste.
179. The colouring matter of Brazil wood is solu¬
ble in water, and the whole of it may be extracted by
continuing the boiling for a sufficient length of time.
The decoction is of a fine red colour. The residuum,
which is black, yields a considerable portion of colour¬
ing matter to alkalies. The colouring matter is also
soluble in alcohol, and in ammonia, and the colour is
deeper than that of the aqueous solution. The tinc¬
ture of Brazil wood in alcohol gives to hot marble a
red colour, which afterwards changes to violet. The
r.esh decoction yields, with sulphuric acid, a small por¬
tion of a red precipitate, inclining to fawn colour.
Nitric acid first produces a yellow colour, but by add¬
ing more, a deep orange. Oxalic acid produces a pre¬
cipitate of an orange red. Tartar furnishes a small pre¬
cipitate : with the addition of a fixed alkali, the decoc¬
tion becomes of a deep crimson or violet colour. Am¬
monia gives a brighter purple : alum produces a copious
i n a
419
‘•op If
red precipitate, inclining to cilmson. Sulphate of iron nr 1
occasions a black colour in the tincture, with a copious Colom-s.
precipitate of the same colour. Sulphate of copper al-y-—
so produces an abundant precipitate, the liquor remain¬
ing transparent, and of a brownish red. A copious
precipitate of a fine deep red, is produced with acetate
of lead, and that obtained with muriate of tin is abund¬
ant, and of a fine rose colour. With the addition of
corrosive sublimate, a light precipitate, which is of a
brown colour, is obtained. The liquor remains trans-
parent and of a fine yellow colour. Brazil wood,
which has been changed to a yellow colour by means
of tartar and acetous acid, with a solution of nitro-mu-
nate of tin, yields a copious rose-coloured precipitate;
and if to the solution, rendered yellow by an acid, a
greater quantity of the same acid, or a stronger acid,
as the sulphuric, be added, the red colour is restored,
oome salts also possess the property of restoring the red
colour of Brazil wood, which has been destroyed by
means nf or>t/tc * 'T'l.„ .1 e -r» •. i ^ Jour, de
The decoction of Brazil wood, * de
'■ of Brazil, is fniinrl In onetime *2/*-*7 5*
means of acids *.      
which is called juice of Brazil, is found to answer bet¬
ter for^ the process of dyeing, when it has been kept
some time, and has even undergone some degree of fer¬
mentation, than when it has been fresh prepared, The
colour, by keeping, becomes of a yellowish red.
180. Logwood, sometimes called India or Cam-Logwood,
peachy wood, (licematoxylon Campeachianum, Lin.) is
a tree which grows to a considerable size in Jamaica,
and the eastern shore of the bay of Campeachy. Its’
specific gravity is greater than that of water ; it has a
fine grain, and is susceptible of a fine polish. Log¬
wood yields its colouring matter, which is a fine red,
readily and copiously to alcohol. It_ is more sparingly Properties,
soluble in water, and the decoction inclines a little^ to
violet or purple. When it is left some time to itself,
it becomes yellowish, and at length black. It becomes
yellowish also by the action of acids; alkalies produce
a deeper colour, and convert it to a purple or violet.
Sulphuric, nitric, and muriatic acids form a small pro¬
portion of precipitate, which separates slowly : the
precipitate formed with sulphuric acid is of a dark red ;
with muriatic, a lighter red, and with the nitric,
feuille mart. With sulphuric or muriatic acids,
the supernatant liquor is of a deep red colour; with
nitric it is yellowish, and in all transparent. Ox¬
alic acid produces a precipitate of a light marone co¬
lour; the liquor remains transparent, and is yellowish
red. Acetic acid produces a similar effect, but the
colour of the precipitate is somewhat deeper. A simi¬
lar precipitate is obtained by means of tartar ; but the
liquor, which is more inclined to yellow, remains tur¬
bid. No precipitate is produced by means of fixed al¬
kali ; the decoction becomes of a deep violet, which
is afterwards converted to a brown colour. Alum
yields a copious precipitate, of a lightish violet colour;
the colour of the liquor remains the same, and it is
nearly transparent. A copious, dark red precipitate is
produced with alum and tartar; the liquor is yellowish
red and transparent. Sulphate of iron occasions a
bluish black colour ; a copious precipitate of the same
colour is formed, and the liquid remains long turbid.
With sulphate of copper, a very copious precipitate, of
a dark brown colour, is obtained ; the liquor, which is
also of a deep brown, or yellowish red, remains trans¬
parent. Acetate of lead yields a black precipitate,
3G2 with
DYEING.
4 20
Ot Simple with a slight tinge of red*, the colour of the liquor is
Colours, like that of pale beer, and it remains transparent.
w—1 Nitro-muriate of tin gives a precipitate of a fine violet
or purple colour ; the liquor remains clear and colour¬
less.
2. Of the Processes for Dyeing JFool Peel.
181. All red colouring matters with which we are
acquainted, come under that class ot colours to which
Dr Bancroft has given the name of adjective colours j
that is, such colours as require the aid of mordants to
render them permanent. Red colours, we have al¬
ready observed, are of various shades, according to the
nature and proportion of the colouring matters em¬
ployed. Hence we have madder red, scarlet, crimson,
and other shades.
Madder- 182. Madder Madder is only employed tor
red. dyeing coarse woollen stuffs, and the following is the
process. The stuffs are first boiled for two or three
hours with alum and tartar : they are then left to
drain, slightly wrung out, put into a linen bag, and
carried into a cool place, where they are to remain tor
some days. The quantities and proportions ot the alum
and tartar are varied according to the views ot the
dyer, and the shade of colour which is wanted. Some
recommend five ounces of alum and one ounce of tartar
to each pound of wool. By increasing the proportion
of tartai1 to a certain degree, a deep and permanent
cinnamon colour, instead ot a red, is produced. Ihis
arises from the yellow tinge which is induced by means
of the acid on the colouring particles of the madder.
Process. Others propose to diminish the proportion of tartar,
and to employ only a seventh part. In conducting
the process of dyeing with madder, the bath should
not be brought to the boiling point, because at that
temperature the fawn-coloured particles would be dis¬
solved, and a different shade obtained from that which
is desired. When the water is at that degree ot tem¬
perature which the hand can bear, Hellot recommends
the addition of half a pound of grape madder for every
pound of wool to be dyed. It is then to be well sta¬
red before the wool is introduced, which must remain
for an hour without boiling, excepting for a few mi¬
nutes towards the end of the process, that the combina¬
tion of the colouring particles with the stuff may be
more certain. # ....
183. Madder reds are sometimes rosed, as it is call¬
ed, with archil and Brazil wood. In this way they
become more beautiful and velvety, but this brightness
is not permanent. But madder reds, even when they
are most perfect, are far inferior to those obtained from
lac and cochineal, and even to that produced by kermesj
but as the expence of the materials is comparatively
small, they are employed, as we have already observed,
for coarse stuffs.
184 Different authors recommend different propor-
“ tioas of madder. Foemer proposes t„ employ one-
third of the weight of the wool, while Scheflei limits
the quantity to one-fourth. In one process, Poerner
added to the alum and tartar, a quantity of solution ot
tin, equal in weight to the tartar, and after two hours
boiling, allowed the cloth to remain in the bath,
which had been left to cool for three or lour days. He
then dyed it in the usual way, and thus obtained a fine
red. According to another process, he prepared the
Rosin:
cloth by the common boiling, and dyed it in a bath ofSimjii
slightly heated, with a larger proportion of madder, Colours
tartar, and solution of tin. The cloth remained 24 v—
hours in the bath, and when it had become cold, he put
it into another bath, made with madder only, where
it remained for 24 hours. By this process he got a
fine red, somewhat brighter than the common, but in¬
clining a little to yellow. Scheffer informs us that he
obtained an orange red by boiling wool with a solution
of tin, and one-fourth of alum, and then by dyeing
with one-fourth of madder. A cherry colour is ob¬
tained, according to Bergman, by dyeing with one
part of a solution of tin, and two of madder, without
previously boiling the wool. By exposure to the air,
this colour becomes deeper. By boiling the wool for
two hours with one-fourth of sulphate of iron, then
washing it, and afterwards immersing it in cold water
with one-fourth of madder, and then boiling for an
hour, the result is a coffee colour. But if the wool has
not been soaked, and if it be dyed with one part of
sulphate of iron and two of madder, the colour is a
brown approaching to red.
183. When sulphate of copper is employed as the Different
mordant, the madder dye yields a clear brown, in-mordants
dining somewhat to yellow j and a similar colour may
be produced by dyeing the wool simply soaked in hot
water, with one part of sulphate of copper, and two of
madder. But when this mordant and dye-stuff are
used in equal proportions, the yellow is somewhat
more obscure, approaching to green ; and in both these
instances, exposure to the air does not produce a dark¬
er colour. Berthollet informs us that he employed a
solution of tin in various ways, both in the preparation
and the application of the madder ; and by the use
of different solutions of tin, he found, that although the
tint was somewhat brighter than what is obtained by
the common process, it was always more inclined to
yellow or fawn colour.
186. Scarlet.—The finest and most splendid of all Scarlet,
colours is scarlet. This, like other'colours, is of various
shades, according to the quality and proportion of the
colouring matter employed. The scarlet dye is com¬
municated to woollen stuffs by means of cochineal, the
history and properties of which we have already detail¬
ed. The Mexicans, as appears from their history, em¬
ployed alumina as the basis or mordant, to fix the co¬
lour of cochineal j and previous to the discovery ot the
solution of tin, the use of the same substance seems to
have prevailed in Europe. The fine colour obtained
from the latter, received, as we have already mention¬
ed, different names in different places $ .as that ot bow
dye in England, scarlet of the Gobelins in I'ranee, and
in Holland Dutch scarlet. .
187. In the process for dyeing scarlet, two opera-1 ^
tions are necessary. The first is denominated the boil¬
ing, and the second is distinguished by the name ot
finishing or reddening. The operation of boiling, which Boning-
is the first part of the process, is conducted in the fol¬
lowing manner. For 100 pounds of cloth, 6 pounds
of pure tartar are added to the water, which is made
pretty warm. The bath is then to be briskly stirred,
and when the heat has increased a little more, halt a
pound of powdered cochineal is to be added, and the
whole is then to be well mixed. The next moment
five pounds of a very clear solution ol tin are to be
1 poured
poured in, and carefully mixed. When the bath be¬
gins to boil, the cloth is introduced, and briskly moved
tor two or three turns: after which it is moved more
slowly. The boiling having continued for two hours,
the cloth is taken out, exposed to the air, and carried
to the river to be well washed.
l 88. In the preparation of the second bath, which is
for the reddening, the boiler is to be emptied, and when
the bath has just reached the boiling point, five pounds
and three quarters ol cochineal, previously powdered
and sifted, are to be added. rlhese are to be carefully
mixed ; and after having ceased stirring, when a crust
has formed on the surface, and opened of itself in seve¬
ral places, 13 or 14 pounds of solution of tin are poured
in. Should the bath, during the boiling, rise above the
edge of the boiler, it may be cooled with a little cold
water. This solution being well mixed, the cloth is
put in, and two or three times quickly turned. It is
then boiled in the bath for an hour, taking care to keep
it under the surface. It is afterwards taken out, ex¬
posed to the air, and when it has cooled, washed in the
river and dried.
189. There are no determinate proportions of cochi¬
neal and solution of tin in either of these operations.
Hellot informs us, that some dyers employ two-thirds
of solution of tin, and one-fourth of cochineal, in
the boiling or first operation, and the other one-third
of the solution of tin with the remaining three-fourths
of the cochineal in the second operation, or the red¬
dening. He adds farther, that the use of tartar gives
a greater degree of permanency to the colour, provi¬
ded the proportion do not exceed one half the weight
of the cochineal employed. According to Berthollet,
several dyers at present adopt this practice. Tartar,
he observes, promotes the solution of the colouring
matter; and this effect is greater when it is ground
with the cochineal, after which it is found that the re¬
siduum is more completely exhausted. But this con¬
sideration is of inferior consequence, when the opera¬
tions are successively performed, because any colouring
matter that may remain in the residuum, is employed
in the next operation. It ought not, however, to be
overlooked, that the tartar communicates to the colour
a rosey hue.
190. It is the practice of some dyers not to remove
the cloth out of the boiling. They merely refresh it,
and perform the operation of reddening in the same
bath. When this is done, the infusion of cochineal,
made in a separate vessel, and mixed with the proper
proportion of solution of tin, is added. By conduct¬
ing the process in this way the scarlet is supposed to be
equally fine, and there is a considerable saving of time
and fuel.
191. To give scarlet the bright lively red which,
as it approaches to the colour of fire, has been distin¬
guished by the name of fiery scarlet, a yellow tinge is
communicated by boiling fustic in the first bath, or by
adding a little turmeric to the cochineal. A larger
proportion of the solution of tin also produces this
yellow shade, but it renders the cloth harsh, and li¬
mits the action of the colouring matter. The use of
fustic or turmeric, therefore, although the colour ob¬
tained from them is not permanent, is preferable to an
excess of the solution of tin. When these substances
are used, the inside of the cloth, when it is cut, ap¬
pears yellow ; but in the ordinary processes, the cochi- Of Simple
neal, it is found, does not penetrate the cloth, for when Colours,
no other substance is employed, the cloth is internally v*" v—" ^
white. J
. 192‘ The use of tin boilers is recommended in dye-Tin and
ing scarlet. When copper boilers are employed, the cofPer
acid acts on the metal, and thus forming a solution, in-lj0^ers"
jures the beauty of the colour. Tin boilers, however,
are attended with several inconveniences. It is diffi¬
cult to procure them of sufficient size, and they are apt
to be melted by the incautious continuance of the fire,
after they have been emptied. In the use of copper
boilers, there are several necessary precautions. They
must be kept very clean ; the acid liquor should not be
allowed to remain in them for any length of time, and
some contrivance should be adopted to prevent the cloth
from touching the metal, either by using a net, or a
wicker basket.
I93* Difierent proportions of materials, we have Different
observed, are recommended by different authors. For proportion
the boiling, Scheffer directs an ounce and a half of^ingre_
solution of tin, with an equal quantity of starch,'and. ejUS’
as much tartar, to every pound of cloth. The effect
of the starch is to give more uniformity- to the colour.
When the water boils, a dram of cochineal is to be
added ;. it is then to be well stirred, and after the
w'ool is introduced, to be boiled an hour, taken out, and
washed. The proportions for the reddening bath, in
which the wool is to be boiled half an hour, are half an
ounce of starch, three-fourths of an ounce of solution of
tin, half an ounce of tartar, and 7 drams of cochineal.
In Scheffer’s process, it may be observed, the propor¬
tion of solution of tin is smaller than in that of Hellot,
but the quantity of tin in the solution of the former is
greater than in that of the latter.
194. Poerner has described three principal processes, Poerner’s
according to the variety' of the shade ot the scarlet, process.
He uses no cochineal in the boiling ; the materials of
which are one ounce and six drams of tartar, and an
equal weight of solution of tin, the latter being added
after the tartar is dissolved, for every pound of cloth.
As soon as the boiling has commenced, the cloth is in¬
troduced, and it is boiled for two hours. For the red¬
dening ol the first process he employ’s two drams of tar¬
tar and one ounce of cochineal, adding gradually after¬
wards two ounces of solution of tin. For the redden¬
ing of the second process, the same quantity of co¬
chineal and solution of tin, without any tartar, is em¬
ployed. In the reddening of the third process, two
drachms of tartar with one ounce of solution of tin, one
ounce of cochineal, and two ounces of common salt,
are directed to be used. The colour produced in the
first process has the deepest shade ; that of the se¬
cond is more lively, while that of the third is paler and
brighter.
195. By the use of tartar in the reddening in differ- Different
ent proportions, various shades of scarlet may be ob- shades,
tained. When it is employed, the shade is deeper and
fuller; but when it is entirely omitted, the scarlet ap¬
proaches to an orange colour. The shade of colour
also is subject to considerable variety, from the differ¬
ent degrees of strength of the solution of tin. To
ascertain this effect, Berthollet made a number of ex¬
periments. He found that a solution of tin composed
of sixteen parts of nitric acid, two of muriate of am-
nioniaj
422
Of Simple
t^olours.
Uie of com¬
mon salt.
Process of
dyeing
scarlet with
cochineal
monia, and three of tin, produced a deeper shade than
when the proportions of the acid and muriate of am¬
monia were equal, with only two parts of tin. The last
proportions, he observes, succeeded best. Four parts of
water were mixed with the solution. When the propor¬
tion of muriate of ammonia amounted only to halt a part,
the colour was brighter, and inclining to orange.
196. Common salt has the effect of increasing the
brightness of scarlet, while it is also attended with
the advantage of causing the colour to penetrate deep¬
er into the cloth. It seems difficult to explain why
common salt, which gives a deeper shade to the co¬
lour of the infusion of cochineal, and indeed produces
a similar effect on colours in general, should diminish
the intensity of the. colour of scarlet. The proportion
of common salt mentioned above (194) ^s> «lccording
to Poerner, the greatest that can be employed. W hen
less is used, the shade, though lighter, is more agree¬
able. By adding five ounces of white sugar to the
ingredients of the second process, a fine colour, which
is always lighter than that of the first process, will be
obtained. The colour, it is said, is more permanent,
and the shade more agreeable, when the cloth is left
24 hours in the boiler after it has cooled.
197. It has been generally supposed, Dr Bancroft
observes, that after the discovery of the effects of tin
on the cochineal colour, to produce a scarlet, it was
only necessary to apply the colour so produced as a
dye to wool $ or that a nitric or nitro-muriatic so¬
lution of tin might change the natural crimson of
cochineal to a scarlet. This opinion, however, he
considers to he quite erroneous *, for the nitric solu¬
tion of tin invariably produces with cochineal a crim¬
son or rose colour, and not a scarlet, unless other
means are employed to incline the cochineal colour to
a yellow shade. This effect is produced by means of
the tartar, which seems to have been accidentally stum¬
bled upon, and has been for many ages used, without
knowing its true effect. Tartar was long employed
with the aluminous mordant, in the preparation of the
ordinary boiling liquor for woollen cloths $ and it is
probable that its good effects being observed in this
combination, the use of it was continued after the in¬
troduction of the solution of tin $ and the more so, af¬
ter the result of the combination was observed in the
brilliancy of the colour which was produced. Dr
Bancroft has particularly directed his attention to the
process for dyeing scarlet $ and in the progress of his
investigations, he has found that it is by no means ab¬
solutely necessary to follow the usual process which we
have described above. He has often, he says, pro¬
duced that colour very well at a single boiling, by
mixing the whole quantity of tartar, solution of tin,
and cochineal together ; the affinity of the wool for
the colouring matter, and for the oxides of tin, being
sufficiently strong to combine with them readily, and
to retain them permanently. The only objection to
simplifying the process in this manner is, that the co¬
louring matter of the dyeing liquor is less perfectly ex¬
hausted than when two operations are performed. He
farther adds, that he has often produced a beautiful
scarlet, by preparing and boiling the cloth with the
whole quantity of solution of tin and tartar at once,
and afterwards dyeing it unrinsed, with the whole of
the cochineal, dissolved only in pure water. In this
DYEING. Part II,
way lie found tile colouring particles completely taken Of Simple
up •, that the liquor had become quite colourless, and Coloun.
that the cloth had received a durable dye.
198. “ It is remarkable,” says Dr Bancroft, “ that'ong «ta-
during tbe 18th century, no considerable improvementtwnarb
has been made in the process for dyeing scarlet •, a cir¬
cumstance which is the more extraordinary, since the
pre-eminent lustre and costly nature of this dye, have
rendered it an object of particular attention, not only
to dyers, but to eminent chemists, by whose researches
we might have expected that at least every obvious im¬
provement therein would have been long since attain¬
ed.” To attain this object, this ingenious philosopher
instituted a set of experiments about the year 1786.1)* Ban-
Having, by repeated affusions of boiling water, extract-cr»ft’> «•
ed the whole of the colouring matter from powdered ^ mem,
cochineal, he found that the addition of a little potash
to the seemingly exhausted sediment, and a fresh quan¬
tity of boiling water, extracted a new portion of co¬
louring matter, equal to about one-eighth of what had
been given out to the pure water. He repeatedly ex¬
tracted this colouring matter by means of potash, and
afterwards dyed small pieces of cloth scarlet with it,
which he found similar to other pieces dyed with the
more soluble colouring matter of cochineal. It was in
the course of these inquiries that be perceived scarlet to
be a compound colour, consisting of about three-fourths
of pure crimson or rose colour, and one-fourth of
pure bright yellow. He conceived, therefore, that Scarlet a
when the natural crimson of the cochineal is made‘•“W°Dnd
scarlet, by the usual process, there must be a change000
produced, equivalent to a conversion of one-fourth of
the colouring matter of cochineal from its natural
crimson to a yellow colour. From this he concludes
that there might be a great saving of cochineal, by sub¬
stituting a cheaper substance, which at the same time
might yield a better yellow colour. It was therefore
his object to combine with this crimson or rose colour,
a suitable portion of a lively golden yellow, capable of
being permanently fixed, and reflected by the same basis.
Such a yellow he had discovered in quercitron bark,
(cjuercus nigra. Bin.) which will be afterwards de¬
scribed ; and it had the advantage, not only of being
the brightest, but also the cheapest, of all the yellows
which he had tried.
199. With the view of diminishing the quantity of
cochineal employed in producing a scarlet dye, Dr
Bancroft made a number of experiments under the au¬
thority of government. In these experiments, the
mordant used was the ordinary dyers spirit, or the ni¬
tre-muriate of tin j but he found that they were not
attended with the advantages which he expected. In
some of his earliest experiments, he observes, that the
solution of tin by means of sulphuric acid destroyed
the cochineal colour, and this naturally led him to re¬
ject the use of this acid, till accident brought him to
dissolve a quantity of tin in muriatic acid, combined
with one-fourth of sulphuric acid. The application of
this solution in dyeing, was not accompanied with the
corrosive effects of the muriate and nitro-muriate which
he had employed in the experiments above alluded to,
and which proved unsuccessful. After trying different
proportions of these acids, he found the following to
answer best. In a mixture of 2lbs. of sulphuric acid
of tbe ordinary strength, and about 3lbs. of muriatic
acid.
( tap. I. DYE
i|iSimple aci^> dissolved about 14 oz. of tin. The muriatic
lours, acid is first poured on a large quantity of granulated
tin, in a large glass receiver, and the sulphuric acid is
then slowly added. The solution is more rapidly pro¬
moted by means of a sand heat, but it will take place
in the cold, requiring only a greater length of time.
This murio-sulphate of tin is transparent and colour¬
less, and may be kept for several years without any
precipitation. It produces twice the effect of the
dyers spirit, at less than one-third of the expence, and
raises the colours not only more than the dyers spirit,
but also full as much as the tartrate of tin, without
converting the crimson of cochineal to a yellowish
shade.
Detail- 200. In the use of this solution of tin as a mordant,
* sPro*to produce the compound scarlet colour with the co¬
chineal crimson and quercitron yellow, Dr Bancroft
recommends the following process. “ Nothing,” says
he, “ is necessary but to put the cloth, suppose 100 lb.
weight, into a proper tin vessel, nearly filled with
water, in which about eight pounds of the murio-sul-
phuric solution of tin have been previously mixed, to
make the liquor boil, turning the cloth as usual through
it, by the winch, for a quarter of an hour; then turn¬
ing the cloth out of the liquor, to put into it about
four pounds of cochineal, and two pounds and a half
of quercitron bark in powder, and having mixed
them well, to return the cloth again into the liquor,
making it boil, and continue the operation as usual
until the colour be duly raised, and the dyeing liquor
exhausted, which will be the case in about fifteen or
twenty minutes $ after which the cloth may be taken
out and rinsed as usual. In this way the time, labour,
and fuel, necessary for filling and heating the dyeing
vessel a second time, will be saved ; the operation
finished much more speedily than in the common way ;
and there will be a saving of all the tartar, as well as
of two-thirds of the cost of spirit, or nitro-muriatic so¬
lution of tin, which for dyeing 100 lb. of wool, com¬
monly amounts to 10s. •, whereas 8 lb. of the murio-
sulphuric solution will only cost about 3s. There will
be moreover a saving of at least one-fourth of the co¬
chineal usually employed (which is generally comput¬
ed at the rate of one ounce for every pound of cloth),
and the colour produced will certainly not prove in¬
ferior in any respect to that dyed with much more ex¬
pence and trouble in the ordinary way. When a rose-
colour is wanted, it may be readily and cheaply dyed
in this way, only omitting the quercitron bark, in¬
stead of the complex method now practised of first pro¬
ducing a scarlet, and then changing it to a rose by the
volatile alkali contained in stale urine, set free or de¬
composed by potash or by lime : and even if any one
should still unwisely choose to continue the practice of
dyeing scarlet without quercitron bark, he need only
I N G.
423
employ the usual proportions of tartar and cochineal, of Simple
with a suitable quantity of the murio-sulphate of tin, Colours,
which, while it costs so much less, will be more effec- v—“v—^
tual than the dyers spirit.
201. “ Several hundreds of experiments warrant my Saving of
assertion, that at least a fourth part of the cochineal eoc^*nea^
generally employed in dyeing scarlet, may be saved by
obtaining so much yellow as is necessary to compose
this colour from the quercitron bark j and indeed no¬
thing can be more self-evident, than that such an ef¬
fect, aeterisparibus, ought necessarily to result from
this combination of different colouring matters, suited
to produce the compound colour in question. Let it
be recollected that the cochineal crimson, though ca¬
pable of being changed by tartar towards the yellow
hue on one hand, is also capable by other means of be¬
ing changed towards a blue on the other, and of there¬
by producing a purple without indigo or any other
blue colouring matter: yet I am confident that nobody
would believe a pound of cochineal so employed capa¬
ble alone of dyeing as much cloth, of any particular
shade of purple, as might be dyed with it, if the whole
of its colouring matter were employed solely in furnish¬
ing the crimson part of the purple, whilst the other
(blue) part thereof was obtained from indigo. To say
that a pound of cochineal alone could produce as much
effect or colour as a pound of cochineal and a pound of
indigo together, would be an improbability much too
obvious and palpable for human belief j and there cer¬
tainly would be a similar improbability in alleging
that a pound of cochineal, employed in giving another
compound colour (scarlet), could alone produce as
much effect as a pound of cochineal and a pound of
quercitron bark, when the colour of this last was em¬
ployed only in furnishing one of the component parts of
the scarlet, for which a considerable portion of the co¬
louring matter of the cochineal must otherwise have
been expended, which certainly happens in the new
mode of dyeing scarlet, because the colour produced
with an addition of the quercitron yellow inclines no
more towards a yellow, than the scarlet produced by
yellowing a part of the cochineal colour in the usual
method with tartar. I retain, therefore, at this mo¬
ment, as much confidence as I ever had in the reality
and importance of my proposed improvements in this
respect (r).
202. “The scarlet composed of cochineal crimson Advantager
and quercitron yellow, is moreover attended with thisof this pro¬
advantage, that it may be dyed upon wool and wool-ce,s*
len yarn without any danger of its being changed to a
rose or crimson, by the process of fulling, as always
happens to scarlet dyed by the usual means. This last
being in fact nothing but a crimson or rose colour, yel¬
lowed by some particular action or eifect of the tartar,
is liable to be made crimson again by the application of
many
(f) “ Of the benefit which I formerly expected to obtain by employing potash to extract a part of the co¬
chineal colour, which water alone did not appear capable of extracting, it must be remarked that I have some
time since convinced myself of its being an illusion ; for, by repeated trials, I have found that the solid parts of
powdered cochineal remaining after it has been boiled with the solution of tin, as in the common dyeing pro¬
cess, yield no colour worth notice, upon the application of potash, the solution of tin enabling the water to ex¬
tract the colour sufficiently $ so that in truth there is no such waste of cochineal colour as I had supposed in th®
usual way of employing that drug.”
42|
DYEING.
Part i
EiTects of
inurio-sul-
phuric so¬
lution of J
tin.
of Simple many chemical agents, (which readily overcome the
Colours, changeable yellow produced by the tartar), and parti-
'■ 1 v " cularly by calcareous earths, soap, alkaline salts, &c.
But where the cochineal colouring matter is applied
and fixed merely as a crimson or rose colour, and is
rendered scarlet by superadding a very permanent
quercitron yellow, capable of resisting the strongest
acids and alkalies, (which it does when dyed with so¬
lutions of tin), no such change can take place, because
the cochineal colour having never ceased to be crimson,
cannot be rendered more so, and therefore cannot suf¬
fer by those impressions or applications which frequent¬
ly change or spot scarlet dyed according to the present
practice.”
203. “ There is also a singular property attending
candleb''litthe compound scarlet dyed with cochineal and quer-
mAlds Ig citron bark ; which is, that if it be compared with
scarlet dye. another piece of scarlet dyed in the usual way, and
both appear by day-light exactly of the same shade,
the former, if they be afterwards compared by candle¬
light, will appear to be at least several shades higher
and fuller than the latter ; a circumstance of some im¬
portance, when it is considered how much this and
other gay colours are generally worn and exhibited
b’y candle-light during a considerable part of the
year.”
204. “ To illustrate more clearly the effects of the
murio-sulphuric solution of tin with cochineal in dye¬
ing, I shall state a very few of my numerous ex¬
periments therewith j observing, however, that they
were all several times repeated, and always with simi¬
lar effects.
“ 1st, I boiled one hundred parts of woollen cloth in
water, with eight parts of the murio-sulphuric solution
of tin, during the space of ten or fifteen minutes j l
then added to the same water four parts of cochineal,
and two parts and a half of quercitron bark in powder,
and boiled the cloth fifteen or twenty minutes longer *,
at the end of which it had nearly imbibed all the co¬
lour of the dyeing liquor, and received a very good,
even, and bright scarlet. Similar cloth dyed of that
colour at the same time in the usual w'ay, and with a
fourth part more of cochineal, was found upon com¬
parison to have somewhat less body than the former ;
the effect of the quercitron bark in the first case hav¬
ing been more than equal to the additional portion of
cochineal employed in the latter, and made yellow by
the action of tartar.”
“ 2d, To see whether the tartrite of tin would, besides
yellowing the cochineal crimson, contribute to raise
and exalt its colour more than the murio-sulphate of
that metal, I boiled one hundred parts of cloth with
eight parts of the murio-sulphuric solution, and six
parts of tartar, for the space of one hour 5 I then dyed
the cloth, unrinsed, in clean water, with four parts of
cochineal, and two parts and a half of quercitron bark,
which produced a bright aurora colour, because a
double portion of yellow had been here produced, first
by the quercitron bark, and then by the action of tar¬
tar upon the cochineal colouring matter. To bring
back this aurora to the scarlet colour, by taking away
or changing the yellow produced by the tartar, I di¬
vided the cloth whilst unrinsed into three equal parts,
and boiled one of them a few minutes in water slightly
impregnated with potash ) another in water with a lit¬
tle ammoniac ; and the third in water containing a very 0fSjm
little powdered chalk, by which all the pieces became ColoJ,'
scarlet •, but tire two last appeared somewhat brighter “-y^
than the first, the ammoniac and chalk having each
rosed the cochineal colour rather more advantageously
than the potash. The best of these, however, by
comparison, did not seem preferable to the com¬
pound scarlet dyed without tartar, as in the preceding
experiment j consequently this did not seem to exalt
the cochineal colour more than the murio-sulphate of
tin j had it done so, the use of it in this way would
have been easy, without relinquishing the advantages
of the quercitron yellow.”
“ 3d, I boiled one hundred parts of woollen cloth
with eight parts of the murio-sulphuric solution of tin,
for about ten minutes, when I added four parts of co¬
chineal in powder, which, by ten or fifteen minutes
more of boiling, produced a fine crimson. This I di¬
vided into two equal parts, one of which I yellowed
or made scarlet by boiling it for fifteen minutes with a
tenth of its weight of tartar in clean water $ and the
other, by boiling it with a fortieth part of its weight of
quercitron bark, and the same weight of murio-sul¬
phuric solution of tin ; so that in this last case there
was an addition of yellow colouring matter from the
bark, whilst in the former no such addition took place,
the yellow necessary for producing the scarlet having
been wholly gained by a change and diminution of
the cochineal crimson j and the two pieces being com¬
pared with each other, that which had been rendered
scarlet by an addition of quercitron yellow, was, as
might have been expected, several shades fuller than
the other.”
“ 4th, I dyed one hundred parts of woollen cloth
scarlet, by boiling it first in water with eight parts of
murio-sulphate of tin, and twelve parts of tartar, for
ten minutes, and then adding five parts of cochineal,
and continuing the boiling for fifteen minutes. This
scarlet cloth I divided equally, and made one part
crimson, by boiling with a little ammoniac in clean
water j after which I again rendered it scarlet, by
boiling it in clean water, with a fortieth of its weight
of quercitron bark, and the same weight of murio-
sulphate of tin ; and this last, being compared with
the other half to which no quercitron yellow had
been applied, was found to possess much more colour,
as might have been expected. A piece of the cloth,
•which had been dyed scarlet by cochineal and quer¬
citron hark, as in the first experiment, being at the
same time boiled in the same water with ammoniac,
did not become crimson, like that dyed scarlet without
the bark.
205. “ In this way of compounding a scarlet from
cochineal and quercitron bark, the dyer will at all
times be able, with the utmost certainty, to produce
every possible shade between the crimson and yellow
colours, by only increasing or diminishing the propor¬
tion of bark. It has indeed been usual at times, when
scarlets approaching nearly to the aurora colour were
in fashion, to superadd a fugitive yellow either from
turmeric, or from what is called young fustic (Rhus
Cotinus') ; but this was only when the cochineal co¬
lour had been previously yellowed as much as possible
by the use of tartar, as in the common way of dyeing
scarlet; and therefore that practice ought not to be
confounded
i.
dyeing.
ifF:at
aci of
an:.
g|,:mpJe confounded with my improvement, which has for its
1 ms. object to preclude the loss of any part of the cochi-
4,'~~,neal crimson, by its conversion towards yellow colour,
which may be so much more cheaply obtained than the
quercitron bark. By sufficient trials, I have satisfied
myself that the cochineal colours, dyed with the nm-
rio-sulphuric solution of tin, are in every respect at
least as durable as any which can be dyed with any
other preparation of that metal; and they even seem
to withstand the action of boiling soap suds somewhat
longer, and therefore I cannot avoid earnestly recom¬
mending its use for dyeing rose and other cochineal co¬
lours, as well as for compounding a scarlet with the
quercitron bark.”
2g6. Dr Bancroft afterwards tried a great variety
of earthy and metallic salts, as mordants, for the pur¬
pose of fixing the colour of cochineal on wool; and he
found that, besides the metallic oxides and solutions,
the aluminous, calcareous and siliceous earths, as well
as magnesia and barytes, might be employed with dif¬
ferent success in dyeing with the colouring matter of
cochineal: hut for the detail of these experiments
which he has given, we refer our readers to the treatise
p-i of itself*.
a tCo/. 207. To produce different shades of scarlet, and the
other colours which are derived from it, all that is ne¬
cessary, is to vary the proportions of cochineal, tartar,
and solution of tin ; and for the shades which incline
>. most to yellow, the addition of quercitron bark, or
fustic, is requisite. 1 he use of the tartar is to deepen
the colour, and the solution of tin produces a shade of
orange. When the shade of colour required to be
communicated to the stuff is light, the time of con-
Ifrtfc/fef.tinuing the process must be shortened f.
208. Crimson.—Hie processes which are employed
I to dye wool a crimson colour, are two. The stuff is
either dyed crimson at once, or the crimson shade is
communicated to it, after being previously dyed of a
t scarlet colour. To dye crimson by a single process,
a solution of two ounces and a half of alum, and an
ccssounce and a half of tartar for every pound of stuff,
is employed for the boiling, and the stuff' is afterwards
to be dyed with an ounce of cochineal. It is usual
also to employ solution of tin, but in smaller propor¬
tion than for dyeing scarlet. The processes employed,
it is scarcely necessary to observe, must vary, accord¬
ing as the shade w'anted is deeper or lighter, or more
or less distant from scarlet. Common salt is also em¬
ployed by some in the boiling. To render the crim¬
son deeper, and to give it more bloom, archil ami pot¬
ash are frequently used ; but this bloom, it ought to
be observed, is extremely fugacious. By adding tar¬
tar and alum, the boiling for crimson is sometimes pre¬
pared after a scarlet reddening, and it is said that the
colour possesses more bloom, when both the boiling and
reddening are made after scarlet, than when the crim¬
son is dyed in a fresh bath prepared on purpose. In
dyeing these colours, the wild cochineal may be em¬
ployed, but as it contains a smaller proportion of co»
loming matter, the quantity must be greater.
209. Different substances, as the alkalies, alum, and
ive >n earthy salts in general, convert the colour of scarlet
to crimson, which is the natural colour of cochineal.
Io eflect this, the stuff previously dyed scarlet is boiled
for an hour in a solution of alum, the strength of which
VOL. VII, Part II. b f
• , , 425
is to be regulated by the depth of shade required. Of Simple
In conducting this process, it is necessary to observe, Colours.
that water impregnated with earthy salts has a consi- ‘    
derable effect in varying the shade; so that the quan¬
tity of alum employed must lie proportioned to the
purity of the water. Ilellot tried soap, soda, potash,
and some other substances, and although they produced
the crimson, yet it was of a deeper shade, and had
less lustre, than what was produced by means of alum.
Ammonia produced a good effect ; but from its great
volatility, a considerable proportion must be put into
the bath, moderately heated, with a little sal ammo¬
niac, and an equal quantity of potash. By this pro¬
cess the stuff became of a bright rosy colour, and thus
rendered a smaller quantity of cochineal necessarv.
Poerner directs the stuff, previously dyed scarlet, to
remain 24 hours in a cold solution of sal ammoniac
and potash.
210. To produce crimsons, as well as scarlets, inHa]f a-
half grain, madder is to be substituted for half thecrimsoa?m
quantity of the cochineal; or in other proportions, ac-&c.
cording to the shade desired. The same boiling is
given as for scarlet in grain, and the other parts of the
process are to he conducted as for reddening the scar¬
let or crimson. Even the common madder red assumes
a greater degree of lustre, when the boiling is madej 7^
after the reddening for scarlet 198.
3. 0/ i/ie Processes for dyeing Silk Red.
211. Madder red.—The colour which is obtained Different
from madder does not possess sufficient brightness for processes
dyeing silk. We shall here, however, describe somema^"
of the processes which are employed for this purpose.der*
That of De la Folie, is the following. Half a pound
of alum is to be dissolved in each quart of hot water,
and two ounces of potash are afterwards to be added.
When the effervescence has ceased, and the liquor has
become clear, the silk must he kept in it for two hours,
after which it is to be washed, and put into the mad¬
der-bath. The silk which is dy.d in this way be¬
comes more beautiful by means of the soap proof.
The process of Scheffer is somewhat different. For
each pound of scoured silk, he directs a solution of
four ounces of alum, ami six drams of chalk, to be
prepared. When the sediment has formed, the solu¬
tion is to he decanted, and having become quite cold,
the silk is immersed in it, and left for 18 hours. It
is then taken out, and dried, and afterwards dyed
with an equal weight of madder. The colour thus
obtained is of a dark shade. Mr Guliche describes
another process. For every pound of silk he proposes
a bath of four ounces of alum and one ounce of solu¬
tion of tin. When the liquor has become clear, it is
decanted, and the silk carefully soaked in it for 12
hours, after which it is to be immersed in a bath with
half a pound of madder softened by boiling, with an
infusion of galls in white wine. The bath is to be
kept moderately hot for an hour, and then made to
boil for two minutes. The silk being taken from the
bath is to be washed in a stream of water, and dried
in the sun, The colour thus obtained is very perma¬
nent. By leaving out the galls it is clearer. The
brightness of the first colour may be considerably in¬
creased, by passing the stuff’through a hath of Brazil¬
wood, to which one ounce of solution of tin is added.
3 H In
426 DYE
Of Sim pie In this way the colour becomes extremely beautiful and
Colours, durable.
—v——1 212. Silk is sometimes dyed with Brazil wood, and
u-ith^ira ^ie colour thus obtained has been distinguished by the
zi! wood." name of false crimson, to distinguish it from the more
durable colour which is produced by cochineal. The
silk, after being boiled with soap, is to be alumed. It
is then to be refreshed at the river, and dipped in a
bath more or less charged with Brazil juice, according
to the depth of shade required. If pure water be em¬
ployed, the colour will be too red for crimson ; but to
remedy this, the stuff may be passed through a weak
alkaline solution, or a little alkali may be added to the
bath, or the stuff may be washed in hard water till it
lias acquired the proper shade. To deepen the shade
of false crimsons, or dark reds, the solution of logwood
is added to the Brazil bath, the silk being previously
impregnated with the latter •, or a little alkali may be
added, according to the shade required.
213. The crimson produced by cochineal is called
grain crimson, to distinguish it from false crimson.
The silk, being well cleansed from the soap at the river,
is to be immersed in an alum liquor of the full strength,
and to remain for a night. It is then to be washed,
and twice beetled at the river. The bath is prepared
by filling a long boiler two-thirds wuth water, to which
are added, when it boils, from half an ounce to two
ounces of powdered white galls for every pound of silk.
"When it has boiled for a few moments, from two to
three ounces of cochineal, also powdered and sifted, for
every pound of silk, are put in, and afterwards one
ounce of tartar to every pound of cochineal. When
the tartar is dissolved, one ounce of solution of tin is
added for every ounce of tartar. In the preparation of
this solution of tin, the following proportions are recom¬
mended by Macquer. For every pound of nitric acid
two ounces of sal ammoniac, six ounces of fine grain tin,
and twelve ounces of water are employed. When these
ingredients are mixed together, the boiler is to be filled
up with cold water, and the proportion of the bath for
every pound of silk is about eight or ten quarts of water.
In th is the silk is immediately immersed, and turned on
1 bp winch, till it annear to be of a uniform colour. The
"WUli co¬
chineal.
the winch, till it appear to be of a uniform colour. The
lire is then increased, and the bath is kept boiling for
two hours, taking care to turn the silk occasionally.
The fire is afterwards put out, and the silk put into the
bath, where it is allowed to remain for a few hours long¬
er. It is then taken out, washed at the river, twice
beetled, wrung, and dried. Two processes are recom¬
mended by Scheffer and Macquer. In that of the for¬
mer, a greater proportion of cochineal is employed in
the dye-bath •, but, in that of the latter, a yellow ground
is previously communicated to the silk. The colour
which is thus obtained resists the action of soap, and is
more durable than that which is produced by means of
carthamus.
214. To obtain other shades of red, the above pro¬
cesses must be varied. If, after the silk has been wrung
out of the solution of tin, it is steeped for a night in a
cold solution of alum, in the proportion of one ounce to
a quart of water, wrung and dried, then washed and
boiled with cochineal, it will only appear ol a pale
Poppy red. poppy-colour ‘, but a fine poppy-red may be produced
by steeping it twelve hours in the solution of tin, di¬
luted with eight parts of water, then left all night in
3
I N G. Part:
the solution of alum, washed, dried, and passed through Of Si
two baths of cochineal, taking care to add to the se-, (-fJ-
corn! bath a small quantity of sulphuric acid. The
same colour may be produced by dyeing the silk pre¬
viously with anotta, and then passing it successively
through a number of baths prepared with an alka¬
line solution of carthamus, to which lemon juice has
been added, till it acquire a fine cherry-colour. To
brighten the colour, the silk, after being dyed, may
be immersed in hot water acidulated with lemon
juice.
215. Other shades of red, as a cherry-red, and flesh-^er:
red, are also produced by means of carthamus. For a
cherry-red, it is not necessary that the stuff be previous¬
ly dyed with anotta, and the proportion of colouring
matter is smaller. A flesh-red colour is obtained by
adding a little soap to the bath, which has the effect of
softening the colour, and of retarding the action of the
colouring matter on the stuff. To produce dark shades,
it is sometimes usual to mix archil, and by this means
the expence is diminished.
216. Those who have produced a colour on silkScark
which comes nearest to scarlet, Berthollet observes,
begin with dyeing the silk crimson. It is then dyed
with carthamus, and lastly it is dyed yellow without
heat. By this process a fine colour is obtained ; but
the dye of the carthamus is not permanent, as it is de¬
stroyed by the action of the air, and the colour becomes
deeper. The following is Dr Bancroft’s process. In a
solution of murio-sulphate of tin, diluted with five times
its weight of water, the silk is to be soaked for two
hours ; and after being taken out, it is to be wrung
and partially dried. It is then to be dyed in a bath
prepared with four parts of cochineal, and three of
quercitron bark. In this way a colour approaching to
scarlet is obtained. To give the colour more body, the
immersion may be repeated both in the solution ot tin,
and in the dyeing bath ; and the brightness of the scar¬
let is increased by means of the addition of carthamus.
A lively rose-colour is produced by omitting the quer-Rose-
citron bark, and dyeing the silk with cochineal only; lour,
and by adding a large proportion of water to the co¬
chineal, a yellow shade is obtained, which changes the
cochineal to the compound scarlet colour *. * PM
Pern
4. Of the Process of dyeing Cotton and Linen Red. 312.
217. Madder is most commonly employed for dye-Madde
ing cotton and linen a red colour ; and indeed in this16 *
kind of dyeing it is the most useful of all colouring
matters. The affinity of the colouring matter of mad¬
der for cotton is stronger than tor linen •, but it has
been found that the processes which are most successful
in dyeing the one are the most preferable for the other.
There are two kinds of madder reds : the one is called
simple madder red ; and the other, which is much
brighter, has been distinguished by the name of Turkey
or Adrianople red, because it comes from the Levant,
and has rarely been equalled in brightness and perma¬
nency. In communicating this beautiful red colour
to cotton, by means of madder, a great many useless
and ridiculous directions have been given. Accord¬
ing to some processes, the period of a month is scarce¬
ly sufficient to finish all the operations which are
considered as indispensably necessary for obtaining this
dye.
218.
:ap
imple
::mrs.
ants
adder
ff:,38l*
I. D Y
218. The principal mordants which are employed
in dyeing cotton with madder, are oil, gall-nuts, and
alum. The colouring matter of madder cannot be fix¬
ed on cotton, till the latter has been impregnated with
oil. A cold soapy liquor is formed by a combination
of oil and a weak solution of soda. By the use of this
alkaline ley the oil is diluted and divided, and can be
easily and equally applied to all the parts of the cot¬
ton. According to Chaptal, potash produces the same
effect as soda ; and attention to this is of some impor¬
tance, from the difference of price of the two sub¬
stances. All kinds of soda or oil are not fit for this
preliminary preparation. The soda must be in the
caustic state, and its causticity must be the effect of
calcination *, because if it has been rendered caustic by
means of lime, it becomes of a brown colour. The
soda also should contain little muriate, for when this
neutral salt prevails, the combination of the oil and
the soda is greatly retarded. The most proper oil is
not ol a fine kind, but that which contains a large
portion of the extractive principle. As the ley of so¬
da is only employed for the purpose of diluting and
conveying the oil equally to all the parts of the cot¬
ton, there must be a perfect combination of the oil
and the soda. Indeed this is of so much impor¬
tance, that many place the whole secret of a strong
colour in the choice of good oil and soda. From this
it follows, that the oil should be in excess, otherwise it
would abandon the stuff in washing, and the colour
would remain dry.
219. The cotton, being impregnated with oil, is
subjected to the operation of galling. The use of gall-
nuts is attended with several advantages. 1. The gal¬
lic acid which they contain decomposes the saponace¬
ous liquor with which the cotton is impregnated, and
fixes the oil on the stuff. 2. The other properties
which the galls possess, predispose the cotton to receive
the colouring matter. 3. The astringent principle
unites with the oil, and forms with it a compound,
which on drying becomes black, is not very soluble in
water, and has a strong affinity with the colouring
matter of madder.
220. From these principles some practical observa¬
tions may be deduced. 1. Gall-nuts furnish the most
proper astringent matter for this kind of dye. 2. To
effect a speedy and perfect decomposition, the galls
ought to be strained as hot as possible. 3. The galled
cotton should be speedily dried, for otherwise it might
assume a black colour, which would injure the bright¬
ness of the red. 4. The process of galling should be
performed in dry weather, because when the weather
is moist, the astringent principle produces a black
colour, and dries slowly. 5. The cotton should be pres¬
sed together with great care, that the decomposition
may be equally effected at every point of the surface.
6. It is necessary to attend to the proportion between
the gall-nuts and the soap, for if the former predomi¬
nate the colour is black, and if the soap is in excess,
the portion of oil uncombined with the astringent prin¬
ciple, escapes in the washings, and impoverishes the
colour.
221. Alum is also employed as a mordant in dyeing
cotton red. This substance not only heightens the red
of madder, but contributes also, by its decomposition,
and the fixation of its alumina, to give solidity to the
E I N G,
427
colour. When cotton, after it lias been galled, is irn-ofSimole
mersed in a solution of alum, it immediately changes Colours,
its colour, and becomes gray. No precipitate appears '—-v-—--'
in the bath, because the operation takes place in the
tissue of the cloth itself. But if the solution of alum be
employed at too high a temperature, part of the galls
escapes from the stuff, and the decomposition of the
alum is then effected in the bath. This, which should
be guarded against, must obviously diminish the
proportion of the mordant, and render the colour
poorer.
222. Ibis mordant, which is the most complicated ^Pphcation
known in dyeing, requires great attention in its appli-of the mor'
diint.
cation. In this, indeed, consists the whole difficulty
of dyeing cotton a madder or Turkey red. In this
mordant there is a combination of three principles, oil
the astringent principle, and alumina; and on their
proper combination, the perfection of the colour de¬
pends. When any one of them is employed sepa¬
rately, the colour is neither so bright, nor so complete¬
ly fixed.
223. After these preliminary observations, we shall
now give a fuller detail of some of the processes which
are followed in dyeing cotton Turkey red. The fol-p
lowing is that which is practised at Astracan, of which dveTngred
an account has been given by Professor Pallas. at Astra-
“ The cotton to be dyed red is first washed exceed-can-
ingly clean in running water, and, when the weather p.rePara'
is clear, hung up on poles to dry. If it does not dry tl0n'
before the evening, it is taken into the house, on ac¬
count of the saline dews so remarkable in the coun¬
try around Astracan, and again exposed to the air
next morning. When it is thoroughly dry it is laid
in a tub, and fish oil is poured over it till it is entirely
covered. In this state it must stand all night, but in the
morning it is hung up on poles, and left there the
whole day ; and this process is repeated for a week, so
that the cotton lies seven nights in oil, and is exposed
seven days to the atmosphere, that it may imbibe the
oil and free itself from all air. The yarn is then again
carried to a stream, cleaned as much asjpossible, and
hung up on poles to dry.
224. “ After this preparation, a mordant is made ofThe mor-
three materials, which must give the grounds of the dant.
red colour. The pulverized leaves of the sumach are
first boiled in copper kettles; and when their colouring
matter lias been sufficiently extracted, some powdered
galls are added, with which the liquor must be again
boiled ; and by these means it acquires a dark dirty
colour. After it has been sufficiently boiled, the fire
is taken from under the kettle, and alum put into
the liquor yet hot, where it is soon dissolved. The
proportion of these three ingredients I cannot deter¬
mine with sufficient accuracy, because the dyers make
use of different quantities at pleasure. The powder
of the sumach leaves is measured into the kettle with
ladles ; the water is poured in according to a gauge, on
which marks are made to shew how high the water
must stand in the kettle to soak six, eight, ten, &e.
puds of cotton yarn. The galls and alum are added
in the quantity of five pounds to each pud of cotton.
In a word, the whole mordant must be sufficiently yel¬
low, strong, and of an astringent taste.
225. “ As soon as the alum is dissolved, no time must
be lost in ord'er that the mordant may not he suffered
3 H 3
Madder
dye.
423 DYE
o Sini,)lc to cool. The yarn is then put into hollow blocks of
C*'our«. wood shaped like a mortar, into each ot which such a
u-—  * quantity of the mordant has been poured as may be
sufficient to moisten the yarn without any of it being
left. As soon as the workman throws the mordant in¬
to the mortar, he puts a quantity of the yarn into it,
and presses it down with his hand till it becomes uni¬
formly moistened, and the whole cotton yarn has struck.
By this it acquires only a pale yellow colour, which
however is durable. It is then hung up on poles in
the sun to dry, again washed in the stream, and after¬
wards dried once more.
226. “ By the yellow dye of the sumach leaves, the
madder dye becomes brighter and more agreeable $ but
the galls "damp the superfluous yellow, and together
with the alum prepare the yarn for its colour. Some
dyers however omit the use of these leaves altogether,
and prepare their mordant from galls and alum only,
by first boiling the galls in due proportion with the re¬
quisite quantity of water, then dissolving the alum with
boiling water in a separate vessel, afterwards pouring
both liquors together into a tub, and suffering the cot¬
ton to remain in them an hour, or an hour and a half;
after which it is dried gradually, then washed, and
again dried once more. By this process the yarn ac¬
quires a dirty reddish colour.
227. “ The next part of the process is to prepare
the madder dye. The madder, ground to a fine
powder, is spread out in large troughs, and into each
trough is poured a large cup full of sheep’s blood,
■which is the kind that can be procured with the great¬
est facility by the dyers. The madder must be strong¬
ly mixed in it by means of the hand, and then stand
some hours in order to be thoroughly soaked by it.
The liquor then assumes a dark red appearance, and
the madder in boiling yields more dye.
228. “ After this process water is made hot in large
kettles, fixed in brick-work ; and as soon as it is warm
the prepared red dye is put into it, in the proportion of
a pound to every pud of cotton. Hie dye is then suffer¬
ed to boil strongly ; and when it is boiled enough, which
may be tried on cotton threads, the fire is removed
from under the kettle, and the prepared cotton is de¬
posited near it. The dyer places himself on the edge
of the brick-work that encloses the kettle ; dips the
cotton yarn, piece by piece, into the dye ; turns it
round, backwards and forwards ; presses it a little with
his hands ; and lays each piece, one after the other, in
pails standing ready for the purpose. As soon as all
the cotton has received the first tint, it is hung up to
dry : as the red, however, is still too dull, the yarn
which has been already dyed once, and become dry, is
put once more into the dyeing kettle, and must be left
there to seethe for three hours over a strong fire, by
which it acquires that beautiful dark red colour which
is so much esteemed in the Turkey yarn. The yarn is
now taken from the dye with sticks ; the superfluous
dye which adheres to it is shaken off; the hanks are
put in order, and hung up, one after another, to dry.
When it is thoroughly dry, it is washed in the pure
stream and again dried. The only fault of the Astra-
I N G. Parti
can dyers is, that the colour is sometimes brighter and OfS™
sometimes darker, probably because they do not pay Colon
sufficient attention to the proportions, or because the
madder is not always of the same goodness.
229. “ In the last place, the above-mentioned soda Boiling i
(kalakar) is dissolved with boiling water in tubs destin- Iryofisc
ed for that purpose ; and it is usual here to allow twenty
pounds of soda to forty pounds of cotton, or half the
weight. Large earthen jars, which are made in Persia
of very strong clay, a yard and a half in height, al¬
most five spans wide in the belly, and ending in a neck
a span and a half in diameter, enclosed by means of ce¬
ment in brick-work over a fire-place, in such a manner
that the necks only appear, are filled with the dyed
cotton yarn. The ley of dissolved soda, which is
blackish and very sharp, is then poured over it till the
jars be filled; and some clean rags are pressed into-
their mouths, that the uppermost skains of yarns may
not lie uncovered. A fire is then made in the fire-place
below, and continued for 24 hours ; and in the mean
time the steam which arises from the jars is seen col¬
lected among the rags in red drops. By this boiling
the dye is still more heightened, and is made to strike
completely ; every thing superfluous is removed, and all
the fat matter which still adheres to the yarn is washed
out : nothing more is then necessary for completing the
dye of the yarn but to rinse it well several times in
running water, and then to dry it.
230. “ That the dye of madder might be made very The sau
penetrating by other methods, and through the means col°Brt
of other oily and resinous substances, is shewn by the01*161
„ ™ . , , 7 , , . means,
process ot the lungusians to dye horse, goat s and rein¬
deer’s hair, which they use for ornamenting their
dresses, of a beautiful red colour, with the roots of the
cross-wort, or northern madder (galium), and nar¬
row-leaved woodroof (asperula tine tori a), which have a
resemblance to those of madder. They boil the fresh
or dried roots with about the same quantity of agaric
(agai'icus ojjicinarum), which, as is well known, is
abundant in resinous gummy particles, and is used by
the people of Jakut instead of soap; they then lay in it
the white hair which they wish to dye, and suffer it to
seethe slowly until it be sufficiently red. Cotton cloth
- is dyed with madder at Astracan in the same manner:
but many pursue a fraudulent process, by dyeing with
red v/ood, and then sell their cloth as that which has
been dyed in the proper manner.”
231. The processes which are employed in the Gre-TheGi
cian manufactories for dyeing Turkey red, as they0'31'®’
have been described by C. Felix, in a memoir in thetl0<‘
French annals of chemistry, are somewhat different
from the above. “ In these manufactories,” he observes,
“ the workmen dye at one time a mass of skains weigh¬
ing thirty-five occas (g) ; each occa being equal to
about fifty ounces. The first process is that; of clean- PrcPare
ing the cotton, for which purpose three leys are em¬
ployed ; one of soda, another of ashes, and a third of
lime. The cotton is thrown into a tub, and moisten¬
ed with the liquor of the three leys in equal quantities;
it is then boiled in pure water, and washed in running
water.
232.
lion.
(g) Equal to lop lb. 6 oz.
lap.
Simple
ag
Gl
sn'tlum-
“II
I. DYE
232. “ The second bath given to the cotton is com-
olours. posed of soda and sheep’s dung-dissolved in water. To
"-v—— facilitate the solution, the soda and dung are pounded in
on^ a mortar. The proportions of these ingredients em¬
ployed, are, one occa of dung, six of soda, and forty
of water. When the ingredients are well mixed, the
liquor expressed from them is strained, and being pour¬
ed into a tub, six occas of olive oil are added to it, and
the whole is well stirred till it becomes of a whitish co¬
lour, like milk. The cotton is then besprinkled with
this water, and when-the skains are thoroughly moist-
end, they are wrung, pressed, and exposed to drv. The
same bath must be repeated three or four times, be¬
cause it is this liquor which renders the cotton more
or less fit for receiving the dye. Each bath is given
with the same liquor, and ought to continue live or six
hours. It is to be observed that the cotton, after each
bath, must be dried without being washed, as it ought
not to be rinsed till after the last bath. The cotton is
then as white as if it had been bleached in the fields.
233. “ The bath of sheep’s dung is not used in our
manufactories (h) *, it is a practice peculiar to the Le¬
vant. It may be believed that the dung is of no utility
for fixing the colours j but it is known that this sub¬
stance contains a great quantity of volatile alkali, in a
disengaged state, which has the property of giving a
rosy hue to the red. It is therefore probable that it
is to this ingredient that the red dyes of the Levant are
indebted for their splendour and vivacity. This much,
at any rate, is certain, that the Morocco leather of the
Levant is prepared with dog’s dung j because it has
been found that this dung is proper for heightening the
colour of the black. The bath of dung is followed by
the process of galling.
234. “ The galling is performed by immersing the
cotton in a bath of warm water, in which five occas of
pulverised gall-nuts have been boiled. This operation
renders the cotton more fit for being saturated with the
colour, and gives to the dye more body and strength.
After the galling comes aluming, which is performed
twice, with an interval of two days, and which consists
in dipping the cotton into a bath of water in which five
occas of alum have been infused, mixed with five occas
of water alkalized by a ley of soda. The aluming must
be performed with care, as it is this operation which
makes the colouring particles combine best with the
cotton, and which secures them in part from the de¬
structive action of the air. When the second aluming
is finished, the cotton is wrung; it is then pressed, and
put to soak in running water, after being inclosed in a
bag of thin cloth.
I N G.
429
235. “ The workmen then proceed to the dyeing.— 0f Single
To compose the colours they put in a kettle five occas Colours.
of water and thirty-five occas of a root which the'   
Greeks call ali-%ari, or painting colour, and which in D>eing.
Europe is known under the name of madder. The
madder, after being pulverised, is moistened with one
occa of ox or sheep’s blood. The blood strengthens
tile colour, and the dose is increased or lessened accor¬
ding to the shade of colour required. An equal heat is
maintained below the kettle, but not too violent ; and
when the liquor ferments, and begins to grow warm,
the skains are then gradually immersed, before the li¬
quor becomes too hot. They are then tied with pack¬
thread to small rods, placed crosswise above the kettle
for that purpose, and when the liquor boils well, and in
an uniform manner, the rods from which the skains
were suspended are removed, and the cotton is suffered
to fall into the kettle, where it must remain till two-
thirds of the water is evaporated. When one-third
only of the liquor remains, the cotton is taken out and
washed in pure water.
236. “ The dye is afterwards brought to perfection Alkaline
by means of a bath alkalized with soda. This manipu-bath.
lation is the most difficult and the most delicate of the
whole, because, it is that which gives the colour its tone.
The cotton is thrown into this new bath, and made to
boil over a steady fire till the colour assumes the re¬
quired tint. The whole art consists in catching the
proper degree: a careful workman, therefore, must
watch with the utmost attention for the moment when
it is necessary to take out the cotton, and he will ra¬
ther burn his hand than miss that opportunity. It ap¬
pears that this bath, which the Greeks think of so much
importance, might be supplied by a ley of soap j and it
is probable that saponaceous water would give the co¬
lour more brightness and purity.
237. “ When the colour is too weak, the Levantines Methods of
know how to strengthen it by increasing the dose ofhnproving
the colouring substances j and when they wish to give^16 co^oui'*
it brightness and splendour, they employ different roots
of the country, and, in particular, one named sassart,
specimens of which I have sent to France. The ali-
zari, which is the principal colouring matter employed
in the Greek dye-houses, is collected in Natolia, and
is brought to Greece from Smyrna : some of it comes
also from Cyprus and Mesopotamia. The superiority
of this Levantine plant to the European madder is ac¬
knowledged by all those acquainted with the art of
dyeing, and may arise from two causes : the manner in
which it is cultivated, and the method employed for its
desiccation (1).”
238. To
(h) The French manufactories.
(1) “ The chief manufactories (continues our author), for dyeing spun cotton red, established in Greece, are
in Thessaly. There are some at Baba, Rapsani, Tournavos, Larissa, Pharsalia, and in all the villages situated
on the sides of Ossa and Pelion. These two mountains may be considered as the alembics that distil the eternal
vapours with which Olympus is crowned, and which distribute them throughout the beautiful valleys situated
around them. Of these valleys, that of Tempe has at all times been distinguished by the beauty of its shady
groves and of its streams. These streams, on account of their limpidness, are very proper for dyeing, and sup¬
ply water to a great number of manufactories, the most celebrated of which are those of Ambelakia.
“ Ambelakia, on account of the activity which prevails in it, has a greater resemblance to a town of Holland
than a village of Turkey. This village, by its industry, communicates life and activity to all the neighbouring
country, and gives birth to an immense trade, which connects Germany with Greece in a thousand ways. Its
population.
430 DYE
Of Simple 238. To these processes we shall add the account
Colours, of another, which was long successfully practised at
!7~TT^ Glasgow by Mr Papillon, a native of France, and
ptTirrss" s was communicated by him, for a suitable premium, to
the commissioners and trustees for manufactures in Scot¬
land, to be by them published for the benefit of the
public, at the end of a certain term of years. This
transaction took place in 1790, and the period having
expired, the trustees announced it to the public in 1803.
The process, which consists of nina different steps, is
the following.
Step I.
For 100 lib. cotton you must have
100 lib. of Alicante barilla,
20 lib. of pearl ashes,
100 lib. quicklime.
The barilla is mixed with soft water in a deep tub,
which has a small hole near the bottom of it, stopped
at first with a peg.—This hole is covered in the inside
with a cloth supported by two bricks, that the ashes
may be prevented from running out at it, or stopping it
up while the ley filters through it.
Under this tub is another to receive the ley 5 and
pure water is repeatedly passed through the first tub
to form lees of different strength, which are kept se¬
parate at first until their strength is examined. The
strongest required for use must swim or float an egg,
and is called the ley of six degrees of the French hydro¬
meter, or peseliqueur. The weaker are afterwards
brought to this strength, by passing them through fresh
barilla. But a certain quantity of the weak, which is
of 2 degrees of the above hydrometer, is reserved for
dissolving the oil, and gum, and the salt, which are
used in subsequent parts ol the process. This ley of 2
degrees is called the w'eak barilla liquor, the othey is
called the strong.
Dissolve the pearl-ashes in 10 pails, of 4 gallons each,
of soft water, and the lime in 14 pails.
Let all the liquors stand till they become quite clear,
and then mix ten pails of each.
Boil the cotton in the mixture five hours, then wash
it in running water and dry it.
Step II. Bainbie, or Gray Steep.
Take a sufficient quantity (20 pails) of the strong
I N G. ^ Part II.
barilla water in a tub, and dissolve or dilute in it 2 pails Qf sjmp1(;
full of sheep’s dung, then pour into it 2 quart bottles Colours,
of oil of vitriol, and 1 lib. of gum arabic, and 1 lib. of
sal ammoniac, both previously dissolved in a sufficient
quantity of the weak barilla water, and lastly, 25 lib. of
olive oil, which has been previously dissolved or well
mixed with 2 pails of the weak barilla water.
The materials of this steep being well mixed, tramp
or tread down the cotton into it, until it is well
soaked *, let it steep 24 hours, and then wring it hard
and dry it.
Steep it again 24 hours, and again wring and dry it.
Steep it a third time 24 hours, after which wring
and dry it, and lastly wash it well and dry it.
Step III. The White Steep.
This part of the process is precisely the same with
the last, in every particular, except that the sheep’s
dung is omitted in the composition of the steep.
Step IV. Gall Steep.
Boil 25 lib. of galls bruised in 10 pails of river wa¬
ter until 4 or 5 are boiled away •, strain the liquor into
a tub, and pour cold water on the galls in the strainer,
to wash out of them all their tincture.
As soon as the liquor is become milk-warm, dip your
cotton hank by hank, handling it carefully all the time,
and let it steep 24 hours.
Then wring it carefully and equally, and dry it well
without washing.
Step V. First Alum Steep.
Dissolve 25 lib. of Homan alum in 14 pails of warm
water, without making it boil, skim the liquor well, and
add 2 pails of strong barilla water, and then let it cool
until it be lukewarm.
Dip your cotton and handle it hank by hank, and let
it steep 24 hours, and wring it equally and dry it well
without washing.
Step VI. Second Alum Steep,
Is performed in every particular like the last, but
after the cotton is dry, you steep it 6 hours in the river,
and wash and dry it.
Step
population, which has been tripled within these fifteen years, amounts at present to 40^» these people
exist by dyeing. None of those vices or cares produced by idleness are known here. Ihe hearts ol the inhabi¬
tants are pure, and their countenances unclouded. Servitude, which degrades the countries watered by the Pe-
neus, has not ascended to these hills: no Turk can reside or live among these people j and they govern tnem-
selves, like their ancestors, by their and their own magistrates. TLwice have the savage mussulmans of
Larissa, envious of their ease and happiness, attempted to scale their mountains in order to plunder their houses;
and twice have they been repulsed by hands which suddenly quitted the shuttle to assume the musket.
“ All hands, and even those of the children, are employed in the dye-houses of Ambelakia ; and while the men
dye the cotton, the women are spinning and preparing it. The use of wheels is not known in this part of
Greece : all the cotton is spun on a distaff: the thread, indeed, is certainly not so round or equal, but it is softer,
more silky, and more tenacious; it is less apt to break, and lasts longer; it is also more easily whitened, and
more proper for being dyed. It is a pleasing spectacle to see the women of Ambelakia, each spinning from a
distaff, and sitting conversing together on the threshold of their doors ; but as soon as a stranger appears, they
instantly retire and conceal themselves in their houses, manifesting, like Galatea, in their piecipitute retreat, a
desire of flying and of shewing themselves :
Etfugit ad salices, et se cupit ante videri."
dyeing.
Step VII. Dyeing Steep.
The cotton is tlyecl by about xo lib. at once, for
which take 24 gallons of ox blood, and mix it in the
copper with 28 pails of milk-warm water, and stir it
well; then add 25 lib. of madder, and stir all well to¬
gether. Then having beforehand put the 10 lib. of
cotton on sticks, dip it into the liquor, and move and
turn it constantly one hour, during which you gradu¬
ally increase the heat, until the liquor begin to boil
at the end of the hour. Then sink the cotton, and
boil it gently one hour longer ; and, lastly, wash it
and dry it.
Take out so much of the boiling liquor, that what
remains may produce a milk-warm heat with the fresh
water with which the copper is again Hlled up, and
then proceed to make up a dyeing liquor as above, for
the next 10 lib. of cotton.
Step VIII. The Fixing Steep.
Mix equal parts of the gray steep liquor, and of the
white steep liquor, taking 5 or 6 pails of each. Tread
down the cotton into this mixture, and let it steep six
hours, then wring it moderately and equally, and dry
it without washing.
Step IX. Brightening Steep.
Ten lib. of white soap must be dissolved most care¬
fully and completely in 16 or 18 pails of warm water;
if any little bits of the soap remain undissolved, they
will make spots in the cotton. Add four pails of strong
barilla water, and stir it well. Sink your cotton in this
liquor, keeping it down with cross sticks, and cover it
up and boil it gently two hours, then wash and dry it,
and it is finished.
Vessels.
The number of vessels necessary for this business is
greater in proportion to the extent of the manufacto¬
ry ; but, in the smallest work, it is necessary to have
four coppers of a round form.
1st, The largest, for boiling and for finishing, is 28
inches deep by 38 or 39 wide in the mouth, and 18
inches wide in the widest part.
2r/, The second, for dyeing, is 28 deep, by 23 or
24 in the mouth.
3t/, The third, for the alum steep, is like the se¬
cond.
qth, The fourth, for boiling the galls, is 20 deep,
by 28 wide.
A number of tubs or larger wooden vessels are ne¬
cessary, which must all be of fir, and hooped with wood
or with copper.
Iron must not be employed in their construction, not
even a nail; but where nails are necessary, they must
be of copper.
By the pail is always understood a wooden vessel,
which holds four English gallons, and is hooped with
copper.
In some parts of the above process, the strength
of the barilla liquor or liquors is determined, by tell¬
ing to what degree a peseliqueur or hydrometer sunk
in them.
t The peseliqueur is of French construction. It is
similar to the glass hydrometer used by the spirit-dealers
431
in this country ; and any artist who makes these in- of Simple
struments, will find no difficulty in constructing one Colours,
wuth a scale similar to that employed by M. Papilloo, v—
when he is informed ol the following circumstances :
1st, The instrument, when plunged in good soft
water, such as Edinburgh pipe water, at temperature
00 degrees, sinks to the o, or beginning of the scale,
which stands near the top of the stem.
2d, Vv hen it is immersed in a saturated solution of
common salt, at the same temperature of 60 degrees,
it sinks to the 26th degree of the scale only, and this
fads at some distance from the top of the ball.
This saturated solution is made by boiling, in pure
water, refined sea or common salt, till no more is dis¬
solved, and by filtering the liquor when cold through
blotting paper.
It should also be observed, that whenever directions
are given to dry yarn, to prepare it for a succeeding
opetation, that this drying should be performed with
particular care, and more perfectly than our dryest wea¬
ther is in general able to effect. It is done therefore
in a room heated by a stove to a great degree.
239. There is still another process, which is recom-IIauss-
mended by Haussmann. This process, (says he) obtains ma,ln.’8 l)ro
a beautiful and durable red. He makes a caustic ley maddn
of one part of common potash dissolved in four of boil-ml. ^
ing water, and a half part of quicklime, which is after¬
wards slaked in it. He then dissolved one part of pow¬
dered alum in two of boiling water, and to this solu¬
tion, while it was yet warm, he added that of the cau¬
stic ley. The solution of alumina being left at rest,
formed, on cooling, a precipitate of sulphate of potash.
A 33d part of linseed oil was then mixed with the al¬
kaline solution of alumina, which then formed a milky
saponaceous liquid. When the mixture is to be used,
it ought to be well shaken, because the oil separates.
The stuffs of cotton or linen must be successively im¬
mersed in it, and equally pressed, and must be dried
under shelter from rain in summer, and in a warm place
in winter; and being left in that state for 24 hours, are
then washed in pure running water, and again dried.
The same process in the immersion in alkaline ley is
again to be repeated, taking care to introduce first those
stuffs which were last in the first solution. The whole
of the mixture should be consumed each time, as it
would attract carbonic acid from the air, and suffer the
alumina to be precipitated.
240. Two immersions in the alkaline solution of alu¬
mina mixed with linseed oil, afford a beautiful red :
but by impregnating the stuffs a third, or even a fourth
time, in the same manner, the most brilliant colours
are obtained. The intensity of the colour is in pro¬
portion to the quantity of madder.' A quantity 01
madder equal in weight to the stuffs, will yield a red,
which, by clearing becomes of a rosy shade; and shades
of crimson of different degrees of brightness are obtain¬
ed, by using two, three, or four times the weight of
madder ; but unless the water employed in the proces¬
ses contains some portion of lime, the addition of the
chalk should never be omitted.
241. The scarlet colour communicated to cotton by Scarlet
means of cochineal, is far from being permanent ; but'^di cochi-
if this colour is wished to be communicated to cotton,
Dr Bancroft recommends to steep the cotton, previously
moistened, for half an hour, in a diluted solution of
murio-
4-32
DYEING
Part it
Of Simple mum-sulphate of tin, and then having wrung the cot-
( oloms, (0)1? to plunge it into water, in which as much potash
''““’’"v 1 -' jias been dissolved as \vill neutralize the acid adhering
to the cotton, so that the oxide ol tin may be more
copiously fixed on the fibres of the cotton. The stuff
being afterwards rinsed in water, may be dyed with
cochineal and quercitron bark, in the proportion oflour
pounds of the former, to two and a half or three pounds
of the latter. A full bright colour is thus given to the
cotton, which will bear slight washings with soap, and
exposure to the air. Indeed the yellow part of the co¬
lour derived from quercitron bark will bear long boil¬
ing with soap, and will resist the action of acids.
”242. With the aluminous mordant, as it is usuaby
applied by calico printers for madder reds, cotton dyed
with cochineal receives, a beautiful crimson colour,
which will bear several washings, and resist the weather
for some time. It is not, however, to be considered as
a fixed colour. Dr Bancroft is of opinion, that the
addition of a small portion of cochineal in dying mad¬
der reds upon the finer cottons, would be highly advan¬
tageous to the calico-printers. By this addition the
madder reds are rendered more beautiful, and the fawn
colour, or brownish yellow hue, which injures these
* Phil, of reds, would be thus overcome *.
Perm. Col.
3T7' Sect. II. Of Yellow.
lour inclines to a green. An alkali gives to this decoc- Of Simp, |
tion a deeper colour, and the precipitate it occasions is . 1
Crimson.
not soluble in alkalies. Most of the acids give it a
paler tinge, occasioning a little precipitate which is solu¬
ble in alkalies. Alumina has so strong an affinity for the
colouring matter of weld, that it can even abstract it
from sulphuric acid, and the oxide of tin produces a si¬
milar effect. The greater part of metallic salts throw
down similar precipitates, which vary in their shades of
colour according to the metal employed. A solution of
common salt renders the liquor turbid, and a solution of
tin yields a copious yellow precipitate, while the liquor
long continues turbid, and slightly coloured.
246. Fustic (moms tinctona, Lin.) is procured from Fustic,
a tree of considerable magnitude, which grows in the
West Indies. The wood is yellow, as its name imports,
with orange veins. Lver since the discovery of Ame¬
rica it has been used in dyeing, as appears Irom a pa¬
per in the Transactions of the Royal Society, of which
Sir William Petty was the author. Its price is mode¬
rate, the colour it imparts is permanent, and it readily
combines with indigo, which properties give it a claim
to attention as a valuable ingredient in dyeing. Before
it can be employed as a dye-stuff, it must be cut into
chips and put into a bag, that it may not fix in, and
tear the stuff, to which it is to impart its colouring
matter. . .
247. When a decoction of yellow wood or fustic isPropertic.
24,. In dyeing yellow, it is necessary to employ mor¬
dants, becausethe affinity of yellow colouring matters for
either animal or vegetable stuffs is not sufficiently strong
to produce durable colours. Yellow colours, therefoie,
belong to that class which Dr Bancroft has denomina¬
ted adjective colours. As in the former section, we shall
first sive a short description of the nature and properties
of the substances employed in dyeing yellow, and then
point out the most approved modes of communicating
their colours to woollen, silk, cotton, and linen stubs.
The substances capable of giving a yellow colour to
different stuffs are very numerous •, they do not all pro¬
duce similar quantities of colouring matter ; their dye
is not equally free ; the colours they impart incline
more or less to orange or green •, they possess various
degrees of brightness and permanency, and differ con¬
siderably in price ; circumstances by which the choice
of the dyer ought always to be regulated. But those
commonly employed in dyeing yellow, are weld, fustic,
anotta, and quercitron bark.
I. Of the Substances employed in dyeing Yellow.
Substances 244. Weld (reseda luieola, Lin.) is a plant which
employed (rr0Us wild in Britain, and in diflerent Luropean coun
in dveiof ° ■  1  nf a Viriant erreen
„ tries. Its leaves are long, narrow, and of a bright green,
^"7- but the whole plant is made use of in the dyeing of ye -
low. There are two kinds of weld, cultivated and wild,
the former of which is deemed more valuable than the
latter, as it yields a much greater proportion of colour¬
ing matter. When this plant is fully ripe, it is pu led,
dried, and bound up in bundles for the use of the dyer.
The wild species grows higher and has a stronger stalk
than that which is cultivated, by which the one may be
readily distinguished from the other. t
« ,• 24 ?• A strong decoction of weld is of a brownish ye„-
io,>er ics. ^ coiour) and if very much diluted with water the co¬
made very strong, the colour, is of a reddish yellow,
and when diluted it is of an orange yellow, which it
readily yields to water. It becomes turbid by means
of acids, its colour is of a pale yellow, and the greenish
precipitate may be re-dissolved by alkalies. Hie sul¬
phates of zinc, iron, and copper, as well as alum, throw
down precipitates composed of the colouring matter and
the different bases of the salts employed.
In examining the causes of the fixity of yellow co¬
lours, obtained from vegetables, Chaptal discovered
that the durability of the pale yellow depended on the
tanning principle, which is found united with the yel¬
low colouring matter. He obtained by analyzing fus¬
tic 1. A resinous or gummy matter, which can com¬
municate a beautiful yellow colour. 2. An extractive
matter, which is also yellow, and affords a beautiful
colour. 3. A tanning principle of a pale yellow colour,
which becomes black by boiling, or exposure to the
air. This latter diminishes the brilliancy of the two
former; hut it may be separated by a simple process.
Chaptal boiled with the wood some animal substance
containing gelatinous matter, such as bits of skin, strong
glue, &c. The tanning principle was thus precipitated
with the gelatinous matter, and the bath held in solu¬
tion onlv the colouring matters which yield a bright
full yellow •, and by means of this process he piocured
colours from several vegetables, equally bright with
those which are communicated by yellow wood and |
quercitron hark *. , .
248. Anotta is a species of paste of a red C01®Vr’
obtained from the berries of the bixa orel/ana, Lin.
which is a native of America. The anotta of com¬
merce is imported from America to Europe in cakes oi
two or three pound weight, where it is prepared from the
seeds of the tree mentioned above $ but the Americans
are said to be in possession of a species of anotta supe¬
rior to that which they export, both for the brilliancy
<pp. T-
f
>[ :rties.
( i.nple and permanency of the colour it imparts. They bruise
1 „m.s the seeds with their hands moistened with oil, separat¬
ing with a knife the paste as it is formed, and drying
it in tiie sun j but the seeds are pounded with water
when designed for sale, and allowed to undergo the
process of fermentation.
247. Anotta yields its colouring matter more readily
to alcohol than to water, on which account it is used in
yellow varnishes to which an orange tinge is intended
to be given. Acids form a precipitate with a decoction
ef anotta of an orange colour, which is soluble in alka¬
lies ; but solutions of common salt produce no sensible
change. It yields an orange precipitate with a solu¬
tion of alum, and the sulphates of copper and iron pro¬
duce effects of nearly a similar nature. With a solu¬
tion of tin, the precipitate is of a lemon colour and
slowly deposited.
248. Quercitron, as it is denominated by Dr Ban-
ai croft, is the quercus nigra of Linnoeus, and is a large
«!cw. ^ee W,,:cl1 F°'vs spontaneously in North America.
Thft hark of it viplrls n . 1
dyeing.
433
tfitroil
op-ies
ieub-
!1C
The hark of it yields a considerable quantity of colour¬
ing matter, which was first discovered by Dr Bancroft
in the year 1784, in whom the use and application of
it in dyeing were exclusively vested for a certain term
of years by virtue of an act of parliament. To prepare
it/or use, the epidermis is taken off and pounded in a
mill, the result of which process is a number of fila¬
ments and a fine light powder ; but as these do not
contain equal quantities of colouring matter, it will
he proper to employ them in their natural proportions.
249. Quercitron bark readily imparts its colouring
matter to water at ioo° of Fahrenheit, which is of a
yellowish brown, capable of being darkened by alka¬
lies, and brightened by acids. With muriate' of tin
the precipitate is copious, and of a yellow colour; with
sulphate of tin it is a dark olive ; and with sulphate of
copper it is yellow, but inclining to an olive. Nitro-
muriate of tin yields a yellow extremely beautiful, pro¬
bably owing to the oxide of tin combining with the co¬
louring matter in a greater proportion than some other
salts.
250. Besides the substances already mentioned as em¬
ployed in the dyeing of yellow, we may add saw-wort to
the number {scrratida tine tor ia, Lin.) a plant which
yields a colouring matter nearly similar to that of weld,
and may of consequence be used as a proper substitute.
Dyers broom {genista tinctorid) produces a yellow of
very indifferent nature, and is therefore only employed
in dyeing stuffs of the coarsest kind. Turmeric {enr-
cuma longa) is a native production both of the East and
West Indies, and yields a more copious quantity of co¬
louring matter than any other yellow dye-stuff; hut it
will probably never be of any essential service in dye¬
ing yellow, as no mordant has yet been discovered, ca¬
pable of giving permanency to its colour.
251. Chamomile {antheniis tinctorid) yields a faint
yellow colour, the hue of which is not unpleasant, but
is far from being durable, and even mordants are not
capable of fixing it. Sulphate of lime, tartar and alum,
hid fairest for success.
252. lenugreek {tngonella Jienugrcecum) yields
seeds which, when ground, communicate to stuffs a
pale yellow of tolerable durability ; and the best mor¬
dants are found to be alum and muriate of soda, or com¬
mon salt. American liiccory {juglans alba) is a tree,
VOL. VII, Part II. f
the bark of which yields a colouring matter in every ofSimol
respect resemblmg that of the quercus nigra, hut in CoW
quantity greatly inferior. French berries {rhamnus   
infectonus) produce a tolerable yellow colour, but it is
by no means permanent. When used in the process of
dyeing they are to he employed in the same manner
as weld.. According to Scheffer, a fine yellow colour
may be imparted to silk, thread, and wool, by means of
ic leaves of the willow: hut Bergman informs us that
only the leaves of the sweet willow {salix penlandra)
are proper for producing a permanent colour, as a few
weeks exposure to the sun extracts that which is pro¬
duced by the colouring matter from the leaves of the
common willow.
253. In Switzerland, and in England, the seeds of
purple trefoil are sometimes employed in the art of dye¬
ing, on which Vogler made a number of experiments,
in order to ascertain what colours they would1 produce :
and he found that a.fine deep yellow was afforded by a
bath made of a solution of these seeds with potash ; that
sulphuric acid yielded a light yellow, and sulphate of
copper or blue vitriol, a yellow inclining to green. M
Bizi informs us, that the seeds of trefoil impart to
wool a beautiful orange, and to silk a greenish yellow;
and. that while aluming is necessary in the process of
dyeing with the seeds of trefoil, a solution of tin cannot
be employed.
II. 0/ the Processes for Dyeing Wool Yellow.
254. In dyeing woollen stuffs with weld, the mor.WithweW
dants employed are alum and tartar, and by their means
a pure, permanent yellow is obtained. The boiling is
to be conducted in the usual way ; and according to
Hellot, four ounces of alum to one ounce of tartar are
to be employed. Other dyers, however, employ half
as much tartar as alum. The colour is rendered paler,
but more lively, by means of the tartar.
2S5\ The bath is prepared by boiling the plant in-Prepara-
closed in a thin linen hag, and keeping it from rising d°u of the
by means of a wooden cross. Some boil it till it sinks to',atl1,
the bottom of the vessel ; while others, after it is boil¬
ed, take it out, and throw it away. From three to
four lbs. of weld, and sometimes less, are allowed for
every lb. of stuff; but the quantity must be regulated
by the intensity of the shade desired. Some dyers add
a small quantity of quicklime and ashes, which are
found to promote the extraction of the colouring mat¬
ter. These substances at the same time heighten t%e
colour, but render it less susceptible of resisting the ac¬
tion of acids.
256. With other additions, and different management, for differ-
different shades may he obtained. Thus, lighter shades ent shades,
are produced by dyeing after deeper ones, adding wa¬
ter at each dipping, and keeping the bath at the boil¬
ing temperature. These shades, however, are less live¬
ly than when fresh baths are employed, with a suitable
proportion of weld. The addition of common salt or
sulphate of lime to the iveld hath communicates a rich¬
er and deeper colour. With alum it is paler and more
lively, with tartar still paler, and with sulphate of iron
the shade inclines to brown. According to Scheffer,
by boiling the stuff two hours, with one-fourth of its
weight of a solution of tin, and the same proportion of
tartar, and then washing and boiling it with an equal
weight of weld, a fine yellow is produced ; but if the
3 I stuff
Or Simple staff be in the state of cloth, its internal texture is not
Colours, penetrated. Poerner recommends a similar pieparation
  v  as for dyeing scarlet, and by these means the colour is
brighter, more permanent, and lighter.
With qucr- 257. Dr Bancroft recommends the quercitron bark
citron baik-as one of the cheapest and best substances tor dyeing
wool yellow. The following is the simple process which
he has proposed for its application. The bark is to be
boiled up with about its weight, or one-third more,
of alum, in a suitable proportion of water, for about
10 minutes. The stuff previously scoured is then to be
immersed in the bath, taking care to give the higher
colours first, and afterwards the paler straw colours.
Cheap pro- By this cheap and expeditious process, colours which
cess. are not wanted to be of a full or bright yellow, may
be obtained. The colour may be considerably height¬
ened by passing the unrinsed stuff a few times through
hot water, to which a little clean powdered chalk, m
the proportion of about lb. for each 100lb. of stuff
has been previously added. The bark, when used
in dyeing, being first reduced to powder, should be
tied up in a thin linen bag, and suspended in the liquor,
so that it may be occasionally moved through it, to dif¬
fuse the colouring matter more equally.
Process for 258. But although the above method possesses the
permanent advantages of cheapness and expedition, and is fully
colours. sufficient for communicating pale yellows j to obtain
fuller and more permanent colours, the common mode
of preparation, by previously applying the aluminous
mordant, ought to be preferred. The stuff, therefore,
should be boiled for about one hour or one_ hour and a
quarter, with one-sixth, or one-eighth of its weight ot
alum, dissolved in a proper proportion of water. Ihe
stuff is then to be immersed, without being rinsed, into
the dyeing bath, with clean hot water, and about the
same quantity of powdered bark tied up in a bag, as
that of the alum employed in the preparation, the
stuff is then to be turned as usual through the boiling
liquor, until the colour appears to have acquired suiti-
cient intensity. One pound of clean powdered chalk
for every 100 lb. of stuff is then to be mixed with the
dyeing bath, and the operation continued for eight or
ten minutes longer. Tbis addition of the chalk raises
and brightens the colour.
2 rn. Orange Yellow. To communicate a beauti¬
ful orange yellow to woollen stuffs, 10 lbs. of querci¬
tron bark, tied up in a bag, for every 100 lb. of stufl, are
to be put into the bath with hot water. At the end
Tor differ- of six or eight minutes, an equal weight of murio-sul-
ent shades. p|,ate of tin is to be added, and the mixture well stir¬
red for two or three minutes. The cloth, previously
scoured, and completely wetted, is then immersed in
the dyeing liquor, and briskly turned for a few minutes.
Bv this process the colouring matter fixes on the cloth
SO quickly and equally, that after the liquor ^begins to
boil, the highest yellow may be produced 111 less than
1526o.UHi*gh shades of yellow, somewhat similar to
those obtained, from quercitron bark by the above pro¬
cess, are frequently given with young fustic (rhuscoti-
nus Lin.) and dyers spirit, or mtro-iquriate ot tin ; but
this colour is much less beautiful and permanent, while
it is more expensive than what is obtained from the
261. Bright golden Yellow.——-Thi? colour is proda-
3,
ced by employing 10 pounds of bark for every 100 lbs. ofSir.
of cloth, the bark being first boiled a few minutes, and Colo,]
then adding seven or eight lbs. of murio-sulphate ot tin,
with about five pounds of alum. Phe cloth is to be
dyed in the same manner as in the process for the
orange yellow.
262. Bright yellows of less body are produced by
employing a smaller proportion of bark, as well as
by diminishing the quantity of murio-sulphate of tin
and alum. And indeed every variety of shade of pure
bright yellow may be given by varying the proportions
of the ingredients.
263. To produce the lively delicate green shade, For g-J,
which, for certain purposes, is greatly admired, the ad^hyd ,
dition of tartar, with the other ingredients, only is ne¬
cessary, and the tartar must be added in different pro¬
portions, according to the shade which is wanted. For
a full bright yellow, delicately inclining to the greenish
tinge, it will be proper to employ eight pounds of bark,
six of murio-sulphate of tin, with six of alum, and tour
of tartar. An additional proportion of alum and tar¬
tar renders the yellow more delicate, and inclines it
more to the green shade j but when this lively green
shade is wanted in the greatest perfection, the ingredi¬
ents must be used in equal proportions. The delicate
green lemon yellows are seldom required to have much
fulness or body. Ten pounds of bark, therefore, with
an equal quantity of the other ingredients, are sufficient
to d\e three or four hundred pounds of stufls *. . *Banc !,
264. To produce the exquisitely delicate and beauti-3£ §
ful pale green shades, the surest method, Dr Bancroft n |
observes, is to boil the hark with a small proportion ofloWi ':
water, in a separate tin vessel for six or eight minutes,
and then to add the murio-sulphate of tin, alum, and
tartar, and to boil them together for about fifteen mi¬
nutes. A small quantity of this yellow liquor is then
to be put into a dyeing vessel, which has been previ¬
ously supplied with water sufficiently heated. The
ture being properly stirred, the dyeing process is to be
conducted in the usual way, and the yellow liquor,'as
it is wanted, gradually added from the first vessel. In
this way, the most delicate shades of lively I
mon yellows are dyed with ease and certainty. Weld
is the only dye-stuff from which similar shades of colour
can be obtained *, hut it is four times more expensive.
The yellows dyed from quercitron hark, Dr Bancroft
adds, with murio-sulphate of tin and alum as mordants,
do not exceed the expence of one penny for each pound
of stuff-, besides a considerable saving of time, labour>fjai,
and fuelf. , , Verdij1
265. A greenish shade may also be produced witn-
out tartar, by substituting verdigrise dissolved in vine-urU,,
gar, along with the bark j but it is neither so perma¬
nent, nor so bright and delicate, as that produced by
means of tartar. Sulphate of indigo also, in very small
proportion, communicates a similar shade, when it is
employed with the bark, murio-sulphate of tin, and
alum but it is apt to take unequally on the stuff, and
besides, in the language of the dyers, the colour has a
tendency to cast ox fly in the finishing.
266. Small proportions of cochineal, employed alongCocbtf r
with the bark and other ingredients, raise the c°’our t0““pioj
a beautiful orange, and even to an aurora. Madder
may be also employed with the same view, 'or *
heightens the yellow obtained from quercitron^hark.
[ ill). I.
;c -fs
rc quer-
(j mple al^oug1’ the colour thus obtained is inferior in beauty
jurs. to that from cochineal. The madder may also be em*
uw—' ployed with weld for the same purpose f.
iCr0.A 267. The colours obtained from quercitron bark, by
15 the processes which we have now described, are very
durable. They resist the action of the air, of soap, and
it 1 bark of acids. It is by the effects of alum, but especially
ei Jur- 0f tartar, that these colours become, so fixed as to
remain permanent by exposure to the air. It is obser¬
ved of the highest yellows, even when they approach
to the orange, and which are best dyed, either
with muriate or murio-sulphate of tin and bark, that
although they resist the action of soap and acids, they
are apt to lose their lustre and become brown by'the ef¬
fect of the sun and air j but this also happens to yellows
dyed with nitro-muriate of tin, both with the bark and
with weld, but in a still greater degree with other yel¬
low vegetable colouring matters. In some of these this
defect is less easily obviated by alum and tartar, than
it is in the yellow obtained from weld and quercitron
M 35 ;.bark *.
dyeing.
455
III.
Of the Processes for Dyeing Silk Yellow.
Ht veld. 268. To dye silk a plain yellow colour, the only in¬
gredient which was formerly employed is weld. The
following is the process. I he silk being previously
scoured in the proportion of 20 lbs. of soap to the 100
of stuff, and then alumed and washed after thealuming,
or, as it is called, refreshed, the bath is prepared with
two pounds of weld for every pound of silk 5 and, ha¬
ving boiled for 15 minutes, it is to be passed into a vat
through a sieve or cloth. When the temperature is
such as the hand can bear, the silk is introduced, and
turned, until it has acquired a uniform colour. While
this operation is going on, the weld is to be boiled a
second time in fresh water; one half of the first bath is
taken out, and its place supplied with a fresh decoction.
The temperature of the fresh bath may be a little high¬
er than the former, but it is necessary to guard against
too great a degree of heat, that the colouring matter
already fixed may not be dissolved. The stuff is to be
turned as before, and afterwards taken out of the bath.
A quantity of soda is to be dissolved in a part of the
second decoction, and a larger or smaller proportion of
this solution is to be added to the bath, according to
the intensity of the shade required. When the silk has
been turned a few times, a skain is wrung out, that it
may be examined whether the colour be sufficiently full,
and have the proper golden shade. To render the co-
'1Lp_lour deeper, and to give it the gold cast, an addition
!ol(, the alkaline solution is to be made to the bath, and
to be repeated till the shade has acquired sufficient in¬
tensity. The alkaline solution may also be added along
with the second decoction of the weld, observing the
precaution, that the temperature of the bath be never
too great.
269. To produce other shades of yellow, having
more of a gold or jonquille colour, a quantity of a-
nolta, proportioned to the shade required, is to be add¬
ed to the bath, along with the alkali. Lighter shades
of yellow, such as pale lemon, or Canary-bird colour,
are obtained, by previously whitening the'silk, and re¬
gulating the proportion of ingredients in the bath by
the shade required. To communicate a yellow having
a tinge of green, a little indigo is added to the bath, if
the silk has not been previously azured. To prevent nrc. , '
the intensity of the shade from being too great, The silk "f'lP
may be more slightly alumed than usual. . ’ ^
27°. But according to Dr Bancroft, the different A cheaper
shades, ot yellow obtained from weld, may be given to Pl'oces;s'
silk with equal facility and beauty, and at a cheaper
rate, by employing quercitron bark as a substitute. A
quantity of bark powdered and enclosed in a bag in
proportion to the shade of colour wanted, as from one
to two pounds for every twelve pounds of silk, is put
into the dyeing vat while the water is cold. Heat is
then applied j and when it has become rather more than
blood warm, or of the temperature of ioo°, the silk
having previously undergone the aluming process, is to
be immersed and dyed in the usual way. If a deep
shade ,s wanted, a small quantity of chalk or pearl-
ashes may be added towards the end of the operation,
lo produce a more lively yellow, a small proportion of
mum-sulphate ol tin may be employed ; but it should
be cautiously used, as it is apt to diminish the lustre of
the silk, lo produce such a shade, the proportions of
the ingredients may be four pounds of bark, three of
alum, and two of murio-sulphate of tin. These are to be
boiled with a proper quantity of water for ten or fif¬
teen minutes j and the temperature of the liquid being
so much reduced as the hand can bear it, the silk is im¬
mersed and dyed as usual, till it has acquired the pro¬
per colour. Care should be taken to keep the liquor
constantly agitated, that the colouring matter mav be
equally diffused *. ' * Ibid.
271. lo dye silk of an aurora or orange colour, af-Foran
being properly scoured, it may be immersed in an orange co-
alkaline solution of anotta, the strength of which is tolour-
be regulated by the shade required ; and the tempera¬
ture of the bath should be between tepid and boiling
water. When the desired shade has been obtained, the
silks are to be washed and twice beetled, to free them
from the superfluous colouring matter, which would in¬
jure the beauty ot the colour. When raw silk is to be
dyed, that which is naturally white should be selected,
and the bath should be nearly cold j for otherwise the
alkali, by dissolving the gum of the silk, destroys its
elasticity. Silk is dyed of an orange shade with anot¬
ta, but the stufls must be reddened with vinegar, alum,
or lemon juice. The acid, by saturating the alkali
employed to dissolve the anotta, destroys the yellow
shade produced by the alkali, and restores its natural
colour, which inclines to a red. But although beautiful
colours are obtained by this process, they do not possess
any great degree of permanency.
272. Several kinds of mushrooms afford lively andy ]iow
durable yellow dyes. A bright shining dye of this de-from mush-
sci iption has been extracted from the boletus hirsutus^o^ms.
which commonly' grows on walnut and apple trees.
The colouring matter is contained both in the tubular
part, and also in the parenchyma of the body of the
mushroom. lo extract the colouring matter, it is
pounded in a mortar, and the liquor which is thus ob¬
tained, is boiled for a quarter of an hour in water. An
ounce of liquor is sufficient to communicate colouring
matter to six pounds of water. After the liquor has
been strained, the stuff to be dyed is immersed in it,
and boiled for fifteen minutes. When silk is subjected
to this process, after being dyed, it is made to pass
through a bath of soft soap, by which it acquires a shin-
3 1 2 ing
43s .
Of Simple golden yellow colour, which has a near resemblance
Colours, to the yellow of the silk employed to imitate embroi-
' v 1 clery in gold. This has been hitherto brought from
China, and bears a very high price, the method of dye¬
ing it being unknown in Europe. All kinds of stuff
receive this colour, but it is less bright on linen and
cotton, and seems to have the strongest affinity for silk.
Th e use of mordants, it is supposed, would modify and
improve it greatly *.
ioo. IV, Of i/te Processes for Dyeing; Cotton and Linen
'Yellow.
Processes 273- The process which has been usually followed
with weld, in dyeing cotton and linen yellow, is by scouring it in
a bath prepared in a ley with the ashes of green wood.
It is afterwards washed, dried, and alumed, with one-
fourth of its weight of alum. After 24 hours, it is ta¬
ken out of the aluming, and dryed, but without being
washed. The cotton is then dyed in a weld bath, in
the proportion of one pound and a quarter of weld for
each pound of cotton, and turned in the bath till it
lias acquired the proper colour. After being taken out
of the bath, it is soaked for an hour and a half in a so¬
lution of blue vitriol (sulphate of copper), in the propor¬
tion of one-fourth of the weight of the cotton, and then
immersed, without washing, for nearly an hour, in a
boiling solution of white soap, after which it is rvell
washed and dried.
For a deep- 274. A deeper yellow is communicated to cotton,
cr yellow omitting the process of aluming, and employing two
pounds and a half of weld for each pound of cotton.
To this is added a dram of verdigrise, mixed with part
of the bath. The cotton is then to be dipped and work¬
ed till the colour become uniform. It is then taken
out of the bath, that a little solution of soda may be
added, after which it is returned, and kept for fifteen
minutes. It is then wrung out and dried,
and other 275. Other shades of yellow may be obtained, by
shades. varying the proportion of ingredients. Thus, a lemon
colour is dyed by using only one pound of weld for
f Berthol- every pound of cotton, and by diminishing the propor-
iet, ii. *67. tJon 0f verdigrise, or using alum as a substitute f.
Cheaper 276. But a better method, as it affords more perma-
and more nent an(| more beautiful colours, and at a smaller ex-
e*k>ur"ent pence, is recommended by Dr Bancroft. This is by
the use of quercitron bark, and the calico printers alu¬
minous mordant, or the sugar of lead. The following
is the. process which he proposes to employ, for produ¬
cing bright and durable yellow colours. One pound
of sugar of lead, and three pounds of alum, are to be
dissolved in a sufficient quantity of warm water. The
cotton or linen, after being properly rinsed, is to be
soaked in this mixture, heated to the temperature of
100°, for two hours. It is then taken out, moderately
pressed over a vessel, to prevent the waste of the alumi¬
nous liquor. It is then dried in a stove heat, and
after being again soaked in the aluminous solution, it
is wrung out and dried a second time. Without being
rinsed, it is to be barely wetted with lime water, and
afterwards dried, and if a full, bright, and durable^
yellow is wanted, it may be necessary to soak the stuff
in the diluted aluminous mordant, and after drying, to
wet it a second time with lime water. After it has
been soaked for the last time, it should be well rinsed
in clean water, to separate the loose particles of the
Part ,
mordant, which might injure the application of the co- QfSir]r
louring matter. By the use of the lime-water, a great- t'olou
er proportion of alumina combines with the stuff, be- '-"'■-v'l
sides the addition of a certain proportion ol lime.
277. In the preparation of the dyeing bath, from 12 t)yein j!
to 18 lbs. of powdered quercitron bark are inclosed in
a bag for every 100 lbs. of the stuff, varying the pro¬
portion according to the intensity of the shade desired.
The bark is put into the water while it is cold j and
immediately after, the stud is immersed and agitated
or turned for an hour, or an hour and a half, during
which the water should be gradually heated, and the
temperature raised to about 1 20°. At the end of this
time the heat is increased, and the dyeing liquor
brought to a boiling temperature j but at this tempera*
ture the stuff must remain in it only for a few minutes,
because otherwise the yellow assumes a brownish shade.
The stuff having thus acquired a sufficient colour, is
taken out, rinsed and dried.
278. Dr Bancroft observes, that when the alumi-Adtant
nous mordant is employed, without the addition of wa-ofadili
ter, one soaking only, and an immersion in lime water,raorch,r
may be sufficient •, but he thinks that greater advan¬
tage is derived from the application of a more diluted
mordant at two different times, or even by the immer¬
sion of the stuff a greater number of times, alternately
in the diluted aluminous mordant, and lime water, and
drying it after each immersion. By this treatment he
found, that the colour always acquired more body and
durability.
279. Chaptal has proposed a process, for comma-Nanke
nicating to cotton a nankeen yellow, which at they6'10"
same time that it affords a durable colour, has the
advantage of being cheap and simple. When cotton
is immersed in a solution of any salt of iron, it has so
strong an affinity for the oxide, that it decomposes the
salt, combines with the iron, and assumes a yellow co¬
lour. The process recommended by Chaptal is the fol¬
lowing. The cotton to be dyed is put into a cold so¬
lution of copperas (sulphate of iron) of the specific gra¬
vity 1.02. It is afterwards wrung out, and immedi¬
ately immersed in a ley of potash of the specific gravity
1.01. This ley must have been previously saturated
with a solution of alum. When the stuff has been kept
for four or five hours in this bath, it may be taken out,
washed and dried. By varying the proportion of sul¬
phate of iron, every variety of shade of nankeentyellow
may be obtained.
280. We shall lay before our readers another pro-Byano
cess for dyeing nankeen colour, which is proposed andProcCSS
followed by Mr Brewer, a practical dyer. It is as
follows.
“ Mix as much sheep’s dung in clear water as will
make it appear of the colour of grass j and dissolve in
clear water one pound of best white soap for every ten
pounds of cotton yarn, or in that proportion for a great¬
er or lesser quantity.
“ Observe :—The tubs, boards, and poles, that are
used in the following preparations must be made of
deal ; the boiling pan of either iron or copper.
First Operation.—“ Pour the soap liquor prepared
as above into the boiling pan ; strain the dung liquor
through a sieve ; add as much thereof to the soap li¬
quor in the pan as will be sufficient to boil the yarn,
intended to be dyed, for five hours. When the liquors
are
DYEING.
pap. I*
Simple are well mixed in the pan, enter the yarn, light the
|,(lours, fire under the pan, and bring the liquor to boil in about
''Y——' two hours, observing to increase the heat regularly du¬
ring that period. Continue it boiling for three hours ;
then take the yarn out of the pan, wash it, wring it,
and hang it in a shed on poles to dry. When dry,
take it into a stove or other room where there is afire;
let it hang there until it be thoroughly dry.
N. B. “ The cotton yarn, when in the shed, should
not be exposed either to the rain or sun : if it is, it will
be unequally coloured when dyed.
Second Operation.—“ In this operation use only one
half of the soap that was used in the last, and as much
dung liquor (strained as before directed) as will be suf¬
ficient to cover the cotton yarn, when in the pan, about
two inches. When these liquors are well mixed in the
pan, enter the yarn, light the fire, and bring the li¬
quor to boil in about one hour ; then take the yarn out,
wring it out without washing, and hang it to dry as in
the former operation.
Third Operation.—“ This operation the same as the
second in every respect.
Fourth Operation.—“ For every ten pounds of yarn
make a clear ley from half a pound of pot or pearl-
ashes. Pour the ley into the boiling-pan, and add as
much clear water as will be sufficient to boil the yarn
for two hours ; then enter the yarn, light the fire, and
bring it to boil in about an hour. Continue it boil¬
ing about an hour, then take the yarn out, wash it very
well in clear water, wring it, and hang it to dry as in
former operations.
N. B. “ This operation is to cleanse the yarn from
any oleaginous matter that may remain in it after boil¬
ing in the soap and dung liquors.
Fifth Operatmi.—“ To every gallon of iron li¬
quor (k) add half a pound of ruddle or red chalk (the
last the best) well pulverized.
“ Mix them well together, and let the liquor stand
four hours, in order that the heavy particles may sub¬
side ; then pour the clear liquor into the boiling-pan,
and bring it to such a degree of heat as a person can
well bear his hand in it; divide the yarn into small
parcels, about five hanks in each ; soak each parcel or
handful very well in the above liquor, wring it, and
lay it down on a clean deal board. When all the yarn
is handed through the liquor, the last handful must be
taken up and soaked in the liquor a second time,
and every other handful in succession till the whole is
gone through ; then lay the yarn down in a tub, where¬
in there must be put a sufficient quantity of ley made
from pot or pearl-ashes, as will cover it about six inches.
Let it lie in this state about two hours, then hand it
over in the ley, wring it, and lay it down on a clean
board. If it does not appear sufficiently deep in co¬
lour, this operation must be repeated till it has acquired
a sufficient degree of darkness of colour : this done, it
must be hung to dry as in former operations.
N. B. “ Any degree of red or yellow hue may be
given to the yarn by increasing or diminishing the
quantity of ruddle or red chalk.
Sixth Operation.—“ For every ten pounds of yarn
DYEING.
43
make a ley from half a pound of pot or pearl-ashes ; Of Simp]
pour the clear ley into the boiling pan : add a sufficient Colours,
quantity of water thereto that will cover the yarn about
lour inches ; light the fire, and enter the yarn when
the liquor is a little warm ; observe to keep it constant¬
ly under the liquor lor two hours; increase the heat re¬
gularly till it come to a scald; then take the yarn out,
wash it, and hang it to dry as in former operations.
. Seventh Operation.—“ Make a sour liquor of oil of
vitriol and water : the degree of acidity may be a little
less than the juice ol lemons ; lay the yarn in it for a-
bout an hour, then take it out, wash it very well and
wring it; give it a second washing and wringing, and
lay it upon a board.
N. B. “ This operation is to dissolve the metallic
particles, and remove the ferruginous matter that re¬
mains on the surface of the thread after the fifth opera¬
tion.
Eighth Operation.—“ For every ten pounds of yarn
dissolve one pound of best white soap in clear water,
and add as much water to this liquor in your boiling-
pan as will be sufficient to boil the yarn for two hours.
When these liquors are well mixed, light the fire, en¬
ter the yarn, and bring the liquor to boil in about an
hour. Continue it boiling slowly an hour ; take it out,
wash it in clear water very well, and hang if to dry as
in former operations : when dry, it is ready for the
weaver.
N. B. “ It appears to me, from experiments that* 1
have made, that less than four operations in the prepa¬
ration of the yarn will not be sufficient to cleanse the
pores of the fibres of the cotton, and render the, colour# Edin*
permanent Mag.xxu.
281. A method of dyeing cotton and linen a durable Process fol-
yellow colour is practised in the east. The object of lowed in
this process, which is tedious, is to increase the affinity ^ie east’
between the alumina and the stuff, so that it may ad¬
here with sufficient force to produce a permanent co¬
lour. For this purpose three mordants are employed:
these are oil, tan, and alum. The cotton is soaked in
a bath of oil, mixed with a weak solution of soda.
Animal oil, as it is found to answer best, is preferred.
Glue has also been tried, and is found to answer very
well. The soda must be in the caustic state, for in that
state it combines with the oil, and produces on the
cloth an equal absorption. The stuff is then to be
washed, and afterwards put into an infusion of nut-galls
of the white kind, and the infusion should be used hot.
The tan combines with the oil, while the gallic acid
carries off any portion of alkali which may adhere to
the cloth. When the stuff is removed from the bath,
it should be quickly dried ; and too great an excess of
galls beyond a proper proportion with the oil should be
avoided, as it is apt to darken the shade of colour.
After this preparation the stuff is to be immersed in a
solution of alum ; and in consequence of the affinity
which exists between tan and alumina, the alum is de¬
composed, and its earth combines with the tan. After
these preliminary steps, the cotton is to be dyed with
quercitron bark, according to the process which has
been already described.
Sect,
(k) Iron liqnor is what the linen-printers use.
a
438
Of Simple
Colouis.
DYEING.
Sect. III. Of Blue.
Indigo.
* Lib. xxxv.
introduced
into Eu¬
rope.
Three spe¬
cies.
Method of
preparing
indigo.
282. Tiie next of the simple colours is blue. We
shall first treat of the substances which are employed in
dyeing blue, and then describe the processes which are
followed in fixing this colour.
I. Of the Substances ivhich are employed in Dyeing Blue.
The only substances which are used in dyeing blue,
are indigo and woad.
283. Indigo was not used for the purpose of dyeing
in Europe till near the middle of the 16th century. A
substance is mentioned by Pliny *, which was brought
from India, and termed indicum, which seems to have
been the same as the indigo of the moderns j hut it does
not appear that either the Greeks or the Romans knew
how to dissolve indigo, or its use in dyeing, although it
was applied as a paint. It was, however, long before
known as a dye in India. The first indigo which was
employed for the purpose of dyeing by Europeans, was
brought by the Dutch from India. One of the species
of the plant from which it is obtained, was discovered
by the Portuguese in Brazil, where it grows spontane¬
ously, as well as in other parts of America. Being
afterwards successfully cultivated in Mexico, and some
islands of the West Indies, the whole of the indigo em-
ployed in Europe was supplied from these countries.
The indigo from the East Indies has, however, of late
recovered its character, and is imported into Britain in
considerable quantities.
284. There are three species of the indigo plant,
which are usually cultivated in America. The first is
the indigofera tinctoria, Linn, which besides being a
smaller and less hardy plant, is inferior to the others
on account of its pulp •, but as it yields a greater pro¬
portion, it is generally preferred. The second is the
indigofera disperma^ Linn, or Guatimala indigo plant.
This is a taller and hardier plant, and affords a pulp
of a superior quality to the former. The third is the
indigofera argentea, Linn, which is the hardiest of the
three species j yields a pulp of the finest quality,
though in smallest proportion.
283. When the indigo plant has arrived at ma¬
turity, it is cut a few inches above the ground, dis¬
posed in strata in a large vessel or steeper, and being
kept down with hoards, is covered with water ; and in
this state it is left to ferment till the pulp is extracted.
The process4commences by the evolution of heat, and
the emission of a great quantity of carbonic acid gas.
When the fermentation has continued for a sufficient
length of time, which is known by the tops becoming
tender and pale, the liquor, which is now of a green
colour, is drawn off into large flat vessels, called beaters,
where it is agitated with buckets, or other convenient
apparatus, till blue flocculae begin to appear. To pro¬
mote the granulation or separation of the flocculse, it is
usual to add clear lime water till the liquor in which
they are suspended become quite colourless. The li¬
quor being sufficiently impregnated with the lime water,
is left at rest, to allow the particles of the colouring
matter to precipitate •, after which the supernatant li¬
quor is drawn ofl, and the sediment collected into linen
bags, which are suspended for some time to let the wa¬
ter drain off. It is then put into square boxes, or
Part II
formed into lumps and dried in the shade. The indigo ofSbpln
thus prepared is in a state fit for the market. Colours,
286. The indigo which is produced in this opera-h—v—k
tion differs greatly, not only according to the quality
of the plant from which it is obtained, but according to^1
the mode of preparation. But the difference of quan¬
tity seems to depend entirely on the heterogeneous sub¬
stances with which it is mixed, and on the degree of
consistence which it has acquired in drying. The light¬
est kind, which is brought from Guatimala, is called
light indigo ; it is of a fine blue colour, and is the most
valuable, because it is of the finest quality. Indigo ex¬
hibits various shades of colour, which is also owing to
the mixture of foreign substances. The most common
shades are blue, violet, and copper colour.
287. Other plants have also been discovered, which Is obDineij
by a process somewhat similar, afford indigo, and in from other |
particular the nerium tinctorium, or rose bay, an ac-re¬
count of which, with the method of manufacturing in¬
digo from its leaves, has been given by Dr Roxburgh.
This tree grows in great abundance in different parts
of the East Indies j and plantations of it, raised from
seeds, have succeeded well in Bengal. The leaves of
the nerium afford indigo, not only when they are fresh
gathered, but also when they are nearly dried} but
they yield the best indigo after being kept a day or
two. The leaves collected the preceding day are put
into a copper, so as nearly to fill it without pressing.
The copper is filled with water till within three inches
of the top ; and hard spring water, which increases the
quantity of indigo, and improves its quality, is pre¬
ferred. The fire is then applied, and kept up, till the
liquid becomes of a green colour in the vessel. The
leaves then become of a yellowish colour, and the heat
of the liquor about 150°, or 1600. The leaves should
be constantly agitated, that they may be equally heat¬
ed, as well as to promote the operation, by the expul¬
sion of the carbonic acid gas. When the process exhi¬
bits the above appearances, the liquor is to be drawn
off, passed through a hair-cloth, and agitated while hot
in the usual way, till granulation takes place, or the
appearance of blue flakes is observed. About -^th part
of strong lime water is then added, to promote the pre¬
cipitation of the indigo, and the remaining part of the
process is similar to that described above, for the ma¬
nufacture of indigo from indigofera f. . \Bancroft
288. The object of the processes which are followed 417.
in the manufacture of indigo, is to extract from the Nature 0.
plants which yield it, a green substance, which is S0|^'stanees a
ble in water. This substance, which has a strong affi-tractedf
nity for oxygen, gradually attracts it from the air, be¬
comes of a blue colour, and is then insoluble in water.
This absorption is greatly promoted by agitation, for
then a greater surface is exposed to the action of the
air •, and the lime water, by combining with carbonic
acid, which exists in the green,'tmatter, also promotes
the separation of the indigo.
289. Indigo is insoluble in water, alcohol, ether, pr0pfrtjti
and oils, and the only acids which produce any effect 0findig«'
upon it, are the sulphuric and nitric. By the latter it
is soon changed to a dirty white colour, and is at last
entirely decomposed. When the acid is concentrated,
the indigo is inflamed $ but when it is diluted, the in¬
digo becomes brown, and crystals like those of oxalic
0 ‘ and
ill Rap. I.
i 'Simple and tartarous acids make their appearance : and when
Hours, the acids and crystals are washed off, there remains be-
dyeing.
439
bind a kind of resinous matter. Sulphuric acid in the
concentrated state dissolves indigo, with the evolution
of a great deal of heat. The solution is opaque and
black, but when diluted with water, it changes to a
deep blue colour. Dr Bancroft has denominated this
solution sulphate of indigo, which has been long known
by the name of liquid blue. The fixed alkalies in the
state of carbonate precipitate slowly from sulphate of
indigo, a blue coloured powder, which has the proper¬
ties of indigo, but is found to be soluble in most of the
acids and alkalies. Pure alkalies destroy the colour of
sulphate of indigo, as well as that which is precipi¬
tated.
29c. Indigo is employed in dyeing, both in the state
of liquid blue, or sulphate of indigo, from which is ob¬
is »p!oy-
ed (dye-
ltw0 tained the beautiful colour called Saxon blue; and also
in the state of simple indigo, or the indigo of com¬
merce. Ln dyeing with indigo, it must be reduced to
the state of the green matter as it exists in the plants,
or when it is first extracted from them. It must be de¬
prived of the oxygen, to the combination of which the
blue colour is owing. In this state it becomes soluble
in water by means of the alkalies. To effect this se¬
paration of the oxygen, the indigo must be mixed with
a solution of some substance which has a stronger affi¬
nity for oxygen than the green matter of indigo. Such
substances are green oxide of iron and metallic sulphu-
rets. Lime, green sulphate of iron, and indigo, are
mixed together in water, and during this mixture the
indigo is deprived of its blue colour, becomes green,
and is dissolved, while the green oxide of iron, is con¬
verted into the red oxide. In this process, part of the
lime decomposes the sulphate of iron, and as the green
oxide is set at liberty, it attracts oxygen from the in¬
digo, and reduces it to the state of green matter, which
is immediately dissolved by the action of the rest of the
lime. Indigo is also deprived of its oxygen, and pre¬
pared for dyeing, by another process. Some vegetable
matter is added to the indigo mixed with water, with
the view of exciting fermentation j and quicklime or an
alkali is added to the solution, that the indigo, as it is
converted into the green matter, may be dissolved.
291. Another plant, known under the name of pastel
or wood (fsatis tinctoi'id), is employed for dyeing blue.
Another species (isatis lusitanica), which is a smaller
plant, is also employed in dyeing. The isatis tinctoria
is cultivated in France and in England. When the
plant has reached maturity, it is cut down, washed in a
river, and speedily dried in the sun. It is then ground
in a mill, and reduced into a paste, which is formed into
heaps, covered up to protect them from the rain, and
at the end of a fortnight, the heap is opened to mix
the whole well together. It is afterwards formed into
round balls, which are exposed to the wind and sun,
that the moisture may be separated, The balls are
heaped upon one another, become gradually hot, and
exhale the smell of ammonia. To promote the fer¬
mentation, which is stronger in proportion to the quantity-
heaped up, and the temperature of the season, the
heap is to be sprinkled with water till it falls down in
the state of coarse powder, in which state it appears in
commerce. The blue colour obtained from woad is
very permanent, but has little lustre. But its colour
is not only inferior in beauty to that obtained from in- Of Simple
igo 5 it afiords also a smaller proportion of colouring Colours,
matter, so that since the discovery of indigo, the use of -y—
woad has diminished.
II. Of the Processes for Dyeing JFool Blue.
292. The preparation for dyeing blue is made in a Preparation
large wooden vessel or vat, which should be so construct-the vat.
ed as to retain the heat, which is a matter of considerable
importance in the process. The vat is therefore set up
in a separate place from the coppers, and is sunk so far
in the ground as to be only breast high above it. Be-
foie the introduction of indigo, blue was dyed with
woad, which furnished a permanent, but not a deep
colour j but a very rich blue is obtained by mixing in¬
digo with the woad, and these are almost the only sub¬
stances which are now employed for dyeing woollen
stuffs. The proportions of these substances are varied
by different dyers, and according to the shade which is
required. The following is the account of the pre¬
paration of a vat, as it is given by Quatremere. Into
a vat of about seven and a half feet deep, and five and
a half in diameter, are thrown two balls of pastel or woad,
which are previously broken, and together amount to
about 400 pounds weight; 30 pounds of weld are boil¬
ed in a copper for three hours, in a sufficient quantity
of water, to fill the vat. To this decoction are added
20. pounds of madder and a basket full of bran. The
boiling is then continued half an hour longer. This
bath is cooled with 20 buckets of water, and after it is
settled, and the weld taken out, it is poured into the
vat, which must be stirred with a rake all the time
that.it is running in, and for 15 minutes longer. The
vat is then covered up very hot, and allowed to stand
for six hours, when it is uncovered, and raked again
for 30 minutes. The same operation must be repeated
every three hours. When the appearance of blue
streaks is perceived on the surface of the vat, eight or
nine pounds of quicklime are added j the colour then
becomes of a deeper blue, and the vat exhales more
pungent vapours. Immediately after the lime, or along
with it, the indigo, which has been previously ground,
in a mill, with the smallest possible quantity of water,
is put into the vat. The quantity is to be regulated
by the intensity of the shade required. From ten to
thirty pounds may be put into a vat such as we have
now described. If on Btriking the vat with a rake, a
fine blue scum arises, no other previous preparation is
required than to stir it with the rake twice in the spac$
of six hours, to mix the ingredients completely. Great,
care should be taken not to expose the vat to the air,
except during the time of stirring it. When that ope¬
ration is finished, it is covered with a wooden lid, on
which are spread thick cloths, to retain the heat as
much as possible ; but after all these precautions, at the
end of eight or ten days it is greatly diminished, and is
at last enth’ely dissipated, so that the liquor must be
again heated, by pouring the greater part of the liquor,
of the vat into a copper under which a large fire
is made. When the liquor has acquired a sufficient
temperature, it is returned into the vat, and carefully
covered up.
293. Vats of this description are sometimes liable tOAccidcnu
accidents. A vat is said to be repelled, when having to which
previously afforded fine shades of blue, it appearsthe vat is
black,
Colours.
Means of
obviating
them,
and re-
medjing
putrefac¬
tion.
440 D Y E
ot Simple black, tvlthout any blue streaks j and if it be stirred,
the black colour becomes deeper j the vat at the same
time exhales, instead of a sweetish smell, a pungent
odour •, and the stuff dyed in a vat in this state, comes
out of a dirty gray colour. These effects are ascribed
to an excess of lime.
294. Different means are employed to recover a re¬
pelled vat. Some are satisfied with merely reheating
it; while others add tartar, bran, urine, or madder.
Hellot recommends bran and madder as the best re¬
medy. If the excess of lime be not very great, it is
sufficient to leave it at rest five or six hours, putting in
a quantity of bran and three or four pounds ot madder,
which are to be sprinkled on the surface, and then it
is to be covered up, and after a certain interval, to be
tried again. But if the vat has been so far repelled as
to afford a blue only when it is cold, it must be lett at
rest to recover, and sometimes must remain whole days
without being stirred with the rake. When it begins
to afford a tolerable pattern, the bath must be reheated.
In general, this revives the fermentation. The addi¬
tion of bran or madder, or a basket or two of fresh woad,
produces the same effect.
295. This vat sometimes runs into the putrefactive
process. When this happens, the colour of the vat be¬
comes reddish, the paste rises from the bottom, and a
fetid smell is exhaled. This accident is owing to a de¬
ficiency of lime, and it must be corrected by adding
a fresh quantity. The vat is then to be raked ; after
two hours more lime is added, and the process of raking
again performed. These operations are to be repeated
till the vat is recovered.
Precautions 296. Nothing requires more attention in treating a
in the use Vat of this kind, than the distribution of the lime, the
principal use of which is to moderate the tendency to
putrefaction, and to limit the fermentation to that de¬
gree which is necessary to deprive the indigo of its oxy¬
gen. If too much lime be added, the necessary fer¬
mentation is retarded, and if there be too little, the
putrefactive process commences.
297. Two hours previous to the dyeing operation,
the vat should be raked } and to prevent the stuff com¬
ing in contact with the sediment, which would produce
inequalities in the colour, a cross of wood is introduced.
The stuff is then to be completely wetted with pure
water a little heated; and being wrung out, it is dip¬
ped into the vat, where it is moved about for a longer
or a shorter time, according to the depth ot shade re¬
quired. During this operation it is taken out occasion¬
ally, to be exposed to the air, the action of which is
necessary to change the green colour of the bath into a
blue. Stuffs dyed blue in this manner must be care¬
fully washed, to carry off the loose particles of colour¬
ing matter •, and when the shade of blue is deep, they
ought even to be cleansed, by fulling with soap. This
operation does not alter the colour. _
298. When a vat is prepared entirely of indigo,
without pastel or woad, it is called an indigo vat. Ihe
vessel employed for this purpose is of copper, into which
water is poured according to its capacity, to the amount
of 40 buckets, in which have been boiled six pounds of
potash, twelve ounces of madder, and six pounds of
bran. Six pounds of indigo ground in water are then
put in, and after it has been carefully raked, the vat is
to be covered. A slow fire is to be kept up. and
I N G. Part II
twelve hours after it is filled, it is to be raked a second Ot'Sin
of lime.
Dyeing-
process.
Indigo vat.
time. This operation is to be repeated every twelve
hours, till it come to a blue colour, which will gene¬
rally be the case in about 48 hours. II the bath is pro-
perly managed, it will be of a fine green, exhibiting
on the surface coppery scales, and a blue scum or
flower. In this vat the indigo is rendered soluble in
water, by means of the alkali instead of lime. The
dyeing operation is to be conducted in the same man¬
ner as the preceding.
299. Two vats have been described by Hellot, inHellot’s 1
which the indigo is dissolved by means of urine. Mad- vats.
der is added to it, and in the one vinegar, in the other
alum and tartar, of each a quantity equal in weight to
that of the indigo. The proportion of urine must be
considerable. In considering the theory of this process,
it seems probable that the indigo, deprived of its oxygen
by the urine and madder during the fermentation, is
dissolved by the ammonia which is formed in the urine.
When the solution of alum and tartar is added, an effer¬
vescence, which Hellot observed, is produced. This,
it is probable, has a tendency to retard or stop the pu¬
trefaction. But in vats of this description, operations
on a large scale cannot be carried on j they seem only
adapted for small dye-houses.
HI. Of the Processes for Dyeing Silk Bine.
300. Silk is dyed blue with indigo alone,.without any
proportion of woad. The proportion of indigo men-go.
tioned in the preparation of the indigo vat, and some¬
times a larger proportion, is employed, with six pounds
of bran, and about twelve ounces of madder. Accord¬
ing to Macquer, half a pound of madder for each pound
ofpotash, renders the vat greener, and produces a more
fixed colour in the silk. When the vat is come to, it
should be refreshed with two pounds of potash, and
three or four ounces of madder 5 and after being raked,
in the course of four hours it is fit for dyeing. The
temperature should be so moderated, that the hand may
be held in it without uneasiness.
301. The silk, after being boiled with soap, in the Prepara-
proportion of 30 pounds of soap to IOO of silk, andtion oftl«
well cleaned by repeated beetlings in a stream of water,8llkl
must he dyed in small portions, because it is apt to take
on an uneven colour. When it has been turned once
or oftener in the bath, it is wrung out, and exposed to
the air, that the green colour may change to a blue.
When the change is complete, it is thrown into clear
water, and afterwards wrung out. Silk dyed blue
should be speedily dried. In damp weather and in win¬
ter, it is necessary to conduct the drying in a chamber
heated by a stove. The silk should be hung on a
frame kept constantly in motion. To dye light shades,
some dyers employ vats that are somewhat exhausted:
but it ought to he observed, that the colour thus ob¬
tained is less beautiful and less permanent than when
fresh vats, containing a smaller quantity of indigo, are
employed. _ -
302. Some addition is required to be made to the porxmkf
indigo, to give silk a deep blue. A previous prepara-|,iue.
tion is necessary, by giving it another colour or ground.
For the Turkey blue, which is the deepest, a strong
hath of archil is first prepared. Cochineal is also some¬
times used, instead of archil, for the ground, to ren¬
der the colour more permanent. A blue is given t°
silk
s
( ap. I; D Y E I N G.
01*“^ S lJ nl™"’ of verdigrise and logwood, but possesses tained the desired shade
(li ars httle durability. It might be rendered more perma¬
nent, by giving it a lighter shade in this bath, then
dipping it in a bath of archil, and finally in the indigo
3°3* When raw silk is to be dyed blue, such as is
naturally white should be selected. Being previously
soaked in water, it is put into the bath in separate
hanks, as already directed for scoured silks ; and as
raw silk is found to combine more readily with the co¬
louring matter, the scoured silk, when it can be con¬
veniently done, should be first put into the bath. If
archil, or any of the other ingredients which have
been already mentioned, are required to give more in¬
tensity to the colour, the mode of application is the
same as that directed for scoured silk.
IV. Oft/ie Processes/or Dyeing Cotton and Linen Blue.
:e.^toni,304- For dyeing cotton and linen blue, Pileur
V[ • d Apligny recommends a vat containing about 120
gallons. From six to eight pounds of indigo, reduced
to powder, are boiled in a ley drawn off from a quan¬
tity of lime, equal in weight to the indigo, and a
quantity of potash double its weight. During the
boiling, which is to be continued till the indm0 is
completely penetrated with the ley, the solution must
be constantly stirred, to prevent the indigo from being
injured, by adhering to the bottom of the vessel.
3°5- during this process, another quantity of quick¬
lime, equal in weight to the indigo, is to be slaked.
Ivventy quarts of warm water are added, in which is
to be dissolved a quantity of copperas (sulphate of iron)
equal to twice the weight of the lime. The solution
being completed, it is poured into the vat, which is
previously half filled with water. To this the solution
ot indigo is added, with that part of the ley which
was not employed in the boiling. The vat must now
be filled up to within two or three inches of the top.
It must be raked twice or thrice a day till it is com¬
pletely prepared, which is generally the case in 48
hours, and sometimes sooner, as it depends on the tem¬
perature of the atmosphere. A small proportion of
bran, madder, and woad, is recommended by some, to
be added to such a vat as we have now described. ^
306. The process which is followed at Rouen, and
described by Quatremere, is simpler. The vats, which
are constructed pf a kind of flint, are coated within
and without with fine cement, and are arranged in one
or more parallel lines. Each vat contains four hogs-
heads of water. The indigo, to the amount of 18
or 20 pounds, being macerated for a week in a caustic
ley, strong enough to bear an egg, is ground in a
null ; three hogsheads and a half of water are put in¬
to the vat, and afterwards 20 pounds of lime. The
lime being thoroughly slaked, the vat is raked, and 36
pounds of copperas are added j and when the solution
is complete, the ground indigo is poured in through a
sieve. It is raked seven or eight times the same day,
and after being left at rest for 36 hours, it is in a state
nt tor dyeing.
307. In extensive manufactories, it is necessary to
nave vats set at different times. In conducting the pro-
cess,of dyeing, the stuffs are first dipped in the most
exhausted vat, and then regularly proceeding from the
weakest to the strongest, if they have not previouslvat-
VoL. VII. Part II. f
441
  stnfls should remain in OfSinmle
the bath only about five or six minutes, for in that time Colours,
they combine with all the colouring matter they can *v—
take up. After the stuffs have been dipped in a vat,
it should not be used again, till it has been raked, and
stood at least 24 hours, unless it has been lately set,
when a shorter period is sufficient.
. 3°8* Alter the stuffs have been dipped three or four
times m a vat, it begins to change. It becomes black,
and no blue or copper-coloured streaks are seen on the
surface after raking it. It must then be renewed, by
adding lour Jibs, of copperas, with two of quicklime,
a.ter which it must be raked twice. In this way a vat
may be renewed three or four times j hut the additional
quantity of ingredients must be diminished, as the
strength of the vat is exhausted *. *Be,thoL
. 3°9* A- vat which is still more simple and more ea-^’”' 9°’
sily prepared, has been recommended by Bergman,
ihe proportion of the ingredients which he has di-
rected to be employed, is the following. To three
drachms of indigo reduced to powder, three drachms
of copperas, and three of lime, add two pints of water.
Let it be well raked, and in the course of a few hours
it will be in a proper state for dyeing.
. i?10* FLuissmann employs a still smaller proportion of Hauss
indigo. lor 3000 libs, of water, he takes 36 lbs. 0fraann’s
quicklime slaked in 200 libs, of water, with which the
indigo in the proportion of from 10 to 20 libs, well ground,
is to be mixed. He then dissolves 30 libs, of copperas
^ water. The whole being left at rest
lor fifteen minutes, the vat is filled, and gently and
constantly stirred. When a deeper shade is wanted,
and particularly when linen is to be dyed, the propor¬
tion of indigo should be greater; but the shade depends
very much on the time the stuffs remain in the vat, and
the times it has been used. When the vat becomes
turbid, the process of dyeing must be interrupted, till
it has been again raked, and the supernatant liquor be¬
come transparent. If the effects of the lime fail, a new
quantity, fresh slaked, must be added j and if the iron
cease to produce the effect on the indigo, a new por¬
tion must be also added, observing the precaution to have
a greater quantity of lime than what is necessary to satu¬
rate the sulphuric acid. When the indigo seems to be ex¬
hausted, fresh portions ground in water are also to be ad¬
ded 5 the vat is to be raked several times, and allowed
to settle, after which it is again fit for use. In this way
Mr Haussmann informs us he preserved a vat for the
space of two years j and had it not been for the accumula¬
tion of sediment, which prevented the stuffs from being
immersed to a sufficient depth, it might have been conti¬
nued in use for a much longer time. It is worth while
to add, that Mr Haussmann found, that a pattern of cloth
dipped in water acidulated with sulphuric acid, imme¬
diately alter it was taken out of the bath, became of a
much deeper blue than a similar pattern exposed to the
air, or another dipped in river water.
311. Another convenient and expeditious vat is men¬
tioned by Bergman, and described by Scheffer. Indi¬
go reduced to fine powder, in the proportion of three
drachms to a quart, is added to the strong ley of the
soap boiler. After a few minutes, when the colouring
matter is well penetrated by the ley, six drachms of
powdered orpiment are to be added. In a few minutes
after the bath has been well raked, it becomes green,
3 K and
442 -D Y E
Of Simple and the blue streaks appear on the surface. Heat is
Colours, to be applied j when the operation ot dyeing may com-
» " mence. . ,
3x2. The preparation employed for printing cottons
is similar to the above bath, excepting in the propor¬
tions of orpiment and indigo, which are greater in the
former 5 but these proportions are very different in dif-
fex-ent manufactories.
313. Saxon Blue.—The colour which is obtained by
dyeing with a solution of indigo in sulphuric acid is
known under the name of Suxon blue^ because the pro¬
cess was first carried on at Grossenhayn in Saxony, by
Counsellor Barth, who made the discovery about the
year 1740. This discovery was for some time kept
secret, and the method seems to have been originally
very complicated. Alumina, antimony, and some other
substances, were previously added to the sulphuric acid.
These, however, are now omitted, and the indigo alone
is dissolved in the acid. ^
314. From a great number of experiments which
Discovery
of Saxon
blue.
Prepara- 3*4’ x ruin a yicm.   -- _ _
tion of the were matie on this process by Bergman, he concluded,
dye.
that in those cases where the sulphate of indigo afford
ed only a fading colour, the acid employed had been
too weak. Quatremere observes that, among several
processes for dyeing with sulphate of indigo, he disco¬
vered only two, in which the stuffs were completely
penetrated with colouring matter. To effect this, he
employed an alkali, in the proportion of one ounce to
an ounce of indigo, and six ounces of sulphuric acid.
With these proportions of the ingredients he obtained
a deep vivid blue, equally intense through every part
of the stuff. Poerner, who has paid great attention to
this preparation, also employs an alkali, by means of
which a more pleasing colour, which penetrates deeper,
is produced. The proportions which he recommends
are four parts of sulphuric acid to one of indigo. I he
indigo is first reduced to a fine powder, and the sulphu¬
ric acid, in the concentrated state, is poured upon it.
The mixture is stirred for some time, and having stood
twenty-four hours, one part of dry potash in fine pow¬
der, is added j and after the whole is again stirred, it
remains for twenty-four hours longer. It is then to be
diluted with eight times its weight of water, which
must be gradually added, or a greater or less proportion
as may be wanted.
Hr Bancroft seems to be of opinion, that a more du¬
rable blue may be obtained by diluting the acid with
an equal quantity of water, when the indigo is put in,
and allowing the mixture to remain forty-eight hours ;
for he thinks by this slower and more moderate action,
the basis of the indigo is less injured. Instead of the
potash employed by Poerner, Dr Bancroft uses chalk;
and even in such a quantity as to saturate the acid. In
this case the indigo is precipitated along with the
chalk } and, when collected into a solid mass, commu¬
nicates a blue colour to wool, but more slowly than by
the common method, in which the combination is very
* Phil, of rapid and the dyeing unequal. This inconvenience he
Perm. Col. thinks might be obviated by the use of chalk .
132. ojr To produce a Saxon blue colour on woollen
For wool- gtuffs they are prepared with alum and tartar. And
S‘ in proportion to the shade required, the quantity of so¬
lution of indigo put into the bath must be regulated.
When a deep shade of Saxon blue is wanted, the stuff
must be passed different times through vessels contain-
2
By Ban
«roft.
I N G. Part,
ing such a quantity of colouring matter as is sufficient Of Sit;
to give light colours. In this way, by repeated appli- Cok
cations, the colours become more uniform. 'T
316. The sulphate of indigo is also employed to dyeForiiH
silk. For this purpose, attempts have been made to
unite the advantages of the indigo vat and its solu¬
tion in sulphuric acid. A process of this kind is
greatlv recommended by Guhliche, which produces
beautiful colours, and is at the same time cheap and
convenient. The bath is composed of one pound 0?
indigo, three pounds of quicklime, three of copperas,
and one and a half of orpiment. The indigo is first to
be carefully ground and mixed with water, put into a
wooden vat, and diluted with water, according to the
shade of colour wanted. The lime is then to be add¬
ed, and the mixture being well stirred, it is covered
up, and allowed to remain at rest for some hours. Af¬
ter this the copperas in the state of powder is added,
the whole well stirred, and the vat covered up. And
lastly, at the end of some hours, the orpiment reduced
to powder is thrown in, and the whole left at rest for
several hours. The mixture is afterwards to be stirred,
and then left to settle, till the liquor becomes clear j
when the blue streaks or flower which covers it is re¬
moved, and the silk previously dipped in warm water,
is to be dyed hank by hank. When it is removed from
the bath, it is to be washed in a stream of water, and
dried.
317. This process is recommended as the means of
obviating a greenish cast, which is sometimes observed
in Saxon blue, and which is supposed to be owing to
some change in the particles of indigo, by means of the
sulphuric acid.
318. The colour denominated English blue is pro-EngliB
duced by means of the sulphate of indigo. To give blue,
silk this colour, it is first to be dyed a light blue j and,
when taken out of this bath, it is dipped in hot water,
washed in a stream, and left in a bath composed of
the sulphate of indigo, to which a little of the solution
of tin has been added, until the proper shade is obtain¬
ed, or the bath is exhausted. Previous to its being
put into this bath, it may be dipped in a solution of
alum, in which it should only remain a very short time.
Silk, which has been dyed according to this process, is
free from the reddish shade which it derives from the
blue vat, as well as from the greenish cast of the Saxon ^
bluet. . let,ii. *
319. The sulphate of indigo has been hitherto only
applied for the purpose of dyeing wool and silk. The
affinity of indigo for vegetable substances is not suffi¬
ciently strong to effect the decomposition of the sulphate.
It cannot, therefore, be employed with advantage in
dyeing cotton and linen. . .
320. Attempts have been made to dye with PrussianDyci"'
blue. The process which was followed by Macflue5^b
is the following. He soaked wool, silk, cotton, and
thread, in a solution of alum and sulphate of iron, and
afterwards in an alkaline solution, which was partly sa¬
turated with prussic acid. He then immersed the stuns
in water, acidulated with sulphuric acid, for the pur¬
pose of dissolving that part of the oxide of iron which
remained uncombined with the prussic acid, and which
the uncombined alkali had precipitated. By successive
repetitions of these immersions he obtained a fine blue,
but very unequal. Berthollet justly remarks on this
experiment,
Cf'.p
I.
DYEING.
Lnfier
IT( !«•
)c Pla-
c impje experiment, that an alkali saturated with prussic acid
should be employed, or lime water or magnesia, both of
iX——1 which have the property of combining with that acid.
In a second experiment Macquer boiled the stuffs in a
solution of tartar and alum, and then passed them
through a bath which contained prussian blue merely
diffused in it. The colour was faint, and could not be
made deeper ; but it was equal, and soft to the touch.
321. In the process proposed by Abbe Menon for
thread and cotton, they are first dyed black, and soaked
for a few minutes in prussiate of alkali, and afterwards
boiled in a solution of alum. In this way they acquired
a deep blue. When a lighter blue is wanted, the stuffs
must be passed through a weak acid.
322. Similar to the second experiment of Macquer is
the process of Roland de la Platiere. He takes prus¬
sian blue in the proportion of a pound to a piece of stuff,
powdered, and passed through a very fine sieve, and
adds muriatic acid till it is reduced to the consistence
of syrup. It is to be constantly stirred for about half
an hour while it ferments. It is then well diluted, and
stirred every hour fora day, till the fermentation ceases.
The particles are thus in a state of minute division.
Seven or eight buckets of water for one piece of velvet,
are put into a trough ; then add the mixture, which has
been previously well diluted in a separate vessel, and
poured into the bath through a very fine sieve. When the
piece is placed on the winch, over the trough, let the
bath be briskly stirred, and the piece speedily let
down ; and the same operation must be continued as
quickly as possible for several hours. This colour re¬
quires great management, for as the particles of the
prussian blue are only in a state of minute division, and
heavy, they are quickly deposited on the stuff. Hence
the colour appears very unequal and in patches, even
with the utmost care j and nothing can be done to avoid
it, but repeating the operations again and again. The
stuff should be put into the baths thoroughly wet, for when
it is dry, it penetrates with difficulty, and is always un¬
equal. Between the dryings the stuff is always to be
washed and beetled, excepting the last time, when it
is not washed, but dried in the open air, either in the
sun or in the shade j observing, however, that it be well
stretched. This beautiful colour is not changed by the
air j it resists the action of acids, and is little altered
by boiling with alum ; but it is soon tarnished by friction,
or particles of dust that adhere to it. It is scarcely ne¬
cessary to add, that it is instantly decomposed by alka¬
line liquors. Guhliche employs a solution of tin in ni-
wl- frO'tmmatic acid, as a substitute for muriatic acid, in
(,i ;0t the process of dyeing with prussian blue *.
323. Hr Bancroft made a number of experiments in
dyeing both vegetable and mineral matters, with prus¬
sian blue, and particularly with the view of obviating
the difficulties which had occurred to others in the use
of it. He boiled up copperas with quercitron bark,
fustic, and logwood, separately, in what he thought the
best proportions j and in each of these mixtures he dyed
a piece of woollen cloth by boiling it for Io or 15 mi¬
nutes. The stuffs were afterwards separately immersed
in warm diluted prussiate of potash neutralized by sul¬
phuric acid. They acquired an equal and beautiful
blue. This, however, was not the uniform result $ for
when too much copperas was employed in dyeing with
quercitron bark, there was an excess of oxide of iron,
443
Wilt’s.
which combining with the fibres of the wood, gave the ofSiunie
Prussian blue a greenish tinge; but this he found could Colour^
be remedied, by passing the doth through warm wa-  '
ter, slightly acidulated with muriatic acid. The prus¬
sian colouring matter, Hr Bancroft observes, must al¬
ways be applied in a moderate heat, otherwise it will
be precipitated by the sulphuric acid, and rendered
unfit for this purpose, till it is again dissolved by pot¬
ash, lime, or some other substance.
324. He then tried to fix prussian blue by means of
the aluminous mordant; but at the end of 15 mi¬
nutes, after being immersed in a solution of prussiate of
potash, it had acquired no colour. The addition of a
small proportion ot a solution ol iron in muriatic acid,
communicated a blue colour. All parts of the cloth,
as well as those to which the mordant had been applied,
received the colour. The cloth being washed with
soap, the whole of the colour was discharged, except¬
ing where it had been impregnated with alumina, and
even there it had become fainter. A piece of the same
cotton was immersed in a solution of ammonia (volatile
alkali) ; the pale blue was greatly heightened. Ano¬
ther piece was put into water slightly tinctured with a
solution of copper in ammonia. The blue colour be¬
came suddenly of an intensely deep garter-blue or vio¬
let, and it resisted the action of soap. Into water mix¬
ed with a little of a solution of muriate of copper, he
put another piece of the same cotton, and it soon became
of a deeper blue, without any of the purple or violet
shade. This resisted the action of soap, and after
long exposure to the weather, the colour was little di¬
minished ; and when the colour remained in any degree
weakened, immersion in water slightly acidulated with
sulphuric acid, completely restored it. From these facts
it would appear to be advantageous to prepare woollens
by the usual boiling with alum, or alum and tartar, be¬
fore they are dyed with copperas and quercitron bark,
iustic or logwood, for a prussian blue ; but a greater
proportion of sulphuric acid, in the prussiate of potash
or lime, that the excess of acid may discharge the ve- * of
getable colouring matters, becomes necessary *. C°1'
325. Hr Brancroft afterwards tried pieces of silk and For silk ami
cotton in the diluted prussiates of potash, soda, lime, cottpn.
&c. with solutions of most of the metals in different
acids and alkalies ; and from the different metallic so¬
lutions he obtained a very full, lively colour, which he
calls the red copper eolour, from the different solutions
of copper in sulphuric, nitric, muriatic, and acetic
acids ; the same effect succeeded well from a solution in
ammonia. He obtained also the same colour from thq
nitrates of silver and of cobalt. The prussian colouring
matter fixed by these metallic mordants resisted the ac¬
tion of acids, washings with soap, and exposure to the
weather for the greatest length of time; but in all
these cases there must be a double application. The
prussian colouring matter must first be applied to the
linen, cotton or silk, which must be afterwards allowed
to dry. It must then be immersed in the metallic solu¬
tion, or the metallic solution must be applied first, and
then the solution of prussiate of potash, soda, lime, &c.
Sect. IV. Of Dyeing Black.
The next of the simple colours is black, of which
we shall treat as in the former sections; first describing
the substances which are employed, and then giving an
3 K 2 account
44+
Of Simple account of the processes which are followed in dyeing
Colours, different stud's of a black colour.
DYEING. Part]
gen gas, diminish its volume, so that some portion of it QfSim
is absorbed.
ColotM
Juices of
plants.
Tan, &c.
Mordants
necessary
for black.
I. Of the Substances employed in Dyeing Black.
326. There are few substances which have the pro¬
perty of producing a permanent black colour, without
any addition. The juice of some plants produces this
edect on cotton and linen. A black colour is obtained
from tbe juice of the cashew nut, which will not wash
out, and even resists the process of boiling with soap or
alkalies. The cashew nut of India is employed for
marking linen. That of the West Indies (anacardium
Occident ale, Lin.) also yields a permanent dye, but the
colour has a brownish shade. The juice of some other
plants, as that of the toxicodendron, or sloes, affords a
durable blueish black colour 5 but these substances
cannot be obtained in sufficient quantity, even if they
afforded colours equal to those produced by the common
processes.
327. The principal substances which are employed
to give a black colour are gall-nuts which contain
the astringent principle, or tan, and the red oxide of
iron (l). t or a particular account of the nature and
properties of tan, see Chemistry Index. The black
colour is produced by the combination of the astringent
principle with the oxide of iron, held in solution by an
acid, and fixed on the stuff. When the particles are
precipitated from the mixture of tan and a solution of
iron, they have only a blue colour; but after they are
exposed for some time to the air, and moistened with
water, the colour becomes deeper, although the blue
shade is still perceptible. After the particles are fixed
on tbe stuff, the shade becomes much deeper.
328. Logwood is not to be considered as affording a
black dye, but is much employed to give a lustre to
black colours. We have (180.) already described its
nature and properties, among the substances from which
red colouring matters are obtained.
329. Black colours are rarely produced by a simple
combination between the colouring matter and the
stuff j hut are usually fixed by means of mordants, as in
the case of the black particles which are the result of a
combination of the astringent principle and the oxide of
iron, held in solution by an acid. But when the par¬
ticles are precipitated from the mixture of an astrin¬
gent and a solution of iron, they have only a blue co¬
lour. By being exposed to the air, and moistened with
water, tbe colour becomes deeper, although the blue
shade is still perceptible. No fine black colour is ever
obtained, unless-the stuffs are freely exposed to the air.
In dyeing black, therefore, the operations must be con¬
ducted at different intervals. Berthollet has observed,
that black stuffs, when brought in contact with oxy-
II. Of the Processes for Dyeing Woollen Black.
330. In dyeing woollen stuffs black, if a full and fineMnst, j
deep colour is wanted, it is necessary that they are pre-first d) J
viously dyed of a deep blue colour. To remove all the blue,
particles of colouring matter which happen to be loose¬
ly attached to the stuff, it should be washed in a river
as soon as it is taken out of the vat, and afterwards
cleansed at the fulling mill. After these preliminary
processes, the stuffs are ready to receive the black
colouring matter. The process of Hellot is the follow-
ing.
For every hundred pounds of stuff, ten pounds of log-ijcj]0t>
wood, and ten pounds of galls reduced to powder, are process
put into a bag, and boiled in a middle-sized copper,
with a sufficient quantity of water, for 12 hours. A
third of this bath is put into another copper, along with
two pounds of verdigrise. The stuff is immersed in this
bath, and continually stirred for two hours. The bath
should be kept hot, but it ought not to boil. At the
end of two hours the stuff is taken out, and a similar
portion of the bath is put into the copper, with eight
pounds of copperas (sulphate of iron). During the solu¬
tion of the copperas, the fire is diminished, and the bath
is allowed to cool for half an hour, stirring it well the
Avhole time. The remainder of the bath is then to be
added, and after making this addition, the bag contain¬
ing the astringent matters should be strongly pressed, to
separate the whole. A quantity of sumach from 15 to
20 pounds, is now to be added, and the bath is just
raised to the boiling temperature ; and when it has gi¬
ven one boil, it is to be immediately stopped with a lit¬
tle cold water. A fresh quantity of sulphate of iron,
to the amount of two pounds, is then added, and the
stuff is kept in it for another hour, after which it is
taken out, washed and aired ; it is again put into the
copper, and constantly stirred for an hour. It is then
carried to the river, well washed, and fulled. To soften
the black colour, and make it more firm, another bath
is prepared with weld. This is made to boil for a mo¬
ment, and when it has cooled, the stuff is passed through
it. By this process, which is indeed somewhat com¬
plicated, a beautiful black colour is produced.
331. But the processes usually followed for dyeing(!omraoii
black, are more simple. Cloth which has been pre-process,
viously dyed blue, is merely boiled in a vat of galls for
two hours. It is then kept two hours, but without
boiling, in the bath of logwood and sulphate of iron,
and afterwards washed and fulled. According to Hel-
lot’s process, a bath is to be prepared of a pound and a
half of yellow wood, five pounds of logwood, and ten
pounds of sumach, which is the proportion of the in¬
gredients
(l) Oak bark has been recommended as a substitute for gall-nuts in dyeing black, and particularly in dyeing
bats j and it is said that the colour thus obtained is fuller, more beautiful and durable, while the operation is ea¬
sier and less liable to accident. It was first proposed in the year 1782 by Stephanopoli, a Corsican, and a surgeon
in the French army. The examination of the process was referred by the French government to Macquer,
who gave a favourable report of it; and afterwards to Berthollet, who gave a different opinion. The pro-
* Phil. cess has since been examined, and promises to be more economical and advantageous, especially for dyeing
Mag. Yi. hats *.
176.
/ heaper
p less.
P1 ess of
tiiEng-
li Idyers.
A Hus
us s for
nap-!• DYE
Simple gi-edlents for^ every 15 yards of deep blue cloth j and
ilours. the cloth having boiled in this bath for three hours, ten
' pounds of sulphate of iron are added ; the cloth is al¬
lowed to remain for two hours longer, when it is taken
out to be aired, after which it is again returned to the
bath for an hour, and then washed and fulled.
332- When stuffs are to be dyed at a less expence,
instead of the blue ground, a brown or root-coloured
ground may be substituted. 1 his brown or fawn colour
is communicated by means of the root of the walnut
tree, or green walnut peels. The stuffs are then to be
dyed black, according to some of the processes already
described. J
333’ ^,e proportions of the ingredients employed by
the English dyers are, for every hundred pounds of cloth
previously dyed a deep blue, about five pounds of sul¬
phate of iron, five pounds of galls, and 30 of logwood.
The first step in the process is to gall the cloth° after
which it is passed through the decoction of logwood, to
which the sulphate of iron has been added.
334* The leaves of the arbutus uva ursi have been
recommended, and employed as a substitute for galls.
The leaves must be carefully dried, so that the green
colour may be preserved. A hundred pounds of wool
are boiled with 16 pounds of sulphate of iron, and eight
of tartar, for two hours. The day following the cloth
is to be rinsed as after aluming. A hundred and fifty
pounds of the leaves of uva ursi are then to be boiled
for two hours in water, and after being taken out, a
small quantity of madder is to be added to the liquor,
putting in the cloth at the same time, which is to re¬
main about an hour and a half. It is then taken out
ISMofoiand rinsed in water f. By this process, it is said, blue
f.r clotl1 receives a pretty good black, but white cloth be¬
comes only of a deep brown. It is said, too, that the
madder and tartar are useless ingredients.
335’ After the different operations for dyeing the
cloth have been finished, it is washed in a river, and
fulled, till the water comes off clear and colourless.
Soap suds are recommended by some in fulling fine
cloths, but it is found difficult to free the cloth entirely
from the soap. After the cloth has come from the ful¬
ling mill, some propose to give it a dip in a bath of
weld, by which it is said to be softened, and the colour
better fixed ; but according to Lewis, this operation,
which in other cases is of some advantage, is use¬
less after the cloth has been treated with the soap
suds.
445
ati
III. 0/’ the Processes for Dyeing Silk Black.
alii I.
336. In communicating a black colour to silk, dif¬
ferent operations are necessary, such as boiling, gall-
mg, repairing the bath, dyeing, and softening.
337. To give a deeper shade to silk, it is necessary
to deprive it of the gummy substance to which its stiff¬
ness and elasticity are owing. This is done by boiling
the silk four or five hours with one fifth its weight of
white soap, and afterwards beetling and carefully wash¬
ing it. }
338. In conducting the process of galling silk, three-
fourths of its weight of galls are to be boiled for three or
four hours, but the proportion of galls must depend on.
their quality. After the boiling, the liquor is allowed
to remain at rest for two hours ; the silk is then put into
the bath, and left there from 12 to 36 hours, when it
Of Simple
Colours.
I N G.
is to be taken out, and washed in the river. But as silk
is capable of combining with a great proportion of the
astringent principle, or tan, from which it receives a
considerable increase of weight, it is allowed to remain
tor a longer or shorter time, as the silk is required to
have more or less additional weight. To communicate,
therefore, to silk, what is called a heavy black, it is al¬
lowed to remain longer in the gall liquor : the process
is repeated oftencr, and the silk is also dipped in the
dye a greater number of times.
. While silk is preparing for the process of dye-Dvein!r
ing, the bath is to be heated, and should be occasional¬
ly stirred, that the grounds which fall to the bottom
may not acquire too much heat. It should always be kept
under the boiling temperature. Gum and solution of
iron are added in different proportions, according to the
different processes. When the gum is dissolved, and the
bath near the boiling temperature, it is left to settle
for about an hour. The silk, which in general is pre¬
viously divided into three parts, that each may be suc¬
cessively put into the bath, is immersed in it. Each
part is then to be three times wrung, and after each
wringing hung up to air. The silk being thus exposed
to the action of the air, acquires a deeper shade. This
operation being finished, the bath is again heated, with
the addition of gum and sulphate of iron ; and this is
repeated two or three times, according as the black re¬
quired is light or heavy. When the process of dyeing
is finished, the silk is rinsed in a vessel with some cold
water, by turning or shaking it over.
340. Silk, after it has been taken out of the dye, is Softeniim-.
extremely harsh, to remove which it is subjected to the
operation of softening. A solution of four or five
pounds of soap for every hundred pounds of silk, is
poured through a cloth into a vessel of water. The so¬
lution being completed, the silk is immersed, and al¬
lowed to remain in it for about 15 minutes j it is then
to be wrung out and dried.
341. When raw silk is to be dyed, that which has aDyeingraw
natural yellow colour is preferred. The galling opera-silk.
tion must be performed iu the cold, if it be proposed
to preserve the whole of the gum, and the elasticity
which it gives to the silk; but if part only of the gum
is wished to be preserved, the galling is to be perform¬
ed in the warm bath.
342. The dyeing operation is also performed in the
cold. All that is necessary is to add the sulphate of
iron to the water in which the stuff is rinsed. By this
simple process, the black dye is communicated. It is
then washed, once or twice beetled, and dried without
wringing, that its elasticity may not be destroyed. Raw
silk may be dyed by a more speedy process. After A speediei
galling, it may be turned or shaken over in the cold Process,
bath ; and thus by alternately dipping and airing the
stuff, the operation may be completed. It is then to
be washed and dried as in the former processes.
343. The method of dyeing velvet at Genoa, which Improved
has been simplified and improved in France, is thusProcess I°s
described by Macquer. For every 100 pounds of silk,ve*vct*
20 pounds of Aleppo galls, reduced to powder, are
boiled in a sufficient quantity of water for an hour.
The bath is allowed to settle till the galls have fallen
to the bottom j they are then taken out, and two
pounds and a half of sulphuric acid, twelve pounds of
iron filings, and 20 pounds of gum, are put into a cop- .
per,
4+6 . . D Y E
Of simple per vessel, or cullender, furnished with two handles.
Colours. This vessel is immersed in the bath, and supported
' r-—1 that it may not touch the bottom. The gum, which
is allowed to dissolve for an hour, is to be occasionally
stirred ; and if it appear that the whole of the gum
is dissolved, three or four pounds more are to be added.
Excepting during the operation of dyeing, the cullen¬
der is to remain in the copper, which must be kept hot
the whole time, but at a temperature below the boiling
point. In galling the silk, one-third of Aleppo galls
is employed, and the stuff should remain six hours in
the liquor the first time, and twelve hours the second.
By frequent additions of sulphate of iron, and repeat¬
ed immersions of the stuff, a fine black, according to
Lewis, has been obtained. In the above process, the
proportion of sulphate of iron is too small, and the
gum, according to some, being carried off in the wash¬
ing, may be considered as useless. Berthollet thinks
that, although the quantity be excessive, it has some
effect in keeping up the bath; and he adds, if it is to be
diminished, it would be useful to add the sulphate of
iron in separate portions during each interval.
Substitute 344. To diminish the quantity of galls, which are
fur galls. an eXpensive ingredient in dyeing silk black, other sub¬
stances have been proposed as substitutes. With this
view the following process is recommended.
The silk being boiled and washed, is immersed in a
strong decoction of green walnut peels, and allowed to
remain till the colouring matter of both is exhausted.
It is then to be slightly wrung out, dried and wash¬
ed (m). To give the silk a blue ground, logwood and
ver-digrise are employed, in the proportion of one ounce
of the latter for every pound of silk. The verdigrise
is dissolved in cold water, and the silk is allowed to re¬
main two hours in this solution. It is then immersed
in a strong decoction of logwood, slightly wrung out,
dried, and afterwards washed at the river. The bath
is prepared by macerating two pounds of galls and
three of sumach in 25 gallons of water, over a slow fire,
for twelve hours. The liquid being strained, three
pounds of sulphate of iron, and the same quantity of
gum arabic, are to be dissolved in it. The silk is dip¬
ped in this solution at two different times; it is to re¬
main in the bath two hours each time, and it must be
aired and dried between each dip. After being twice
beetled at the river, it is dipped a third time, and left
in the bath four or five hours, after which it is to be
dried, washed and beetled as before. The temperature
of the bath should not exceed 120°. After the first
dipping, it may be necessary to add half a pound of
sulphate of iron, and an equal quantity of gum arabic.
345. Silk which has been previously dyed blue with
indigo, it is said, takes only a mealy black; but when
it has been prepared with logwood and verdigrise, it
acquires a velvety lustre. A fine black may be obtain¬
ed from green walnut peel; but the addition of log¬
wood and verdigrise renders a smaller quantity of sul¬
phate of iron necessary, and this is of importance, be¬
cause it is apt to weaken the silk. The only use of
galls, according to some, is to increase the weight of
I N G. Part II
the silk; for the purposes of dyeing, sumach is consi- of Simp],
dered sufficient*. t Colour,:
IV. Of the Processes for Dyeing Cotton and Linen * Berthol ,
Black. ii* jo. , /»
346. It is more difficult to communicate a fine black Must be
to linen or cotton than to silk or woollen stuffs. To Feuessi,
succeed in producing a black colour of that degree ofdyed blut'
intensity which will resist soap, it is necessary to adopt
particular processes. In dyeing animal matters black,
as silk and wool, the best colours are obtained on those
which have been previously dyed blue. This also is
an essential preliminary process in dyeing linen and
cotton black ; for it is found that the process which
succeeds best, is first to give a deep blue grain to the
cotton or linen.
34-7. The first part of the process is the operation of Galling,
galling. The stuffs which have been previously dyed
blue, wrung out and dried, are kept 24 hours in the
gall-liquor, composed of four ounces of galls to every
pound of thread. A bath is then prepared of a solu¬
tion of iron in acetic acid. This solution is obtained ! '
by saturating the acid with oxide of iron. In France,
vinegar, small beer, or small wine, is employed for this
purpose. To promote the acid fermentation, rye meal,
or some other substance, is added, and pieces of old
iron are thrown into the liquid, which are allowed to
remain for six weeks or two months, that the acid may
be saturated with the iron. This solution, called iron
liquor in this country, is prepared from fermented
worts, to which old iron is added, as is described above.
Five quarts of the iron-liquor for every pound of stuffs,
are put into a vessel. In this the stuffs are wrought Dyeing,
with the hand, pound by pound, for 15 minutes: they
are then wrung out and aired. This operation is to be
again repeated, taking care to add a fresh quantity of
the iron-liquor, which should be carefully scummed,
after which the stuff's are to be wrung out, aired, and
washed at the river. In the next operation, a pound
of alder bark for every pound of stuff is boiled in a
sufficient quantity of water for an hour. One half of
the bath which was employed in the galling, and about
one half the quantity of sumach as of alder bark, are
then added. The whole is boiled together for two
hours, and strained through a sieve. When this liquid
is cold, the stuffs are immersed, wrought pound by
pound, and occasionally aired. They are afterwards
put into the bath, and after remaining for 24 hours,
are wrung out and dried. The above is the process
which, according to D’Apligny, is followed at Rouen,
for dyeing cotton and linen.
348. The process followed at Manchester, which isAootiiet
described by Mr Wilson, is the following. For the process
operation of galling, galls or sumach are employed.
The stuff is afterwards dyed in a bath consisting of a
solution of iron in acetic acid. This bath is also fre¬
quently composed of alder bark and iron. After hav»
ing passed through this bath, the stuff is dipped in a
decoction of logwood, to which a small quantity of
verdigrise has been added. This process is to be re~
peated
(m) The decoction of walnut peels is prepared by boiling for 15 minutes, after which it is taken from the
fire. After it has subsided, the silk, which has been previously immersed in warm water, is dipped m it.
dyeing.
(, ap. I.
i ii.'mple peated till a black of sufficient intensity is obtained,
i Jours, observing to wash and dry after each operation.
' 349. According to Guhliche, a solution of iron may
Kutht^b6 PrePare^ by the following process. A pound of
rice is to be boiled in 12 or 15 quarts of water, till
the whole is dissolved. A sufficient quantity of old
iron made red hot, to reach half way to the surface of
the liquor, is thrown into the solution. The vessel in
which the solution is kept must be under cover, but ex¬
posed to the air and light, at least for a week. In an¬
other vessel, containing a quantity of warm vinegar
equal to the solution of rice, an equal quantity of red-
hot iron is to be put. This vessel must also be exposed
in the same way to the air and light. After several
days, the contents of both vessels are mixed together,
and the mixture is to be exposed for a week to the
open air, after which it is to be decanted and kept for
use in a close vessel. To give a sufficient black to
linen and cotton, it is only necessary, it is said, to steep
them 29 hours in this solution : and if it should appear
that the liquor is exhausted of colouring matter, ^ fresh
[tttjphca- p0rt;i0n is to be employed. In this way a fine perma¬
nent black is obtained. According to the same author,
this solution may be advantageously employed as a sub¬
stitute for sulphate of iron, in dyeing silk and wool.
But to give them a fine black, silk and woollen stuffs
must be dipped in a decoction of logwood after they
are taken from the bath.
Sect. V. Of Brown.
350. The last of the simple colours is brown. This
is also known under the name of fawn colour, ( fauve,
Fr.). It is that brown colour which has a shade of
yellow, and might perhaps be considered as a com¬
pound colour, although it is communicated to stuffs by
one process.
I. Of the Substances employed in Dyeing Brown.
351, The vegetable substances which are capable of
inducing a fawn or brown colour on different stuffs, are
very numerous, but those chiefly employed for this
purpose are walnut peels and sumach. The peels con-
U t 8t*tute the green covering of the nut $ they are inter-
Eej nally of a white colour, which is converted into brown
or black by exposure to the air. The skin, when im¬
pregnated with the juice of walnut peels, becomes of a
brown or almost black colour. When the inner part
of the peel, taken fresh, is put into weak oxymuriatic
acid, it assumes a brown colour. If the decoction of
walnut peels be filtered and exposed to the air, its co¬
lour becomes of a deep brown j the pellicles on evapo¬
ration are almost black, the liquor detached from
these yields a brown extract completely soluble in wa¬
ter. The colouring particles are precipitated from a
decoction of walnut peels, by means of alcohol, and
they are soluble in water. No apparent change is at
first produced by a solution of potash j but it gradually
becomes turbid, and the colour is deepened. A copious
precipitate of a fawn colour, approaching to an ash co¬
lour, is produced in a decoction of walnut peels by
means of a solution of tin, and the remaining liquor has
a slightly yellow tinge.
rop.iej, 352* A decoction of walnut peels yields a small
quantity of fawn-coloured precipitate by means of a
solution of alum, and the liquor remains of the same Of Simple
colour. Sulphate of copper renders it slowly turbid, Colours,
and throws down a small quantity of precipitate of a '" v1”" 1 ’
brownish green colour, leaving the supernatant liquor
of the same colour. Sulphate of iron deepens the co¬
lour y when diluted, the colour becomes brownish green,
without the deposition of any sediment. Sulphate of
zinc also deepens the colour, and produces no precipi¬
tate. I he same properties are exhibited by a decoc¬
tion of the walnut-tree wood, but the colouring matter
is not obtained from it in such abundance as from the
peels y and the bark may also be used with advantage
in dyeing.
353* rIlie affinity of the colouring matter of wal-Advantages
nut peels for wool is very strong; and it readily im¬
parts to it a durable colour, which even mordants do
not seem capable of increasing, but they are generally
understood to give it additional brightness. A lively
and very rich colour is obtained with the assistance of
alum. Walnut peels afford a great variety of pleasing
shades ; and as they require not the intervention of
mordants, the softness of the wool is preserved, and
the process of dyeing becomes both cheap and simple.
354. Walnut peels are not gathered till the nuts are Preparation
completely ripe, when they are put into large casks,
along with as much water as is sufficient to cover them.
When used in dyeing at the Gobelins in Paris, Ber-
thollet informs us, they are kept for upwards of a year,
and very extensively used ; but if not made use of till
the end of two years, they yield a greater quantity of
colouring matter, at which time their odour has be¬
come peculiarly disagreeable and fetid. The peels se¬
parated from the nuts before they arrive at maturity,
may likewise be used in dyeing, but in this state they
do not keep so long.
355. Sumach {rhus coriaria, Linn.) is a shrub pro- Sumach,
duced naturally in Palestine, Syria, Portugal, and Spain,
being carefully cultivated in the two last of these coun¬
tries. Its shoots are annually cut down, dried, arid re¬
duced to powder in a mill, by which process they are
prepared for the purposes of dyeing.
356. The infusion of sumach, which is of a fawn co- Properties,
lour with a greenish tinge, is changed into a brown by
exposure to the air. A solution of potash has little ac¬
tion on the recent infusion of sumach ; its colour is
changed to yellow by the action of acids ; the liquor
becomes turbid by means of alum, a small quantity of
precipitate being at the same time formed, and the su-
pernatant liquor remaining yellow. A copious preci¬
pitate of a yellowish green colour is thrown down by
sulphate of copper, and the liquor remains clear. No
change is speedily produced by muriate of soda (com¬
mon salt), but it becomes rather turbid at the end of
some hours, and its colour is rather clearer. Sulphate
of copper produces a copious precipitate of a yellowish
green, which after standing some hours, changes to a
brownish green ; the supernatant liquor, which is slight¬
ly yellow, remains clear. Sulphate of zinc renders the
liquor turbid, darkens its colour, and produces a deep
blue precipitate ; but when the sulphate of zinc is pure,
the precipitate, which is of a brownish fawn colour, is
in very small quantity. Acetate of lead gives a copi¬
ous precipitate, of a yellowish colour; the supernatant
liquor is of a clear yellow colour. No astringent has
so strong a resemblance to galls as sumach ; but the
precipitate
443 DYE
Compound precipitate thrown down from an infusion of it by a so-
Colours, iution of iron, is not so copious as that which is yieLd-
v" ed by an equal quantity of galls, on which account su¬
mach may be generally employed as a substitute for
galls, only its quantity will require to be increased.
357. The bark of the birch tree {betula alba, Lin.)
yields a decoction of a clear fawn-colour, but it soon
becomes turbid and brown. The addition of a solu¬
tion of alum in the open air, produces a copious yel¬
low precipitate ; a solution of tin gives also a copious
precipitate of a clear yellow colour. With solutions of
iron the decoction of the birch-tree strikes a black co¬
lour, and it dissolves in considerable quantity the oxide
of iron, but in smaller proportion than the decoction of
walnut peels. On account of this property, it is em¬
ployed in the preparation of black vats for dyeing
thread.
358. Sanders or sandal wood, is also employed
for the purpose of giving a fawn colour. There are
three kinds of sandal wood, the white, the yellow", and
the red. The last only, which is a compact heavy
wood, brought from the Coromandel coast, is used in
dyeing. By exposure to the air it becomes of a brown
colour j when employed in dyeing, it is reduced to fine
powder, and it yields a fawn colour with a brownish
shade, inclining to red. But the colouring matter
which it yields of itself is in small quantity, and it is
said that it gives harshness to woollen stufi’s. When it
is mixed with other substances, as sumach, walnut peels,
or galls, the quantity of colouring matter is increased j
it gives a more durable colour, and produces consider¬
able modifications in the colouring matter with which
it is mixed. Sandal wood yields its colouring matter
to brandy, or diluted alcohol, more readily than to
water. .
®00t• 359* S0°t communicates to woollen-stuffs a fawn or
brown colour, of a lighter or deeper shade, in propor¬
tion to the quantity employed ; but the colour is fad¬
ing, and its affinity for wool is not great j and besides
leaving a disagreeable smell, it renders the fibres harsh.
In some manufactories, it is employed for browning
certain colours, and it produces shades which could not
otherwise be easily obtained.
II. Of the Processes for Di/emg Woollen, &c. a Fawn
or Brown Colour.
With wal- 360. In dyeing with walnut peels, a quantity pro¬
nut peels, portioned to the quantity of stuff, and the intensity of
shade wanted, is boiled for fifteen minutes in a copper.
All that is necessary in dyeing with this substance is,
to moisten the cloth or yarn with warm water, previous
to their immersion in the copper, in which they are to
be carefully stirred till they have acquired the proper
shade. This is the process, if the aluminous mordant
is not employed. In dyeing cloth, it is usual to give
the deepest shades first, and the lighter ones afterwards j
but in dyeing woollen yarn, the light shades are given
first, and the deeper ones afterwards. An additional
quantity of peels is joined to each parcel.
Berthollet's ’361. Berihollet made a number of experiments to
'experi- ascertain the difference of colour obtained from the
ments. simple decoction of walnut peels, and the addition of
metallic oxides as mordants. The oxide of tin, he
found, yielded a clearer and brighter fawn colour than
that of the simple decoction. The oxide of iinc pro-
3
Bark of
birch.
Sandal
wood.
I N G.
Part II
duced a still clearer colour, inclining to ash or gray. Compote
The colour from oxide of lead had an orange cast, Colours,
while that from oxide of iron was of a greenish 1——-1
brown*.
362. A fawn colour, which has a shade of green, J 2)
is obtained from sumach alone j but to cotton stuffs Djejng
which have been impregnated with printers mordant, with su.
or acetate of alumina, sumach communicates a goodsumack j
and durable yellow. Here, however, some precaution
is necessary in the use of this substance lor this purpose j
for as the colouring matter is of so fixed a nature, the
ground of the stuff cannot be bleached by exposure on
the grass. This inconvenience is avoided by impreg¬
nating the whole of the stuff with different mordants,
producing in this way a variety of colours, and leaving
no part white.
363. Vogler employed the tincture of sanders woodWithsan
for dyeing patterns of wool, silk, cotton and linen, ,'00'1
having previously impregnated them with a solution of
tin, and afterwards washing and drying them. Some¬
times he used the solution unmixed, and at other times
added six or ten parts of water, and in whatever way
he employed it, he obtained a poppy colour. When
the mordant employed was solution of alum, the colour
wras a rich scarlet •, with sulphate of copper it was
a clear crimson, and with sulphate of iron a beautiful
deep violet f. . i)p0.
Chap. II. Of Compound Colours.
364. A mixture of two colouring substances, it is
well known, produces a very different shade from that c0i0urs,
of either of the uncombined colouring matters j hence
compound colours are obtained, which are merely mix¬
tures of simple colours. It would undoubtedly be a
desirable thing to ascertain with acuracy the peculiar
shade produced by the combination of two colouring
matters ; but these results can only be certainly known
by experiment, because by the action of different sub¬
stances in the bath, they are subject to great variations
in their effects, according to the affinities which are
brought into action, and the new combinations which
are formed. What is natural to colouring particles is
not to be considered as a constituent part of compound
colours, but only the difference of shade which they
ought to assume, with a particular mordant, or in a
particular bath. The effects, therefore, of the chemi¬
cal agents employed in these processes, and the result
of different combinations, ought to be particularly at¬
tended to. It is in dyeing compound colours that skill
and ingenuity are most conspicuous, and their applica¬
tion of greatest utility, to enable the dyer to vary his
processes according to the shade desired, and at the
same time to accomplish his operations by the shortest
and cheapest means.
365. As compound colours are obtained by the mix-Great ma¬
ture of simple colours, very different shades will be 0^‘rKtje°f
tained from different proportions of the simple colours;sn
hence compound colours exhibit an indefinite variety of
shade, and the processes by which they are produced
are very numerous. It would extend this treatise to an
unusual length, were we to attempt to describe every
variety of shade which is obtained from the mixture of
simple colours. We shall therefore, limit our observa¬
tions to some of the principal compound colours, and
an
( ap. IT.
pound an account of the processes by which they are obtained,
ours. leaving it to our readers, who have made themselves
'J familiar with the principles already detailed, to vary
these colours, by employing different proportions and
diflerent combinations of simple colouring matters.
366. Compound colours have been usually divided
into four classes, namely, green, purple, orange, and
gray or drab colour. 'Ihese are obtained from mix*
tures of the following simple colours.
dyeing.
h ius
hs.is of
rei.
mi in
oci
1. Blue and yellow produce a green.
2. Red and blue, a purple, See.
3. Red and yellow, orange.
4. Black and other colours, gray, &c.
The following sections will be occupied in a short de¬
tail of the methods which are usually employed in pro¬
ducing these different compound colours.
Sect. I. Of the Mixture of Blue and Yellow, or Green.
367. Green colours, from the great variety of shades
which they exhibit, have been long known by differ¬
ent names, by which the intensity of shade is characte¬
rised, such as sea-green, apple-green, meatlow or grass-
green, pea-green, parrot-green, &c. Many plants afford
a green colour, such as brome grass (bromus secalinus,
Lin.) green berries of rhamnus frangula, wild chervil
{chcerophyllum sylvestre, Lin.), purple clover {trifolium
p/T/fewse), common reed {arundophragmites). These
colours, however, do not possess sufficient permanency.
According to D’Ambourney, indeed, a permanent
green may be obtained from the fermented juice of the
berries of the berry-bearing alder {rhamnus frangula).
Having previously prepared the cloth with tartar, solu¬
tion of nitrate of bismuth, and common salt, he added
to the fermented juice of the berries, after it was warm¬
ed, a small proportion of acetate of lead ; and in this
bath he communicated to the cloth an intermediate
shade between parrot and grass green. But it is usual¬
ly from the mixture of blue and yellow that green is ob¬
tained 5 and it may be observed, that it requires much
skill and experience, especially in giving light shades,
to produce a colour which is uniform, and entirely
without spots.
I. Of the Processes for Dyeing Woollen Stuffs Green.
36S. To dye woollen green, either the yellow or
the blue dye may be given to it first. But when the
stuff is first dyed yellow, and in this state is introduced
into the blue vat, part of the yellow colouring matter
being dissolved in the vat, communicates to it a green
colour, which renders it unfit for dyeing any other co¬
lour than green. To avoid this inconvenience, there¬
fore, the blue colour is first given, and afterwards the
yellow. It would be quite unnecessary to resume the
account of any part of the processes for dyeing blue,
which have been already detailed. It is proper, how¬
ever, to add, that tne intensity of the blue shade must be
proportioned to the green, or to the depth of the green
coiour which is wished to be obtained. Thus, for in¬
stance, to produce a parrot green, a ground of sky
blue is given, and for the green like that of a drake’s
neck, a deep blue is required. When the blue dye
has been communicated, the yellow is afterwards given,
according to some of the processes which have been al-
S QL. VII. Part II. f
44
ready described for dyeing yellow. The proper ground Compoun
leing communicated to the cloths, they are washed in Colours.
the fulling mill, and boiled as for the common process ' 
of welding; but when the shade is light, the propor¬
tion of salts should be less. Cloths which are to re¬
ceive light shades are first boiled, and when these are
taken out, tartar and alum are added in fresh portions
til! the cloths which are intended for the darkest shades
are boiled. The process of welding is conducted in
the same way as for dyeing yellow, with this difference,‘
that a larger proportion of weld is employed, except¬
ing for lighter shades, when the proportion must be
sinaiJer. In dyeing green, it is usual to have a succes¬
sion of shades at the same time ; the process is be¬
gun with the deepest, and ends with the lightest. Be¬
tween each dip there should he an interval of one-half
or three quarters of an hour, and at each interval wa¬
ter is added to the bath. It is the practice of some '
}eis to give each parcel two dips, beginning the first
time with the deep shades, and the second with the
lighter ones ; hut when this practice is followed, the
time of immersion should he shortened. In dyeing very
light shades, the bath should never he permitted to
reach the boiling temperature. For deep greens, a
browning is given with logwood, and a small propor¬
tion of sulphate of iron.
369. For some kinds of green, sulphate of indigo is Saxon
employed ; and in this case either the blue and yellow8reen-
aie dyed separately, or the whole of the ingredients are
mixed together in the bath, and the whole process is
finished at a single operation. The colour thus obtained
has been distinguished by the name of Saxon green.
The following is the process recommended by Dr Ban¬
croft.
37°* <l The most beautiful Saxon green (says he)
may be produced very cheaply and expeditiously, by
combining the lively yellow which results from querci¬
tron bark, murio sulphate of tin, and alum, with the
blue afforded by indigo when dissolved in sulphuric acid,
as for dyeing the Saxon blue.
“ To produce this combination most advantageously,
the dyer, for a full-bodied green, should put into the
dyeing vessel after the rate of six or eight pounds of
powdered hark, in a bag, for every 100 lb. weight of
cloth, with only a small proportion of water as soon as
it begins to grow warm ; and when it begins to boil,
be should add about six pounds of murio sulphate of
tin (with the usual precautions), and a few minutes af¬
ter, about four pounds of alum ; these having boiled
together five or six minutes, cold water should be add¬
ed, and the fire diminished so as to bring the heat of
the liquor nearly down to what the hand is able to
bear; and immediately after this, as much sulphate of
indigo is to be added as will suffice to produce the
shade of green intended to be dyed, taking care to mix
it thoroughly with the first solution by stirring, &c. ;
and this being done, the cloth previously scoured and
moistened, should be expeditiously put into the liquor,
and turned very briskly through it for a quarter of an
hour, in order that the colour may apply itself equally
to every part, which it will certainly do in this way
with proper care. By these means, very full, even, and
beautiful greens may generally be dyed in half an
hour ; and during this space, it is best to keep the li¬
quor at rather less than a boiling heat. Morio-sulpbat©
3 L ^ of
-e
450
Compound
Colours.
* Phil, of
Perm. Col.
336-
Prepara¬
tion.
DYE
of tin Is Infinitely preferable, for tills use, to the dyer’s
spirit ; because the latter consists chiefly of nitric acid,
which, by its highly injurious action upon indigo, would
render that part of the green colour very fugitive, as I
have found by repeated trials. But no such eflect can
result from the murio-sulphate of tin, since the muriatic
acid has no action upon indigo 3 and the sulphuric is
that very acid which alone is proper to dissolve it for
this use. ,
“ Respecting the beauty of the colour thus produced,
those who are acquainted with the unequalled lustre and
brightness of the quercitron yellows, dyed with the tin
basis, must necessarily conclude, that the greens com¬
posed therewith will prove infinitely superior to any
which can result from the dull muddy yellow of old
fustic 3 and in point of expence, it is certain that the
bark, murio-sulphate of tin, and alum, necessary to dye
a given quantity of cloth in this way, will cost less
the much greater quantity (six or eight times more) oi
fustic, with the alum necessary for dyeing it in the
common way, the sulphate of indigo being the same in
both cases. But in dyeing.with the bark, the vessel is
only to be filled and heated once 3 and the cloth, with¬
out any previous preparation, may be completely dyed
in half an hour 3 whilst in the common way of pro¬
ducing Saxon greens, the copper is to be twice filled •
and to this must be joined the tael and labour of an
hour and a half’s boiling and turning the cloth, in the
course of preparation, besides nearly as much boiling in
another vessel to extract the colour of the fustic 3 and
after all the dyeing process remains to be pertormed,
which will be equal in time and trouble to the whole
of the process for producing a Saxon green with the
bark 3 so that this colour obtained from bark will not
only prove superior in beauty, but in cheapness, to that
dyed as usual with old fustic
I N G.
II. Of the Processes for Dyeing Silk Green.
Saxon
green.
In giving silk a green colour, greater precau¬
tion is necessary, to preserve uniformity of colour, and
to prevent spots and stripes. Silk which is intended to
receive a green colour, is scoured in the same way as
for other colours 3 but for light shades, the scouring
must be as complete as for blue. Silk which is to be
dyed green, is first dyed yellow, and being well alu-
med, it is slightly washed at the river, and divided into
small parcels, that it may receive the colouring matter
uniformly, and then carefully turned in the weld bath.
When the ground is supposed to have acquired a suffi¬
cient degree of intensity, a pattern is put into the blue
vat, to ascertain the proper shade. When this is the
case, the silk is taken out of the bath, washed, and im¬
mersed in the blue vat. To produce a deeper colour,
and at the same time to give variety of shade, a decoc¬
tion of logwood, fustic, or anotta, is added to the yel¬
low bath,"after the weld has been taken out.. For very
light shades, such as apple and sea green, it is scarcely
necessary to add, that a weaker ground is to be given.
For all light shades, except sea green, the process is
found to succeed better when the yellow is communi¬
cated by baths which have been already used 3 but these
baths should not contain any logwood or fustic.
3-72. Saxon green is produced by means ot sulphate
of indigo. This is a brighter, but less durable colour
than the former. This process is conducted by boiling
2
Part II,
as for welding, after which the cloth is washed. Fustic Compound;
in chips is enclosed in a bag, put into the same bath, JJolom-s.
and boiled for an hour and a half, when it is taken out, 'r^|
and the bath allowed to cool till the hand can beai it.
A pound and a quarter of sulphate of indigo for each
piece of cloth of eighteen yards, is added. The cloth
is at first to be turned quickly, and afterwards more
slowly, and it should be taken out before the bath boils.
Some dyers put in only two-thirds of the solution at
first 3 and after two or three turns, take out the cloth,
and add the other one-third. By this means the colour
is more uniform.
273. To produce Saxon green at one operation, the By one
following process is recommended by Dr Bancroft. A0PerauoI!'
bath is prepared of four pounds of quercitron bark,
three pounds of alum, and two pounds of murio-sul¬
phate of tin, with a sufficient quantity of water. The
bath is boiled ten or fifteen minutes, and when the li¬
quor is so far reduced in temperature as the hand can
bear it, it is fit for dyeing. By adding different pro¬
portions of sulphate of indigo, various and beautiful
shades of green may be obtained, and the colour thus
produced is both cheap and uniform. Care should be
taken to keep the bath constantly stirred, to prevent the
colouring matter from subsiding. I hose shades which
are intended to incline most to the yellow, should be
dyed first 3 and by adding sulphate of indigo, the
green, having a shade ol blue, may be obtained. I his
process, Dr Bancroft observes, is the most commodious !
and certain for dyeing most beautiful Saxon greens 1^/
upon silkt. # . -46.
374- T° produce English green, which is moreEng];s]l
beautiful than common green, and is said to be more green,
durable than the Saxon green, Cuhliche gives the fol¬
lowing process. He first dyes the silk of a light blue
in the3cold vat already described (3x6.), then soaks it
in warm water, washes it in a stream, and dips it in a
weak solution of alum. He then prepares a bath of
sulphate of indigo, one ounce of solution of tin, with
the tincture of French berries made with aceto-citric
acid. The silk is kept in this bath till it has obtained
the desired colour. It is then washed and dried in a
shady place. Lighter shades may he dyed after¬
wards t JSfH
let, 11. 315
III. Of the Processes for Dyeing Cotton and Linen
Green.
3 <75. Cotton and linen, after being scoured in the Bine first
usual way, are first dyed blue 3 and after being cleansed, giren.
they are dipped in the weld bath, to produce a green
colour. The strength of the blue and yellow is pro¬
portioned to the shade of green which is wanted. But
as it is difficult to give to cotton velvet an uniform co¬
lour in the blue vat, it is first dyed yellow with turme¬
ric, and the process is completed by giving it a green
with sulphate of indigo. The same result, however,
will be obtained by commencing the process either with
the yellow or the blue.
3-76. The process which D’Apligny describes for process i£
dyeing cotton velvet, or cotton thread, a sea or apple cotton w
green, in one bath, is the following. A quantity ofve 1
verdigrise is dissolved in vinegar, and the mixture is
kept excluded from the air in the heat of a stove for
fifteen days. A quantity of potash equal in weight to
the verdigrise employed is dissolved in water, and four
0 hours
DYEING.
lap. II.
impound hours before dyeing it is added to the solution of ver-
iolours. digrise. The mixture is to be kept hot. One ounce
of alum in five quarts of water for each pound of stuff
being prepared, the cotton thread or velvet is soaked in
this solution. It is then taken out, and the verdigrise
mixture being added to the solution of alum, it is again
introduced to be dyed.
ive 377* ^ie different shades of olive green, and drake’s
;en, neck green, are given to thread after it has received a
blue ground, by galling it, and dipping it in a weaker
or stronger bath of iron liquor, then in the weld hath,
to which verdigrise has been added, and afterwards in
the bath with sulphate of copper. The colour is lastly
to be brightened with soap.
eenfrom 378. Cotton dyed with Prussian blue may be dyed
ussian green by previously aluming while it is still wet with
61 the blue, and then dipping in a weld bath, the strength
of which is proportioned to the shade required. The
colour from weld is more lively than that obtained from
fustic. But fustic which gives a deeper shade than
weld, and diminishes the brightness of the blue, is to
be preferred when a green with an olive shade is want¬
ed.
I neral 379* The shade of green given to any stuff, it is ob-
larks, vious, must vary according to the intensity of the blue
shade, the strength of the yellow bath, and the nature
of the yellow colouring matter employed. Yellow co¬
lours are rendered more intense by means of alkalies,
sulphate of lime and ammoniacal salts ; but become
fainter by means of acids, alum, and solutions of tin.
In dyeing Saxon green the result will be different ac¬
cording to the process which is followed. The effects
will be difl’erent by adding a yellow to a Saxon blue,
from the process in which the sulphate of indigo is mix¬
ed with the yellow ingredients j because in the latter
case the sulphuric acid has a considerable action on the
colouring matter, and thus diminishes the intensity of
the yellow. As the particles of indigo have a stronger
affinity for the stuff than the yellow colouring matter,
in dyeing a succession of shades in a hath in which both
are mixed, the bath being first exhausted of the indigo,
the last shades incline more to the yellow on ac¬
count of the predominance of the yellow colouring
matter.
Sect. II. Of the Mixture of Red and Blue, or
Rurple, &c.
380. By the mixture of red and blue, violet, purple,
dove-colour, lilac, and a great variety of other shades,
according to the proportion of the substances employed,
or the predominance of the blue or the red, are pro.
duced. In stuffs which are to be dyed violet, a deeper
blue must be given, but for purple colours, the ground
requires to be of a lighter blue ; but in lilac and similar
light colours, it is necessary that both the blue and the
red have a light shade.
I. Of Dyeing Wool Violet, Rurple, &c.
B first 381. In the attempts which have been made to com-
^ ■ municate a violet or purple colour to a scarlet ground,
according to the observations of Hellot, the colour is
very unequal. It becomes therefore necessary to give
the blue colour first; and for violets or purples, the
shade of blue ought not to be deeper than that of sky
blue. The stuff being dyed blue, is boiled with alum, Compound
and two-filths of tartar, and is afterwards dipped in a Colours,
bath composed of nearly two-thirds the quantity of co- v~*—'
chineal required for scarlet, with the addition of tartar,
liie same process, indeed, as for dyeing scarlet, is fol¬
lowed. It is a common practice to dye these colours
after the reddening for scarlet, making such additions
of cochineal and tartar as the intensity of the shade
may require.
382. For lighter shades, as lilacs, dove-colours, &c.Lilac, Stc.
the stuff may be dipped in the bath which has served
for violet and purple, and is now somewhat exhausted,
taking ca»e to add a quantity of alum and tartar. For
reddish shades, such as peach blossom, a small propor¬
tion of solution of tin is added. It may be observed,
in general, that although the proportion of cochineal is
less in dyeing lighter shades, the quantity of tartar must
not be diminished.
383. To obtain the same colours, a shorter and lessC]ieaI,er
expensive process is recommended by Poerner. Jn thisand shorter
process he employs sulphate of indigo. Pie boils the process
stuff in a solution of alum, in the proportion of three
ounces of the latter to one pound of the former, for an
hour and a half, and afterwards allows it to remain in
the liquid for a night after it has cooled. The dyeing
bath is prepared with an ounce and a half of cochineal,
and two ounces of tartar, which are boiled for three
quarters of an hour : two ounces and a half of sulphate
of indigo are then added, the whole is stirred, and boil¬
ed gently for 15 minutes. The dyeing operation is con¬
ducted in the usual way, and a beautiful violet is thus
obtained. To have all the variety of shades which
are produced by the mixture of red and blue, the pro¬
portion of the sulphate of indigo is increased or dimi¬
nished. It is sometimes increased to five ounces, and
diminished to five drachms, for each pound of stuff. The
quantity of cochineal is also varied, but when it is less
than an ounce, the colour is dull. Different proportions
of tartar are also employed. To produce variety of
shades, the stuff is also prepared with different propor¬
tions of solution of tin.
384. To communicate a purple colour to wool, as rj ^
well as some other shades, logwood, with the addition i1
of galls, has been employed. The stud’ is previously
dyed blue, and to give a brown shade, sulphate of iron
is used but the colours thus obtained are not perma¬
nent. By the following process, described by Decroi-
zille, a durable dye is produced, by means of this wood.
He dissolved tin in sulphuric acid, to which were added
common salt, red acidulous tartrite of potash, and sul¬
phate of copper 5 or it may be more conveniently done
by making a solution of tin in a mixture of sulphuric
acid, common salt, and water, to which are to be add¬
ed the tartrite and sulphate in the state of powder.
Of this mordant not less than 1500 quarts were made
in twenty-four hours, in a leaden vessel to which a mo¬
derate heat was applied, k very lucrative trade was
carried on for three years by Decroizille, who sold it
at the rate of is. 3d. sterling per pound.
385. If wool in the fleece is to be dyed, it will re¬
quire a third of its weight of this mordant, while a fifth I’rocess.
is a proportion sufficient for stuff’s. A bath is prepared
of such a degree of temperature as the hand can bear,
with which the mordant is properly mixed, and the
wool or stuff' dipped in it and stirred, the same degree
3 L 2 of
452
ConiJound °f temperature being kept up for two hours, and in-
Colours. creased a little towards the end : alter which it is taken
  •v—~ out, aired, and well washed. A fresh bath of pure
water is prepared at the same temperature, to which is
added a sufficient quantity of the decoction of logwood •,
the stuff is then immersed, stirred, and the heat in¬
creased to the boiling temperature, which is,to he con¬
tinued for 15 minutes, after which the stuff being taken
out, aired, and carefully rinsed, the process ot dyeing
is completed. If for every three pounds of wool, one
pound of decoction of logwood has been used, and a
proportionate quantity for stuffs which require less, a
fine violet colour is produced, to which u: sufficient
quantity of Brazil wood imparts the shade known in
France by the name of prune de Monsieur.
Different 386. Logwood and Brazil, fustic and yellow wood,
shades from are colouring substances which may be fixed with ad-
other sub- vantage upon wool by means of this mordant. The
stances. co|our communicated by the two first of these is liable
to be changed in the fulling by the action of the soap
or urine employed for that purpose •, but this change,
which is always produced by alkaline substances, is
remedied by a slightly acid bath a little hot, called
brightening, for which the sulphuric acid has the pre¬
ference. The colour becomes as deep, and frequently
much brighter than before the change. Wools which
have been dyed by means of this mordant, are said to
admit of being spun into a finer and more beautiful
thread than by the use of alum. If the use of sulphate
of copper is omitted, more beautiful colours are produ¬
ced by fustic and yellow wood, as well as by weld. An
orange red colour is communicated by madder, but not
so deep as with a similar quantity of alum. When
sulphate of copper is omitted, the wool is said to be¬
come much harsher, and the mordant thus prepared
yields but indifferent colours with logwood, and in par¬
ticular with Brazil wood. The use and carriage of this
mordant are inconvenient, on account of the heavy se¬
diment by which the vessel is halt filled under a cor¬
rosive liquor, capable only of being kept in stone ware.
These inconveniences may be remedied by the omis¬
sion of the water in the receipt, which leaves only a
paste more conveniently used, and the carriage of it
two-fifths cheaper.
Nature of The above process is thus explained by Ber¬
the process, thollet. The decomposition of the muriate of soda is
effected by the action of the sulphuric acid 5 and the
muriatic acid being thus disengaged, dissolves the tin,
part of which is precipitated by means of the tartaric
acid, producing the sediment already mentioned. The
oxide of copper produces the blue with the colouring
particles of the logwood j the violet is formed by the
oxide of tin with the same wood, and the red, with
the colouring matter of the Brazil wood. The same
ingenious chemist farther observes, that as an excess of
acid is retained in the liquor, it might probably be of
advantage to employ acetate as a substitute for sulphate
of copper, in which case the action of the free acid
would be moderated. He thinks it would still be
more adviseable to make use of verdigrise j because the
uncombined part of the oxide ot copper would, in that
case, unite with the excess of acid, on which account
• a smaller quantity of acid would remain in the liquor j
and probably the quantity of tartar might be diminish*
3
DYEING. Part Ilf
ed, as a smaller quantity of tin would thus be precipi- Conipomi
tated
Colours
* BerttoJ
of V10-ii.34c.
the lat- rr. , ■ J
.. two kil l
Brazil of vioist.
II. Of Dyeing Silk Violet or Purple.
388. Silk is capable of receiving two kinds
let colours, denominated the fine and the false,
ter of which is produced by means of arcbil or
wood. When the fine violet colour is required, the
silk must first be passed through cochineal, and dipped
afterwards in the vat. The preparation and dyeing of
the silk with cochineal are the same as for crimson,
with the omission of tartar and solution of tin, by means
of which the colour is heightened. The quantity of
cochineal made use of is always proportioned to the re¬
quired shade, whether it is more or less intense ; but
the usual proportion for a fine violet colour is two
ounces of cochineal for each pound ol silk. When the
silk is dyed, it is washed at the river, twice beetled,
dipped in a vat more or less strong, in proportion to
the depth of the violet shade, and then washed and
dried with precautions similar to those which all colours
require that are dyed in the vat. If the violet is to
have greater strength and beauty, it is usual to pass it
through the archil bath, a practice which, though fre¬
quently abused, is not to be dispensed with for light
shades, which would otherwise be too dull.
389. When silk has been dyed with cochineal ac- Purple,
cording to the above directions, only a very light shade
is requisite for purple j the shades which are deepest
are dipped in a weak vat, while dipping them in cold
water is sufficient for such as are lighter, the water
having been incorporated with a small quantity of the
liquor of the vat, because in the vat itself, however
weak it might be, they would acquire too deep a tinge
of blue. In this manner are the light shades of this
colour, such as gilly-flower, peach blossom, &c. pro¬
duced by diminishing the quantity of cochineal.
390. There are various ways of imparting to silk False do
what are denominated the false violets \ but thosektf*
which are most frequently used, and possessed of great¬
est beauty, are prepared with archil, the bath of which
is, in point of strength, to be suited to the colour re¬
quired. Having been beetled at the river after scour¬
ing, the silk is turned in the bath on the skein sticks;
and when the colour is deemed sufficiently deep, a pat¬
tern is tried in the vat, to ascertain whether it takes
the violet colour intended to be produced. If the shade
is found to have acquired the proper depth, the silk is
beetled at the river and dipped in the vat, in the same
way as for^the fine violet colours ; and less either of the
blue or of the archil colour is given, according as it is
meant that the red or blue shade of the violet colour
should predominate.
391. The process recommended by Guhliche for Process!
communicating a violet colour to silk is the following.Gublichf
A pound of silk is to be soaked in a bath of two ounces
of alum, and a like quantity of solution of tin, after hav¬
ing carefully poured off the sediment formed in the
mixture. The dye-bath is prepared with two ounces
of cochineal reduced to powder with a dram of tartar,
and the remaining part of the bath which has answered
the purpose of a mordant, with the addition of a suffi¬
cient quantity of water. When slightly boiled, such a
quantity of solution of indigo is added as may communi¬
cate
lap. II. DYE
( pound cate to the bath a proper shade of violet ; after which
ours, the silk is immersed, and boiled till it has acquired the
^ intended shade. It is then wrung, washed in a stream,
and like every other delicate colour, must be dried
in the shade. The light shades exhaust the bath. But
it ought to be observed, that this colour, which is said
to be a beautiful violet, possesses but little durability,
and is apt to assume a reddish tinge, owing to the co¬
lour of the indigo fading first.
S [her 392- ^ v'°^et colour may be imparted to silks, by
immersing them in water impregnated with verdigrise,
as a substitute for aluming, and next giving them a
bath of logwood, in which they assume a blue colour,
which is converted to a violet, either by the addition
of alum to the bath, or by dipping them in a weaker
or stronger solution of that substance, which communi¬
cates a red colour to the particles of logwood. This
violet possesses but a small degree of beauty, and little
durability, But if alumed silk be immersed in a bath
of brazil-wood, and next in a bath ofarchil, after wash¬
ing it at the river, a colour is obtained possessing a
much higher degree of beauty and intensity. The
process described above (385.), for dyeing wool, suc¬
ceeds equally well, according to M. Decroizille, in
communicating to silk a violet colour.
III. 0/’Dyeing Cotton and Linen Violet.
10n 393* The most ordinary mode by which a violet co-
KSi lour is communicated to cotton and linen stuffs is first to
give them a blue ground in the vat, proportioned to
the required shade, and to dry them. They are after¬
wards galled, in the proportion of three ounces of galls
to a pound of stuff, and being left in this bath for 12
or 15 hours, are wrung out and dried again. They
are next passed through a decoction of logwood, and
when thoroughly soaked and taken out, the hath re¬
ceives an addition of two drams of alum, and one of
dissolved verdigrise for each pound of cotton or thread.
The skeins are then dipped again on the skein sticks,
and turned for about 15 minutes, when they are taken
out and aired. They are next immersed in the bath
for 15 minutes, taken out and wrung. To complete
the process, the vat employed is emptied ; half of the
decoction of logwood not formerly made use of is now
poured in, with the addition of two drams of alum,
and the thread is again dipped in it till it has acquired
the shade proposed, which must always regulate the
strength or weakness of the decoction of logwood. This
colour resists in a considerable degree the action of the
air, but in point of permanency is much inferior to that
which is obtained from the use of madder.
Sect. III. Of the Mixtures of Yellow and Red, or
Orange.
394. Orange is the usual result of a composition of
yellow and red colours ; but an almost endless variety
of shades may be produced, according as rve vary the
proportion of the ingredients, and the particular na¬
ture of the yellow made use of. It is sometimes the
practice of dyers to combine blue with yellow and red,
the result of which is the colour denominated olive.
Many varieties may be obtained from the use of weld,
saw-wort, dyers-weed, and other yellows, and by em¬
ploying tartar, alum, sulphate of zinc, or sulphate of
I N G.
copper in the bath, or in
cloth.
453
the preparation of the Compound
Colours.
I. Of Dyeing Wool Orange.
395. By a process exactly the same as that which is°range by
followed in communicating to stuffs a scarlet colour, t!'e sc^r!et
an orange may be given to wool j but the quantity 0j p‘oceS!'’
rt d must be diminished, and that of the yellow increas¬
ed. It wool is dyed a red colour by means of madder,
and afterwards yellow with weld, the resulting com¬
pound is a cinnamon colour, and the most proper mor¬
dant in this case is a mixture of alum and tartar. The
shades may be varied at pleasure by substituting other
yellow dye stuff's instead of weld, and by varying the
proportions as circumstances may require. Wool may
receive a reddish yellow colour by passing it through a
madder bath, after it has undergone the usual process
for yellow, which has already been described. The
strength of the madder bath is always to be proportion¬
ed to the shade required. Brasil-wood is sometimes
employed with yellow substances, or mixed with co¬
chineal and madder. Snuff, chesnut, musk, and other
shades are produced, by substituting walnut-tree root,
walnut peels or sumach, for weld.
II. Of Dyeing Silk, Orange, Afc.
396. Logwood, brasil-wood, and fustic, communi-Marone,
cate to silk a marone and cinnamon colour, together
with all the intermediate shades. The silk is scoured
in the usual manner, alumed, and a bath is prepared,
by mixing together decoctions of the three different
woods mentioned above, made separately, varying the
quantity of each according to the shade intended to be
given 5 but the proportion of fustic should be greatest.
The silk is turned in the bath on the skein sticks,
and when it is taken out, if the colour be uniform,
it is wrung and again dipped in a second bath of
these three ingredients, according to the effect pro¬
duced by the first in order to obtain the shade re¬
quired.
397. The blue vat is not made use of, when an olive Olive,
colour is to be communicated to silk. After be¬
ing alumed, it is dipped in a bath of weld, which is
made very strong. To this is afterwards added the
juice of logwood, with a small quantity of solution of
alkali when the silk is dipped. This converts it into
green, and gives the olive colour. It is dipped again
in this bath till it has acquired the shade wanted.
398. To communicate to it the colour known by the
name of rotten olive, fustic and logwood are added to
the bath after welding, without any alkali. If the
colour wanted is to incline more to a red, the addition
of logwood alone is sufficient. A sort of reddish olive
may likewise be obtained, by dyeing the silk in a fus¬
tic bath, to which a greater or lesser quantity has been
added of sulphate of iron and logwood.
III. Of Dyeing Cotton and Linen Orange, Sf-c,
399. A cinnamon colour is communicated to thread Cinnamon
and cotton, by commencing the process for dyeing colour,
them with verdigvise and weld j they are afterwards to
be dipped in a solution of sulphate of iron, denominated
by the French bain d^assurage, and then wrung out and
dried. As soon as they are dried, they are galled in
the .
454
DYEING.
Part
Compound
Colours.
Olive.
Brown.
Coffee'co-
lour.
Gray.
the proportion of three ounces to the pound of stuff-,
then dried again, alunied as for red colours, and mad-
dered. After being washed and dried, they are put
into hot soap suds, and turned till they have acquired
a sufficient degree of brightness. Jt is the practice
of some dyers to add to the aluming a decoction of
fustic.
400. By boiling four parts of weld and one of potash
in a sufficient quantity of water, M. d’Apligny informs
ns, a fine olive colour is communicated to cotton and
thread. Brasil wood, which has been steeped for a
night, is boiled separately with a small quantity of ver-
digrise, and these solutions are mixed together in vari¬
ous proportions, according to the particular shade re¬
quired. The thread or cotton is dipped in the com¬
pound solution in the usual way.
Sect. IV. Of the mixture of Black with other Colours.
The compound colours which are obtained from the
mixture of black and other colours, are brown, gray,
drab, &c. according to the nature and proportions of
the simple colours employed.
I. Of Dyeing Woollen Stuffs Brown, Gray, &c.
401. To give a browning to cloth, as soon as it has
been dyed, it is dipped in a solution of sulphate of iron,
with the addition of an astringent, which makes a black
bath. It is more common to mix a small quantity of
solution of iron with a bath of water, adding more till
the dyed stuff dipped in it has received the intended
shade. Sulphate of iron is sometimes added to the dye
bath } but by dipping the dyed stuff in a solution of
this salt, the end is more easily attained. It is the
usual practice of M. Poerner to soak the stuff in asolu-
lien of sulphate of iron, to which other ingredients are
sometimes added, and after having taken it out of the
mordant, it is dipped in the dye bath.
402. In order to obtain coffee and damascene co¬
lours, with other shades of browns of the common dye,
the first method is adopted ; a colour more or less deep
is communicated to them, according to the shade in¬
tended to be obtained by the browning ; and a bath is
made of galls, sumach, and alder bark, with the addi¬
tion of sulphate of iron. Those stuffs are first dipped
to which the lightest shades are to he communicated,
and when these are finished, the browner ones are dip¬
ped a quantity of sulphate of iron being added for
each operation, proportioned to the effect intended to
he produced.
405. Blueish grays are communicatffd to stuffs, ac¬
cording to Poerner, by the solution of indigo in sulphu¬
ric acid, combined with a mixture of decoction of galls
and sulphate of iron, varying the shades according to
the different quantities of these ingredients made use of.
If to a bath composed of cochineal, fustic and galls, sul¬
phate of iron be added, other shades are obtained.
404. For marone, and such other colours as bear a
strong resemblance to it, Sanders and galls are em¬
ployed, and sometimes a browning with the addition
of logwood. If dyed in the remains of a cochineal
hath, these colours may be made to incline to a crim¬
son or purple, and the same effect is produced by add¬
ing a small quantity of madder or cochineal to the
. tolouz
n
bath. A little tartar gives a greater degree of bright- Compo,
ness to the colour. With a mixture of galls, fustic, and Colou;
logwood, and a greater or smaller quantity of madder, ‘
with the addition of a little alum, those colours may be
communicated to stuffs which are known by the nameHa2el
of hazel. ,
405. M. Guhlicbe produces what is called a/wee co-puce
lour, by boiling for fifteen minutes a pound of woollen lour
stud' with two ounces of alum, a certain proportion of
vinegar and solution of iron, after which he leaves it
in the mordant for twelve hours. He then makes a
bath with the decoction of two ounces of white galls
carefully poured off from the sediment, and mixed
with four ounces of madder, in which, when it grows
hot, the stuff is immersed, after being taken out of the
mordant, allowing it to remain there, while the tem¬
perature is gradually increased, till the colour intend¬
ed has been imparted to it after which it is boiled
for two minutes, washed, and dried in the sun. Ihe
colour thus obtained possesses a great degree of dura¬
bility. It is of a deeper brown by the omission of the
alum and vinegar in the mordant j and alter these co¬
lours the lighter shades are dyed. Sumach may be em¬
ployed as a substitute for half of the madder. Differ,
ent brown colours possessing considerable permanency,
mav likewise be produced by the use ol brasil and log¬
wood, if more or less of a solution of iron be mij.ed
with a decoction of these substances. The wool being
previously alumed and galled, is dyed in it.
II. Of Dyeing Silk with Mixtures of Black, &c.
406. M. Guhliche imparts to silk a purple violet Purple
without a blue ground, with a mixture of one part ofk1-
galls dissolved in white wine, with three parts ot water,
in which a pound of silk is macerated for twelve hours,
soaked in a mordant made up of two ounces of alum,
one ounce of solution of tin, and half an ounce of mu¬
riatic acid. After wringing the stuff, it is dyed in a
bath composed of two ounces of cochineal and a small
quantity of solution of iron, till the intended shade has
been communicated $ and lor shades which are lighter,
the residua of these baths are sufficient, either separate¬
ly or mixed together. Madder may be used in the
same way, macerating a pound of silk in a solution ot
alum, mixed with an ounce of muriatic acid, and a
quantity of solution of iron. When the stuff is wrung
out, it is dyed in a hath made of eight ounces of mad¬
der. When deeper colours are wanted, some ol the so¬
lution of galls in white wine is mixed with the madder
and cochineal baths.
407. Silk may be dyed in a bath made of equal
parts of brasil and logwood juice, adding a certain
quantity of solution of iron, after the stuff has been
soaked in a solution of two ounces of alum, and an ounce
of muriatic acid. If solution of galls be added, the
colour becomes deeper.
Colours resembling that of brick, may be produ-BricK ^
ced, by immersing silk in an anotta bath, after prepar-Iour*
ing; it with a solution ol galls mixed with a certain
quantity of solution of iron. By the mixture of bra¬
sil, logwood, archil, and galls, and by a browning
with sulphate of iron, a number of different shades are
produced ; but the whole of them have more or less
[L. HI. DYEING.
|,c0. a tendency to fade, although their brightness is very
j ting, pleasing to the eye.
III. Of Dyeing Silk with Mixtures of Black, &c.
V black 408. A permanent violet colour may be given to
a thread and cotton, when scoured in the ordinary way,
by preparing a mordant with two quarts of the bath
of what is called the black cask, and four quarts of wa¬
ter for each pound of stuff, which is made to boil, and
the scum is removed which forms on the surface, till it
wholly disappears. The liquor is poured into a vat, and,
when warm, four ounces of sulphate of copper and one
ounce of nitre are dissolved in it. The skeins are left
to soak in it for ten or twelve hours, wrung out, and
dried. If it is required to produce a deep violet co¬
lour, two ounces of verdigrise must be added to the
bath ; and if the nitre be omitted, the colour becomes
still deeper by galling the thread more or less, prior to
its being put into the mordant. If the nitre be in¬
creased, and the sulphate of copper be diminished, the
violet colour becomes more inclined to lilac. A num¬
ber of various shades may be produced, by different
modifications of the mordants employed,
fate 4°9* Cotton is galled, dipped, and wrought in the
oli, common way, when different shades of marone colour
are wanted. To the bath employed must be added
more or less of the liquor of the black cask. The cot¬
ton is then washed in a bath mixed with verdigrise, next
welded, and dyed to a fustic bath, to which a solution
of soda and alum is sometimes added. When the cot¬
ton prepared in this manner has been thoroughly wash¬
ed, it is. next well maddered, dipped in a weak solution
of sulphate of copper, and last of all in soap suds.
410. For some hazel and snuff colours, a browning
is communicated to stuffs by means of soot, after the
welding and madder bath, to which galls and fustic
have been added ; sometimes soot is mixed with this
bath, and a browning is likewise imparted by means of
a solution of sulphate of iron j and for browning co¬
lours, walnut peels are sometimes employed as a sub¬
stitute for solutions of iron. For such wools as are de¬
signed for the manufacture of tapestry, they are very
advantageous, because the colour is not changed into
yellow by exposure to the air, as is the case in brown¬
ing which is imparted by means of iron j but remains
a considerable time without any sensible change. The
hue is indeed rather dull ; but its goodness and very
moderate price are sufficient to recommend a more ex¬
tensive use of it for grave colours, which in common
stufts are sometimes fashionable.
utc
Chap. Ill, Of Calico-printing.
411. This may be defined to be the art of communi¬
cating different colours to particular spots on the surface
of cotton or linen cloth, while the rest of the stuff re¬
tains its original white colour.
Ihe wonderful and truly ingenious art of calico-
printing seems to have been first known in India, and
for more than two centuries before the commencement
of the Christian era. Although the Egyptians were
well acquainted with this art in the days of Pliny, as
he himself informs us, it can scarcely be doubted that
they derived the knowledge of it from India, as that
country rather than Egypt, produced the colouring and
other materials for carrying it on. If we consider its
present improved state, the elegance of different pat¬
terns, the beauty and durability of the colours which
can now be imparted to cotton or linen stuffs, and the
dispatch with which the various operations of this art
aie conducted, we must lie astonished at the rapidity of
its improvements, when we recollect that it has been
known in Europe for little more than a century. Per¬
haps no other art has risen to such perfection in so short
a period.
412. Our readers will not expect that our account of
this subject should be tedious or elaborate, since the
artist is presumed to be already acquainted with the
different processes which are employed in calico-print¬
ing ; and to such as wish only for a general knowledge
of the art, in a theoretical point of view, prolixity
would be disagreeable.
413. The art of calico-printing consists in impregnat- Nature of
ing with a mordant, such parts of cotton or linen stuffs this art.
as are to have particular colours communicated to them,
and then dyeing them in the usual manner with some
colouring substance. Those parts of the cloth only
which receive the mordant are intimately united with
the colouring matter, although the whole surface must
be. more or less tinged } but the parts which have not re¬
ceived the mordant are restored to their original bright¬
ness by means of washing, and afterwards bleaching it
upon the grass for some days, taking care to turn the
wrong side towards the sun. If red stripes are to be
communicated to a piece of white cotton cloth, those
parts of its surface upon which stripes are intended to
appear, are marked out by a pencil dipped in acetate
of alumina j after which it is dyed with madder in the
usual way. "When it is first taken out of the dyeing
vessel, its whole surface is red ; but when it is washed
and bleached, it resumes its original whiteness, the
stripes only excepted, which, being impregnated with
the acetate of alumina, remain red. By a similar pro¬
cess may yellow or any other stripes be fixed upon cot¬
ton or linen, by the substitution of quercitron bark,
weld, &c. in the room of maddei\
414. When different parts of the (doth are to receive To conuuu-
dift'erent coloured stripes at the same time, different nicate dif-
mordants must be employed. If stripes are delineated jferent co*
on its surface with the acetates of alumina and iron,10
and if it be then dyed with madder in the ordinary way,
it will, after being washed and bleached as formerly
directed, exhibit stripes of a red and brown colour. If
the same mordants are employed, but quercitron bark
used instead of madder, the stripes will then htyclloiv,
and olive or drab.
415. The mordants known by the names of acetate Usual mor-
of alumina and acetate of iron, which are made use of^anl8,
in calico-printing, may either be applied to stuffs with
a pencil, as already mentioned, or still more expeditious¬
ly by means of blocks, on which the intended patterns
are cut. Being designed only for particular parts of the
surface of the cloth, great caution is necessary to pre¬
vent them from spreading to any part of it which is to
remain white, and to prevent their interference when
the application of more than one is required. Such a
degree of consistence must of consequence be given to
the mordants employed, as will prevent this disagree¬
able effect, which cannot fail to destroy the beauty
and
456
Calico-
Printins
Application
ol' the mor¬
dant.
Cloth must
be dried,
and then
washed.
Colouring
matters ear
.p’oyed.
DYE
and elegance of the print. If blocks are to be made
use of, the mordants may be brought to a proper
consistenc e by means of starch ; but gum arable must
be mixed with them, when the pencil is to be
employed. The thickness should not exceed what
is absolutely necessary to prevent the mordants from
spreading j becatfse, if carried too far, the cotton is
frequently not saturated with the mordant, in con¬
sequence of which the dye is but imperfectly communi¬
cated.
416. To distinguish those parts of the cloth which
are impregnated with mordatnts, it is a common
practice to give the mordants some particular tinge
by which they may be known ; and for this purpose
printers commonly make use of the decoction ot brasil
wood. Dr Bancroft objects to this practice, because
he is of opinion that the process of dyeing is im¬
peded by the colouring matter of brasil wood. Ihe
affinity of the dye stuff for the mordant displaces
the colouring matter of the brasil wood ; and without
such affinity it would be impossible to strike the colour.
Some of the dye stuff to be employed afterwards is re¬
commended by Dr Bancroft for colouring the mor¬
dant, who prohibits the use of a larger quantity than
what is sufficient to render it distinguishable when an
application of it is made to the cloth. Should too
large a quantity he united with the mordant, a consi¬
derable proportion of the latter would be combined
with colouring matter, by which means its affinity for
the cloth would be diminished, and therefore a perma¬
nent colour could not be expected to result from such a
partial combination.
^.ly. It is necessary to dry the cloth completely after
the application of the mordants, for which purpose arti¬
ficial heat may be employed, which has a tendency to
promote the separation of the acetous acid from its
base, and assist its evaporation, and thus the combina¬
tion of the mordant with the cloth will be facilitated.
418. When the cloth is thoroughly dried, it is cus¬
tomary to wash it with warm water and cow-dung, till
every particle of the starch or gum arable which had
been employed to give a proper consistence to the mor¬
dants, and those parts of them which do not combine
with the cloth, are entirely removed. The loose parti¬
cles of the mordant are entangled by means of the cow-
dung, and prevented from being attached to those parts
of the cloth which are to remain white. After this, it
must be completely rinsed in pure water.
419. Indigo, madder, quercitron bark, and weld, are
the chief dyeing ingredients made use of by calico-
printers; but the last of these is seldom used by the
printers of this country, except for the purpose of com¬
municating yellows of a delicate greenish shade. Quer¬
citron bark, on account of its inferior price, and capa¬
city of imparting colours equally good, as well as re¬
quiring a less degree of beat, is employed as a substi¬
tute. It is usual to apply indigo at once, either by
means of the block or pencil, because it requires not
the intervention ot a mordant to fix it. This prepara¬
tion is made by boiling together indigo, potash reduced
to the caustic state by means of quicklime, and orpi-
ment ; afterwards thickening the solution with gum.
Dr Bancroft recommends the use of coarse brown sugar
as a substitute for orpiment, which operates as power¬
fully in the decomposition of the indigo, and in promo-
I N G. Parti
ting its solubility, answering at the same time all the Calico,
purposes of gum. Printirii,
420. When the cloth is thoroughly cleansed after itr—v"'
has been impregnated with the mordant, the dyeing pro-
cess is conducted in the usual manner. As the whole*
of it receives a tinge of the dye, it must be completely
washed and bleached for some days on the grass, as for¬
merly mentioned, by which means the colour is en¬
tirely removed from those parts of the cotton not
impregnated with the mordant, while all the other
parts of it retain the colouring matter as powerfully as
at first.
421. One of the most common colours imparted toNankeft
cotton prints is a species of nankeen yellow of different yellow,’
shades, and for the most part in stripes or spots. It is
produced by means of a block on which is cut the in¬
tended pattern, rubbed over with acetate of iron brought
to a proper consistence with gum or starch, and applied
to the cotton ; which, being dried and cleansed in the |
ordinary way, is immersed in a ley of potash. It is pro¬
per to observe, that the quantity of acetate of iron must
he proportioned to the particular shade required.
422. In order to produce a yellow colour, the block Yellow J
is rubbed over with acetate of alumina ; and the cloth,
after being impregnated with this mordant, is dyed
with quercitron bark in the common manner, and then
bleached.
423. If madder be substituted for the quercitron bark, Red-
a red colour is given to cotton by the same process.
424. To communicate to stuffs the fine light blue co-Blue-
lours which we frequently behold upon cotton, the block
is rubbed over with a composition consisting partly of
wax, by means of which all those parts ot its surface are
to remain white. It is next dyed, in a cold vat of indi¬
go, and when it is dried, the wax composition may be
removed by the use of hot water. _ I
425. Lilac and blackish brown colours are communi-Lllae’|
cated by acetate of iron, proportioning the quantity to
the particular shade required, and adding a little su¬
mach for such shades as are to be very deep. The cot¬
ton is then dyed with madder, and bleached in the usual
manner. Dove colour and drab are produced by means
of acetate of iron and quercitron bark.
426. When a variety of different colours are to be How tel
made on the same print, a greater number of operationspb dJ|
are unavoidably necessary. Upon each of the blocks toentc0 j
be employed is cut that particular part of the pattern
which is to have one appropriate colour; and when these
blocks are rubbed over wfth their respective mordants
and thus applied to the cloth, the dyeing process is af-
verwards conducted in the 01 dinary manner. If, toy ex¬
ample, three different blocks are to be made use ot, the
first rubbed over with acetate of alumina brought to a
proper consistence, the second with acetate ot iron, and
the third with a composition of these two, the colours
resulting, after the dyeing and bleaching processes are |
finished, will be the following.
Acetate of alumina
iron
From the compound
yellow,
olive, drab, dove,
olive green, olive.
It is proper to observe, that these are the results when
quercitron bark is employed ; but by the substitution
of madder the following colours will be obtained.
J ap. III.
ulico- Acetate of alumina
fkting. Jron
From the compound
DYEING.
red,
brown, black,
purple.
457
N:ty of
:o "s by
li! tent
Msse?.
When it is required to produce at the same time both
those colours which are imparted by madder, and like¬
wise by the use of quercitron bark, mordants are first
applied for one part of the pattern, after which the cot¬
ton is dyed in a bath of madder, and then bleached.
The rest of the mordants are then applied in a similar
manner, after which the cotton is dyed with the quer¬
citron bark, and bleached as before. The colours
which the madder communicates are very little affected
by the second dyeing, because the mordants by which
their permanency is secured, are previously saturated.
A new mordant may be applied to some of the colours
resulting from the use of madder, by which means they
receive a new durable colour from the bark. And by
means of the indigo liquor other new colours may still
be communicated after the last bleaching.
427. The following colours may be communicated
to cotton, by means of the different processes which
have been described.
Madder Dye.
!o!
hcil-
Acetate of alumina
iron
Ditto diluted
Mixture of the two
Dark Dye.
Acetate of alumina
iron
Lilac and acetate of alumina
Red and acetate of alumina
Indigo Dye.
Indigo
Indigo and yellow
red,
brown, black,
lilac,
purple.
yellow,
dove-drab,
olive,
orange.
blue,
green.
Thus may twelve different colours be communicated
to the same print by these different processes.
428. If durable colours could be directly applied to
cotton by means of the block or pencil, without the
help of mordants, nothing could be conceived more
simple than the art of calico-printing 5 but with the
single exception of indigo, the communicating of per¬
manent colours requires the process of dyeing. Yellow',
indeed, which is a compound colour, and some others,
may be communicated to cotton at once, by mixing
together an infusion of quercitron bark and acetate of
alumina, while the same mordant with a decoction of
madder, imparts to it a red colour ; but those which
are produced in this way are far from being durable,
since they are destroyed by washing, and sometimes
even by exposure to the air.
429. But as it is not always practicable for calico-
printers to avoid the application of colours in this man¬
ner, every endeavour to give them a greater degree of
permanency becomes an object of importance. The
following composition has been recommended for a
yellow printing colour. Three pounds of alum, and
three ounces of pure chalk are to be dissolved in a gal¬
lon ot hot water, to which are to be added two pounds
of acetate of lead. This mixture is to be occasionally
Vol. VII, Part II. i*
stirred for 24 or 36 hours, after which it is to remain Crdieo-
at rest during 12 hours. rI he clear liquor is then to Printing
be poured off, and as much more hot water added to '
the residuum, as will, after being stirred and allowed
to settle, amount to three quarts when added to the
first quantity. Into a tinned copper vessel put six
pounds, or at most a quantity not exceeding eight
pounds, of quercitron bark sufRciently ground, and boil
it for an hour in four or five gallons of clean soft wa¬
ter, adding afterwards a little more water if the bark
is not properly covered. When the liquor is thorough¬
ly boiled, let it be removed from the fire, and left to
settle for half an hour, when the clear decoction is to
he poured off through a fine sieve. Six quarts more of
pure water are then to be put upon the same bark, and
boiled for a quarter of an hour, being previously well
stirred. When it has stood a sufficient time to settle,
the clear liquor is to be strained off, and being mixed
with the former, both are put into a shallow wide ves¬
sel to be evaporated by boiling, till the whole, in addi¬
tion to the mordant already mentioned, and the gum
or paste for bringing it to a proper consistence, does
not exceed three gallons. It will be proper not to add
the three quarts of aluminous mordant till the decoc¬
tion has been cooled down almost to the natural heat of
blood. Let gum arabic or gum Senegal be taken for
thickening, if the pencil is to be used, and starch or
flour when blocks are to be employed.
430. If a pound of murio-sulphate of tin be used as For bright
a substitute for the aluminous mordant in the composi-yetlow.
tion described above, a mixture will be produced which
is capable of imparting to cotton a very bright yellow,
and considerably permanent.
431. A cinnamon colour possessed also of a sufficient cinnamon
degree of permanency may be given to cotton, by means colour.
of a mixture of sulphate of tin and a decoction of the
quercitron bark.
432. If the decoctions of this bark and of logwood Green,
are boiled together, and proper quantities of sulphate
of copper and verdigrise added to them, together with
a small proportion of carbonate of potash, there results
a compound which communicates to cotton a green co¬
lour. Although the expectations of Dr Bancroft were
not fully answered by the trials which he made of this
substance, be deemed his success sufficient to encourage
him to a farther investigation of it.
433. A permanent drab colour may be given to cot-Drab and
ton by means of acetate of iron mixed with a decoction0^.
of quercitron bark, and reduced to a proper consistence.
This mixture will also produce an olive, if added to
the olive colouring liquor already mentioned; and the
colours may be made still more permanent, if a solu¬
tion of iron in diluted nitric or muriatic acid be usetl as
a substitute for iron liquor. They ought, however, to
be used sparingly and with caution, that the texture- of
the cotton or linen to which they are applied may not
he injured.
434. Dr Bancroft made a number of experiments Colours
with the decoction of quercitron bark, to ascertain its from difi'e-
effeets when combined with different metallic salts as[jentt m01^
mordants. The sulphate, nitrate, and muriate of z>nc, the quern,
with this decoction, yielded brownish jellow colours oftron bark,
different shades j but none of them were found suffi¬
ciently permanent when they were applied topically to
linen or cotton. Mercury in the different acids pro-
3 M duced
DYEING.
Indian Me- duced with the decoction of bark different shades of
thod of brown or yellowish brown colours 5 but they did not
Byeing pr0Ve more durable than the former. The mtro-mu-
^■ed- riate of platina with a proper proportion of decoction
^ of quercitron bark, afforded, when topically applied to
linen or cotton, strong full-bodied snuft colours, which
were found sufficiently permanent, and capable of re¬
sisting the action of acids, and of the sun and an. W^i*
trate of silver with a decoction of the bark, when ap¬
plied topically to linen or cotton, produced strong dark
brown and cinnamon colours of considerable durability.
Nitrate of lead with the same decoction gave, by topi¬
cal application, a drab colour which was not less dura¬
ble than the former. Nitrate of bismuth produced with
the decoction of bark a very full and strong brownish
yellow. This colour, however, is attended with the in¬
convenience of becoming almost black when exposed
to the action of the alkaline sulphurets, sulphurated
hydrogen gas, or even by the action of common soap.
Muriate of bismuth with the decoction gives a drab co¬
lour : sulphate of the same metal affords a yellow; but
these* colours when applied to cotton or linen are not
durable. Nitro-muriate of antimony produced with
the decoction of bark something of a snuft colour, which
applied to linen and cotton possess some degree of du¬
rability. Nitrate and muriate of cobalt with the quer¬
citron bark gave different shades of brown ; but these
colours were extremely fugitive ; they soon faded by ex¬
posure to the sun and air.
435. The art of calico-printing has been hitherto al-
Appendi
most solely limited to linens and cottons. Many colour-in^jan jj| j
ing matters have such an affinity for these stuffs that thod«i ,
they readily enter into combination with them at the D yeinjl
ordinary temperature of the atmosphere. This is also,
the case with silk, so that colouring matters, might be |l
applied topically to the latter by means of similar ope¬
rations as to linen and cotton. Attempts, howeieijtyooiie^l
have been made to extend the process of topical dyeing stuff* pal
or printing to woollen stuffs, and particularly thosetet,>
kinds known by the name of kerseymeres, which are
employed after being prepared in this way for waistcoat
patterns. When it is recollected that woollen stuffs
when they are to be dyed generally must be exposed to
a considerable degree of heat, it is easy to conceive that
it will be difficult to communicate spots or figures by
printing to woollen stuffs. Ihe means by which this
difficulty is obviated in those manufactories where this
operation is conducted have been hitherto kept secret.
The preparation of colouring matter, whether such as
may be employed simply or require the use of mor¬
dants to fix them, will he easily understood from what
we have already fully detailed iu the course of this
treatise. The application of the colours is made in the
usual way j and it is said that, after the woollen stuffs
are printed, they are wrapped up in two or three folds
of thick paper, to prevent the access of moisture which
might cause the colours to run, and exposed to the
steam of boiling water for such a length of time as
may be supposed necessary for the colouring matter to
combine with the stuffst. t Btmcii
appendix.
After that part of the preceding treatise to which it
properly belongs, was printed off, the following ac¬
count of the Indian method of dyeing cotton cloth and
cotton thread a red colour came under our notice. It
was communicated to the Society for the Encouragement
of Arts, &c. by Mr Maclachlan of Calcutta. The in¬
sertion of it may perhaps excite the curiosity of some of
our countrymen into farther inquiries into the state of
this as well as of other arts in India, where, from being
long known and practised, many of them have arrived
at a high degree of simplicity and perfection.
Directions for dyeing a bright Red Jour yards of three-
fourths broad Cotton Cloth,
Ist. The cloth is to be well washed and dried, for
the purpose of clearing it of lime and congee, or starch,
generally used in India for bleaching and dressing
cloths ; then put into an earthen vessel, containing
twelve ounces of chaya or I'ed root, with a gallon
of water, and allow it to boil a short time over the
fire.
2d. The cloth being taken out, washed in clean vya-
ter, and dx-ied in the sun, is again put into a pot with
one ounce of myrobalans, or galls coarsely powdered,
and a gallon of clear water, and allowed to boil to
one half: when cool, add to the mixture a quarter of
a pint of buffalo’s milk. The cloth being fully soaked
in this, take it out, and dry it in the sun.
3d. Wash the cloth again in clear cold water, and
dry it in the sun *, then immerse it into a gallon of wa¬
ter, a quarter of a pint of buffalo’s milk, and a quarter
of an ounce of the powdered galls. Soak well in this
mixture, and dry in the sun. The cloth, at this stage
of the process, feeling rough and hard, is to be rolled
up and beetled till it becomes soft.
4th. Infuse into six quarts of cold water, six ounces
of red wood shavings, and allow it to remain, so two
davs. On the third day boil it down to two-thirds the
quantity, when the liquor will appear of a good bright
red colour. To every quart of this, before it cools,
add a quarter of an ounce of powdered alum $ soak in
it your cloth twice over, drying it between each time
in the shade.
5th. After three days wash in clean water, and half
dry in the sun j then immerse the cloth into five gal¬
lons of water, at about the temperature of 120° of
Fahrenheit, adding 50 ounces of powdered chaya, and
allowing the whole to boil for three hours j take the
pot off the fire, but let the cloth remain in it until the
liquor is perfectly cool ; then wring it gently, and
hang it up in the sun to dry.
6th. Mix intimately together, by hand, about a pint
measure of fresh sheep’s dung, with a gallon of cold
water, in w'hich soak the cloth thoroughly, and imme¬
diately take it out, and dry it in the sun.
yth. Wash the cloth well in clean water, and spread
it out in the sun on a sand-bank (which in India is uni¬
versally preferred to a grass-plat) for six hours, sprink-
lex. DYEING.
■n Me*Hng ^ from time to time, as it dries, with clean water,
I d of for the purpose of finishing and perfecting the colour,
I King which will be of a very fine bright red.
459
&«d.
Directions for dyeing of a beautiful red, eight ounces
of Cotton Thread.
1st. Put one gallon and a half, by measure, of sap-
wood ashes, into an earthen pot, with three gallons of
water, and allow the mixture to remain twenty-four
hours to perfect it for use.
2d. Put the following articles into an earthen pot,
viz. three quarters of a pint of Gingelly oil; one pint,
by measure, of sheep’s dung, intimately mixed by hand
in water; two pints of the above ley.—After mixing
these ingredients well, pour the mixture gradually up¬
on the thread into another vessel, wetting it only as the
thread, by being squeezed and rolled about by the
hand, imbibes it, continuing to do so until the whole is
completely soaked up, and allow the thread to remain
in this state until next day.
3d. Take it up, and put it in the sun to dry; then
take a pint and a half of ash-ley, in which squeeze
and roll the thread well, and allow it to remain till next
day.
4th. Squeeze and roll it in a like quantity of ash-ley,
and put it in the sun to dry; when dry, squeeze and
roll it again in the ley, and allow it to remain till next
day.
5th. Let the same process be repeated three or four
times, and intermit till next day.
6th. Ley the thread once, as the day before, and,
when well dried in the sun, prepare the following li¬
quor : One gill of Gingelly oil ; one pint and a half
of ash-ley.—In this squeeze and roll the thread well,
and leave it so till next day.
7th. Repeat the process of yesterday, and dry the Indian Me-
thread in the sun. thod of
8th. The same process to be repeated. Dyeing
9th. First repeat the ash-ley process three or four , r
times, as under the operations 3, 4, and 5, and then ^
prepare the following mixture : One pint of sheep-dung
water ; one gill of Gingelly oil; one pint and a half
of ash-ley.-—In this squeeze and roll the thread well,
and dry it in the sun.
10th. Repeat the same process.
nth. Do. Do.
12th. Do. Do.
13th. Do. Do.
14th. Do. Do.
ijth. Wash the thread in clean water, and squeeze
and roll it in a cloth until almost dry; then put it into
a.vessel containing a gill of powdered chaya root, one
pint by measure of cashan leaves, and ten pints of clear
water ; in this liquor squeeze and roll it about well,
and allow it to remain so till next day.
16th. Wring the thread, and dry it in the sun, and
repeat again the whole of the 13th process, leaving the
thread to steep.
17th. Wring it well, dry it in the sun, and repeat
the same process as the day before.
18th. Do.
19th. Do.
Do.
Do.
20th. Wring and dry it in the sun, and with the
like quantity of chaya root in ten pints of water; boil
the thread for three hours, and allow it to remain in
the infusion until cold.
2ist. Wash the thread well in clear water, dry it in
the sun, and the whole process is completed.
INDEX.
k|r, a mordant for cotton, N° 221
how applied, 222
a, history of, 248
properties of, 247
tygatus for dyeing silk, 133
wringing out, 136
raking, 137
giving a ground, 138
dipping, 139
irfq history of, 171
properties, 172
singular change of, 173
1^ origin of, 2
when lost, 16
revived in Italy, 17
process for dyeing cotton
red at, 223
mordant used at, 224
madder dye, how prepa¬
red at, 227
%
B.
Dr, his process for dyeing
scarlet,
200
advantages of it, N* 202
for blue, 314
Prussian blue, 323
Bath, preparation of, for dyeing wool
yellow, 255
cotton and linen, 277
Berthollet's experiments for trying the
permanency of colours, 61
Betula alba, bark of, for dyeing brown, 357
Birch, bark of, used in dyeing brown, ib.
Black, the substances used for dyeing, 326
process employed for, 330
Hellot’s process for, ib.
common process for, 331
cheaper process for, 332
process of the English dyers
for, 333
Blue, how to dye wool, 292
accidents which may happen in
the dyeing of, 293
how communicated in calico-
printing, 424
Bodies, affinity of, for certain rays
the cause of colour, 41
Bodies, white, effect of colours on, N° 49
coloured, are compounds, 53
Boilers, what kind of, best for dyeing, 192
Brazil wood, history of, 178
properties, 179
Brown, substances used in the dye-
ing of, t 351
properties of, 352
advantages, 353
C.
Caldrons for dyeing, 132
Calico-printing, history of, 411
nature of, 413
different colours how
communicated, 414
mordants used, 413
application of, 416
cloth washed, 418
« and dried, 417
Candle light, effects of, on scarlets
differently dyed, 2O3
Carthamus, history of, 174
preparation of, ' 175
3 M 2 Carthamus,
460
CarthamilSy properties of, N° 176
Chamomile, use of, in dyeing, 251
Chemistry, importance of, in dyeing, 150
Cherry-red, how obtained, 215
Cochineal, history of, 160
varieties of, 162
attempts to cultivate, 164
properties of, 165
Colours, nature of, 29
division of, 151
simple, 152
cause of, explained, 30
durable, 267
Newton’s theory of, . 33
objections to, 36
supported, 34
inconsistent
with facts, 37
of metals independent of den¬
sity, 39
changes of, _ 42
from new combi¬
nations, 43
change of, produced hy oxy-
gen, < 54
compound, explanation of, 3^4
how to try the permanency
of, 56
green, 376
violet, 393
olive green, 377
for penciling, 429
Cotton, origin of, 117
structure of, 118
affinity of, for colouring matter, 119
preparations for dyeing, 120
aluming, 121
galling, 122
process for dyeing madder or
Turkey red, 217
at Astracan, 223
the Grecian method, 231
by Papillon, at Glas¬
gow, 238
by Haussman, 239
scarlet with cochi¬
neal, 241
crimson, 242
how dyed blue, 304
black, 346
green, 376
olive green, 377
violet, 393
Crimson, how dyed by one process, 208
by the conversion
of scarlet, 209
n.
Dove-colour, dyeing wool, 3^2
Drab-colour imparted to cloth by ace¬
tate of iron, 426
Dufay's experiments for trying the
permanency of colours, 57
Dyeing, definition of, 1
origin of,f 3
DYEING.
Dyeing, history of,
progress of,
among the Indians,
Greeks,
Jews,
Egyptians,
revived in Italy,
introduced into France,
encouraged there,
restraints imposed on,
state of, in Britain,
improved by chemistry,
authors on the art of,
operations for,
N° 4
ib.
7
8
18
19
22
*3
25
26
27
130
Inde
Indigo, different qualities of, N° 4
from what obtained, jil
properties of, 4
used in two states, J
Ingredients, proportion of, for red- |
dening scarlet,
Iron, oxide of, as a mordant,
solution of, for the same,
bow prepared,
K.
E.
English blue, how produced, 318
green, 374
Euler, proof adduced by, that the co¬
lours of bodies do not origi¬
nate from reflection, 46
F.
Fenugreek, use of, in dyeing, 252
Flax, origin of, 124
how watered, 125
structure of, 127
prepared for dyeing, 128
French berries, use of, in dyeing, 25 2
Fustic, history of, 246
properties of, 247
G.
Galling, uses of, 219
remarks on, 220
Grecian method of, 234
Gray, a compound of black and other
colours, 366
Green, a compound of blue and yel¬
low, ib*
various shades of, 3^7
substances for dyeing, ib.
Saxon process for dyeing
wool, 369
for dyeing
silk, < 372
English process for dyeing
silk, 374
H.
Haussman, Mr, his process for mad¬
der red, 239
Hazel colour, how produced, 4x0
HelloCs, experiment for trying the
permanency of colours, 60
process for dyeing with in¬
digo, . 299
Hiccory, use of, in dyeing, 252
Houses for dyeing, 131
Kermes, history of,
properties of,
Kuster brings the oxide of tin to Lon- j
don,
L.
Lac, history of, 1
properties of, 1
Light, nature of,
Lilac, how communicated to cloth in
calico-printing, i
Lime, use of, in dyeing,
precautions in the use of,
Linen dyed yellow with weld,
blue,
black,
process followed at MancheS'
ter for,
how dyed violet,
cinnamon colour,
olive,
dyed red with madder,
Liquor, purple, formed in snails,
Logwood, history of,
properties of,
M. I
Madder, preparation of, 15^ 1
process for dyeing with, 2
rosing, j
properties of,
Marone colour, how produced,
Matters, coloured, do not reflect light, |
proof of this,
animal, used as mordants, I
animal and vegetable,
coloured black by incident
Metallic oxides, use of, in dyeing, |4
Mordants, definition of,
importance of,,
how applied,
effects of, explained,
various ways applied,
for dyeing cotton red,
used in dyeing black,
Mushrooms, use of, in dyeing.
N.
I.
Indigo, when first used, 20
in Europe, 283
different species of, 284
how prepared, 285
Nankeen colour, how to dye,
another process for,
how done in the east,
how communicated in calico-
printing,
idex.
o.
jve, communicated to cloth in ca¬
lico-printing by acetate of
iron, N° 426
and by the acetates of alumina
and iron combined, ib.
I'unge colour, how produced, 271
a compound of red and yel¬
low, 366
various shades of, 394
P.
upilloti, Mr, his process for dyeing
red, 238
miling, colours for, 429
latiere, De la, his method of dye¬
ing with Prussian blue, 322
ppy-red, how obtained, 214
•ocess for dyeing wool yellow, 258
vussian blue, how to dye with, 3 20
(rple, Tyrian, celebrated by the
ancients, 9
a compound of red and yel¬
low, 366
liquor, preparation of, 9
stuffs, how prepared to re¬
ceive, ib.
permanency of, 10
high price of, 11
worn by the Romans, 12
still used in dyeing, 13
found in snails, 15
Q.
\ jercitron bark, history of, 248
properties, 249
for dyeing wool
yellow, 257
R.
i A substances for dyeing, 155—180
how to obtain different shades of, 195
the
madder, for cotton,
Grecian method of ob
taining,
how improved in
Levant,
how communicated ir
calico-printing,
-»ie-coloury how obtained,
\kge, preparation of,
madder, for wool,
silk,
cotton and linen,
217
231
237
scarlet,
crimson.
423
216
177
182
211
217
186
208
S.
t, common, use of, in dyeing scar-
, let’
^ idal wood, use of, in dyeing,
^ on blue, discovery of,
how to dy with,
196
358
313
314
green, process for dyeing wool, 369
dyeing.
Saxon green, process for dyeing silk,N°372
Scarlet, process for dyeing, 187
with cochineal, 197
process for boiling, ib.
reddening, 188
how to give a bright red to, 191
a compound colour, 198
different shades of, 207
Shellfish, producing a purple liquid, 14
found on the French coast, ib.
method of catching, ib.
Silk, how produced, m
scoured, 112
treated when used white, 113
to extract the colouring
matter of, 115
alumed, 116
process for dyeing red, 211
with madder, ib.
brazil wood, 212
cochineal, 213
weld, 268
how prepared for a blue colour, 301
Turkey blue, 302
black, 336
how galled, 338
softened, 340
raw, how to dye, 342
how dyed green, 371 .
purple, 389
a process for dyeing, 392
how dyed olive, 397
purple-violet, 406
brick colour, 407
how dyed with the black cask, 408
Soot, use of, in dyeing, 359
Stuffs to be dyed should be white, 51
Sumach, properties of, 356
use of, in dyeing, 362
T.
Terms for different shades of colour, 140
Tests for silks, 62
dye-stuffs, 63
Ti n, oxide of, used in dyeing, 87
brought to London by
Kuster, 88
solution of, how prepared, 91
acetate of, recommended by
Haussman as a mordant, 93
Trefoil, leaves of, used in dyeing, 253
V.
Vats, how liable to accidents, 293
recovered, 294
preserved from putrefaction, 295
made with indigo, 298
for blue, recommended by
D’Apligny, 304
by Quatremere 306
on a large scale, 307
recommended by Bergman, 309
461
Vats recommended by Haussman, N° 310
Vduet, how dyed black, 343
substances used instead of galls
. for> 344
Verdigrise, use of, instead of tartar in
dyeing, 265
w.
TVulnut-peels, for dyeing brown, 351
properties of, 352
preparation of, 3 54
Water, importance of, in dyeing, 142
different kinds how distin¬
guished, 144
method ol purifying, 141
tests for, 14 q
TVeld, use of, in dyeing yellow, 244
properties of, 24 ^
Willows, sweet, leaves of, used in dye¬
ing, _ 252
Wood, use of, in dyeing blue, 291
Wool, different modes of dyeing, no
structure of, 105
felting of, 106
how fulled, 107
importance of, 108
dyed red with madder, 182
process for dyeing, scarlet, 186
crimson, 208
yellow, 254
blue, 315
brown, 360
black, 330
green, 368
purple, 381
lilac, 382
orange, 395
coffee-co¬
lour, 402
gray, 403
puce colour, 405
dyed purple with logwood, 384
process for obtaining, 385
Woollen stuffs, printing, 436
Y.
Yellow, substances employed for dye¬
ing* 244
mordants necessary for a per¬
manent, 243
with an orange shade, 259
bright golden, 261
greenish, 263
pale green, 264
process for a cheap, 270
how communicated in calico-
printing, 422
produced by acetate of alu¬
mina, 426
composition for, in calico-
printing, 430
bright, 431
DYN AIIICS.
[ 462 ]
DYNAMICS.
Introduc¬
tion.
Definition.
Idea of
motion.
idea of
space.
I. yxYNAMICS is that branch of physico-mathema-
tical science which includes the abstract doc¬
trine of moving forces ; that is, the necessary results of
the relations of out thoughts concerning motion, the
immediate causes of motion, and its changes.
2. Motion and its general properties are the first and
principal object of mechanical philosophy. This sci¬
ence indeed presupposes the existence of motion *, and
we may considei4 it as universally admitted and recog¬
nised. With regard to the nature of motion, however,
philosophers are greatly divided in opinion. The most
obvious and simplest conception of motion is the succes¬
sive application of the moving body to the different
parts of indefinite space, which are considered as the
place of the body. This idea of motion supposes a
space whose parts are penetrable and immoveable; a
doctrine directly contrary to that of the followers of
Des Cartes, who regarded extension and matter as one
and the same thing. To have a distinct idea of mo¬
tion, it seems requisite to conceive two kinds of exten¬
sion j the one, which is considered as impenetrable,
and which constitutes what we properly call matter or
body ; the other, which being simply considered as ex¬
tended, without taking any other property into ac¬
count, is the measure of the distance of one body from
another; and whose parts being supposed fixed and im¬
moveable, enable us to judge of the rest or motion of
bodies. We may therefore conceive bodies to be placed
in indefinite space, whether real or supposed ; and mo¬
tion as a change in the state or condition of a body from
one part of space to another. We must indeed consider
motion as a state or condition of existence of a body,
which would remain till it is changed by some cause ;
otherwise we could not have any idea of motion in the
abstract. From the changes which we observe, we in¬
fer agency in nature ; and in these changes we are to
discover what we know of their causes.
3. In mechanical disquisitions, the simplest, and at
the same time the most usual conception of space, is
mere extension. We think only of the distance be¬
tween two places. The path along which any body
moves in passing from one place or point in space to
another, is said figuratively to be the path described by
that body. Space is considered by the geometer not
only as having length but also breadth. In this case it
is called a surface. But to have a more complete no¬
tion of the capaciousness of any portion of space, thick¬
ness, as well as length and breadth, is taken into con¬
sideration. This is called a solid space. By this, how¬
ever, is meant only the susceptibility of measure in
three ways, or extension of three dimensions. The ad¬
jacent parts or portions of space are distinguished from
each other by their mutual boundaries. Contiguous
portions of a line are separated by points ; contiguous
portions of a sui’face are separated by lines ; and conti¬
guous portions of a solid are separated by surfaces. The
boundaries of any portions of space are not to be con¬
sidered as parts of the contiguous portions. They must
bt conceived as common to both j as the places where
one portion ends and another begins. Space cannot be Introdm-j
said to have any bounds or limits ; it is therefore said tion. 1
to be infinite or unbounded. * —I:
4. Any portion of space may be considered in rela-Relatire
tion toils place or situation among other portions of and abs° i
space. This portion of space which is occupied by^esPac i
any body has been called the relative place of that bo¬
dy. But this portion of space may be considered as a
determinate portion of infinite space ; and this portion
of infinite space occupied by any body has been called
the absolute place of that body. Space, it is obvious*
taken in this meaning, is immoveable ; for it cannot
be conceived that this identical portion of space can be
removed from one place to another. The body which
occupies that space may be removed, but the space re¬
mains. We have no perception of the absolute space
of any object. This may be illustrated by the motion
of the earth or that of a ship. A person in the cabin
of a ship does not consider the table as changing its
place while it remains fixed to the same spot on the
deck. While a mountain is observed to retain the
same situation among other objects, few persons think
that it changes its place.
5. The idea of time is acquired by means of the Idea of
power of memory in observing the succession of events.time'
We conceive time as unbounded, continuous, homoge¬
neous, unchangeable in the order of its parts, and in¬
finitely divisible. It is conceived as a proper quantity
made up of its own parts, and measured by them. But
as the relation of the parts of time is unknown, the
only means which we can employ to discover this rela¬
tion, is to find out some other relation which is more
obvious and better known, to which it may be compa¬
red. We shall then have discovered the simplest mea¬
sure of time, if we compare in the simplest manner pos¬
sible the relation of the parts of time with those rela¬
tions which are most familiar. Hence it follows, that
uniform motion is the simplest measure of time. For,
on the one hand, the relation of the parts of a right
line is that which is most easily conceived ; and, on
the other hand, there are no relations more susceptible
of comparison with each other than equal relations.
Now, in uniform motion, the relation of the parts of
time is equal to that of the corresponding parts of the
line described. Uniform motion then gives us at once,
both the means of comparing the relation of the parts
of time with that which is most obvious to our senses,
and also of making this comparison in the simplest
manner. In uniform motion, then, we find the sim¬
plest measure of time. It may be added, that the mea¬
sure of time by uniform motion, is, independent of its
simplicity, that which is the most natural to think of
employing. Indeed as there is no relation with which
we are acquainted more accurate than that of the parts
of space ; and, as in general, a motion, the law o!
which is given, would lead us to discover the relation
of the parts of time, by the known analogy with that
of the parts of space passed over, it is evident that such
a motion would be the most accurate measure of time,
rt I. D Y N
otion. an<l ^at which ought to be employed in preference to
every other. In the actual measurement of time, some
event which is imagined always to require an equal
time for its accomplishment is selected $ and this time
is employed as a unit of time or duration, in the same
way as a foot rule is employed as a measure of extension.
During any observed operation, as often as this event
is accomplished, so often is it supposed that the time of
the operation contains this unit. While a heavy body
falls 16 feet, a pendulum, 39^ inches long, makes one
vibration $ but it makes three vibrations, while the
same body falls 144 feet. It is therefore said that the
time of a body falling 144 feet, is thrice as great as the
time of falling 16 feet.
A M I C S. 4<53
6. Between the affections of time and space, there is Motion.
an obvious analogy ; and hence in most languages the   
same words are employed to express the aflections of^”*1^
both. Thus it is that time may be represented by linesthe'afttc-
and measured by motion j since uniform motion isthetionsof
simplest succession of events that can be conceived.t‘me and
In the order of situation all things are placed in space.s^ace* ■
In the order of succession all events happen in time.
Having made these preliminary observations, w’e pro¬
pose to divide the following treatise into two parts. In
the first, we shall consider motion in general. In the
second, we shall treat ot moving forces, or of dynci-*
mics.
PART I. OF MOTION.
K notion
in i.nta-
M4I.
41 ute
BEFORE we enter on the consideration of the dif¬
ferent kinds of motion, it may be necessary to notice
some general circumstances regarding it.
7. It is impossible to conceive that any motion can
be instantaneous. A moving body, in passing from
the beginning to the end of its path, must pass through
all the intermediate points. Now to suppose the mo¬
tion along even the most minute portions of the space
passed through instantaneous, is to suppose that the mo¬
ving body is in every intervening point at the same in¬
stant ; which is impossible.
8. Relative motion is the change of situation with
regard to other objects. Absolute motion is the change
of absolute place. These two motions, it may be ob¬
served, may not only be different, but even contrary to
each other. From the relative motions of things which
are the differences of their absolute motions, we can¬
not find out what are the absolute motions. It is of¬
ten a subject of elaborate and intricate investigation to
discover and determine the absolute motions, by means
of observing the relative motions.
frty of 9. The affections or circumstances of motion are va¬
rious with regard to its quantity and direction. That
affection of motion by which the quantity is determin¬
ed, is called velocity. The length of the line, which is
uniformly described or passed over during some given
portion or unit of time, is the proper measure of this
velocity. When a ship sails six miles per hour, she de¬
scribes a length of line equal to six miles in the space
of a given portion or unit of time, namely the hour $ and
thus the velocity of the ship is said to be ascertained.
10. Another affection or circumstance of motion is
i01i• its direction. This is the position of the straight line
along which the motion is performed. The straight
line which a body describes or tends to describe is call-
lte ed its direction. The motion is said to be in the direc-
Ctlixiytion AB, fig. x. when the body moved passes along
l' fhe fine AB from A to B. In common language, it
is not unusual to express the direction of motion in a
manner quite the reverse of this. We have an in¬
stance of this kind in speaking of the direction of the
winds, A current of air or wind which moves east¬
ward is said to be a westerly wind, deriving its name
from the point or quarter from which it proceeds, not
as in other cases, and in strict expression, from the
point to which it is directed.
i i. Motions are of different kinds. They are either Rectilineal
rectilineal, deflected, or curvilineal. In a rectilineal motion,
motion the direction remains unchanged during the
whole time that the motion is continued, as when a Fig. j.
body moves from A to B, fig. 1. In a deflected mo-Deflected,
tion it is performed along two contiguous straight lines
in succession. Thus if a body moves from A to B,
fig. 2. and at the point B its direction is changed from
that of ADtoBCj this change has been called f/e-Fig. 2.
flection, the quantity of which may be measured either
by the angle DBC, or by a line DC drawn from the
point D to which the body would have arrived in the
same time, if its motion had remained unchanged, in
which it has actually reached the point C. When a
body in moving along describes the sides of a polygon*
the deflections are repeated, with the intervention of
undeflected motions. In curvilineal motion the devia-Curvilineal.
tion and deflection are supposed to be continual. Con¬
tinual deflection therefore constitutes curvilineal mo¬
tion. Let the motion be performed along a curve line
ABODE (fig. 3.), the direction is continually chan-Fig. 3.
ging. When the body is in the point C the direction &
is that of the tangent CF; because this direction alone
lies between any pair of polygonal directions, such as
CE and C a, or CB and CD, however near the points
A and E, or B and D, are taken to the point C.
12. Motions have been divided into uniform motions, Division of
variable, compound, and curvilineal. These we shall motions,
consider separately in the following sections.
Sect. I. Of Uniform Motion.
13. It is of great importance in mechanical disquisi-Importance
tions, to have the characters of uniform or unchanged °f
motion fixed. For in our conceptions of motion in ge. characte*s
neral, in which we do not turn the attention to its al-nl
terations, the motion is supposed to be equable and rec¬
tilineal. By the deviations from such motion only can
we determine the marks and measures of all changes j
and hence also we are to obtain the measures of all
changing causes, or in other words of the mechanical
powers of nature.
Proposition I.
14. In uniform motions, the velocities are in'the pro*
portions of the spaces described in the same or in equal
times i .
DYNAMICS.
Part 1
times ; or as it is sometimes expressed, The velocities
are proportional to the spaces described in equal times.
The spaces described are the measures of the ve¬
locities, and things are proportional to their measures.
Let the spaces described in the time T, be represented
by S and 5, and let the velocities be represented by
V and v. We have the analogy V : f = S : Or,
as it may be expressed by the proportional equation,
Prop. II.
i jj, Xn unifortn motions with equal velocities, the times
are in the proportion of the spaces described during their
currency. Or, as it is also expressed, The times are
proportional to the spaces described with equal velocities.
Tor in uniform motions, equal spaces are described
in equal times. The successive portions of time there¬
fore are equal, in which equal spaces are described in
succession j and the sums of the equal times must be
proportional to the corresponding sums of equal spaces.
In all cases, therefore, which are susceptible of being
represented by numbers, this proposition is evident.
And it may be extended to all other cases, in a way
similar to that in which Euclid has demonstrated that
triangles of equal bases are in the proportion of their
bases.
16. As proportion can only take place between
quantities of the same kind, all that is to be under¬
stood by the expressions in the above propositions, which
are far from being accurate, is, that the proportions of
the velocities and the times are the same with the pro¬
portions of the spaces. For as space and time are
quantities of a different nature, it is evident that vve
cannot divide space by time. Thus when it is said that
the velocities are as the spaces divided by the times, it
is an abridged mode of expression, which signifies that
the velocities are as the relations of the spaces to the
same common measure, divided by the relations of
the times to the same measure. Thus, for example, if
we take a foot for the measure of the spaces, and a
minute for the measure of the times, the velocities of
two bodies which move uniformly, are to each other as
the number of feet described, divided by the number of
minutes which the bodies require to describe the poi-
tion of space passed through, and not as the feet div id¬
ed by the same minutes.
17. Hence it is that uniform motion is universally
employed as a measure of time. But it is often diffi-
a measure cu]t to £n{j out whether the motion which is proposed
of time. for the measure of time be perfectly uniform. What
then are the means to ascertain this ? To this it may
be answered that there is no motion which is not uni¬
form, the law of which we can determine exactly ; so
that this difficulty only proves that vve cannot ascertain
the relation of the parts of time with mathematical
precision but it does not iollow that uniform motion
from its nature may not be the first and simplest mea¬
sure. And having no strictly accurate measure of
time, vve endeavour to discover the measure which
conies nearest in the motions which approach neaiest to
uniformity.
Method of There are three ways by which it may be ascer-
TnTwhen'alined that a motion is nearly uniform. _ I. When the
motion is moving body describes equal spaces in times which vve
nearly uui-judne to be equal} and we can determine that the
form. 0 2
Uni form
motion
times are equal, after having observed from repeated
experience that similar events take place in the same
times. Thus we conclude that the times which the
same clepsydra requires to be emptied are equal ; so also
the times in which the same quantity of sand runs in the
sandglass *, the times in which the shadow moves over
the same space on the sun-dial } the times of the same
number of vibrations of a pendulum of the same
length j and the times of the revolution of the heavenly
bodies through the same spaces—are equal. If then
it is found by observation that a body during the same
time passes over equal spaces, we conclude that the
motion is uniform. 2. Another method of ascertaining
how far any motion is uniform, is when the effect of the
accelerating or retarding cause, if such operate, is im¬
perceptible". It is by combining these two methods that
we conclude the motion of the earth round its axis to he
uniform j and this inference is not only not opposed by
any of the celestial phenomena, hut seems to be in per¬
fect accord with them. 3. By a third method of deter¬
mining the uniformity of any motion, vve compare it
with others ; and when the same law is observed in
both the one and the other, we may conclude that the
motion compared is uniform. Thus if several bodies
move at such a rate that the spaces described in the
same time are always to each other, either precisely or
very nearly so, in the same ratio, the motion of these
bodies, vve conclude, is either precisely, or at least very
nearly uniform. For if a body A. which moves uni¬
formly passes through the space E during the time T.
taken at pleasure, and another body B also moving uni¬
formly, passes through the space <? during the same
time T, the relation of the spaces E, e will be always
the same, whether the two bodies have begun to move
in the same or in different instants j and it is only to
uniform motion that this property belongs. Where¬
fore if we divide the time into parts, whether equal or
unequal, and if it be observed that the spaces passed
through by two bodies during one part of the time, are
always in the same relation, the greater the number
the parts of the time taken, the more there is reason to
conclude that the motion of each body is uniform.
None of these methods, it has been observed, possssses
geometrical precision j but they are sufficient, especi¬
ally when they are repeated and taken together, to af¬
ford a satisfactory conclusion, if not with regard to ab¬
solute uniformity of motion, at least with regard to a
near approximation to uniform motion.
Uniform
Motion,
Prop. III.
19. In uniform motions, the spaces described are m
the compound ratio of the velocities and the ratio of the
times. This proposition is frequently expressed other¬
wise thus *, The spaces described with a uniform motion
are proportional to the products of the times and the ve¬
locities: Or otherwise thus j The spaces described with
a uniform motion are proportional to the rectangles of
the times and the velocities.
For let S be the space described with the velocity y 1
in the time T, and let s be the space described with,
the velocity v, in the time t. Let another space Z be
described in the time T with the velocity
Then by proposition 1st we have S : Z=rV : v.
And by proposition 2d Z : srrl : t.
By
;t. II.
iable By composition of ratios therefore (or by VI. 23. Eu-
tions. did), we have ; sxZ; that
v ' is, =S :
The above are all equivalent expressions which are
demonstrated by the same composition of ratios. The
products or rectangles of the times and velocities, are
the products of numbers which are as the times, mul¬
tiplied by numbers which are as the velocities j or the
rectangles whose bases are as the times, and whose
heights are as the velocities.
Corollary.
20. If the spaces described in t wo uniform motions
be equal, the velocities are in the reciprocal proportion
of the times.
For in this case the products VT and v t are equal,
and therefore V : v~t : T, or V : v=4; : Or, be-
i t ’
cause the rectangles AC, DF (fig. 4.) are in this case
equal, we have (by VI. 14. Euclid) AB : BFzzBD :
BC, that is V ; t; t : T.
Prop. IV.
21. In uniform motions, the times are as the spaces,
directly, and as the velocities, inversely.
For by Prop. Ifl. S : ^=VT : v t;
Therafore, S v trrsVT,
And, T : t—Sv : ^V,
Or, T : t=%:
'V V
And,
t— S
~rv
Prop. V.
22. In uniform motions, the velocities are as the
spaces, directly, and as the times, inversely.
For by Prop. IV. S v /rr,sVT,
Therefore V : rinS t : sT.
Or,
And,
„ S ^
^ ' v= T: 7'
. s
v— -.
- t
23. The values of the results of these propositions
are not changed by the absolute magnitudes of the
space and time, if both are changed in the same ratio.
ti 1 r 12 feet 8 feet . ,
llie value 01 —-, or of —-r—, is the same with
24" 16"
half a foot per second. Therefore, if s' be the ex¬
pression of an extremely minute portion of space de¬
scribed with this velocity in the small portion of time
t', the velocity v is still accurately expressed by —.
And the accurate expression of the time t' is
v
Sect. If. Of Variable Motions.
24. In observing the phenomena of nature, it rarely
lure ^aPPens that the motions to which our attention is di-
uai- reeled are perfectly uniform. These motions, however.
VoL. VII. Part II. f
DYNAMICS. 465
we distinctly conceive, with all their properties; and Variable,
it is obviously of the utmost importance that all the Motions,
deviations from uniform motions be clearly understood j ' v -f
because these deviations afford the only marks and mea¬
sures ot the variations, and therefore ot the causes which
produce these changes.
25. When a body continues to move uniformly In
the same direction, its motion, or circumstances with
respect to motion, have suffered no change. The con¬
dition of that body, therefore, must be allowed to be
the same in any two portions of its path, whatever the
distance of these portions may be. And because a
change of place is involved in the very conception of
motion, the difference of place does not imply any
change. Two bodies, therefore, moving with the same
velocity in this path, or in two lines parallel to it, their
condition in respect of motion must be allowed to be
the same. Their direction is the same, and their rate
of motion is the same. The velocity, therefore, and Velocity
the direction of a body, are the only circumstances a.nc^ ^'rec*
which seem to enter into our conception of the state °fconceived
a body, in respect of motion. Changes either in the in motion,
velocity, or in the direction, or in both of these circum¬
stances, include all the changes of which this condition
is susceptible. Let us now consider the first of these
changes, namely, changes of velocity.
Of Accelerated and Retarded Motions.
26. It has been ascertained by experiment and ob¬
servation, that a stone in falling is carried downward
with greater rapidity in every successive period of its
fall. During the first second it falls 16 feet; daring
the next, it falls 48 feet; during the third, it falls 80
feet; during the fourth, it falls H2feet; continuing
to fall, during every successive second 32 feet more
than during the preceding second. A body moving in
this manner is said to have an accelerated motion. But
if a body be projected perpendicularly upwards, the
very reverse takes place in the circumstances of its mo¬
tion. It is observed to rise with a motion which is
continually retarded. These bodies therefore are con¬
ceived to be in every succeeding instant in different
states of motion. The velocity of the falling body is
conceived to be greater in a certain instant than in any
preceding instant; as, for example, when it has fallen
144 feet, its velocity is said to be thrice as great as
when it has fallen only 16 feet. But this inference, it
is evident, cannot be made directly by comparing the
spaces described in the following moments ; for in these
it falls 112 and 48 feet; or by comparing the spaces
immediately preceding ; for in these the body fell 80
and 16 feet. But in this expression it is supposed that
the variable condition of a body, called its velocity, is
in every instant susceptible ot any accurate measure;
and yet in no moment, however short, does the body
describe uniformly a space which can be taken as the
measure of its velocity at the beginning of that mo¬
ment ; because the space described in any moment is
too great for measuring the velocity at the beginning
of the moment, and too small for the measure of its ve¬
locity at the end of it. Till however such a measure
is obtained, the mechanical condition of the body is not
known.
27. But in a continually accelerated motion, no
such measure can be obtained. No space is describ-
3 N ed
466 D Y N A
Variable ed In an instant: for this requires time. In that in-
Motions, stant, however, the body possesses what has been called
' v ' a potential velocity, that is, a certain tendency or de¬
termination, which remaining unchanged, causes it to
describe a certain space uniformly during some assign¬
able portion ot time. At another instant it has anot er
determination, by which, if it be not changed, another
space will be uniformly described in an equal portion
of time. Now it is in the difference of those two de¬
terminations that its difference of mechanical condition
consists. The marks and measures of these determina¬
tions are known from the spaces which would be uni¬
formly described. These therefore must be carefully
investigated as the measures of the velocities ; and the
proportions of these spaces are to be taken as the pro¬
portions of the velocities.
Prop. VI.
5-
28. Let the straight line ART) (fig- 5-) be described
with a motion continually varied; it is required to de¬
termine the proportion of the velocity in the point A, 0
the velocity in any other point C. _
Let the right line a b d, represent the time of this
motion along the path AD, so that the points a, b c, d,
may denote ihe instants of the moving body being in
A B C, D, and the proportions a b, b c, c d, may ex-
press’the times of describing AB, BC, CD, that is,
may be in the proportion of those times ; and let a e,
perpendicular to a d, express the velocity of the moving
body at the instant a, or in the point A. Let eg/i\)&
a line, so related to the axis a d, that the areas a oj e,
be ” f c d hg, comprehended between the ordinates
ae^'bf, eg, dh, all perpendicular to a d, may be
proportional to the spaces AB, BC, CD, described m
the times ab,bc,cd, and let this relation hold in eve¬
ry part of the figure. Then the velocity in A is to
the velocity in B, or C, or D, as ae to b f, or e g, 01
dh. Or it may be expressed in other words, 1J the ab¬
scissa a d, o/’o curve e g h, be propoi'tional to the time
of any motion, and the areas interrupted by parallel or¬
dinates be proportional to the spaces described, the velo¬
cities are proportional to those ordinates.
Make b c and c d equal, so as to represent very small
and equal moments ot time, and make pa equal to
one of them. Complete the rectangle pa <? 7. Ibis
will represent the space uniformly described in the mo¬
ment pa, with the velocity ae (Propos. 3.). Let PA
be that portion of space thus uniformly described in the
moment p a* Let the lines i wi, k parallel to a d,
making the rectangles be mi, and c d nk, respectively
equal to the areas b cgf, and c d h g. If the motions
along the spaces PA and BC had been uniform, the
velocities would have been proportional to the spaces
described (Propos. 1.) because the times pa, and be
are equal. That is, the velocity in A would be to
the velocity in C, as the rectangle paeq to the area
b eg f, that is, z.% pae q to be m i, that is, as the base
ae- to the base cm, because the altitudes pa and be
are equal. # .
But the motion along the line BC is not represented
as uniform-, for the line f g h diverges from the axis
b d, the ordinate eg being greater than b f. And
therefore the spaces measured by these areas increase
faster than the times } and thus the figure represents an
accelerated motion, therefore the velocity with wuich
2
M I C S. Parti
BC would be uniformly described during the moment Variable
b c is less than the velocity at the end of that moment, Motions,
that is, at the instant c, or in the point C of the path j r—
and therefore it must be represented and measured by a
line greater than c m.
In the same manner it is proved that c k represents
and measures the velocity with which CD would be
uniformly described during the moment c d. And
therefore, since the motion along CD is also accelerat¬
ed the velocity at the beginning of that moment is less
than the velocity with which it would he uniformly de¬
scribed in the same time, and must be represented by a
line less than c k.
Therefore the velocity in A, is to that in C, in a
less ratio than that of ae to c m, but in a greater ratio
than that of a e to c k. But in this case, as long as
the instant b is prior, and d posterior, to the instant c,
c m is less, and c £ is greater, than eg. Therefore the
velocity in A is to that in C in a ratio that is greater
than any ratio less than that of ae to eg. And, con¬
sequently the velocity in A is to that in C, as a e to
eg.
It may he proved in the same way, with respect to
the velocity in any other point D ; and therefore the
proposition may be considered as demonstrated. And
had the motion along BCD, instead of being accele¬
rated as in this case, been retarded, the same reason¬
ing would still apply.
Corollaries.
29. Cor. I. The velocities in different points of the
path AD, are in the ultimate ratio of the spaces describ¬
ed in equal small moments of time. Draw g 0 parallel
to a d. Then the velocity in the instant a, is to that
in the instant c, as a e to c g, that is, as the rectangle
p e to the rectangle c 0, that is, as p a e q to cdhg,
nearly. As the moments are diminished, the differ¬
ence goh between the rectangles c,g 0 d and cghd,
diminishes nearly in the duplicate ratio of the moment.
If then the moment be taken or £ of c d, the
error g 0 h is diminished to |, f, or TV : the corollary
is now manifest; for the ultimate ratio of c £ 0 d to
cghd is the ratio of equality. That is, the velocity in
A is to that in C, in the ultimate ratio of PA to BC
described in equal small moments.
There are many cases in which the spaces described
in very small moments can be measured, and yet the
ultimate ratio cannot be ascertained. These spaces
must then be taken as measures of the velocity. And
by taking half the sum of the spaces BC and CD, for
the measure of the velocity in the point C, the error
is almost reduced to nothing.
30. Cor. 2. The momentary increments of the spaces
described, are in the compound ratio of the velocities,
and the ultimate ratio of the moments.
For the increments PA, CD are as the rectangles
p e and co ultimately, (Propos. 3.) j and these are in
the compound ratio of the base ae to the base do, ant
the ultimate ratio of the altitude p a, to the altitude
c d. This may be expressed by the proportional equa¬
tion s-=z v t.
31. Consequently vzg. $ and v . The equation
bet. II.
DYNAMICS.
seem to be the same with
szzvt, vzz—, and t~ —
' t ' t
those in (23), but there the same space s' was describ¬
ed uniformly, and the equations were absolute. In
30 and 35, ^ does not represent a space uniformly de¬
scribed. But S : s expresses the ultimate ratio of S' to s'
when they are diminished continually, and vanish to¬
gether. Therefore the meaning- of the equation s~vi
is, that the ultimate ratio of S' to s', is the same with
that of VT to vt\
32. The following is the converse of this proposi¬
tion.
If the abscissa ado/- the line e f h, repi'esent the time
of a motion along the line ABD, and if the ordinates
a e, b f, c g, &c. be as the velocities in the points A,
B, C, &c. then the areas are as the spaces described.
This is proved by an indirect demonstration, thus :
lor if the spaces AB, AD, be not proportional to
the areas abfe, ad he, they must be proportional to
some other, a bf1 e, a dh!e, of another line e f //, pas¬
sing through e. Assuming this to he true, then (by
Propos. 6.) the velocity in A is to that in B, as ae to
bf. Therefore ae : bf—ae : bf, which is absurd.
33. The relation between the space described and the
time which elapses is the only immediate observation to
be made on these variable motions. By means of the
foregoing proposition, the mechanical condition of the
body, or rather the effect and measure of this condi¬
tion, denominated velocity, is inferred. The same in¬
ference is made in another way. Sir Isaac Newton
often represents the uniform lapse of time by the uni¬
form increase of an area during the motion along the
line taken for the abscissa. T he velocities or determi¬
nations to motion in the different points of this line,
are inversely proportional to the ordinates of the curve
which bounds this area.
Along the straight line AD, (fig. 6.) let a point
move with a motion any how continually changed, and
let the curve line LIH be so related to AD, that the
area LICB is to the area LHDB as the time of mov¬
ing along BC to that of moving along BD. Let this
he true in every point of the line AD. Let Cc, D d,
be two very small spaces described in equal times, draw
the ordinate ic, h d, and draw ik, h l perpendicular to
IC, HD.
The areas IC c i, and HD dh must be equal, because
they represent equal moments of time. It is evident
also, that as the spaces Cc and D d are continually di¬
minished, the ratio of IC c f, and HDr/A to the rect¬
angles & C c af and / D continually approximates to
that of equality, and that the ratio of equality is the
limiting or ultimate ratio. Since, therefore, the areas
IC ci and HD d h are equal, the rectangles kCci
and lY)dh are ultimately in the ratio of equality.
Therefore their bases ic and hd are inversely as their
altitudes C c and D d, that is, ic : h efcrD d : C c.
But as C c and D d are described in equal times, they
are ultimately as the velocities in c and d (29). Thej-e-
fore ic and h d, are inversely as the velocities in c and
d. And as the same reasoning may be applied to every
point of the abscissa, the proposition is demonstrated.*
34. In all cases, then, in which the relation be¬
tween the spaces described, and the times elapsed can
he discovered by observation, we discover the mechani¬
cal condition of the moving body, or its velocity. But
in the practical application of these conclusions, re¬
course must always he had to arithmetical conclusions j
and the indications of these are the algebraic symbols of
geometrical reasonings. Thus any ordinate eg (fig.
5.) is represented by v, and the portion c cl of the ab¬
scissa by t, and the area cdhg, or its equal, the rect¬
angle c dog, by vt. This rectangle then being as the
corresponding portion CD of the line of motion, and
CD being represented by s, we have the equation
SZZ.V t.
3$. The mathematical consequences of these repre¬
sentations may now he assumed to be true ; and there¬
fore i=~t as in (23). Algebraic symbols being the
representations of arithmetical operations, they repre¬
sent more remotely the operations of geometry, and
only because the area of a rectangle is analogous to the
product of numbers which are proportional to its sides.
The symbolbeing used to represent the sum of all
these rectangles, expresses the whole area ad he, as
well as the whole line of motion AD ; and the equa¬
tion may he stated s~Jvt. In like manner^ - will be
equivalent to J't, that is, to t, and will express the
whole time a d.
It is plain too that —represents the
have tzz—, and tz
as above.
ordinate DH of the line LKTH (fig. 6.) because any jfjg-, 5.
portion D d of its abscissa, is properly represented bv
s, and the ordinates are reciprocally proportional to
the velocities, that is, are proportional to the quotients
of some constant number divided by the velocities, and
therefore to And as i is represented by the rect¬
angle A: C c/, which is also represented by .9 x~, we
v
36. In one case of varied motion, when the line e fg h Fig. 5.
(fig. 5.) is a straight line, the characters are very par¬
ticular and useful. Let this case of motion be repre¬
sented along the line AD (fig. 7.), and let pa, b c, c d, Fig. 7.
represent equal moments of time, in which the moving
body describes PA, BC, CD ; and draw f m, g n, es,
parallel to the abscissa ad. Now it is evident that
mg and nh are equal, or that equal increments of ve¬
locity are acquired in equal times e q, er, e s, are al¬
so proportional to qf, rg, s h, and therefore the incre¬
ments qf rg, s h, of velocity are proportional to the
times a b, a c, ad, in which they are acquired. This
motion may very properly he denominated uniformly
acceleratedi for here the velocity increases in the same
ratio with the times, and equal increments are acquired
in equal times. If the line eh cut the abscissa in v, it
will represent a motion uniformly accelerated from rest
during the time v d, and thus exhibit the relations
between the spaces, velocities, and times in such mo¬
tions.
Hence it follows from this mode of expressing these
3 N 2 relations,
D Y N A
relations, that in motions uniformly accelerated front a
state of rest, the acquired velocities are proportional to
the times from the beginning oj the motion. 1 or a e,
b f c.g, dh, represent the velocities gained during the
times"*; a,vb,vc,v d, and are in the same proportion
with those lines. .
37.  1. Also, the momentary increments oj velocity,
are as the moments in which they are acquired.
2. Also, the spaces described from the beginning of
the motion, are as the squares of the times.
3. Also, the increments of the spaces are as the incre¬
ments of the squares of the times ; reckoning from the
beginning of the motion. . ^
4. Also, the spaces described from the beginning oj
the motion, are as the squares of the acquired velo-
cities •
r. Also, the momentary increments of the Spaces are
as the momentary increments of the squares oj the velo-
6. Also, the space described during any portion of time
by a motion uniformly accelerated from rest, is one half
of the space uniformly described in the same time with
the final velocity of the accelerated motion.
•j. And the space described during any portion of the
time of the accelerated motion, is equal to that which
would be described in the same time with the mean be¬
tween the velocities at the beginning and end of this
portion of time. .
In the investigation of all other varied motions, the
properties of uniformly accelerated motion stated above,
will be found extremely useful, and especially in cases
where approximation only can be easily obtained. But
for the fuller illustration of these properties the reader
is referred to Robison’s Elements of Mechanical Philo¬
sophy, p- 3^* . ,1 1
38. Supposing the acceleration to be always the
same, we conceive of this constancy, that in equal
times there are equal increments of velocity; and there¬
fore that the augmentations of velocity are proportion¬
al to the times in which they are required. That ac¬
celeration then, according to this supposition, must be
accounted double, or triple, &c. where the velocity
acquired is double or triple. And, acceleration being
considered as a measurable quantity, the augmentation
of velocity uniformly acquired in any given time is its
measure.
Corollary.
39. Therefore accelerations are proportional to the
spaces described in equal times, with motions uniformly
accelerated from a state of rest. For in this case the
spaces are-the halves of what would he uniformly de¬
scribed in the same time with the acquired final veloci¬
ties and are therefore proportional to these velocities,
or to the accelerations, since the velocities were acqui¬
red in equal times.
40. It is then said that accelerations are proportion¬
al to the increments of velocity uniformly acquired, di¬
rectly, and to the times in which they are acquired, in¬
versely.
V v
A : a— ;jr • j'
This relation between acceleration, velocity, and time,
is also true, in uniformly accelerated motion, with re¬
spect to all momentary changes of velocity, as well as
3
M I C S.
to those cases of motion passing through all degrees of
velocity from nothing to the final magnitude For
the velocity increasing at the same rate with the time,
we have v : v'—t : t'; and v' and t' express the simul¬
taneous increments of velocity and time.
41. But if the augmentation of velocity be the mea¬
sure of the acceleration, and therefore proportional to
it, and if in uniformly accelerated motions, the veloci¬
ty increases at the same rate with the times, the incre¬
ments of velocity are as the accelerations and as the
times iointly. Hence the proportional equation
vzza t,
and f'zpa t'.
42. It appears from (39.), that when the velocity
has uniformly increased from nothing, the spaces de¬
scribed in equal times are proper measures of accelera¬
tion. And in (37.—3O uniformly accelerated mo¬
tions, the spaces are as the squares ol the times. There¬
fore, when the acceleration continues the same, the
fraction — must also remain of the same value, and a
is proportional to —• And therefore, accelerations
are proportional to the spaces described with a motion
uniformly accelerated from rest, directly, and to the
squares of the times inversely.
. . V , . UU , . . .
42. And since azz—, we have a——-; but v r__- s,
V2,
therefore 0==: —. Therefore we have another mea-
• s
sure of acceleration, viz. Accelerations are directly
as the squares of the velocities, and inversely as the
spaces along which the velocities are uniformly aug¬
mented.
44. But when the spaces are equal, we have az=.v ,
and in uniformly accelerated motions, that is, when a
remains constant, the space being increased in any pro¬
portion, v% increases in the same proportion; it follows
that u* increases in the proportion both of the accele¬
ration and of the space. And therefore, in general,
we have v'zha s. And, as in 41, 42, we shall have
iit-— a S, and \*—v% “ a S—a s, or rzS—s, which
may be thus expressed, vvzza s', that is, in a motion
uniformly accelerated, the momentary change of the
square of the velocity is proportional to the accelera¬
tion and to the space jointly. Thus, it appears, that
the acceleration continued during a given time t, or t ,
produces a certain augmentation of the simple veloci¬
ty ; but the acceleration continued along a given space
/or S', produces a certain augmentation of the square
of the velocity.
45. But accelerations which are constant and uni¬
form, and such as have been considered, are very rare
in the phenomena of nature. They are as variable as
velocities, and therefore it is not less difficult to disco¬
ver their actual measure. By changes of velocity only
we obtain any knowledge of the changing cause. From
the continual acceleration of a falling body we learn,
that the same power which makes it press on the hand,
presses it downward, as it falls through the air ; and
whatever be the rapidity of its descent, it is from ob¬
serving that it acquires equal increments of velocity in
equal times, that we know the downward pressure to
be the same. * > J
Part ]
Variabluj
Motionsi
1—rJ
;,t n.
1 able In the same way that we obtain measures of a velo-
|kons. city which is continually varying, we may obtain ac-
•U—"''curate measures of a similarly varying acceleration. A
line may be conceived to increase along with the velo¬
city, and at the same rate; and this rate of increase of
velocity is v^at is called acceleration, in the same way
as the rate at which the line increases, is what is called
velocity. If, then, we consider the areas (fig. 5.) or
the line AD, as representing a velocity ; the ordinates
to the line eg h, which were demonstrated to be pro¬
portional to the rate of variation of the area, will be
proportional to the variation of the velocity, that is, to
the acceleration.
Prop. VII.
46. If the abscissa '&& of a curve line e g h repre¬
sent the time of a motion, and if the areas able, acge,
a d h e, &c. are proportioned to the velocities at the in¬
stants b, c, d, &c. then the ordinates a e, b f, c g, d h,
&c. are proportional ta the acceleration at the instants
a, b, c, d, &c.
By substituting the word acceleration for the word
velocity, the same demonstration may be applied here
as in Prop. 6. (28.). From this proposition may be de¬
duced some corollaries of pi'actical use in mechanical
discussions.
47. The momentary increments of velocity are as the
accelerations, and as the moments jointly.
For the increment of velocity in the moment c d is
accurately represented by the area £•</>£ g-, or by the
rectangle c d n k ; and c d accurately represents the mo¬
ment. Also, the ultimate ratio of c & to such another
ordinate hi, is the ratio of eg to b f ; that is, the ratio
of the acceleration in the instant 0 to that in the instant
b. And therefore the increment of velocity during the
moment p a is to that during the momenta d pay^ae
to c dy,dg. Or it may be expressed by the propor-
| tional equation vzzat.
48* Conversely. The acceleration a is proportional
v ....
to —, as in the case when the motion is uniformly ac-
i celerated (40.).
And as the area of this figure is analogous to the
sum of all the inscribed rectangles, when the circum¬
stances of the case admit of its being measured, it may
be expressed by J*at; and thus is obtained the whole
velocity acquired during the time AC, and we say vzz
DYNAMICS.
469
fat.
The intensities (or at least their proportions) of the
accelerating power of nature in the differents points of
the path being frequently known, we wish to discover
the velocities in those points. This may be done by
the following proposition.
Prop. VIII.
49. If the abscissa AE (fig. 8.) of a line zee be the
space along which a body moves with a motion continu¬
ally varied, and if the ordinates A o, B C c, &c. are
proportional to the accelerations in the points A, B, C,
&c. then the areas AB ba, AD da, AE e a, &c. ai'e
proportional to the augmentations of the square of the
velocity in A at the points B, D, E, &c.
lake BC, CD, as two very small portions of the line Compound
AE, and draw b f eg, parallel to AE. Then, sup- Motions,
posing the acceleration B b, to continue through the v-—’
space BC, the rectangle BbfC will express the aug¬
mentation made on the square of the velocity in B. In
the same way C eg- D will express the augmentation of
the square of the velocity in C; and, in like manner,
the rectangles inscribed in the remainder of the figure
will express the increments of the squares of the velo¬
city acquired, while the body moves over the corre¬
sponding portions of the abscissa. And, therefore, the
whole augmentation of the square of the velocity in A
(should there be any velocity in that point) during the
time of
moving from A to B, will constitute the ag¬
gregate of these partial increments. The same thing
must be affirmed of the motion from B to E. And,
when the subdivision of AE is carried on without end,
it is plain that the ultimate ratio of the area AE ea to
the aggregate of inscribed rectangles, is that of equa¬
lity; that is, when the acceleration varies continually,
the area AB£« will express the increment made on
the square of the initial velocity in A, while the body
moves along AB ; and the same must be affirmed with
respect to the motion along BE. And, therefore, the
intercepted areas AB b a, BD db, DE e d, are propor¬
tional to the changes made on the squares of the velo¬
cities in the points A, B, and D.
Corollaries.
50. Cor. I. If the body had no velocity in A, the
areas AB b a, AD da, &c. are proportional to the
squares of the velocity acquired in the points B, D,
&c.
Cor. 2. The momentary change on the square of the
velocity, is as the acceleration and incipient of the space
jointly ; or we have v v=.a s.
Cor. 3. v v being equal to half the increment of the
square of the velocity, it follows that the area AE e a,
f* • . V*.
or the fluently a s is only equal to  
v and V as the velocities in A and E.
taking
51. What has now been said of the acceleration of
motion, is equally applicable to motions that are re¬
tarded, whether these motions be uniform or unequable.
The momentary variations in this case are to be taken
as decrements of velocity instead of increments. A
moving body, subject to uniform retardation till it
come to rest, will continue in motion during a time
proportional to the initial velocity ; and describe a space
proportional to the square of this velocity; and the
space which is so described, is one half what it would
have been if the initial velocity had continued undimif
nished.
Sect. III. Of Compound Motions.
52. Having obtained the marks and measures ofCliaraetc-
every variation of velocity, we are to discover si-“sties in
milar characteristics for every change of direction. In
the above investigation of the general marks of any
change of motion, it is plain that the change being the
same in any two or more instances, the ostensible marks
must also be the same, whatever may have been the
previous
470
Compound previous condition of the moving bodies. In every case
Motions, pf change, some circumstance in the difference between
“"'■"v—“"J the former motions and the new motions must be ob¬
served, which is exactly the same both in respect of ve¬
locity and of direction. One of the bodies then may
be supposed to have been at rest; and thus the change
produced on it, is the motion which it has acquired, or
the determination to this motion. Therefore, a change
of motion is itself a motion, or determination to motion.
In the above case, it is the new motion only; but it is
not the new motion in every other case. For suppo¬
sing the previous condition of the body to have been
different from that of a body at rest, and supposing the
same change produced on it, the new condition o! the
one body must be different from the new condition of
the other. The change, therefore, being the same in
both cases, the new condition cannot he that change.
But, when the same change happens in any previous
motion, the difference between the former motion and
the new motion, must indicate something that is equi¬
valent to the motion produced in a body previously at
rest, or the same with that motion, this body having
received the same change. And the diflerence be¬
tween the new motions of the two bodies will be such
as shall indicate the difference between the previous
conditions of each body. The change ol motion then
is itself a motion ; and this being assumed as a piin-
DYNAMICS. Part
gram, which is formed by the lines in their first or c0!Dpi,
last position , and the velocity of the intersection is to Motfe
the velocity of each of the motions of the lines as
diagonal is to the side in the direction of which the
motions are made. This motion of the intersection is
very properly said to be compounded of two motions
in the direction of the sides j for when the point d of
the line D ^ moves eastward, the same point d of the
line m d n is at the same instant moving southward.
The point d, therefore, may be considered as a point
of both lines, partaking in every instant of both mo¬
tions. The motion along A b then contains both mo¬
tions along AB and AC, and being identical with a
motion compounded of these motions, indicates both,
oi' the determination to both. In every situation of the
point of intersection, its velocity is compounded of the
velocity AB and AC. A body, therefore, whose mo¬
tion continued unchanged, would have described AB
in one minute j but when it reaches the point A, it
illustrated,
Fig- P-
ctple, we are now to endeavour to discover a motion
which alone shall produce that difference from the for¬
mer motion, which, in all cases, is observed in the new
motion. This is to be considered as the proper charac¬
teristic of the change.
53. The following motions may serve as an illustra¬
tion of these conditions. Let it be supposed that the
straight line AB (fig. 9.) lies east and west, and that it
is crossed by the line AC from north to south. Sup¬
pose this line AC to be a rod or wire, and to be
carried along the line AB in one minute, but always in
the same position, that is, lying north and south. The
end of the rod or wire A having moved uniformly one-
third of AB at the end of 20", it will be in the position
Dd at the end of 40" it will have the position E c»; and
at the end of the minute it will be in the position B b.
Let the line AB, in the mean time (supposing it
also to he material) be uniformly moved from north to
south, and always parallel to its first position AB.
"When it has passed over one-third of AC, at the end
of 20", it will be in the position m d n •, at the end of
40" it will have the position o e p, and A 0 is two-
thirds of AC. At the end of the minute, it will have
the position C 5 s b. It is evident that the common in¬
tersection of these two lines will be always in the dia¬
gonal A h of the parallelogram A C b B 5 for the pa¬
rallelogram A m d D is similar to the parallelogram
A C b B, because AD : AB=A m : AC j and, in like
manner, A 0 e E is a parallelogram similar to A C b B.
Therefore, these parallelograms are about a common
diagonal A b.
Again, the motion of the point of intersection ot
these lines is uniform j for AD : AB = A d : A b, and
AE : ABrrA e : A b, &c. Therefore the spaces A d,
A e, A b are proportional to the times.
Thus the intersection of two lines having each a uni¬
form motion in the direction of the other, moves uni.
formly in the direction of the diagonal of the parallel
/-
turns aside, and describes A b uniformly in the same
time *, the change then which the body sustains in the
point A is a motion AC. For suppose the body had
been at rest in the point A, and it is observed to de¬
scribe AC in one minute, the motion AC is the change
which it has sustained. The motion A b is not the
change : for if AF had been the primitive motion, the
same motion A b would have been the result of com-
pounding with it the motion AG. But since AF is
different from AB, the same change cannot produce
the same new conditions. But, farther, there is no
other motion which, by compounding it with AB, will
produce the motion A b j and the motion AC is the
only circumstance of sameness between changing the
motion AB into the diagonal motion A b, and giving
the motion AC to a body which was previously at rest.
—From these conditions it follows, that a change of
motion, is that motion, which by composition with the
previous state of motion, produces the new motion.
54. This composition of motion has been considered and in
in a different way. While a body is supposed to moveollier'
uniformly in the direction AB, the space in which this
motion is performed, is supposed to be carried in the
direction AC. But it cannot he conceived that any
portion of space is moved from its place. A distinct
notion of this composition may be obtained, by suppo¬
sing a person walking along a line AB, while this is
drawn on a piece of ice, and the ice is floating in the
direction AC. But the motion on moving ice is not
precisely a composition of two determinations to mo¬
tion •, for this is completed in the first instant. When
the motion in the direction and with the velocity A b
begins, no farther exertion is needed } the motion con¬
tinues, and A b is described. It serves, however, to
exhibit to the mind the mathematical composition of
two motions. In the result of this combination, all the
characteristics of the two determinations are to be
found-, for the point of intersection, in whatever way
it is considered, partakes of both motions.
33. Thus a general characteristic of a change of
motion is obtained, and this corresponds with the mark
and measure of every moving cause •, for it is the very
motion which it is conceived to produce. It may per¬
haps even be considered as the foundation of former
uni- measures ; for in every acceleration, retardation, or de¬
flection, there is a new motion compounded with the
former.
jilt. II.
n,'xmnd former,
DYNAMICS.
What is taken for the beginning of motion in as will produce it by composition.
ifions.
every observation of surrounding bodies, is nothing
more than a change induced on a motion already pro¬
duced.
56. The actual composition of motion being so ge¬
neral in the phenomena of the universe, it obtains in
all motions and changes of motion produced or obser¬
ved, and the characteristic which has been assumed of
a change of motion being the same, whatever may
have been the previous motion, and this being equally
applicable to simple motions, it is evident that a know¬
ledge of the general results of this composition of mo¬
tion will be of essential service in acquiring a know¬
ledge of mechanical nature.
57. The following is the general theorem to which
all others may be reduced.
Prop. IX.
Two uniform motions, having the directions and ve¬
locities represented by the sides AB, AC, of a parallelo¬
gram, compose a uniform motion in the diagonal. The
demonstration of this has been already given. The
motion of the point of intersection of these two lines,
each moving uniformly in all its points, in the direc¬
tion of the other, is, in every instant, composed of the
two motions. It is the same as if a point described AB
uniformly, while AB is carried uniformly in the di¬
rection AC. This motion is along the diagonal A b,
and it has been already shewn to be uniform. And,
because AB and A b are described in the same time,
the velocities of the motions along AB, AC, and A b
are proportional to those lines.
Corollaries.
Cor. 1. The motion A b, which is compounded of the
two simple motions AB and AC, is in the same plane
ivith these motions. For a parallelogram lies all in the
same plane.
Cor. 2. The motion A b may be produced by the com¬
position of any two uniform motions having the direction
and velocities which are represented by the sides of any
parallelogram, AF b G, or AC b B, which has A b for
its diagonal.
) as- 58. Cases are not unfrequent in which the directions
the of two simple motions composing an observed motion
'°n may be discovered *, but the proportion of the veloci-
'ne,' ties is unknown. This velocity may be ascertained by
means of this last proposition. For the direction of the
three motions, namely the two simple and the com¬
pound motions, determines not only the species of pa¬
rallelogram, but also the ratio of the sides. Again, in
those cases in which the direction and the velocity of
one of the simple motions are known, and therefore its
proportion to that of the observed compound motion,
the direction and velocity of the other may be also
found by means of the same proposition y because from
these data the parallelogram may be determined.
59. This motion in the diagonal is called the equi¬
valent motion, or the resulting motion ; for it is equiva¬
lent to the combined motions in the sides. Thus, if
the moving body first describe AB, and then B b or
AC, it will be in the same point, as if it had described
Ab, namely, in the point b.
60. It is often highly useful in investigations of this
kind to substitute such motions for an observed motion,
mi und
lot
471
Th is has been de- Compound
nominated the resolution of motions. By this manner Motions.
of proceeding, a ship's change of situation at the end of—   
a day, having sailed in different courses, is computed.
Ihus the distance sailed to the eastward or the west¬
ward, as well as that to the northward or southward,
on each course, is observed and marked. The whole of
the eastings, and the whole of the southings, are add¬
ed together 5 and then it is supposed that the ship has
sailed for the whole day on that course, which would
be produced by combining the same easting and south¬
ing.
61. It is also useful to consider how much the body
has been advanced in a certain direction by means of
the observed motion ; let us suppose in the direction
AB (fig. 10.). The motion CD is first considered as Fig. 10.
composed of a motion CE parallel to the given line
AB, and another motion CF perpendicular to AB.
CD is the diagonal of a parallelogram CEDF, one of
whose sides CE is parallel to AB, and the other CF
is perpendicular to AB. It is evident, that the body
has advanced in the direction of AB as much as if it
had moved from G to H, instead of moving from C to
D, so that the motion CF has no ellect either in ob¬
structing or promoting the progress in AB. This is
called estimating a motion in a given direction, or re¬
ducing it to that direction.
62. A motion is also said to be estimated in a given
plane, when it is considered as composed of a motion
perpendicular to the plane, and of another parallel to
it. In a given plane ABCD (fig. 11.), let EF be a Fig. n.
motion compounded of a motion GE perpendicular to
the plane, and EH parallel to it. For if the lines
GE, FH are drawn perpendicular to the plane, they
cut it in two points e and f, and EH is parallel to e f.
63. In the same way a compound motion may be
formed of any number of motions. Let AB, AC, AD,
AE, &c. (fig. 12.) be any number of motions, of which Fig, 13.
the motion AF is compounded. The motion which is
the result of this composition is thus ascertained. The
motion AG is compounded of AB and AC ; and the
motion AG compounded with AD, gives the motion
AHj which latter being compounded with AE, pro¬
duces the motion AF. And the same place, or final
situation F, will be found by supposing the different
motions AB, AC, AD, AE, to be performed succes¬
sively. The moving body first describes AB; then
BG, equal and parallel to AC ; then GH, equal and
parallel to AD j and lastly, HE, equal and parallel to
AE. In this case it is not requisite that all the mo¬
tions lie in the same plane.
64. Three motions which have the direction and
proportions of the sides of a parallelepiped, compose a
motion having the direction of its diagonal. Let AB,
AC, AD (fig. 13.), he these motions, the compound-Fig. 13.
ed motion is in the diagonal AF of the parallelepiped;
because AB and AC compose the motion AE ; and
AE and AD compose the motion AF.
It is in this way that the mine-surveyor proceeds.
He sets down a gallery of a mine, not directly by its
real position, but marks the easting and westing, the
northing and southing, as well as its dip and rise. AH
these measures are referred to three lines, of which one
runs east and west, one north and south, and a third is
perpendicular. These three lines are obviously analo¬
gous
47 2
Compound
Motions.
Other com¬
pound mo¬
tions.
Fig. 14.
Condition
of com¬
pound mo¬
tions disco¬
vered from
that of the
simple mo¬
tions.
jrnus to the angular boundaries of a rectangular box, as
AC, AB, AD.
65. The composition of uniform motions only has
yet been considered. But it is easy to conceive that
any motions may be compounded. It is a case of this
kind when a man is supposed to walk on a field of ice
along a crooked path, while the ice floats down a
crooked stream. Suppose a uniform motion in the di¬
rection AB (fig. 14.), to be compounded with a uni-
formly accelerated motion in the direction AC. A
stone falling from the mast bead of a ship, while she
sails uniformly forward in the direction AB, affords
example of this kind of motion ; for the stone will he
observed to fall parallel to a plummet hung from the
mast head. But the real mption of the stone is a pa¬
rabolic arch A bfg, which AB touches in A; for
while the mast head describes the equal lines AB, B!,
FG, the stone has fallen to /3 and Q and y, and the
line AC is in the positions BB', FF', GG', so that A V
is four times A/3j and A y is nine times A/S. Theie-
fore A/3, Alp, Ay, are as the squares of /3 b, pf y g,
and the line A bfg is a parabola.
66. Knowing the direction and velocities of each of
the simple motions in any instant, of which two mo¬
tions, however variable, are compounded, we may dis¬
cover the direction and velocities of the compound
motions in that instant. For it may be supposed that
each motion at that instant proceeds unchanged a
parallelogram is then constructed ; the sides of which
have the direction and proportions of the velocities of
the simple motions ; and the diagonal of this parallelo¬
gram will express the direction and velocity of the com¬
pound motion. But, on the other hand, if the direction
and velocity of the compound motion, with the direc¬
tions of each of the simple motions, be known, we may
discover their velocities. _ _
67. In cases where a curvilineal motion, as ABC
(fie;- 15-)> is t*16 resufi °f two motions compounded,
of which the direction is known to be AD and AE,
we discover the velocities of the three motions in any
point B, by drawing the tangent BF, and the ordinate
BG, parallel to one of the simple motions, and from
any point H in that ordinate drawing HF parallel to
the other motion, and cutting the tangent in the point
F. The three velocities are in the proportion of the
three lines FH, HB, and FB.
68. As the motions which are observed in nature
are very different from what they are taken to be, it
is not easy to avoid mistakes with respect to the changes
of motion, and consequently with respect to the infer¬
ence of its cause. Without considering the real mo¬
tion of any body, we are apt to judge only of the
changes of'distance and direction in relation to our¬
selves. Thus it is that our inferences with regard to
the planetary motions are very different from the mo¬
tions themselves, if the rapid motion of our earth be
considered.
Prop. X.
69. The motion of one body in relation to another
body, or as it is seen from another body, which is also
in motion, is compounded of its own real motion, and
Plate the opposite of the real motion of the second body.
CLXXXV. Let A (fig. 16.) be a body in motion from A to C,
fig- I(^' as seen from B, which is another body in motion from
DYNAMICS. Par
B to D the motion of A is compounded of its own real Moti
Fig. 15.
Danger of
mistakes
about
changes of
motion.
motion, and of the opposite to the real motion of B.continii
Join AB, and draw AE equal and parallel to BD. d«M
Complete the parallelogram ACFE, and join ED and
DC. Produce EA, and make AL equal to AE or BD.
Complete the parallelogram LACK, and draw AK
and BK. If then A had moved along AE while B
moves along BD, the two bodies would have been at
E and D, at the same time, and would have the same
relative situation *, they would have the same bearing
and distance as before. And if the spectator in B is
not sensible of his own motion, A will appear not to
have changed its place. In the same way two ships
becalmed in an unknown current, seem to the persons
on board to he at rest. The real position, therefore,
and distance DC, are the same with BK •, and if a,
spectator in B imagines himself at rest, the line AK
will be taken as the motion of A. And this motion,
it is obvious, is composed of the motiori AC its real
motion, and the motion AL which is the equal and
opposite motion to that of BD.
Again, if BH be drawn equal and opposite to AC,
and the parallelogram BHGD be completed, and BG
and AG be drawn, the diagonal BG will be the mo¬
tion of B as it is seen from A. Now as KAGB is a
parallelogram, the relative situation and distances of A
and B at the end of the motion will appear to he the
same as in the former case. For B appears to have
moved along BG, which is equal and opposite to AK.
Hence it follows that the apparent or relative motions
of two bodies are equal and opposite, whatever their
real motions may he; and therefore they do not aftord
any information of their real motions.
70. Suppose equal and parallel motions are com¬
pounded with all and each of the motions of any num¬
ber of bodies, moving in any manner of way, then
their relative motions are not consequently changed.
For if it be compounded with the motion of any one
of the bodies which may he called A, the real motion
of this body is changed ; hut its apparent motion, as
seen from another body B, is compounded of the real
change, and of the opposite to the real change in A,
which therefore destroys that change, and the relative
motion of A is the same as before. Thus it is that
the motions in the cabin of a ship are not affected by
the ship’s progressive motion ; and the motion of the
earth round the sun produces no perceptible effect on
the relative motions on its surface. And indeed it is
only by observing other bodies which are not affected
by these common motions, and to which we refer as
to fixed points, that we arrive at any knowledge ot
them.
Sect. IV. Of Motions continually Deflected.
71. Curvilineal motions are cases of continual de-Greiu!
flection. They are susceptible of great varieties; and
the investigation of their modifications and chief pro-
perties is attended with no small difficulty. Uniform
motion in a circular arch is an example of the simplest
case of curvilineal motion ; for here the deflections from
rectilineal motion are equal in equal titnes. It, how¬
ever, the velocity be increased, the momentary de¬
flection must also be augmented ; for a greater arch
will be described, and the end of this greater arch is
at
p. IV. ^ dynamics.
at a greater distance from the tangent. But the pro
1 rvn f f II i G r» n 4-r\ i-t l o 4- „ I   
F l7-
...UUua O      Z3  « w
J, nually portion of this augmentation is diflicult to be ascer-
Ifected. tained.
^ When a uniform rectilineal motion AB (fig. ly.) is
deflected into another BC, the lineal deflection is as¬
certained hy drawing a line from the point c, at which
point the body would have arrived, had it not been de¬
flected to the point C at which it has arrived. The
result is the same, whether the lines d D or c C he
drawn in this manner ; for being proportional to B o',
B c, they always give the same measure of the veloci¬
ties ; and here the lines of deflection are all parallel,
indicating the direction of the deflection in the point
B. But this is not the case in any curvilineal motion.
It rarely happens that d I), c C, are parallel ; and it is
never found that (f D : cC=Bf/: B c. We cannot
therefore discover which lines should be taken for the
indication of the direction of the deflection at B, or for
the measure of its magnitude. A greater velocity, then,
in the same curve, produces a greater deflection ; but
if the path be more incurvated, an arch of the same
length, described with the same velocity, causes a far¬
ther deviation from the tangent. If therefore a body
have a uniform motion in a curve of variable curva¬
ture, the deflection is greatest where the curvature is
greatest.
Thus it appears that the direction and measure of the
deflections by which a body deviates continually into a
curvilineal path cannot he ascertained, hut by investi¬
gating the ultimate positions and ratios of the lines,
which join the points of the curve with the simultaneous
points of the tangent, as the points i and C are taken
nearer to B. In some cases, hut rarely, the lines join¬
ing the simultaneous points are parallel. But in most
cases the direction of the deflection is discovered hy
observing to what direction it approximates. The fol¬
lowing proposition which was discovered hy Newton is
of great importance in this investigation.
Prop. XI.
72. If a body describe a curve line ABCDEF (fig.
18.) being in the same plane, and if in this plane there
be a point S so situated, that the lines SA, SB, SC, &c.
drawn to the curve, cut off areas ASB, ASC, AS 13,
&.c. proportional to the times of describing the arches
AB, AC, AD, &c. then the defections are always di¬
rected to the point S.
Suppose first that the body describes the polygon
ABCDEI, formed of the chords of th is curve, and
that it describes each chord uniformly, and is deflected
only in the angles B, C, D, &c. Suppose also that
the sides of the polygon are described in equal times,
so that, according to the hypothesis, the triangles
ASB, BSC, CSD, are all equal. Continue the chords
AB, BC, &c. beyond the arches, making B c equal
to AB, and C d equal to BC, and so on. Join c C,
f/D, &c. and draw c S, S d, &c. ; draw C ^parallel to
c B or B A, cutting BS in b, and join b A, and draw
CA, cutting B b in 0. And lastly, make a similar con¬
struction at E.
Then, because c B is equal to BA, the triangles
ASB and BS c, are equal, and therefore BS c is equal
to BSC. And being on the same base SB, they are
therefore between the same parallels ; that is, c C is
Vol. VIE Part II. f
473
parallel to BS, and BC is the diagonal of a parallelo- Motions
grain B £ C c. I he motion BC is therefore compounded continually
ot the motions B c and B b, and B £ is the deflection, deflected."
y which the motion B c is changed into the motion ' ~v——'
BC 5 and. therefore the deflection in B is directed to
t-TV . s*milar reasoning it may be shown that/F,
01 rf *S ^ie ^eflect,0n at E, and is likewise directed
to and the same demonstration will apply to every
angle of the polygon.—This point S has been called
the centre of deflection.
If the. sides of the polygon are diminished, and their
number infinitely increased, the demonstration remains
the same, and continues, when the polygon coalesces
with the curvilineal area, and its sides with the curvi¬
lineal arch.
. But when the whole areas are proportional to the
times, equal areas are described in equal times. In such
motion, therefore, the deflections are always directed
to S.
Prop. XII.
73- If the def ection by which a curve line is describ¬
ed, be continually directed to a fixed point, the figure
will be in one plane, and areas will be described round
that point proportional to the times. Let ADF (fig. 18.) r
be the curve line described, and let the deflections be ^ 1 ‘
directed to the point S, this curve line is in the same
plane. For BC is the diagonal of a parallelogram, and
is in the plane of SB and Be; and eC is parallel to
BS, and the triangles SBC, SB c, and SEA, are equal.
But equal areas are described in equal times j and there¬
fore areas are described proportional to the times.
Corollaries.
74. Cor. I. The velocities in different points tf the
curve are inversely proportional to the perpendiculars
Sr and St (fig. 19.) drawn from S on the tangents .
A r, E t in those points of the curve. For since the ele- Flii' I9'
mentary triangles ASB, ESF, are equal, their bases
AB, EF, are inversely as their altitudes S r, S t. And
these bases being described in equal times are as the
velocities, and ultimately coincide with the tangents at
A and E ; and therefore the velocity in A is to that
in E as S f to S r.
Cor. 2. The angular Velocities round S are inversely
as the squares of the distances. For if we describe
round the centre S the small arches B a, F 2, they may
be considered as perpendiculars on SA and SE, De¬
scribe also with the distance SF the arch g h. It is
evident that ^ A is to F ? as the angle ASB to the alible
ESI. And since the areas ASB, ESF are equal, we
have B a : F3=SE ; SA.
Put g h : B a=SE : SA
Therefore g h : F 2=SE* : SA*
And ASB : ESF—SE* : SA6.
75. Let us now proceed to determine the magnitude
of the deflection, or to compare its magnitude in any
two points, as for example the magnitude in B (fis;.
18.) with its magnitude in E. The deflection in B is
to that in E as the line B £ to the line E f; for B6
and E i are the motions, which, by being compounded
with the motions B c and E f make the body describe
BC and EF. And therefore when the sides of the po-
3 O lygon
474 D Y N A
Motions lygon are Infinitely aiminlshed, tl.e ultimate rat,o of
continually Bb to E i is the ratio of the deflection at B to the de-
deflectcd. flection at E. . r , • n-
< -v"— Jo obtain a convenient expression of this ultimate
ratio, let ABCXZY be a circle which passes through
the points A, B, C. Draw BSZ through the point S
and draw CZ, AZ. Now the triangles BC 6 and AZC
are similar, for C b was drawn parallel to c B or BA;
and therefore the angle C 6 B is equal to the alternate
angle b BA or ZBA, which is equal to the angle
ZCA, because it is subtended by the same chord j
and because they stand on the same chord CZ, LB b,
or CBZ, is equal to CAZ. And therefore the re¬
maining angles &CB and CZA are eq«a,»^"d tl’e tn‘
angles are similar. Therefore B b : CA—BC : AZ.
Now if the sides of the polygon are continually di¬
minished, the points A and C continually approach to
B, and CA continually approaches to c A, or to 2 c B,
or 2 CB, and is ultimately equal to it; and AZ is ul-
B 5 : 2 BC=BC : BZ, and
B ^ X BZ=2 BCa, and B - y$*Zj *
Also, at the point E, we have E i ultimately equal
2 for E » Is that chord of the circle through
to
Ez
M I C vS. ' Part;
may be measured by the velocity generated during any MoliJ
moment of time. It may therefore be measured by thecooiinn^;
velocity generated during the time the arch BC is de- ^fiecU j
scribed. This measure will therefore be double of the
space through which the body is actually deflected from
the tangent in B in that time. The space described
will be BO, or only one half of B b. This is exactly
what happens •, for the tangent is ultimately parallel to
OC, and it bisects c C *, therefore the velocity gradu¬
ally generated is that which constitutes the polygonal
motion in the chords, although the deflection from the
tangent to the curve is only half of the deflection from
the produced chord to the curve.
77. In any point of a curvilineal motion, the veloci¬
ty is that which would be generated by the deflection,
in that point, if continued through one fourth ot the
deflective chord of the equicurve circle. Take x for
the space along which a body is to be accelerated that
it may acquire the velocity BC.
We have B Z*1, or 4 BO : BCa~B : x (37.—-1.) and
BC*xBO BCj , _ BC*
therefore xzz » — TuTv am 4 * — — * or
~ 4 BO’
But BO
BO’
BC = BC : BZ 3
D. E, and F, which passes through 1.
’ 2 BC2 2EF*
Therefore B Z> : E ?= : £ ^ *
The ultimate circle, when the three points A, B, C,
coalesce, is called the circle of equal curvature, or the
equicurve circle, which coalesces with the curve m
in the closest manner 3 and the chord BZ of this circle,
having the direction of the deflection in B, is called its
deflective chord. And since BC and EE are described
in equal times, they are proportional to the velocities
in B and E. This proposition therefore may be. ex-
ipressed as follows. . . j-rr *
In curvilineal motions, the deflections in different
points of the curve, are proportional to the square off
the velocities in those points directly, and to the deflec¬
tive chords of the equicurve circles, inversely-
It ought, however, to be remarked, that this theorem
is not limited to curvilineal motions, in which the de¬
flections tend always to the same fixed point 3 it may
be extended to all curvilineal motions whatever. A
symbolical expression of this theorem will be conveni¬
ent. If therefore the deflective chord of the equicuvve
circle be represented by c, and the deflection by d, the
theorem may be thus expressed,
t;* 2 arch*
d “ or a = .
- c c
76. The line B b is the linear deflection by which
the uniform motion in the chord AB is changed into a
uniform motion in the chord BC, or it is the deviation
c C from the point to which the moving body would
have arrived, if the deflection at B had not taken place.
In the case of curvilineal motion which we are now
considering, the lines B b and B c are expressions ot
the measures of th# velocities of these motions. ±5 c is
to B 6 as the velocity of the progressive motion is to
the velocity of the deflection, generated in the time
that the arch BC is described. But the deflection in
the arch has been continual, and, like acceleration, it
4 BO2
BO : BC = BC : 4 *.
therefore X—^ BZ.
78. We have now obtained characteristic expres¬
sions or marks and measures of the principal aflections
of motion. These expressions may be brought into one
view as follows.
The acceleration a is
■v _ . vv , N s
-r-(48.),or-r (49*)» or ^
t s f
^The momentary variation of velocity vrra t (48.).
The momentary variation of the square of velocity
2vv — 2 a s (49.)*
src#*
The momentary deflection d=
The deflective velocity = — (750-
79. But for the application of these doctrines, it i*
necessary to select some point in any body of sensible
magnitude, or in any system of bodies, by whose posi¬
tion or motion, a distinct and accurate notion of the po¬
sition or motion of the body or system may be formed.
The condition by which the propriety of this selection
is ascertained, is, that the position, distance, or motion
of this point shall be the medium or average of the po¬
sitions, distances, and motions of every particle cj mat¬
ter in the aggregate or system.. . .
This will happen, if the point be so situated, that Centre5
when a plane is* made to pass through it in any direc-position
tion whatever, and perpendiculars being drawn to this
plane from every particle of matter In this aggregate or
system, the sum of the perpendiculars on the one side
of the plane is equal to the sum of the perpendiculars
on the other side. And that such a point, which is
called the centre of position, may be found in every bo¬
dy, is proved by the following demonstration.
For let P (fig. 20.) be a point so situated, and letAg. >-
QR be the section of a plane perpendicular to the pa¬
per, and at any distance from it, the distance Pp 0
the point P from this plane is the average of all the di¬
stances of each particle from it. Let the plane Alii
pass through P, and parallel to QR. The distance
DYNAMICS.
ct. IV.
otions CS of any particle C from the plane QR Is equal to
inually D8—-DC, or to Yp—DC. And the distance GT of
ectcd. a partic!e G on the other side of APB, is equal to
HT-f GH, or to P p-f GH. Let n be the number of
particles on that side of AB which is nearest to QR,
and let o be the number of particles on the other side
of AB. Let m be the number of particles in the
whole body; we have then mzzn-^-o. It is evident
that the sum of all the distances of all the particles such
as CS, is P—the sum of all the distances, such as
CD. Also the sum of all the distances of the particles,
such as G, isoxRp, + the sum of the distances GH.
And therefore the sum of both sets is n-\-oy. Pjo-j-the
sum of GH—the sum of DC, or m X P j» + the sum 0f
GH—the sum of DC. But by the supposed property
of the point P, the sum of GH wanting the sum of DC
is nothing ; and therefore my,Y p is the sum of all the
distances, and P/? is the ;«th part of this sum, or the
average distance.
Suppose the body to have changed both its place and
its position with respect to the plane QR, and that P
’■11, (%• 2I0 *s ^ie same point of the body, and * P /3
a plane parallel to QR. Make p tt equal to P of
fig. 20. It is plain that P p is still the average distance,
and that my^Y p is the sum of all the present distances
of the particles from QR, and that myvp is the sum
of all the former distances. Therefore myY rr is the
sum of all the changes of distance, or the whole quan¬
tity of motion estimated in the direction cr P. P sr is
the mth part of this sum, and is therefore the average
motion in this direction. The point P has therefore
been properly selected; and its position, and distance,
and motion, in respect of any plane, is a proper repre¬
sentation of the situation and motion of the whole.
Hence it follows, that if any particle C (fig. 20.)
moves from C to N, in the line CS, the centre of the
whole will be transferred from P to Q, so that PQ is
the mth part of CN; for the sum of all the distances
has been diminished by the quantity CN, and there¬
fore the average distance must be diminished by the mth
CN
part of CN, or PQ is=—•
m
But it may be doubted whether there is in every
body a point, and but one point, such that if a plane
pass through it, in any direction ‘whatever, the sum of
all the distances of the particles on one side of this plane
is equal to the sum of all the distances on the other.
It is easy to shew that such a point may be found,
with respect to a plane parallel to QR. For if the sum
of all the distances DC exceed the sum of all the dis-
stances GH, we have only to pass the plane AB a little
nearer to QR, but still parallel to it. This will dimi¬
nish the sum of the lines DC, and increase the sum of
the lines GH. We may do this till the sums are equal.
In like manner we can do this with respect to a
plane LM (also perpendicular to the paper), perpendi¬
cular to the plane AB. The point wanted is some¬
where in the plane AB, and somewhere in the plane
LM. Therefore it is somewhere in the line in which
these two planes intersect each other. This line passes
through the point P of the paper where the two lines
AB and LM cut each other. These two lines repre¬
sent planes, but are, in fact, only the intersection of
those planes with the plane of the paper. Part of the
body must be conceived as being above the paper, and
part of it behind or below the paper. The plane of Motions
the paper therefore divides the body into two parts. It continually
may be so situated, therefore, that the sum of all the deflected,
distances from it to the particles lying above it shall be “ ^
equal to the sum of all the distances of those which are
below it. Iherefore the situation of the point P is
now determined, namely, at the common intersection of
three planes perpendicular to each other. It is evident
that this point alone can have the condition required
in respect of these three planes.
It still remains to he determined whether the same
condition will hold true for the point thus found, in
respect to any other plane passing through it; that is,
whether the sum of all the perpendiculars on one side
of this fourth plane is equal to the sum of all the per¬
pendiculars on the other side.
Let AGHB (fig. 22.), AXYB, and CDEF, be Fig. 21<
three planes intersecting each other perpendicularly in
the point C; and let CIKL be any other plane, inter¬
secting the first in the line Cl, and the second in the
line CL. Let P be any particle of matter in the body
or system. Draw PM, PO, PR, perpendicular to the
first three planes respectively, and let PR, when produ¬
ced, meet the oblique plane in V ; draw MN, ON,
perpendicular to CB. They will meet in one point N,
Then PMNO is a rectangular parallelogram. Also
draw MQ perpendicular to CE, and therefore parallel
to AB, and meeting Cl in S. Draw SV; also draw
ST perpendicular to VP. It is evident that SV is
parallel to CL, and that STRQ and STPM are rect¬
angles.
All the perpendiculars, such as PR, on one side of
the plane CDFE, being equal to all those on the other
side, they may be considered as compensating each
other; the one being considered as positive or additive
qualities, the other as negative or subtractive. There
is no difference between their sums ; and the sum of
both sets may be called o or nothing. The same must
be affirmed of all the perpendiculars PM, and of all the
perpendiculars PO.
Every line, such as RT, or its equal QS, is in a cer¬
tain invariable ratio to its corresponding QC, or its
equal PO. Therefore the positive lines RT are com¬
pensated by the negative, and the sum total is no¬
thing.
Every line, such as TV, is in a certain invariable
ratio to its corresponding ST, or its equal PM, and
therefore their sum total is nothing.
Therefore the sum of all the lines PV is nothing ;
but each is in an invariable ratio to a corresponding
perpendicular from P on the oblique plane CIKL.
Therefore the sum of all the positive perpendiculars on
this plane is equal to the sum of all the negative per¬
pendiculars, and the proposition is demonstrated, viz.
that in every body, or system of bodies, there is a point
such, that if a plane be passed through it in any direc¬
tion whatever, the sum of all the perpendiculars on one
side of the plane is equal to the sum of all the perpen¬
diculars on the other side.
80. If A and B (fig. 23.) be the centres of position
of two bodies, whose quantities of matter (or numbers
of equal particles) are a and b, the centre C lies in the
straight line joining A and B, and AC : CBnA : a,
or its distances from the centres of each are inversely as
their quantities of matter. For let « C £ be any plane
3 O 2 passing
476 D Y N A
Of Moving passing through C. Draw A as, B 0, perpendicular to
Forces, this plane. Then we have oxAarr^xB (Z, and
A u : B/3=:Z> : a, and, by similarity of triangles, CA :
CB=6 : r/.
If a third body D, whose quantity of matter is <7,
be added, the common centre of position E of the three
bodies is in the straight line DC, joining the centre D
of the third body with the centre C of the other two,
and DE : EC~f/ + 7' : d. For, passing the plane
3 E k through E, and drawing the perpendiculars D£,
C *, the sum of the perpendiculars from D is ^xDSj
and the sum of the perpendiculars from A and B is
a-\-b X C x, and we have ^X D^a-f^ X C x 5 and
therefore DE : ECrza-|-& : d.
In like manner, if a fourth body be added, the com¬
mon centre is in the line joining the fourth with the
centre of the other three, and its distance from this
centre and from the fourth is inversely as the quantities
of matter; and so on for any number of bodies.
81. If all the particles of any system be moving uni¬
formly, in straight lines, in any directions, and with
any velocities whatever, the centre of the system is
either moving uniformly in a straight line, or is at
rest.
For, let m be the number of particles in the system.
Suppose any particle to move uniformly in any direc¬
tion. It is evident from the reasoning in a former pa¬
ragraph, that the motion of the common centre is the
mth part of this motion, and is in the same direction.
The same must be said of every particle. Therefore
the motion of the centre is the motion which is com¬
pounded of the with part of the motion of each par-
M I C S. Parti
tide. And because each of these was supposed to be Of MotiJ
uniform and rectilineal, the motion compounded of Foiccs;
them all is also uniform and rectilineal ; or it may hap-
pen that they will so compensate each other that there
will be no diagonal, and the common centre will remain
at rest.
Corollaries.
82. Cor. I. If the centres oj amj number of bodies
move uniformly in straight lines, whatever may have
been the motions of each particle of each body, by rota¬
tion or otherwise, the motion of the common centre will
be uniform and rectilineal.
Cor. 2. The quantity of motion of such a system is the
sum of the quantities of motion of each body, reduced to
the direction of the centre's motion. And it is had by
multiplying the quantity of matter in the system by the
velocity of the centre.
Cor. 3. The velocity of the centre is had by reducing
the motion of each particle to the direction of the centre's
motion, and then dividing the sum of those reduced mo¬
tions by the quantity of matter in the system.
83. If on any two bodies of such an assemblage
equal and opposite quantities of matter be impressed,
the motion of the centre of the whole is not at all affect¬
ed by it. Because the motion of the centre, arising
from the motion of one of the bodies being compounded
with the equal and opposite motion of the diagonal of
the parallelogram, becomes a point j or these motions
destroy one another j and therefore no change is effect¬
ed on the motion of the centre.
PART II. OF MOVING BODIES.
84. HAVING in the former part considered the
general doctrine of motion, which is the foundation of
mechanical investigations, we now proceed to treat of
moving forces or dynamics, properly so called.
Object of It has been already observed, that dynamics includes
dynamics, the abstract doctrine of moving forces, or the necessary
results of the relations of our thought concerning mo¬
tion, the immediate causes of motion, and its changes 5
and that from the changes observed, we infer agency in
nature j and in these changes we are to discover what
we know of their causes.
85. When we cast our eyes around us, it cannot es¬
cape observation, that the changes which we perceive
in the state or condition of any body in respect of mo¬
tion, are constantly and distinctly related to the situa¬
tion and distance of other bodies. The motions of the
moon, or of a stone projected through the air, have a
palpable relation to the earth j the motions of the tides
have also an obvious relation to the moon j and the
motions of a piece ot iron have a palpable dependence
on a magnet. The vicinity of the one ol these bodies
seems to be the occasion, at least, of the motions of
the other 5 and the causes of these motions have an evi¬
dent connection with, or dependence on, the other bo¬
dy. Such dependences have been called the mechanic
cal relations of bodies. They are indications of pro¬
perties or distinguishing qualities. They accompany
the bodies wherever they are, and are usually conceiv¬
ed to be inherent in them. They at least ascertain and
determine what is called the mechanical nature of bo-
dies.
86. The mutual relation of bodies is differently con-Mutual 1
sidered according to the interest we may have in thelation oil
phenomenon. The cause of the approach of the *rorije01^tS]y
to the magnet is generally ascribed to the magnet. It 0eonsjcler
is said to attract the iron. The approach of a stone to
the earth is ascribed to the stone. It is said to tend to
the earth. But it is probable that the procedure of
nature is the same in both j that both bodies are af¬
fected alike, and that the property is distinctive of
both. For in all cases that have been observed, the
indicating phenomenon is equally connected with both
bodies •, as in the case of magnetism the magnet and
the iron approach each other } and an electrified body
and another body near it approach each other. This
property is therefore equally inherent in both bodies,
between which there is a mutual attraction. But, ac¬
cording to some philosophers, no such mutual tenden¬
cies exist either in the one body or the other. The
observed approaches or mutual separations of bodies, or
their attractions and repulsions, are supposed to depend
on the extraneous action of an ethereal fluid.
87. These qualities thus inherent in bodies, which powers,
constitute their mechanical relations, or the mechanical&-c>
affections of matter, have been called powers ov forces.
The event which is indicated by their presence, is con¬
sidered
:rt II. D Y N A
llov’ng sidered as the effect and mark of their agency. Thus
.rce'. the magnet is said to act on the iron, the earth is said
to act on the stone which falls to its surface ; and the
iron and the stone are said to act on the magnet and
the earth. But all this, it must he observed, is figu¬
rative language. Power, force, and action, when used
in their original strict sense, express only the notions of
the power, force, and action of sentient, active beings •,
and cannot he predicated of any thing hut the exertions
of such beings j for such beings only are agents. In
strict propriety, it is perhaps only the exerted influence
of the mind on the body which ought to he called ac¬
tion. Language having begun among simple men,
such denominations were very properly given to their
own exertions ; because to move a body they found it
necessary to exert their force or power, or to act. But
when the changes of motion, observed in the occur¬
rence or vicinity of bodies, were attended to bv specu¬
lative men, and it was found that the phenomena great¬
ly resembled the results or effects when they exerted
their own strength, similar terms were employed to ex¬
press these occurrences in nature. The old term was
retained, in preference to the invention of a new lan¬
guage, to express things which had so near a resem¬
blance. The danger of confounding things from the
use of the same terms, was avoided from the differences
in other circumstances of the case. It is not, however,
to be imagined, that they supposed inanimate bodies
exerted force or strength in the same way as living be¬
ings. But, in the progress of refinement, the word
power or force came at last to be employed to express
any ejjiciency whatever ; and hence the common ex¬
pressions, the force of arguments, the action of mo¬
tives, the power of an acid to dissolve a metal, &c. It
is to this idea of conveniency, that the use of the terms
attraction, repulsion, pressure, impulsion, as well as of
the words power and force, which express efficiency in
general, is to be ascribed. But these terms, excepting
in those cases when they are applied to the exertions
or actions of living beings, are metaphorical. On ac¬
count, however, of the resemblance between the pheno¬
mena and those which are observed when we draw a
thing towards us, push it from us, forcibly compress it,
or kick it away, these different actions being analogous
to attraction, repulsion, pressure, and impulsion, these
words are employed as terms of distinction. The ac¬
tion of the mind on the body is perhaps the only case
of pure unfigurative action. But this action being al¬
ways exerted with the view of effecting some change on
external bodies, our attention is only directed to them.
The instrument passes unnoticed ; and hence it is said
that we act on the external body. The real action is
only the first movement in a long succession of events,
and is only the remote cause of the interesting event.
In many cases of mechanical phenomena, we find the
resemblance to such actions to be very strong. The
following is of this description. A ball is projected
from a man’s hand by the motion of his arm ; and in
the same way a ball is impelled by the unbending of a
spring. In all circumstances there is a resemblance be¬
tween these two events, excepting in the action of the
mind on the corporeal organ. And, hence in general,
because the ultimate results of the mutual influence of
bodies on each other have a strong resemblance to the
ultimate results of our actions on bodies, no new or ap«
M I C S. 477
propriate terms have been invented ; but, as has been Of Moving
already observed, mankind have remained satisfied with Forces,
the use of those terms that are employed to express v"
their own actions, or the exertions of their own powers
or forces.
88. When power or force is spoken of as existing or Action of
residing in a body, and the effect is ascribed to the ex-mechanical
ertion of this power, one body considered as possessing t,owe,s*
it, is said to act on another. Thus a magnet is said to
act on a piece of iron 5 a billiard ball is said to act on
one which it strikes. But if it be attempted to fix the
attention on this action, independent both of the agent
and the thing acted on, we shall find that there is no
object of contemplation. The exertion or procedure of
nature in effecting the change is kept out of view ; and
if we limit our attention to the action as a thing di¬
stinct from the agent, we shall find that it is not the
action, strictly speaking, but the act, that is brought
under consideration. And in the same way, it is only
in the effect produced that the action of a mechanical
power can be conceived.
89. In the very nature of action some change is im-Change im¬
plied. Without producing some effect, a man is never phed in
said to act. Thought is the act of a thinking principle • action,
and the motion of the limb is the act of the mind on it.
In mechanics too there is action only in so far as some
mechanical effect is produced. For instance, to begin
motion on a piece of ice, or to slide along it, we must
act violently $ we must exert force $ and this force be¬
ing exerted produces motion. In all cases, the pro¬
ductions of motion are conceived as the exertions of
force ; but to continue the motion which has been be¬
gun along the ice, no exertion seems requisite. Be¬
ing conscious of no exertion, we ought to infer that no
force is necessary for the continuation of motion. It is
not the production of any new effect, but the perman¬
ency or continuation of an effect already produced.
Motion is indeed considered as the effect of some ac¬
tion $ but there would be no effect or no change, if the
body were not moving. Motion is not to he consider¬
ed as an action, but the effect of an action.
90. Mechanical actions or forces have been divided Division of
into pressui'es and impulsions. The idea of pressure is mechanical
very familiar; perhaps it enters into every distinct con- f<)rces*
ception that we can form of a moving force, when the
attention is endeavoured to be fixed on it. Changes
of motion by the collision of moving bodies are pro¬
duced by impulsion. Pressures and impulsions are usu¬
ally considered as of different kinds, the actions or ex¬
ertions of different powers. It is supposed that there
is an essential difference between pressure and impul¬
sion. That we may obtain all the knowledge that these
distinctions can give us, let us state some examples of
these kinds of forces, instead of attempting to define or
describe them.
Let us first take some examples of pressure. Pres-Examp]es
sure it is known is a moving force j for if a ball lying of pies-
on the table be gently pressed on one side, it moves to- smes,
ward the other side of the table. If it be followed
with the finger, the pressure being continued, its mo¬
tion is continually increased. There is an acceleration
of its motion. By pressing in the same way on the
handle of a common kitchen jack, the fly begins to
move j and if the pressure be continued on the handle,
the motion of the fly becomes very rapid y and there.
is
478
DYNAMICS.
Part It
Of Moving is also a continual acceleration. Such motions as these
Forces, are the effects of genuine pressure, ihe unbending of
a spring would urge the ball in the same way along the
table, and would produce a continually accelerated
motion 5 and a spring coiled up round the axis of the
handle of the jack would, by uncoiling itself, urge
round the fly with a similar accelerated motion. By
comparing the pressure of the finger on. the ball with
the effects of the spring, we perceive distinctly the per¬
fect similarity. These exertions or actions, or influ¬
ences, are denoted by the word pressure, which is de¬
rived from the most familiar instance of them.
The same motion may he produced in the ball or
fly, by pulling the ball or machine by means of a
thread having" a weight suspended to it. Both being
motions accelerated in the same manner, the action of
the thread on the ball or machine comes under the
same denomination of pressure. Weight is therefore
considered as a pressing power. And indeed the same
compression is felt from the real pressure of a man on
the shoulders and a load laid on them. But in the
instance above, the weight acts by the intervention of
the thread. By the pressure of the weight it pulls at
that part of the thread to which it is attached } this
part pulls at the next by the force of cohesion *, and
this at a third, and so on, till the most remote pulls at
the ball or machine. In this way elasticity, weight,
cohesion, and other forces, perform the office of a ge¬
nuine power ; and their result being always a motion
beginning from nothing, and accelerating to any velo¬
city by perceptible degrees, from this resemblance we
are led to give them one familiar name.
91. If the thread by which the weight is suspended
be cut, it falls with an accelerated motion. This also
is ascribed to some pressing power which acts on the
weight •, and it is even considered as the cause of the
body’s weight, which word is a name by which this in¬
stance of pressing power is distinguished. Gravitation,
therefore, comes under the denomination of pressure.
For the same reason the attractions and repulsions of
the magnet, or of electric bodies, belong to this class of
phenomena j for on bodies placed between them they
produce actual compressions, as well as motions which
are continually accelerated, in the same way as gravi¬
tation does. To all these powers, therefore, the de¬
scriptive name of pressures may be given, although this
name, properly speaking, belongs to one of them only.
This great class has been subdivided by some philoso¬
phers into pressions and solicitations. Gravity is con¬
sidered as a solicitation ab extra, by which a body is
urged downward. The forces of electricity and mag¬
netism, with many other attractions and repulsions, are
also called solicitations. But this classification seems
to be of little use.
92. We have a familiar instance of impulsion in one
ball striking another, and putting it in motion. In
this case the appearances are very different from the
phenomena of pressure. For the body that is struck
acquires in the instant of impulse a sensible quantity of
motion. But after the stroke this motion is neither
accelerated nor retarded, unless by the action of some
other force. The rapidity of the motion, it is obser¬
ved, depends on the previous velocity of the striking
ball. If for instance a clay ball, moving with any ve¬
locity, strike another equal ball which is at rest, the
and of im¬
pulsion.
ball which is struck moves with one half of the velo-0f M0vi„|
city of the other. It is farther observed that the strik- Forces
ino ball always loses as much motion as the ball which ’‘’"“■v—>
is struck gains. From this remarkable fact there seems
to have arisen an indistinct notion of a kind of trans¬
ference of motion from one body to another. It is
not said that the one ball produces motion or causes.it
in the other, but it is said to communicate motion to it;
and the phenomenon is usually termed the communica-Coramuii
tion of motion. This, however, is a very inaccurate i
mode of expression. We distinctly conceive the cause
or communication of heat, the communication of salt¬
ness, of sweetness, and of many other things ; but we
have no clear conception of part ot the identical mo¬
tion which existed in one body being transferred to
another. From this, therefore, it appears that motion
is not a thing which can exist independently, and is
susceptible of actual transference; but is a state or con¬
dition of which bodies are susceptible, which may be
produced in bodies, and which is the effect or cha¬
racteristic of certain natural properties or powers.
The notion of the actual transference of something
formerly possessed by the striking body, and now sepa¬
rated from it, or transfused into the body which is
struck, has obtained support from the remarkable cir¬
cumstance in the phenomenon, that a rapid motion re¬
quiring for its production the action of a pressing
power, continued for a sensible, and frequently a long
time, is or seems to be effected instantaneously by im¬
pulsion. Here then we find room for the employment
of metaphor, both in thought and language. We see
the striking body affect the body which is struck. It
possesses the power of impulsion, or of communicating
motion, but it only possesses this power while it is itself
in motion ; and we therefore conclude that this power is
the efficient distinguishing cause of its motion. Hence
it has been called inherent force, the force inherent in
a moving body, vis insita corpori moto. This force is
communicated to the body impelled, or transfused into
it; the transference is instantaneous, and the body thus
impelled continues in motion till it is changed by a
new' force. But if we attend scrupulously to those
feelings which have given rise to this metaphorical
conception, we shall find, that although at first sight
this train of observation seems very plausible, we should
entertain very different notions. rlo begin the motion
of sliding on a smooth piece of ice, we are conscious of
exertion ; but when the. ice is very smooth, no exertion
that we are conscious of seems requisite to continue the
motion. No exertion of power is here necessary ; and
therefore we have no primitive feeling of power while
we slide along. And indeed we cannot think of mov¬
ing forward without effort otherwise than as a certain
mode of existence. It has however been imagined that
those who support this opinion have in some way de¬
duced it from their feelings. To move forward , in
walking, we must continue the exertion with which
we began ; and unless this power of walking be conti¬
nually exerted, we must stop our progress. But this
is inaccurate observation. In the action of walking
there is much more than the continuance in progressive
motion. It is the repeated and continued lifting the
body up a small height, and allowing it to come down
again, and this repeated ascent requires repeated exer¬
tion.
93. From
DYNAMICS.
93. From the consideration of the instantaneous pro-
479
g llCi
t 1 pres-
Suised
pr .
duction of rapid motion by impulse, some distinguished
philosophers have been led to suppose that the force or
power of impulsion is not susceptible of being compa-
j ij]se red with a pressing power. It has been asserted that
s to be impulse when compared with pressure is infinitely great,
iiiitely But the similarity of the ultimate results of impulse
and pressure, have always led them to adopt a different
view. There is no difference between the motion of
two balls which move with equal rapidity, one of
which descends from a height by the force of gravity,
while the other has been struck by another body. In
this struggle of the mind attached to preconceived opi¬
nions, and at the same time accommodating these opi¬
nions to observed phenomena, other singular forms of
expression have arisen. Pressure is considered as an
effort to produce motion. And here we have another
instance of metaphorical expression as well as thought.
The weight of a ball on the table is called a power $
and this weight is continually endeavouring to move
the ball downward. But these efforts being ineffectual,
the power in this case is said to be dead. It is called
vis mortua, in contradistinction to the force of impul¬
sion, which is called a living power, vis viva. But this
mode of expression must appear very inaccurate, if we
consider the case of the impelling ball falling perpen¬
dicularly on the other ball lying on tbe table. No
motion is induced by this impulsion 5 and if the table
be conceived to be annihilated, the power of gravity
becomes a vis viva.
To prove that impulse is infinitely greater than pres¬
sure, numerous familiar instances have been adduced by
those who support this doctrine. A nail is driven with
a moderate blow of a hammer, which would require a
pressure many hundred times greater than the impelling
effort of the person who employs the hammer. A
hard body may be shivered to pieces with a moderate
blow, which would support an inconceivable weight
gradually applied. This prodigious superiority in im¬
pulsion leaves it a difficult matter to account for the
production of motion by means of pressure j because
the motion of the hammer might have been acquired
in consequence of the continued pressure of the carpen¬
ter’s arm. It is considered as the aggregate of an infi¬
nite number of‘succeeding pressures repeated in every
instant of its continuance. The smallness of each ef¬
fort is compensated by their number.
94. After all, it does not appear clear that there are
two kinds of mechanical force which are essentially dif-
0 , . ferent in their nature. It is, indeed, in a great mea-
or llwa^ sure given up by those who support the doctrine that
impulse is infinitely greater than pressure : Some me¬
thod might perhaps be found of explaining satisfactorily
this remarkable difference between the two modes of
producing motion. But there seems to be no consider¬
able advantage in thus arranging the phenomenon un¬
der two distinct heads.
95. The nature of the sole moving force in nature
has given rise to much discussion among mechanicians,
and produced no small diversity of opinion. Accord¬
ing to some, all motion is the effect of pressure j for
when impulse is considered as equivalent to the aggre¬
gate of an infinite number of pressures, every pressure,
however small, is supposed to be a moving force.
The sole cause of motion, according to other philoso-
Th
co tfo
kin
m
'or
ion
CSC
“fiU
ion,
pliers, is impulsion. Bodies are observed in motion ; they yf M0vin
impel others, and produce motion in them 5 and this Forces.'
production of motion is said to be regulated by such v—"-
laws, that there is only one absolute quantity of mo¬
tion in the universe, which quantity remains invariably
the same. Some portion of this motion, therefore, must
be transferred or transfused when bodies come into col¬
lision with each other. But besides, there are some
cases in which it is perfectly obvious that motion pro¬
duces pressure. Cases, which are indeed both whimsi¬
cal and complicated, have been adduced by Euler, to
shew that an action, in all respects similar to pressure,
may be produced by motion. Such a case is the fol¬
lowing. II two balls are connected by a thread, they
may be struck in such a way, that they shall not only
move forward, but at the same time also wheel round.
When this happens, the thread by which thev are con¬
nected is stretched. Since then, according to this rea¬
soning, motion is observed, and pressure is produced by
motion, it would be absurd to suppose that pressure is
any thing else than the result of certain motions. The
philosophers who are attached to this doctrine of mov¬
ing forces, proceed to account for those pressing powers
or solicitations to motion which are observed in the ac¬
celeration of falling bodies, the phenomena of magne¬
tism and electricity, and others of the same kind, where
motion is induced on certain bodies which are in the
vicinity ol other bodies, or, as it is expressed in common
language, by the action of other bodies at a distance.
To say that a magnet can act on a piece of iron at
a distance, is to say that it acts where it is not j which
is no less absurd than to say that it acts, when it is not.
Euler assumed it as an axiom, nihil movetur, nisi a con-
tiguo et moto.
The methods proposed by these philosophers to pro¬
duce pressure, are less ingenious and not more satisfac¬
tory than that adduced by Euler which w-as mentioned
above; and indeed they do not seem to be very anxious
about the manner in which these motions are produced.
The phenomena of magnetism are induced, or a piece
of iron is put in motion, when it is in the vicinity of
a magnet, by a stream of fluid which issues from one
pole of a magnet, passes in a circle round tbe magnet,
and enters at the other pole. By this stream of fluid the
iron is impelled, and brought to arrange itself in cer¬
tain determined positions. In the same way all bodies
are impelled in lines perpendicular to the surface of
the earth by a stream of fluid which is in continual
motion towards its centre. In the same wav similar
phenomena are accounted for, and thus these motions are
reduced to simple cases of impulsion. But to say nothing
worse of this doctrine, it is not very compatible with
the dictates of common sense. It proceeds on the sup¬
position that something acts which we do not see 4 and
of the existence of which there is not the smallest
proof.
96. Pressure, according to the opinion of others, is 0I pressure,
the only moving force in nature $ but it is that kind of
pressure which has been termed solicitation, not what
arises from the mutual contact of solid bodies. Gravi¬
tation is an instance of the kind of pressure here allud¬
ed to. It is affirmed by these philosophers, that there
is no such thing as contact on the instantaneous commu¬
nication of motion by the real collision of bodies. It
is said that the particles of solid bodies exert very strong
repulsions^ •
4So DYNAMICS. .... Pal:t1'
Of Moving repulsions to a small distance*, and when they are motion, the impulse of an invisible fluid, of which we or Mow,; 1 j
Forces, brought by any motion sufficiently near to another know not any thing, and of whose existence there is no Iorm,
v   body, they exert a repulsive force, and ai*e equally re- evidence, is a rash and unwarrantable assumption. But
polled by this body. Motion is thus produced in the farther, if it be true that bodies do not come into con-
one body, while it is diminished in the other, ft is tact, even when one ball strikes another, and drives it
then shown by scrupulously considering the state of the before it, the supposition of the existence of this invi-
bodies, while the one advances and the other retires, in sible fluid will not assist us in solving the difficulty j for
what way they attain a common velocity, the quantity the same difficulty would occur in the action of any one
of motion before collision remaining the same, and the particle of the fluid in the body. At any rate the pro-
one body gaining exactly as much as the other loses, duction of motion without any observed contact, is more
Cases also are adduced, of such mutual action between familiar to us than the production of motion by one
bodies, where it is obvious they have never come into body acting on another by impulsion. Even case of
contact ; but where the result is exactly the same as gravitation is an instance of this.
when the motion seemed to be instantaneously changed. 99. In those cases where the exertions of any media- Altiacti.*■
And hence it is concluded that there is no such thing nical power are observed to be always directed toward
as instantaneous communication, or transfusion of mo- any body, that body is said to florae/. Thus a boat isj
tion, by contact in collision or impulse. All moving attracted toward a man when he pulls it toward him
forces, according to these philosophers, are of that kind by means of a rope. This is a case of \tme attraction.
which have been named solicitations j such as gravity But when the other body always moves oil, tlie body
jg exhibiting this phenomenon is said to repel *, and it is a
Exertions gy. Different names have been given to the exer- case of repulsion when a person pushes any body
ofmechani-t*0„s of mechanical forces, according to the reference from him. And because there is a resemblance to the
eat forces that is made to the resu]ti jn wrestling> when my an- results of real attraction and repulsion, the same terms
their re suit't agonist exerts his strength to prevent being thrown are employer! to express the mechanical phenomena of
down, and I am sensible of his exertion, I thus discover nature. But that our conceptions may not be embarras-
that he resists. But if I oppose him only to prevent sed or rendered obscure by the use of such metaphorical
him throwing me, I am said to resist. If I strike or expressions, it is requisite to he careful not to allow
endeavour to throw him, I am said to act. The same these words to suggest to us any opinion about the man-
distinction is applied to the exertion of mechanical ner in which mechanical forces produce their effects,
powers. If, for instance, one body A change the mo- If the opinion which is held of the existence of an in-
tion of another body B, the change in the motion of visible fluid on which mechanical action depends be
B may be considered either as the indication and mea- well founded, it is obvious that there can be neither
sure of the power of A in producing motion, or as the attraction nor repulsion in the universe. _ ,
indication and measure of the resistance made by A in IOO. Forces are conceived as measurab.e quantities. rorces J
being brought to rest, or having any change induced Thus we conceive one man to possess double the strength measmab
on its motion. The distinction which is here made is of another man, when we observe that he can icsist the^0 "e ^
not in the thing itself, but exists only in the reference combined efforts of two others. It is in this way that
which we are disposed to make of its effect, from other animal force is conceived as a quantity made up of its
considerations. If a change of motion take place when own parts and measured by them.. This however seems
one of the powers ceases to be exerted, it is conceived not to be a very accurate conception. Our conception
that this power has resisted. But this language is me- of one strain being added to another is obscure, al-
taphorical. Resistance, effort, endeavour, are all words though we have a distinct notion of then com-
which express motions that relate to sentient beings, bined. There are no words to express the difference of
There is perhaps no word preferable to the word re- these two notions in our minds j but we think that t le
action, to express the mutual force which is observed in same difference is perceived, by others. We have a
all the operations of nature which have been successful- clear conception of the addition of two lines or two
lv investigated. minutes ; but our notions of two forces combined are
Supposed to 98. A difficulty has been started with regard to the indistinct j although it cannot be affirmed that two
depend on opinion of those who affirm that all mechanical pheno- equal forces are not double of one of them. 1 bey
attraction mena are dependent on attracting and repelling forces ; are measured by the effects which the) aie known to
sio*re^1 ^ because it is here supposed that bodies act on each other produce. , . . ,
at a distance, and however small this distance may be, 101. In tire same way mechanical forces are concei-fl^^
this is conceived to be absurd. It may however be ved as measurable by their effects, and thus become t ie
observed, that the mutual approaches or recesses of subject of mathematical discussion. Me speak of toe
bodies may be ascribed to tendencies to, or from each proportions of magnetism, electricity, &c. and even of
other. Without thinking of any intermediate connec- the proportion of gravity to magnetism. These, how-
tion between the iron and the magnet, we conceive the ever, considered in themselves, are quite dissimilar, and
iron to be affected by the magnet ; and if this be con- do not admit of any proportion ; but some of their d-
ceivable, it is not absurd. Oqr knowledge of the es- fects are measurable, and these assumed measures being
sence or nature of matter is not such as to render this quantities of the same kind are susceptible of compan-
tendency of the iron to the magnet impossible. We do son. The acceleration of motion in a falling body, is
not indeed see intuitively why the iron should approach one of the effects of gravity j magnetism accelerates
to the magnet ; but this is by no means sufficient to the motion of a piece of iron *, and these two accelera-
pronounce it impossible or inconsistent with the nature tions may be compared together. But because none ot
of matter. To suppose therefore in the production of the measurable effects of magnetism with which we are
ie ef-
3 of
/ity.
rt It'* B Y N A
Moving aCflua‘1^e^* are ^ie same kiatl with any of the
lirces. effects of heat, magnetism and heat are not susceptible
of comparison.
dliparison When it is said that the gravitation of the moon is the
3600th part of the gravitation of a stoneat thesea-shore, it
is meant that the fall of a stone in a second is 3600 times
greater than the fall of the moon in the same time.
But to express the proportion of the tendency of gravi¬
tation more purely, if a stone hung on the spring of a
steelyard, draw out the rod of the. steelyard to the mark
3600, the same stone carried up to the distance of the
moon will draw it out only to the mark one. And if
the stone at the sea-shore draw out the rod to any mark,
it will require 3600 such stones to draw the rod out
to the same mark at the distance of the moon. Now,
it is not in consequence of an immediate perception of
the proportion of gravitation at the moon to that at the
surface of the earth that such an assertion is made. It
is because these motions being considered as its effects
in such situations, and being magnitudes of the same
kind, are susceptible of comparison, and have a pro¬
portion which can be determined by observation. And
although the proportions of the causes or forces are
spoken of, yet it is only the proportions of the effects
which come under contemplation.
P.'Uures 102. In order that these assumed measures may be
nubs the accurate, they must be always connected with the
magnitudes which they are employed to measure ; and
the connection must be of that kind, that the degrees
of the one must change in the same manner with the
degrees of the other. The same thing must also be
known of the measure which is employed j the precise
and constant relation must be seen. But how is this to
be accomplished ? Force as a separate existence is not a
perceptible object. We do not perceive its proportions,
so as to be able to ascertain that they are the same with
the proportions of the measures. On the contrary, the
very existence of this force is inferred f’rsm observation
of the acceleration, and its degree is also an inference
from the observed extent or magnitude of the accelera¬
tion. The measures which are thus assumed are there¬
fore necessarily connected with the magnitudes, and
their proportions are the same •, the one is an infex-ence
from the other both in kind and degree.
103. It now appears that this subject is susceptible
of mathematical investigation. After having selected
our measures, and observing certain mathematical re¬
lations of those measures, every inference deduced from
the mathematical relations of the proportions of those
representations is true of the proportions of the motions,
and therefore it is also true of the proporti-ons of the
forces. Thus then Dynamics may be reckoned a de¬
monstrative science.
104. Moving forces are considered as difiering also
in kind, that is, in direction. The direction of the ob¬
served change of motion is assigned to the force j which
is not only the indication, but also the measure of the
changing force. This force is called an accelerating,
retarding, or deflecting force, according as it is obser¬
ved, that the motion is accelerated, retarded, or de¬
flected. And from these terms it must appear, that we
have no knowledge of the forces different from our
knowledge of the effects. They are either descriptive
of the effects, or they have a reference to the substan¬
ces in which the forces are supposed to be inherent.
VOL. VII. Part II. f
D;tnucs
jion.
strive
•d e.
dif¬
fer <di-
reciu.
M I C S.
Thus of the first kind are the terms accelerating, at¬
tractive, or repulsive forces j of the second, are the
terms magnetism, electricity, &c.
48l
Of Moving
Forces.
Of the Laws of Motion.
105. Such then being our notions of mechanical
foxxes, of the causes of the production of motion and
its changes, there are certain results, which by the
constitution of the human mind, necessarily arise from
the relations of these ideas. These results are laws of
human judgment, independent of all experience of ex¬
ternal nature. Some of these laws may be intuitive,
presenting themselves to the mind as soon as the ideas
which they involve are presented to it. These may he
called axioms. Others may be as necessary results
from the relations of these notions, are less obvious,
and may requii-e a process of reasoning to establish
their truth.
Of these laws there are three, which wrere first di¬
stinctly proposed by Sir Isaac Newton. These may be
considered as the first principles of all discussions in
mechanical philosophy, give a sufficient foundation for
all the doctrines of Dynamics, and to these principles
we may refer for the elucidation of all the mechanical
phenomena of nature.
First Law of Motion.
106. Every body continues in a state of rest, or of
uniform rectilineal motion, unless it is affected by
some mechanicalforce.
On the truth of this proposition the whole of meeba-imp0,.tance
nical philosophy chiefly depends. But with regard to of this pro-
its truth and the foundation on which it rests, the opi-position,
nions of philosophers are very different. In general
these opinions are obscure and unsatisfactory $ and, as
is usual, they influence the discussions of those who
hold them in all their investigations.
107. It is not only the popular opinion that a state RfcSi SUp.
of rest is the natural state of body, and that motion is posed to be
something foreign to it, but the same opinion has been the natural
supported by many philosophers. They allow that
matter unless it is acted on by some moving force will
remain at rest; and nothing seems necessary for matter
to remain where it is, but its continuing to exist. But
the case is widely different, according to these philoso¬
phers, with x'espect to matter in motion. For here the
relations of the body to other things are continually
changing ; and as there is the continual production of
an effect, the continual agency of a changing cause is
necessax-y. This metaphysical argument, it is said, is
fully confirmed by the most familiar observations. All
motions, whatever may have been their violence, termi¬
nate in rest, and for their continuance the continual
exertion of some force is necessary.
108. It is affirmed bv these philosophers, that the Continual
continual action of the moving cause is essentially requi- exertion of
site for the duration of the motion. But their opinions force ac;
of the nature of this cause are not uniform. Accor- ^tionY
ding to some, all the motions in the universe are pro¬
duced and continued by the direct agency of the Deity
himself. By others all the motions and changes of
every particle of matter are ascribed to a sort of mind
which is inherent in it. This is called an elemental
mind. It is the same as the (pv<rif and the «cr?rj£
of Aristotle. Every thing, according to these philoso-
3 p PheJ's>
482 DYNAMICS. Parti]
Of Moving pliers, ivlilch moves, is mind, and every thing which Hi. The inactivity of matter has been denied by of M0vi:
Forces, is moved is body. But this elemental mind is only other philosophers. According to them it is essentially Forcw(
  \r—'known and characterized by the effects which are a- active, and continually undergoing changes in its con-.‘"““Ti
scribed to its action ; and these are observed in the mo- dition. Some traces of this doctrine are to be found in
tions or changes which are produced. T hese, we learn the writings of some of the ancient philosophers j but it others!
from uniform experience, are regulated by laws equally was reduced to a systematic form by Leibnitz. Accord-
precise with the laws of mathematical truth. But there ing to this philosopher, every particle of matter is en-
is nothing which indicates any thing like intention or dowed with a principle of individuality. This he calls
purpose 5 none of the marks or characters by which a monad, which is supposed to have a kind of percep-
mind was brought first into view. They resemble the tion of its place in the universe, and of its relation to all
effects produced by the exertions of corporeal' force j other parts of the universe. This monad too is supposed
and hence the word force has been applied to express to act on the particle of matter in the same way as the
the causes of motion. sou* acts on ^,e body. The motion of the material
No body is top- A state of rest, it has been supposed, is the natu- particle is modified by the monad, and thus are produ-
in absolute ral state of matter. But it does not appear that the con- ced, according however to unalterable laws, all the ob-
rest. tinued action of some cause is necessary for continuing served modifications of motion. And thus matter, or
matter in motion. Experience gives us no authority the particles of matter, are continually active and conti-
for supposing that the natural condition of matter is a nually changing their situation. No information in
state of rest. It cannot be affirmed of any body what- any way useful.can be obtained from this fanciful hy-
ever, that it has ever been seen in absolute rest. All pothesis. It is not unlike the system ol elemental
the parts of the planetary system are in motion ; and minds. And should its existence be admitted, it would
even the sun himself with his attendant planets is car- not, any more than the actions of animals, invalidate
ried in a certain direction with a great velocity. There the general proposition which is considered as the fun¬
is no unquestionable evidence that any of the stars are damental law of motion. The powers of the monads
absolutely fixed *, and many of them, it has been ascer- or of the elemental minds are supposed to be the causes
tained by observation, are in motion. Rest, therefore, of all the changes j but the particle of matter itself is
being so rare a condition of matter, no experience which subject to the law, and any change of motion which it
we have, supports the notion that this is its natural con- exhibits is ascribed to the exertion of the monad,
dition. This opinion seems to be derived from our own . H 2. By another set of philosophers, the law of mo-deduced
experiments on matter. 1.0 continue the motion of a tion is deduced fiom the want of a determining cause, []jg
body, we find that the continued action of some mov- At the head of this sect is Sir Isaac Newton, who main-want of
in- force is necessary, otherwise the motion becomes tains the doctrine affirmed in the proposition. But these determi-
gradually slower, and at last terminates in rest. Since philosophers are not uniform in their opinion of the foun-nin3cai1
then we see that our own exertions are constantly ne- dation on which it rests. It is.asserted by some that it is
cessary in the production of motion, and especially in a kind of necessary truth which arises from the nature
those cases where we are interested j we are thus in- of the thing. If, for instance, a body be in a state of
duced to ascribe to matter something that is naturally rest, and it it be asserted that it will.not remain at rest,
quiescent and inert, and even something that is slug- it must move in some direction ; and if it be in motion in
aish and averse from motion. But this is an erroneous any direction, and with any velocity, and do not conti-
conception, which is suggested to our thoughts from nue its equable, rectilineal motion, it must be either
the imperfection of language. We ascribe animation accelerated or retarded } it must either turn to one side
to matter, to give it motion, and endow it with a kind or to some other side. Ihe event, whatever it be, is in-
of moral character in order to explain the phenomena dividual and determinate; but no cause which can de-
of motion. termine it being supposed, the determination cannot
Matter lias no. But more accurate and more extended obser- take place, and no change with respect to motion will
no aptitude yation leads us to conclude that matter has no peculiar happen in the condition of the body. It will either re-
torest' aptitude to a state of rest. Every observed retardation main at rest, or persevere in its rectilineal and equable
has a distinct reference to external circumstances. motion. But to this argument of sufficient reason, as
Wherever there is a diminution of motion, it is inva- it has been called, considerable objections may be made,
riably accompanied by the removal of obstacles; as in In the immensity and perfect uniformity of time, and
the case when a ball moves through sand, or air, or wa- space, there is no determining cause why the visible
ter. The diminution of motion is also owing to oppo- universe should exist in one place rather than in another,
site motions which are destroyed. And it is found or at this time rather than at another. It is essentially
that the more these obstacles are kept out of the way, necessary that there should be a cause of determination;
the less is the diminution of motion. The vibration of for a determination may be without a cause, as well as
a pendulum in water soon ceases ; it continues longer a motion without a cause. . , and from
in air; and much longer in the exhausted receiver. The 113. Other philosophers deduce this law of motion ejperilUc
conclusion then from these, observations is, that if all from experience. They consider it merely as an expe.n-
obstacles could be completely removed, motion would mental truth, of the universality of which there are m-
continue for ever. This conclusion is strongly support- numerable proofs. When a stone is thrown from the
ed by the motions of the heavenly bodies. These mo- hand, it is pressed forward, and when the hand has the
tions, so far as we know, are retarded by no obstacles ; greatest velocity that we can give it, the stone is let go,
and accordingly they have been observed to retain and it continues in that state of motion which it gradu-
them without"perceptible diminution for thousands of ally acquired along with the hand. A stone may be
years^ thrown much farther by means of a sling, because with
2'
DYNAMICS.
i loving a very moderate motion of the hand, the stone being
j forces, whirled round acquires a very great velocity, and when
^nr^it is let go* it continues its rapid motion. We have a
similar illustration in the case of an arrow shot from a
bow. The string which presses hard on the notch of
the arrow carries it forward with an accelerated motion
as it becomes a straight line by the unbending of the
bow; and there being nothing to check the arrow, it
flies off. In these simple cases of perseverance in a state
of motion the procedure of nature is easily traced •, it is
! asesof perceived almost intuitively. In many other phenome-
i ion na it is not less distinct, although somewhat more com¬
plicated. A man can stand on the saddle of a horse at
a gallop, and step from it to the back of another horse
that gallops along with him at the same rate; and this
he seems to do with the same ease as if the horses were
standing still. The man is carried along with the same
velocity as the horse which gallops under him, and he
retains the same velocity while he steps from the back
of one horse to that of the other. But if the horse to
which he steps tvere standing still, he would fly over his
head, because he is carried forward with the velocity of
the galloping horse ; or if he stepped from the back of
a horse standing still to that of one at a gallop, he would
be left behind ; because he has not acquired the veloci¬
ty of the galloping horse. In the same way a man tosses
oranges from one hand to the other while he is carried
ai rest.
■wi'sxpe-
r« .e in.
!li 'ient.
' proof
Be sary.
forward with the motion of a horse at a gallop, or while
he swings on the slack-wire. In both cases the oranges
have the same motion as the man, and while they are in
the air are moving forward with the same velocity, so
that they drop into the hand at a considerable distance
from the place in which they were thrown from the
other hand. While a ship sails forward with a rapid
motion a ball dropped from the mast head falls at the
foot of the mast: for it retains the motion which it had
previous to its being dropped, and follows the mast du¬
ring the whole time of its fall.
114. Familiar instances may also be given of a body
in a state of rest. A vessel filled with water drawn
suddenly along the floor, leaves the water behind,
which is dashed over the posterior side of the vessel j and
when a boat or coach is suddenly dragged forward, the
persons in it find themselves strike against the hinder
part of the carriage or boat; or rather it should be said
the carriage strikes on them, for it sooner acquires mo¬
tion from the action of the force applied. A ball dis¬
charged from a cannon will pass through a wall and
move onward 5 but the wall remains behind.
115. Common experience is perhaps insufficient for
establishing the truth of this fundamental proposition.
It must be granted, that we have never seen a body ei¬
ther at rest, or in uniform rectilineal motion j yet this
seems necessary before it can be said that the proposi¬
tion is experimentally established. What is supposed
xn our experiments to be putting a body, formerly at
rest, into motion, is in fact only producing a change of
a very rapid motion—a motion not less than 90,000
feet per second.
116. lor the purpose of obtaining such experimental
proof of the truth of this proposition, it will be necessary
to resort to other observations. The relative motions
of bodies, which are the differences of their absolute mo¬
tions, only can be measured. We cannot measure their
absolute motions. If then it can be shown by experi¬
ment that bodies have equal tendencies to resist the
augmentation and diminution of their relative motions,
they thus, have equal tendencies to resist the augmenta¬
tion or diminution of their absolute motions,
F»et A and B two bodies be put into such a situation
that they cannot persevere in their relative motions.
The change which we observe produced on A is the ef¬
fect. and measure of the tendency of B to persevere in
its former state. From the proportion of these changes
therefore we derive the proportion of their tendencies
to remain in their former condition. This will be il¬
lustrated by the following experiment, which should be
made at noon.
117. Let the body moving at the rate of three feet
per second to the westward, strike the equal body B
which is apparently at rest. Different cases of the re¬
sults of the changes thus produced may be supposed.
1st. Let A impel B forward without having its own
velocity at all diminished. From this result it appears
that B shows no tendency to maintain its motion un¬
changed, but that A retains its motion without dimi¬
nution.
2d. Suppose that A stops, and that B remains at rest.
This case shows that A does not resist a diminution of
motion, and that the motion of B is not changed.
3d. Let it be supposed that both move westward at
the rate of one foot per second. There is in this case
a diminution of the velocity in A, equal to two feet per
second. This then is to be considered as the effect and
measure of the tendency of B to maintain its velocity
unaugmented. B has received an augmentation of one
foot per second in its velocity. From this change it
appears that the tendency is but half of the former’t
and the result shows that the resistance to a diminution
of velocity is only equal to one half of the resistance to
augmentation j and perhaps equal only to one quarter,
since the change on B has effected a double change
on A.
4th. Let it be supposed that both bodies move for¬
ward with the velocity of one and a half feet per se¬
cond. In this case it is obvious that the tendencies of
the two bodies to maintain their states unchanged are
equal.
5th. But suppose that A=2 B, and that the velocity
of both after collision is equal to two feet per second.
The body B has then received an addition of two feet
per second to its former velocity j and this is the effect
and measure of the whole tendency of A to preserve
its motion undiminished. One half of this change on
C measures the persevering tendency of one half of A j
but it is supposed that A, which formerly moved with
the apparent or relative velocity three, now moves with
the velocity two, and thus has lost the velocity of one
foot per second. Therefore each half of A has lost this
velocity j and the whole loss of motion is two. This
then is the measure of the tendency of B to maintain
its former state unaugmented ; and it is the same with
the measure of the tendency of A to preserve its former
state undiminished. From such a result therefore the
conclusion would be, that bodies have equal tendencies
to maintain their former states of motion unaugmented
and undiminished.
The suppositions made above in the 4th and 5th cases
are the result of all the experiments which have been
made j and in all the changes of motion which are
3 P 2 produced
483
Of Moving
Forces.
484
Of Movin';
Forces.
The proof
imperfect.
Existence
of forces
inferences
from mo¬
tion.
This law
a necessary
truth.
D Y N A
produced by the mutual action of bodies on impulsion,
this is the regulating law. To this there is no excep¬
tion. And thus it appears that there exists in bodies
no preferable tendency to rest. No fact can be addu¬
ced which should lead us to suppose that a motion hav¬
ing once begun should suffer any diminution without
the intervening action of some changing cause.
118. It must, however, be observed that this is a very
imperfect way of establishing the tirst law of motion.
It is inapplicable to those cases where experiment can¬
not be made •, and at best it is subject to all the inac¬
curacy of the best managed experiments. If this pro¬
position he examined by means ot the general princi¬
ples which have been adopted in the article Thiloso-
PHY (which see), an accurate decision of this question
may be given. These principles, which are the foun¬
dation of all our knowledge, shew that this proposition
is an axiom or intuitive consequence of the relations of
those ideas which we have of motion, of its changes,
and of their causes.
1 ip. Powers or forces, it has been shewn, are not
the immediate objects of our perceptions. Their exis¬
tence, kind, and degree, are inferences from the motions
which we observe. And hence it follows, that when
no change of motion is observed, no such inference is
made 5 no force or power is supposed to act. But
when any change of motion is observed, the interence
is made j a power or force is supposed to have acted.
By a similar conclusion, it is said, that when no change
of motion is supposed, no force is thought of or suppo¬
sed ; and whenever a change of motion is supposed, it
always implies a changing force. On the other hand,
when the action of a changing force is supposed, the
change of motion is also supposed ; the action of this
force and the change of motion being the same thing.
The mind does not admit the idea of the action, with¬
out at the same time thinking of the indication of the
action, and this indication is the change of motion. And
in the same way, when we do not think of the changing
force, or do not suppose the action of a changing force,
we suppose, although it be not expressed in terms,
that there is no indication of this changing force; that
there is no change. If, therefore, it be supposed that no
mechanical force acts on a body, we suppose in fact that
the body remains in its former condition with respect
to motion. And if it be supposed that nothing accele¬
rates or retards, or deflects the motion, it is conceived
as neither' accelerated nor retarded, nor deflected.
Hence it follows, that we suppose the body to continue
in its former state of rest or motion, unless we suppose
that it is changed by some mechanical force.
120. This proposition then does not depend on the
properties of body as a matter of experience or contin¬
gency. It is to us a necessary truth. It is not so much
any circumstances with regard to body that are expres¬
sed in the proposition, as the operations of the mind in
considering these circumstances. The truth of the pro¬
position will not be invalidated by taking into view,
that it may he essential to move in some particular di¬
rection •, that it may he essential to body to stop when
the moving cause ceases to act ; or gradually to dimi¬
nish its motion, and at last to come to rest. T. he circum¬
stances in the nature ofbody which render those modifica¬
tions essentially necessary, are the causes of those modifi¬
cations j and they are to be considered as changing forces.
3
M I C S. Parti
If we should suppose that body of its own nature is or Mcrri
capable of pi’oducing a change in its condition, this Foiw
change must be effected according to some law which v vHl
characterizes the nature of body. But the knowledge
of this law can lie obtained only by observing the de¬
viations from uniform rectilineal motion. It then be¬
comes indifferent whether external causes operate those
changes, or they depend on the nature of the thing j
for in considering the various motions of bodies, we
must first consider the nature of matter as one ot its
mechanical affections which operates in every instance}
atld this brings us back to the law contained in the pro¬
position. This is rendered more certain by reflecting,
that the external causes, such for instance are gravity
and magnetism, which are acknowledged to operate
changes of motion, are not less unknown to us than this
essential property of matter. They are, like it, only
inferences from the phenomena.
121. Many philosophers, among which number may |nadeqnJ
he included Newton himself, have introduced modes ofnotions
expression, which suggest inadequate notions, and such suggeitei
as are incompatible with the doctrine of the proposition 5^™]
for although they allow that rest is the natural condi-sions
tion of body, and that force is necessary for the conti¬
nuation of motion, yet they speak of a poiver or force
residing in a moving body by which it perseveres in its
motion. This has been called the vis insit a, or the in¬
herent force of a moving body. Now if the motion
be supposed to be continued in consequence of a force,
that force must be supposed to be exerted, and it is
supposed that if it were not exerted the motion would
cease. The proposition, therefore, must be false. To
obviate this objection, it is indeed sometimes said, that
the body continues in uniform rectilineal motion, un¬
less it is acted on by some external cause. This mode
of expression, however, subjects us to the impropriety
of asserting that gravity, electricity, and other mecha¬
nical forces, are external to the bodies on which they
are supposed to act and to put in motion. Every thing
which produces a change of motion is very properly
called a force ; and when a change ol motion is ob¬
served, the action of such a force is very properly in¬
ferred. But to give the same name to what, has not
this property of producing a change, and to infer the
action of a force when no change is observed, is not a
very accurate or consistent expression. This error has
arisen from the use of analogical language in philoso¬
phical discussions.
122. But motion is not, as philosophers have ima-ftfotiop1
gined, the continual production of an effect. We canacontim
conceive there is such a thing as a moving cause,
which the name of force has been given. This pi'0-fecl,
duces motion, and the character of motion in body,
which is a continual change of place. Motion is the
effect of an action ; and previous to the commence¬
ment of the motion, this action is equally incomplete as
it is the minute after. The immediate effect of a mov¬
ing force is a determination to motion, which if not ob¬
structed by some cause would go on for ever. In this
determination only the condition of the body differs
from a state of rest. Motion then is a condition or
mode of existence, which no more requires the conti¬
nued agency of the moving cause than colour or figure.
Some mechanical cause is required to change this con¬
dition into the state or condition of rest. M hen a
moving
f t II.
D Y N A
ces,
It t the
iffs: of
ni:ent
Vii cr-
)j orintf moving body is brought to rest, some cause of this ces¬
sation of motion never fails to occur-to the mind. A
cause is no less necessary to stop the motion of body
than it is to produce it. Now this cause must either
reside in the body or be external to it. If it reside in
the body, then it possesses a self-determining power or
force, by which it may be able to stop its own motion
as well as to produce it.
123. Taking this view of the subject, the opinion of
a force residing in a moving body by which its mo¬
tion is continued must be given up •, and the remark¬
able difference between a body in a state of motion and
a state of rest must be explained on other principles.
Motion, it cannot be doubted, is necessary in the im¬
pelling body to permit the forces which are inherent in
one or both bodies to continue the pressure long enough
for the production of sensible motion. But whether
bodies be in the condition of motion or rest, these
forces are inherent in them. If we reflect on the mo¬
tions that are involved in the general conception of one
body being impelled and put in motion by another, we
shall see that there is nothing individual transferred
from the one to the other. Before collision took place,
the determination to motion existed only in the impel¬
ling body. After collision, both bodies possessed this
condition or determination. But we have no concep¬
tion, we can form no notion, of the thing transferred.
124. An expression not less vague and indefinite is
als° very cotnmcm among mechanical philosophers.
‘ This is the phrase inertia, or vis inertice. This expres¬
sion, which was introduced by Kepler, seems to have
been generally employed by him, as well as by Newton,
to express the fact of the perseverance of body in a
state of motion or rest. Sometimes, howevex*, it has
been employed by these philosophers to express some¬
thing like indifference to motion or rest; and this is
supposed to be manifested by body requiring the same
quantity of force to make an augmentation of its mo¬
tion, as is necessary to produce an equal diminution of
it. To suppose resistance from a body at rest seems to
be in direct contradiction to the common use of the
word force ; and yet this expression vis inertice is very
common. It is not less absurd to say that a body x-e-
mains in the condition of i‘est by the exertion of a vis
inertice, than to affirm that it maintains itself in a state
of motion by the exex*tion of an inherent force. Such
expressions, which are metaphorical, should be careful¬
ly avoided, because they are apt to lead to misconcep¬
tion of the procedure of nature,
esjlnce 125. In the phenomena of motion the force employ-
f,n teraed always produces its complete effect. No resistance
Ce^" whatever is observed. When one man throws down
another, and he finds that no more force has been re¬
quired than to throw down a similar and equal mass
of inanimate matter, he concludes that no resistance
has been made ; but if more force be necessary, the con¬
clusion is that resistance has been made. When,there-
lore, the exerted force produces its full effect, there is
no such thing as resistance properly so called. It is
therefore misconceiving the mode in which mechanical
dbrces operate in the collision of bodies, to say that
there is any resistance : for there is no more in these
cases than in other natural changes of condition. It
may be observed, that these terms, inherent force and
inertia, may be employed for the purpose of abbrevia-
m 1 c s. 485
ting language, provided they are used only for expres-0f M0Tj1]<r
sing either the simple fact of persevering in the former Forces. *
state, or the necessity of a determinate force to produce 1 - v~
a change on that state, being careful to avoid all thought
of x-esistance.
126. I bus it appears that deviations from uniform Deviations
motions are only the indications of the existence and from tmi-
agency of mechanical forces. This indication is sim-
ply change of place ; and it can only indicate what is ti0j? n,d!', '
very simple, sometning competent to the production oft-orce.
the observed motion. The same thing is indicated by
two similar changes of motion. A compass needle in
a state of rest, can he moved some degrees by means of
the finger, a magnet, an electrified body, or by the un¬
bending of a spring, &c. in all which cases the indi¬
cation is precisely the same ; and therefore the thing
indicated must also be the same. This is the intensity
and direction of some moving power. The circum¬
stances of resemblance by which the affections of mat¬
ter are to be cbai’acterized are impulsiveness, intensity,
and direction. This leads us to consider the second law
of motion.
Second Law of Motion.
Every change of motion is proportional to the force
impressed, and it is made in the direction of that force.
127. This law of motion also may almost be consi¬
dered as an identical proposition. It is equivalent to I® an idea-
saying that the changing force is to be measured by the l*C!^.Pro'
change produced, and the direction of this force is the l-)0slt101’’
direction of the change. Considering the force only
in the sense of its being the cause of motion, and with-
dx-awing the attention from the manner or form of its
exertion, there can be no doubt of this. In whatever
way a body is put in motion, whether by the expansive
force of the air, by the unbending of a spring, or by
any similar pressux-e, when it moves off in the same di¬
rection, and with the same velocity, the force or the
exertion of the force is considered as the same. Even
when it is put in motion by instantaneous percussion
from a smart stroke, although in this case the manner
of the effect being produced is essentially different from
the other cases, we cannot conceive the propelling
force, as such, but as px-ecisely one and the same. The
expression of this law of motion by Newton is equiva¬
lent to saying, “ that the changes of motion are ta¬
ken as the measures of the changing forces, and the
direction of the change is taken as the indication of
the direction of the forces $ for it cannot be said that it
is a, deduction from the acknowledged principle, that but not dc-
efl’ects are proportional to their causes. This law isducedfrom
not affirmed from the proportion of the forces and the ^ie P1?1’?1"
proportion or the changes, and that these proportions£orces>
are the same, having been observed $ and that this
universally holds in nature. For forces are not objects
of observation, and we do not know their proportions.
In this way it would be established as a physical law,
as indeed it is so in fact. But according to the defini¬
tion of the term, this does not establish it as a law of
motion j or as a law of human thought, the result of the
relations of our ideas. Philosophers having attempted
to prove this as a matter of observation, have produced
great diversity of opinion in the mode of estimating
forces. A bullet, it is well known, which moves with
double velocity, penetrates four times as far. This is
confirmed
486
D Y N A
Of Moving
Forces.
Incompa¬
tible with
the velo¬
city being
proportion¬
al to the
force.
confirmed by other similar facts ; and to generate this
double velocity in the bullet, it has been observed by
philosophers, four times the force is expended, four times
as much powder is required. This is the invariable re¬
sult $ and in cases of this kind, it would appear that
the ratio of the forces employed has been very accu¬
rately ascertained. The conclusion therefore is, that
moving forces are not proportional to the velocities pro¬
duced, but to the squares of the velocities. This is
strongly confirmed by observing that moving bodies
seem to possess forces in this very proportion, and to
produce effects hi this proportion 5 when, for instance,
the velocity is only twice as great, they penetrate four
times as deep.
128. If this mode of estimation be just, it is irrecon-
cileable with the concession of those, who admit that
the velocity is proportional to the force impressed, in
those cases where no previous observation can be had of
the ratio of the forces, and of its equality to the ratio
of the velocities. Such a case is the force of gravity,
which these philosophers also measure by its acce¬
lerating power, or the velocity generated in a given
time. This must be granted $ for there are cases in
which the force can be measured by the actual pressure
which it exerts. Thus a spring steelyard can be con¬
structed, the rod of which is divided by hanging on
successively a number of perfectly equal weights. In
the different states of tension of the spring, its elasti¬
city is proportional to the pressures of gravity which it
balances. If it be found, that at Quito in Peru, a
weight will pull out the rod to the mark 312, and that
the same weight at Spitzbergen draws it out to 313, it
seems to he a fair inference to say, that the pressure of
gravity at Quito is to its pressure at Spitzbergen as 312
to 313? and this is affirmed on the authority of effects
being proportional to their causes. Such cases, how¬
ever, are very rare for it is seldom, that the whole of
a natural power, accurately measured in some other
way, is employed in producing the observed motion.
Part of it is generally otherwise expended, and there¬
fore it frequently happens that the motions are not in
the proportion with the supposed forces. And allowing
that this could be done with accuracy, it would only he
the proof of a general law or fact: but these philoso¬
phers attempt to establish it as an abstract truth.
129. It seems to be considered by Sir Isaac Newton
only as a physical law. And in this sense good argu¬
ments are not wanting. A ball which moves with a
double, triple, or quadruple velocity, generates by im¬
pulse in another, a double, triple, or quadruple velo¬
city, or it generates the same velocity in a double, tri¬
ple, or quadruple quantity of matter, and losing at the
same time similar proportions of its own velocity.
Two bodies, having equal quantities of motion,
meeting together mutually stop each other.
When two forces, which act similarly during equal
times, produce equal velocity in a third body, they
will, by acting together during the same time, produce
a double velocity.
If a pressure which acts for a second, produce a cer¬
tain velocity, a double pressure acting during a se¬
cond, will produce in the same body a double velo¬
city.
A force which is known to act equably, produces in
M I C S. ■ Parti
equal times equal increments of velocity, whatever the nr,.
\ . . 1 , •’7 Of Mot;
velocities may be. tforcc.
In all the examples above adduced, the forces are'——
observed to be in the same proportion with the change
of motion effected by them in a similar way.
But the curious discoveries of Dr Hooke, about the Hooke’
middle of the 17th century, seemed to shew, from adiscovcii
great collection of facts, forces to be in a very different
proportion. In the production of motion it was found,
that four springs equal in strength, and bent to the
same degree, generated only a double velocity in the
ball which they impelled : nine springs generated only
a triple velocity, &c. In the extinction of motion, it
was found, that a ball moving with a double velocity,
will penetrate four times as deep into a uniformly re¬
sisting mass; and a triple velocity will make it pene¬
trate nine times as far, &c.
130. These facts were brought forward by Leibnitz Estimatl
in support of his own pretensions to the discovery of the of Leiba 1
real nature and measure of mechanical action and force,
which he said had been hitherto totally mistaken. He
affirmed that the inherent force of a moving body,
was in the proportion of the square of the velocity. In
this argument he was supported by John Bernoulli,
who adduced many simple facts to confirm the relation
between the inherent force of a moving body and its
velocity. One of the strongest arguments urged by
Leibnitz is, that the inherent force of a moving body
is to he estimated by all that it is able to do before the
total extinction of its motion; and therefore when it
penetrates four times as far, it is to be considered as
having produced a quadruple effect. In this mode of
estimation many things are gratuitously assumed, many
contradictions are incurred ; and it is only because
forces are assumed as proportional to the velocities which
they generate, that these facts come to he proportional
to the squares of the same velocity. When Leibnitz ;s (ncol,
assumes the quadruple penetration as the proof of the
quadruple force of a body having twice the velocities,
he has not considered that a double time is employed
during this penetration. But a double force, acting
equably during a double time, should produce a qua¬
druple effect. This circumstance is lost sight of in all
the facts which this philosopher has adduced. It may,
however, be observed, that Leibnitz, as well as his
followers, holds no difference of opinion in all the con¬
sequences which are deduced from the measure which
is here adopted. They admit, that a force producing
an uniformly accelei’ated motion must be constant; they
agree with the followers of Des Cartes in the valuations
both of accelerating and deflecting forces; and have
assiduously and successfully cultivated the philosophy ot
Newton, which proceeds on the principle of estimating
the measure of moving forces by the velocity gene¬
rated.
131. It ought here to be observed, that moving forces Moving
only are taken into consideration: When a ball has force* 0:
acquired a certain velocity, whether it has been im-cons‘^r
pelled by the elasticity of the air, by a spring, or struck
off by a blow, or urged forward by means of a stream
of air or water, or has obtained its velocity by falling;
in all these cases it is conceived that it has sustained
the same action of moving force. The only distinct
notion, perhaps, which we are able to form, is pressure ;
but
t II.
Ic ins of
ori.nt
iri'the
in
l l oving but it is from experience that we derive the information
pees, that pressure produces motion. Whatever may be the
difference of the circumstances of mechanical forces, in
([■lost namely, production of motion, they all agree.
this circumstance of resemblance they are capable of
ic if mo-comparison } and from this they derive a name, moving
ii Force, which is expressive of this comparison. And
therefore the particular faculty of pressure, elasticity,
&c. may be measured by the change of motion produ¬
ced by pressure. In whatever proportion pressure may
act on a body in a state of rest, the magnitude of the
change of motion measures the pressure actually exerted
in its production ^ and as this is the only change of me¬
chanical condition effected by the pressure in the body
moved by it, it may be measured by the velocity.
When, therefore, pressure produces the same change of
velocity on a soft clay ball, the pressure really exerted
is the same whether the velocity has been augmented or
diminished. In both cases the same dimple will be ob¬
served. The changes of motion, therefore, are propor¬
tional to the exerted pressures.
132. The notions which we form of a constant or
invariable force lead to the same conclusion. Ry such
a force equal effects or changes of motion are produced
in equal times. But equal augmentations of motion are
equal augmentations of velocity. This notion of an
invariable accelerating force is confirmed by what is
observed in the case of a falling body, which receives
equal additions of velocity in equal times 5 and this
force, so far as we know, is invariable. The inference
then is, that whatever be the force exerted in one se¬
cond, it will be four times as much in four seconds.
And this is really the case, if it be granted that a qua¬
druple velocity is the indication of a quadruple force ;
but it does not hold in any other estimation of force.
Besides, it may be observed, that four springs applied
to an ounce ball impel it only twice as fast as one
spring does; and if the same four springs be applied to
a four-ounce ball, they produce in it the same velocity
that one spring produces on an ounce ball. In the last
case, it may be demonstrated, that the four springs act
during the same time with one spring.
otf tl ProPer measure» therefore, of a changing
ta „ *j force is a change of motion in all its circumstances of
lar ]g velocity and direction. This also is the proper mea-
vingSure of a moving force. For, in different states of mo¬
tion, bodies may sustain the same change of motion.
Supposing then one of these bodies to be previously in a
state of rest, the change and the motion acquired are
the same thing. The force, therefore, producing a
change of motion in a moving body, is precisely the
same with that force which produces in a body, pre¬
viously at rest, a motion equivalent to this change j
and in this case it is simply a moving force.
This opinion of Leibnitz about the measure of forces
has influenced the sentiments of many writers, and in
the mechanical investigations of some of them, has not
a little affected their practical deductions. No dispute
probably could have occurred if philosophers had not
been led to consider force as something existing in
body 5 the term on the contrary being only used to ex¬
press the phenomenon, which is conceived to be its
full effect and adequate measure. The simple change
of motion observed is the measure of the force by which
U is produced.
DYNAMICS.
487
Of Moving
Foirces.
The following is the enunciation, adapted to the cha¬
racteristic and measure of a change of motion.
Law of the Changes of Motion.
Prop. XII.
I34* every change of motion, the new motion fs
compounded of the former motion, and of the motion
'which the changing produces in a body at rest.
a r^et i1-16 c*ian£e motion be from AB (fig. 23.) to Fig. 23.
AD, this new motion AD is compounded of the for¬
mer motion AB and of the motion AC.
. For it has been shewn, that the change in any mo- '
tion, is that motion, which when compounded with the
former motion, produces the new motion ; and the new
motion (55.) is the compound of the former motion
and^ the changing motion. Since then the change of
motion is the mark and measure of the changing'force
(TSSO by which both the direction and intensity^or ve¬
locity produced, are determined, the truth of the pro¬
position will appear of course.
X3S\ has been already observed (54.), that the
composition of motions and the similar composition of
forces are very different things. The first is a pure ma¬
thematical truth j the second, is a physical question de¬
pendent on the nature of the mechanical forces as they
exist in the universe. Our notions are not very distinct
of two forces, each of which separately produces mo¬
tions, having the directions and velocities expressed by
the sides of a parallelogram, producing by their joint
action a motion in the diagonal. The demonstrations
which have been frequently given, are altogether in¬
conclusive, and only include the composition of mo¬
tions ; while gratuitous postulates have been assumed by
those who endeavoured to accommodate their reason¬
ings to physical principles. The celebrated Daniel
Bernoulli gave the first legitimate demonstration of this
proposition, in which, however, he employs a series of
many propositions, some of which are very abstruse. It
was greatly simplified by D’Alembert, Mem. Acad,
des Sciences iy6p, still, however, requiring many pro¬
positions. Ingenious demonstrations have also been gi¬
ven by other celebrated mechanicians. In the follow¬
ing demonstration by Professor Robison, this distinguish¬
ed philosopher has attempted to combine the demon¬
stration of Bernoulli, D’Alembert, and others, thus
rendering it more expeditious, and at the same time
legitimate. This demonstration is entirely limited to
pressures, without at all considering or employing the
motions supposed to be produced by them.
(■A) If two equal and opposite pressures or incite¬
ments to motion act at once on a material particle, it
suffers no change of motion; for if it yields in either
direction by their joint action, one of the pressures pre¬
vails, and they are not equal.
Equal and opposite pressures are said to balance
each other ; and such as balance must be esteemed equal
and opposite.
(B) If a and b are two magnitudes of the same kind,
proportional to the intensities of two pressures which act
in the same direction, then the magnitude a~±-b will
measure the intensity of the pressure, which is equiva¬
lent, and may be called equfil, to the combined effort
of the other two ; for when we try to form a notion of
pressure as a measurable magnitude, distinct from mo¬
tion- *
D Y N A
tioii or any other efleet of it, we find nothing that we
Fig. 24.
Fig- 2S'
can measure it by but another pressure. Nor have we
any notion of a double or triple pressure different from a
pressure that is equivalent to the joint effort of two or
three equal pressures. A pressure a is accounted triple
of a pressure b, if it balances three pressures, each equal
to b, acting together. There lore, in all proportions
which can be expressed by numbers, we must acknow¬
ledge the legitimacy of this measurement; and it would
surely be affectation to omit those which the mathema¬
ticians call incommensurable.
The magnitude «—b, in like manner, must be ac¬
knowledged to measure that pressure which arises from
the joint action of two pressures a and b acting in op¬
posite directions, of which a is the greatest.
(C) Let ABCD and AbQd (fig. 24.) be two
rhombuses, which have the common diagonal AC. Let
the angles BA b, DA d, be bisected by the straight
lines AE and Al'. ..
If there be drawn from the points E and £ the lines
EG, EH, Eg-, ¥ /i, making equal angles on each side
of EA and FA, and if Gg, H h be drawn, cutting
the diagonal AC in I and L: then AI-j-AL will be
greater or less than AQ, the half of AC, accoiumg
as the angles GEH, g F h, are greater or less than
GAH g A h. ^ ^ '
Draw GH, g 7i, cutting AE, AF, in O and 0, and
draw O 0, cutting AC in K.
Because the angles AEG and EAG are respectively
equal to AEH and EAH, and AE is common to
both triangles, the sides AG, GE are respectively equal
to AH, HE, and GH is perpendicular to AE, and is
bisected in O ; for the same reasons, g h is bisected in
0. Therefore the lines C#, O 0, HA, are parallel,
and IL -is bisected in K.. Therefore AI-j-AL is equal
to twice AK. Moreover, if the angle GEH be greater
than GAH, AO is greater than EO, and AK is great¬
er than KQ. Therefore AI + AL is greater than
AQ 5 and if the angle GEH be less than GAH, AI
-J-AL is less than AQ. _ _ _
(D) Two equal pressures, acting in the directions
AB and AC (fig. 25.) at right angles to each other,
compose a pressure in the direction AD, which bisects
the right angle ; and its intensity is to the intensity of
each of the constituent pressures as the diagonal of a
square to one of the sides. It is evident, that the di¬
rection of the pressure, generated by their joint action,
will bisect the angle formed by their directions ; be¬
cause no reason can be assigned for the direction in¬
clining more to one side than to the other.
In the next place, since a force in the direction AD
does, in fact, arise from the joint action of the equal
pressures AB and AC, the pressure AB may be con¬
ceived as arising from the joint action of two equal
forces similarly inclined and proportioned to it. Draw
EAF perpendicular to AD. One of these forces must
be directed along AD, and the other along AE.. In
like manner, the pressure AC may arise from the joint
action of a pressure in the direction AD, and an equal
pressure in the direction AI . It is also plain that the
pressures in the directions AE and AI, and the two
pressures in the direction AD, must be all equal. _ And
also any one cf them must have the same proportion to
AB or’to AC, that AB or AC has to the force in the
direction AD, arising from their joint action.
M I C 3.
Therefore, if it be said that AD does not measure Of Mem
the pressure arising from the joint action of AB and Forcd
AC, let Arf, greater than AD, be its just measure, 'Y-'j
and make Kd \ AB=AB : AgrrAB : Ac. Then
A and A e have the same inclination and proportion
to'AB that AB and AC have to A d. We determine,
in like manner, two forces Ay and Ag as constituents
of AC.
Now A c/ is equivalent to AB and AC, and AB is
equivalent to A £ and Ag ,■ and AC is equivalent to
A/, and Ag. Therefore A d is equivalent to Ac,
A/, Ag, and Ag. But Ac and A/balance each
other, or annihilate each other’s effect 5 and there
remain only the two forces or pressures Ag, A g.
Therefore their measure is a magnitude equal to twice
Ag. But if Ac/ be greater than the diagonal AD
of the square, whose sides are AB and AC ; then
Ag must be less than AI, the side of the square whose
diagonal is AB. But twice Ag is less than AD, and
much less than Ac/. Therefore the measure of the
equivalent of AB and AC cannot be a line A d greater
than AD. In like manner it cannot be a line A 5 that
is less than AD. Therefore it must be equal to AD,
and the proposition is demonstrated.
Corollary.
(E) Two equal forces AB, AC, acting at right
angles, will be balanced by the force AO, equal and
opposite to AD, the diagonal of the square whose sides
are AB and AC ; for AO would balance AD, which
is the equivalent of AB and AC.
(E) Let AECF (fig. 26.) be a rhombus, the acute fig, A
angle of which EAF is half of a right angle. Two
equal pressures, which have the directions and measures
AE, AF, compose a pressure, having the direction and
measure AC, which is the diagonal of the rhombus.
It is evident, in the first place, that the compound
force has the direction AC, which bisects the angle
EAF. If AC be not its just measure, let it be AP
less than AC. Let ABCD be a square described on
the same diagonal, and make AP : AQ=rAE : AO,
—:AF : A 0. Draw KOG, Kog perpendicular to
AE, AF j draw Gig, OHo, EG, EK, Fg, FK, PF,
and PE.
The angles CAB and FAE are equal, each being
half of a right angle. Also the figures AEPF and
AGEK are similar, because AP : AQ~AE : AO.
Therefore FA ’. AP~KA : AE, and EA . AP—
GA : AE. Therefore, in the same manner that the
forces AE, AF are affirmed to compose AP, the forces
AG and AK may compose the force AE, and the forces
Ag and AK may compose the force AF. Therefore
(B) the force AP is equivalent to the four forces AG,
AK, Ag, AK. But (D) AG and Ag are the sides
of a square, whose diagonal is equal to twice Al :
and the two forces AK, AK are equal to, or arc mea¬
sured by, twice AK. Therefore the four forces AG,
AK, Ag, AK, are equivalent to 2AI-j-2AK, =
4 AH-
But because AP was supposed less than AC, the
angle FPE is greater than FAE, and GEK is greater
than GAK, AO is greater than OE, and AH is great-
er than HQ, and 2 AH is greater than AQ; and
therefore 4 AH is greater than AC, and much greater
^ & than
icca.
-
Fi'ijy.
;-t ii.
Cj loving than AP. Therefore AP is not the just measure of
rces- the force composed of AE and AF.
In like manner, it is shewn, that AE and AF do
not compose a force whose measure is greater than AC.
It is therefore equal to AC} and the proposition is de¬
monstrated.
(G) By the same process it may he demonstrated,
that ifBAD.be half a right angle, and EAF be the
fourth of a right angle, two forces AE, AF will com¬
pose a force measured by AC. And the process may
be repeated for a rhombus whose acute angle is one-
eighth, one-sixteenth, &c. of aright angle j that is,
any portion of a right angle that is produced by conti¬
nual bisection. Two forces, forming the sides of such
a rhombus, compose a farce measured by the dia¬
gonal.
(If) Fet ABCD, Abed (fig. 27O be two rhom¬
buses formed by two consecutive bisections of a right
angle. Let AECF be another rhombus, whose sides
AF. and AF bisect the angles BA£ and DAr/.
The two forces AE, AF, compose a force AC.
Bisect AE and AF in O and 0. Draw the perpen¬
diculars GOH, g 0 /i, and the lines Gig-, OK 0, HL /,
and the lines EG, EH, Fg, F //.
It is evident, that AGEH and A g F /i are rhom¬
buses j because AOzzOE, and A 0=0 F. It is also
plain, that since bAdh half of BAD, the angle GAH
is half of b Ad. It is therefore formed by a continual
bisection of a right angle. Therefore (G) the farces
AG, AH, compose a force AE ; and A o-, A h, com¬
pose the force AF. Therefore the forces AG, AH,
Ag, Ahy acting together, are equivalent to the forces
AE, AI acting together. But AG, A g compose
a force ~ 2 AI} and the forces AH, A h compose a
force = 2 AL. Therefore the four forces acting to¬
gether are equivalent to 2 AI-f.2 AL, or to 4 AK.
But because AO is f AE, and the lines Gg, O 0, HA,
are evidently parallel, 4 AK is equal to 2 AQ, or to
AC 5 and the proposition is demonstrated.
Corollary.
(/) Let us now suppose, that by continual bisection
of a right angle we have obtained a very small angle a
of a rhombus j and let us name the rhombus by the
multiple of a which forms its acute angle.
The proposition (G) is true of a, 2 a, 40, &c. The
proposition (H) is true of 30. In like manner, be¬
cause (G) is true of 4 a and 8 a, proposition (H) is
true of 6 <7; and because it is true of 4 a, 6 a, and 8 a,
it is true of 5 n and 7 a. And so on continually till
we have demonstrated it of every multiple of a that is
less than a right angle.
(A) Let RAS (fig. 28.) be perpendicular to AC,
and let ABCD he a rhombus, whose acute angle BAD
is some multiple of 2 a that is less than a right angle.
Let A b c d he another rhombus, whose sides A b, A d
bisect the angles RAB, SAD. Then the forces Ab
A d compose a force AC.
Draw b R, d S parallel to BA, DA. It is evident,
that All b B and AS d D are rhombuses, whose acute
angles are multiples of a, that are each less than a
right angle : Therefore (/) the forces AR and AB
compose the force A b, and AS, AD compose Adi
but AR and AS annihilate each other’s effect, and
there remains only the farces AB, AD. Therefore
VOL. VII. Part If. f
DYNAMICS.
439
*v,
A 5 and Ad are equivalent to AB and AD, which Of Moving
compose the force AC ; and the proposition is demon- Peaces,
strated.
Corollary.
(L) Thus is the corollary of last proposition extend¬
ed to every rhombus, whose angle at A is some multi¬
ple of a less than two right angles. And since a may
bs taken less than any angle that can be named, the
proposition may be considered as demonstrated of every
rhombus ; and we may say,
(M) Two equal forces, inclined to each other in any
angle, compose a force which is measured by the diago¬
nal 0^ the rhombus, whose sides are the measures of the
constituent forces.
(N) Two farces AB, AC (fig. 29.) having the di-fig. 29.'
rection and proportion of the sides of a rectangle, com¬
pose a force AD, having the direction and proportion
of the diagonal*
Draw the other diagonal CB, and draw EAF paral¬
lel to it; draw BE, CF parallel to DA.
AEBG is a rhombus; and therefore the farces AE
and AG compose the force AB. AFCG is also a
rhombus, and the force AC is equivalent to AF and
AG. Therefore the forces AB and AC, acting toge¬
ther, are equivalent to the forces AE, AF, AG, and
AG acting together, or to AE, AF, and AD acting
together: But AE and AF annihilate each other’s ac¬
tion, being opposite and equal (far each is. equal to the
half of BC). Therefore AB and AC acting together,
are equivalent to AD, or compose the force AD.
(O) Two forces, which have the direction and pro¬
portions of AB, AC (fig. 30.) the sides of any parallelo-Fig. 30,
gram, compose a force, having the direction and pro¬
portion of the diagonal AD.
Draw AF perpendicular to BD, and BG and DE
perpendicular to AC.
Then AFBG is a rectangle, as is also AFDE : and
AG is equal to CE. Therefore, (AT) AB is equivalent
to AF and AG. Therefore AB and AC acting to¬
gether, are equivalent to AF, AG, and AC acting to¬
gether ; that is, to AF and AE acting together ; that
is (AT) to AD; or the forces AB and AC compose
the farce AD.
Hence arises the most general pi’oposition.
1/ a material particle be urged at once by two pres- Compos!
sures or incitements to motion, whose intensities are tion of all
proportional to the sides of any parallelogram, cmnfinciteaienta
which act in the directions of those sides, it is affected*-* moti°n*
in the same manner as if it were acted on by a single
force, whose intensity is measured by the diagonal of the
parallelogram), and which acts in its direction : Or, two
pressures, having the direction and proportion of the
sides of a parallelogram, generate a pressure, having
the direction and proportion of the diagonal.
136. Thus is demonstrated from abstract principles
the perfect similarity of the composition of pressures and
the composition of forces measured by the motions which
are produced. A separate demonstration seems indis¬
pensably necessary ; for what may be deduced from the
one case is not always applicable to the other. The
change produced on a motion already existing by a de¬
flecting force, cannot be explained by any composition
of pressure ; because the changing pressure is the only
one that exists, and there is none with which it may be
3 Q compounded.
4co DYNAMICS.
Of Moving- compounded Nor, on the other hand, will our no-
Foices. lions of the composition of motions explain the compo-
l~—« sition of pressures, without assuming that the pressures
are proportional to the velocities.
137. Considering this law of motion merely as a uni¬
versal fact or physical law, abundant proof may be ad¬
duced in support of it. „
I# The joint action of different forces is quite fami¬
liar. A lighter, for example, is dragged in different
directions by two ropes on different sides of the canal,
the lighter moving m an intermediate direction, as it
dragged in that direction by one rope only. A ball
moving in a particular direction, which receives a stroke
across this direction, takes a direction lying between
that of the first motion and that of the transverse
stroke.
Fig. 23. 2. If a particle of matter A (fig. 23.) be urged at
once by two pressures in the directions AB and AC j
and if AB and AC be proportional to the intensities of
those pressures, the joint action ot these two pressures is
equivalent to the action of a third pressure in the di¬
rection of the diagonal AD, and having its intensity in
the proportion of AD. This is proved by observing,
that the point A is withheld from moving by apressme
AE, which is equal and opposite to AD. But pres¬
sures are moving forces, producing velocities when they
act similarly during equal times, proportional to then-
intensities. The proportion, therefore, is true with re¬
spect to pressures, considered merely as such, and also
with respect to the motions which may be produced by
their composition.
3. The weight of a ball which is suspended by a
thread, and drawn aside from its position in a state of
rest, urges it downwards, and the hall is supported ob¬
liquely by the thread. Supposing this proposition to be
true, the directions and intensities of the forces incit¬
ing it to motion in any position, as well as the result of
the velocities, can be precisely ascertained.
4. The motions of the planets, computed on these
principles of the composition of forces, do not exhibit
any perceptible deviation from calculation, at the end
of thousands of years.
Nothing, therefore, can he relied on with greater
confidence than the perfect agreement between the com¬
position of motions, and the composition of the forces,
which, separately taken, would produce those motions,
and which are measured by the velocities produced.
But it ought to be remarked, that if the moving forces
are measured by the squares of the velocities which they
generate, the composition cannot possibly hold ; namely,
from two forces which are represented by the sides of a
parallelogram made proportional to the squares of the
velocities, there will not result a force which can be
represented by the diagonal. But supposing the com¬
position of forces to be as the velocities, nature exhibits
them exactly.—This proposition, therefore, whether it
be considered as an abstract truth or as a physical law,
may be received as fully established. T-he following is
the converse of this proposition.
Prop. XIII.
Prop. XIV.
Part II
Of Motbj
Forces.
¥ig. a3» 138' The force ly which the motion AB (fig. 23.)
is changed into AD, is that which would produce in a
body at rest, the motion AC, and this compounded
with AB produces the observed motion AD.
139. The force which will produce in a body at rest
a motion having the direction and velocity represented by
AC, (fig. 23.) when applied to a body moving with the Fi
velocity and in the direction AB, will change its motion
into the motion AD, which is the diagonal of the paral¬
lelogram ABDC. For the new motion must be that
which is compounded of AB and AC, that is, it must be
the motion AD. .
The combination of these two propositions gives rise
to the following, which is still more general.
Prop. XV.
140. A body A (fig. 23.) being urged at once by two ^ Sji
forces which separately would cause it to describe AB
and AC, the sides of a parallelogram ABDC, the body
by their joint action will describe the diagonal AD in
the same ti;ne. ,
For if the body had been already moving with the
velocity and in the direction AB, and if it had been
acted on in A by the force AC, it would describe AD
in the same time. But it matters not at what time it
acquired the determination to describe AB. Let it be
then at the instant that the force AC is applied to it.
And because its mechanical condition in A, which has
the determination to the motion AB, is the same as in
any other point of that line, it must describe AD.
Corollary.
Two forces acting on a body in the same or in oppo¬
site directions, will cause it to move with a velocity equal
to the sum or to the difference of the velocities which it
would have receivedfrom the forces separately. For if
AC (fig. 23.) approach continually to AB by diminish-Fig,iji
ing the angle BAC, the points C and D will at last fall
on c and d, and then AD is equal to the sum of AB
and AC. But if the angle BAC increase continually,
the points C and D will at last fall on k and 3, and
then A 3 becomes equal to the difference of AB and
AC. In the last case, it is evident, that if AC be
equal to AB, the point D or 5 will coincide with A,
and the two forces being equal, and acting in opposite
directions, there will be no motion.
141. In such cases the equal and opposite forces AC
and AB are said to balance each other j and it is gene¬
rally said, that these forces, by whose joint operation
no change of motion is produced, balance each other.
Such forces are accounted equal and opposite, each
producing on the body a change of motion equal to
what it would produce on a body at rest, and at the
same time equal to the motion produced by the other
force on a body at rest. The two motions being equal
and opposite, the forces are therefore equal and op¬
posite.
142. What has been demonstrated concerning the
affections with respect to the affections of compound
motions, may now be applied to the combination of
forces taking care, however, to recollect the essential
difference between the composition of motions and the
composition of forces. In the combination of forces,
the composition is complete, when the determination
has been given to the body to move with the proper
velocity in the diagonal. When the body has acquired
this determination there is no farther composition and
it continues its uniform motion, till its condition be
changed
firtH. B Y N A
j ^ing changed by some new force. On the other hand, in
j orces. the composition of two or more motions, the constituent
motions are supposed to continue j and it is only during
their continuance that the compound motion exists. If
it be possible, which does not appear to be the case, that
any force can generate a finite velocity by its instanta¬
neous action, two such forces generate in an instant the
determination in the diagonal. But supposing the ac¬
tion to continue for some time, to generate the veloci¬
ties AB or AC, there must be a continuance of the
joint action during the same time to produce the velo¬
city AD. And although the moving powers of the
two forces may vary in their intensity, yet it is neces¬
sary that they retain the same proportion to each other
during the whole time of their joint action. Over¬
looking this circumstance, experiments have been made
for the purpose of comparing this doctrine with the
phenomena ; and they have been found to exhibit very
different results. But experiments made by the combi¬
nation of pressures, such as weights pulling a body by
means of threads, coincide precisely with this doctrine j
for it is always found that two weights pulling in the
directions AB, AC, and proportional to those lines,
are balanced by a third weight in the proportion of
AD, and pulling in the direction AE. In this way
the composition of pressures is clearly proved j and hav¬
ing no other distinct conception of a moving force,
these experiments may be considered as sufficient. But
we may go farther j for there is the clearest proof by
experiment, that pressures produce motions in propor¬
tion to their intensities by their similar action during
equal times. In the planetary motions, the directions
and intensities of the compound forces are accurately
known as moving forces. These motions afford a com¬
plete proof of the physical law, by their perfect coinci¬
dence with the calculations which proceed on the prin¬
ciples of this doctrine. This coincidence must be ac¬
knowledged as a full proof of the propriety of the mea¬
sure which has been assumed. The assumption of any
other measure would exhibit results quite different from
the phenomena.
143. Forces which produce motions along the sides
of a parallelogram are called simple forces or constituent
forces. And the force which singly produces the mo¬
tion in the diagonal, is called the equivalent force, the
compound force, or the resulting force.
144. Some general conclusions may now be pointed
out, which will facilitate greatly the use of the paral¬
lelogram of forces.
General Corollaries.
1. The constituent and the resulting forces, or the
simple and compound forces, act in the same plane ;
for the sides and diagonal of a parallelogram are in one
plane.
2. The simple and the compound forces are propor¬
tional to the sides of any triangle which are parallel to
their directions. For if any three lines ab, bd, ad, be
F drawn parallel to AB, AC, and AD (fig. 31.), they
will form a triangle similar to the triangle ABD.
For the same reasons they are proportional to the sides
of a triangle a'b'd, which are respectively perpendicular
to their directions.
3. Therefore each is proportional to the sine of the
opposite angle of this triangle 5 for the sides of any tri-
M I C S.
49*
angle are proportional to the sines of the opposite Of Movirg
angles. Forces.
4. Each is proportional to the sine of the angle con- ^
tained by the directions of the other two’, for AD is
to AB as thp sine of the angle ABI) to the sine of
the angle ADB. Now the sine of ABD is the same
with the sine of BAC contained between the directions
AB and AC, and the sine of ADB is the same with
the sine of CAD ; also AB is to AC, or BD, as the
sine of ADB (or CAD) to the sine of BAD.
145. Let us now proceed to the application of this Special uses
fundamental proposition. And we observe, in the first of the pa-
place, that since AD may be the diagonal of an inde- rallelogiaia
finite number of parallelograms, the motion or the pres-ot ^ortes‘
sure AD may result from the joint actions of many pairs
of forces. It may be produced by forces which would
separately produce the motions AF and AG. This
generally gives us the means of discovering the forces
which concur in its production. If one of them, AB,
is known in direction and intensity, the direction AC,
parallel to BD, and the intensity, are discovered. Some¬
times we know the directions of both. Then, by
drawing the parallelogram or triangle, we learn their
proportions. The force which deflects any motion
AB into a motion AD, is had by simply drawing a
line from the point B (to which the body would have
moved from A in the time of really moving from A to
D) to the point D. The deflecting force is such as
would have caused the body move from B to D in the
same time. And, in the same manner, we get the
compound motion AD, which arises from any two sim¬
ple motions AB and AC, by supposing both of the mo¬
tions to be accomplished in succession. The final place
of the body is the same, whether it moves along AD
or along AB and BD in succession.
146. This theorem is not limited to the composition Equivalent
of two forces only j for since the combined action of of many
two forces puts the body into the same state as if their
equivalent alone had acted on it, we may suppose this
to have been the case, and then the action of a third
force will produce a change on this equivalent motion.
The resulting motion will be the same as if only this
third force and the equivalent of the other two had
acted on the body. Thus, in fig. 32. the three forces ,z
AB, AC, AE, may act at once on a particle of mat¬
ter. Complete the parallelogram ABDCj the diago¬
nal AD is the force which is generated by AB and
AC. Complete the parallelogram AEFD; the dia¬
gonal AF is the force resulting from the combined ac¬
tion of the forces AB, AC, and AE. In like man¬
ner, completing the parallelogram AGHF, the diago¬
nal AH is the force resulting from the combined ac¬
tion of AB, AC, AE, and AG, and so on of any
number of forces.
This resulting force and the resulting motion may
be much more, expeditiously determined, in any degree ,
of composition, by drawing lines in the proportion and
direction of the forces in succession, each from the end
of the preceding. Thus draw AB, BD, DF, FH,
and join AH 5 AH is the resulting force. The de¬
monstration is evident.
147. In the composition of more than two forces,
we are not limited to one plane. The force AD is in
the same plane with AB and AC ; but AE may be
elevated above this plane, and AG may lead below it.
3Q2 af
492
Of Moving
Forces
D Y N A
AF is in the plane of AD and AE, and AH is in the
plane of AF and AG.
Complete the parallelograms ABLE, ACKL,
ELFK. It is evident that ABLFKCD is a paral¬
lelepiped, and that AF is one of its diagonals. Hence
we derive a more general and very useful theorem.
Three forces having the proportion and direction of the
three sides of a parallelepiped, compose a force having
the proportion and direction of the diagonal.
148. In the investigation of very complicated pheno¬
mena, the mechanician considers every force as resulting
from the joint action of three forces at right angles to
each other, and he takes the sum or difference of these
in the same or opposite directions. rlhus he obtains the
three sides of a parallelopiped, and from these computes
the position and magnitude of the diagonal. This is
the force resulting from the composition of all the par¬
tial ones. This process is called the estimation or re¬
duction offorces. Forces may be estimated in the di¬
rection of a given line or plane, or they may be redu¬
ced to that direction, as has been done with respect to
motion. See Cor. 2. Propos. 9* in art* 57*
The laws of motion which have now been consider¬
ed, are necessary consequences of the relations of those
conceptions which we form of motion and mechanical
force, and they are universal facts or physical laws.
To these Sir Isaac Newton has added another, which is
the following.
Third Law of Motion.
149. Every action is accompanied by an equal and
contrary reaction, or the actions of bodies on one an¬
other are always mutual, equal, and in contrary direc¬
tions. .
In all cases which can be accurately examined, this
holds to be a universal fact. Newton has made this
affirmation on the authority of what he conceives to be
a law of human thought j namely, that the qualities
discovered in all bodies on which experiments and ob¬
servations can be made, are to be considered as univer¬
sal qualities of body. But if the term law of motion
be limited to those consequences that necessarily flow
from our notions of motion, of the causes of its produc¬
tion and changes, this proposition is not such a result.
Because a magnet causes the iron to approach toward
it, it by no means follows, from this observation, that
the pressure of the iron shall be accompanied by any
motion or change of state of the magnet, or it does not
appear to he necessarily supposed that the iron attracts
the magnet. When this was observed, it was account¬
ed a discovery, and a discovery which is to be ascribed
to the moderns. Dr Gilbert, who first mentions it, af¬
firms that the magnet and the iron are observed mutu¬
ally to attract each other, as well as all electrical sub¬
stances, and the light bodies which are attracted by
them. The discovery was made by Kepler, that a mu¬
tual attraction exists between the earth and the moon.
Newton discovered that the sun acts on the planets, and
that the earth acts on the moon. It had been obseived
too by Newton that the iron reacts on the magnet, that
the actions of electrified bodies are mutual, and that all
the actions of solid bodies are accompanied by an equal
and contrary reaction. On the authority of the rule of
philosophizing which he had laid down, he affirmed
that the planets react on the sun, and that the sun is
3
M I C S. Parti
not at rest, but is continually agitated, by a small mo- Of Move ;
tion round the general centre of gravitation j and he ForcesJI
pointed out several of the consequences of this reaction.
As the celestial motions were more narrowly examined
by astronomers, these consequences were found to ob¬
tain, and to produce disturbances in the planetary mo¬
tions, This reciprocity of action is now found to hold
with the utmost precision through the whole of the so¬
lar system $ and therefore this third proposition of New¬
ton is to be considered as a law of nature. And it is
true with respect to all bodies on which experiment or
observation can be made.
150. This then being a universal law, we cannot
divest our minds of the belief that it depends on a ge¬
neral principle, by which all the matter in the universe
is influenced. It strongly induces the persuasion of the
ultimate particles of matter being alike, that a certain
number of properties belong in the same degree to each
atom, and that all the sensible differences of substance
which are observed, arise from a different combination
of those primary atoms in the formation of a particle of
those substances. All this is no doubt perfectly pos¬
sible. But if each primary atom be so constituted, no
action of any kind of particle or collection of particles
can take place on another, which is not accompanied
by an equal reaction in the opposite direction.
151. Let us now direct our attention to the applica¬
tion of these laws. This answers a twofold purpose.
The first is to discover the mechanical powers of natu¬
ral substances by which they are fitted to become parts
of a permanent universe. This is accomplished by ob-
serving the changes of motion which always accompany
those substances. It is from those changes that the on¬
ly characteristics of power are derived j and thus is dis¬
covered the power of gravity, of magnetism, &c. Ano¬
ther purpose in the employment of these laws is, that,
after having obtained the mechanical character of any
substance, we may ascertain what will be the result of
its being in the vicinity of the bodies mechanically al¬
lied, or we may ascertain what is the change induced
on the condition of the neighbouring bodies.
152. The mechanical powers of bodies occasionally
produce accelerations, retardations, and deflections in
the motions of other bodies. These names have been
given, because nothing is known of their nature, or of
the manner in which they are effective ; they are there¬
fore named, as they are measured by the phenomena
which are observed and considered as their effects. Let
us now attend a little to the principal circumstances re¬
lating to the action of these forces.
Of Accelerating and Retarding Forces.
I ^3, Changes of motion are the only marks and
measures of changing forces j and having no other
mark of the force but the acceleration, it has obtained
the name of an accelerating force. When the motion
is retarded, it is called retarding force. Nor is there any
other measure of the intensity of an accelerating force,
but the acceleration which it produces. To investigate
therefore the powers which produce all the changes ol
motion, it is necessary to obtain measures of the acce¬
leration. What has been said of accelerations and re¬
tardations of motion is equally descriptive of the effects
of accelerating and retarding forces. Hence the fol¬
lowing proposition.
\
til.
D Y N A
jving
■■es.
ft '
If the abscissa a d, fig. 5. represent the time of and
motion, and if the areas a b f e, a c g e, &c. are as the
velocities at the instants be, &c. the ordinates a e, b f,
eg, &c. are as the accelerating forces at those instants.
Corollaries.
Cor. I. The momentary change of velocity is as the
force f and the time t jointly. It may be thus ex¬
pressed,
v, or —vzzf t.
Also, the accelerating or retarding force is proportional
to the momentary variation of the velocity, directly,
and to the moment of time in which it is generated,
inversely (48.)
or
Indeed all that we know of force is that it is something
which is always proportional to —.
t
Cor. 2. Uniformly accelerated or retarded motion is
the indication of a constant or invariable accelerating
force. For, in this case, the areas abfe, aege, &c.
increase at the same rate with the times a b, a c, &c.
and therefore the ordinates ae, bf eg, &c. must all be
equal j therefore the forces represented by them are the
same, or the accelerating force does not change its in¬
tensity, or, it is constant. If, therefore, the circum¬
stances mentioned in articles 37 and 38, are observed
in any motion, the force is constant. And if the force
is known to be constant, those propositions are true re¬
specting the motions.
Cor. 3. No finite change of velocity is generated in
an instant by an aecelerating or retarding force. For
the increment or decrement of velocity is always ex¬
pressed by an area, or by a product ft, one side or fac¬
tor of which is a portion of time. As no finite space
can be described in an instant, and the moveable must
pass in succession through every point of the path, so it
must acquire all the intermediate degrees of velocity.
It must be continually accelerated or retarded.
Cor. 4. The change of velocity produced in a body
in any time, by a force varying in any manner, is the
proper measure of the accumulated or whole action of
the force during this time. For, since the momen¬
tary change of velocity is expressed by f t, the aggre¬
gate of all these momentary changes, that is, the whole
change of velocity, must be expressed by the sura of all
the quantities ft. This is equivalent to the area of
the figure employed in art. 148, and may be expressed
tyffi
154. If the abscissa AE (fig. 8.) of the line zee be
the path along which a body is urged by the action of a
force, varying in any manner, and if the ordinates A a,
B b, C c, &c. be proportional to the intensities of the
force in the different points of the path, the intercepted
areas will be proportional to the changes made on the
square of the velocity during the motion along the cor¬
responding portions of the path.
For, by art. 49. the areas are in this proportion when
the ordinates are as the accelerations. But the accele¬
rations are the measures of, and are therefore propor¬
tional to, the accelerating forces. Therefore the pro¬
position is manifest.
M I C S.
493
Corollary.
The momentary change on the square of the velocity
is as the force, and as the small portion of space along
which it acts, jointly j
Of Moving
Forces.
v wrzf s
and /r=~.
t
*55* It deserves remark here, that as the moment¬
ary change of the simple velocity by any force f depends
only on the time of its action, it being =r/if (148,) Cor.
I. so the change on the square of the velocity depends
on the space, it being rry's. It is the same, whatever
is the velocity thus changed, or even though the body
be at rest when the force begins to act on it. Thus, in
every second of the falling of a heavy body, the ve¬
locity is augmented 32 feet per second, and, in every
foot of the fall, the square ot the velocity increases by
64.
156. *1 he whole area AEeo, expressed by J*f s,
expresses the whole change made on the square of the
velocity which the body had in A, whatever this velo¬
city may have been. We may therefore suppose the
body to have been at rest in A. The area then mea¬
sures the square of the velocity which the body has ac¬
quired in the point E of its path. It is plain that the
change on v* is quite independent on the time of action,
and therefore a body, in passing through the space AE
with any initial velocity whatever, sustains the same
change of the square of that velocity, if under the in¬
fluence of the same force.
157. This proposition is the same with the 39th of
the First Book of Newton’s Principia, and is perhaps
the most generally useful, of all the theorems in Dyna¬
mics, in the solution of practical questions. It is to be
found, without demonstration, in his earliest writings,
the Optical Lectures, which he delivered in 1669 and
following years.
158. One important use may be made of it at pre¬
sent. It gives a complete solution of all the facts which
were observed by Dr Hooke, and adduced by Leibnitz
with such pertinacity in support of his measure of the
force of moving bodies. All of them are of precisely
the same nature with the one mentioned in art. 157, or
with the fact, “ that a ball projected directly upwards
“ with a double velocity, will rise to a quadruple height,
“ and that a body, moving twice as fast, will penetrate
“ four times as far into a uniformly tenacious mass.”
The uniform force of gravity, or the uniform tenacity
of the penetrated body, makes a uniform opposition to
the motion, and may therefore be considered as a uni¬
form retarding force. It will therefore be represented,
in fig. 8. by an ordinate always of the same length, and
the areas which measure the square of the velocity lost
will he portions of a rectangle AE10. If therefore AE
be the penetration necessary for extinguishing the velo¬
city 2, the space AB, necessary for extinguishing the
velocity 1, must be of AE, because the square of I
is x of the square of 2.
159. What particularly deserves remark here, is,
that this proposition is true, only on the supposition that
forces are proportional to the velocities generated by them
in equal times. For the demonstration of this propositibn
proceeds entirely on the previously established measure
494 DYNA
Of Movingof acceleration. We had vzzf t; therefore vvzzftv.
. For^' . But ivzzs; therefore vv=ifs, which is precisely this
proposition.
160. Those may be called similar points of space, and
similar instants of time, which divide given portions of
space or time in the same ratio. Thus, the beginning
of the 5th inch, and of the 2d foot, are similar points
of a foot, and of a yard. The beginning of the 2ist
minute, and of the 9th hour, are similar instants ot an
hour, and of a day. # .
Forces may be said to act similarly when, in similar
instants of time, or similar points of the path, their in¬
tensities are in a constant ratio.
i6r. Lemma. If two bodies be similarly acceler-
Fig* 33. ated during given times ac and hk (fig. 33*)> ^iey are
also similarly accelerated along their respective paths
AC and HK. .
Let a, b, c, be instants of the time oc, similar to the
instants h, i, k of the time h k. Then by the similar ac¬
celerations, we have the force ae : hl—bf\ im. T-his
being the case throughout, the area 0^ is to the area h m
as the area ag to the area h n. These areas are as the
velocities in the two motions (48.) iLherefore the velo¬
cities in similar instants are in a constant ratio, that is,
the velocity in the instant b is to that in the instant
i, as the velocity in the instant c to that in the in¬
stant k.
The figures may now be taken to represent the times
of the motion by their abscissa;, and the velocities by
their ordinates, as in art. 28. The spaces described are
now represented by the areas. These being in a con¬
stant ratio, as already shewn, we have A, B, C, and
H, I, K, similar points of the paths. And therefore, in
similar instants of time, the bodies are in similar points
of the paths. But in these instants, they are similarly
accelerated, that is, the accelerations and the forces
are in a constant ratio. They are therefore in a con¬
stant ratio in similar points ot the paths, and the bo¬
dies are similarly accelerated along their respective
paths (155.).
162. If two particles of matter are similarly urged
by accelerating or retarding forces during given times,
the whole changes of velocity are as the forces and times
jointly; or x zz it.
For the abscissae a c and h k will represent the times,
and the ordinates ae and hi will represent the forces,
and then the areas will represent the changes of velo¬
city, by art. 47. And these areas are as acy^ae to
hky,h l.
Part;
M I C S.
For the moveables are similarly urged during theof
r - \ rT'',lerefore F
There- ,
r, . v , r- v
Hence t~-~., andyrr-.
' J
times of their motion (converse of 156.). Therefore Fort||;
v zpft, and =/* but (158.) ^ =/s.
fore/s == /* l* and s =/1*.
Corollary.
«*zr 7, and/=^. That is, the squares of the times
‘ J ' t
are as the spaces, directly, and as the forces, inverse¬
ly •, and the forces are as the spaces, directly, and as
the squares of the times, inversely.
165. The quantity of motion in a body is the sum
of the motions of all its particles. Therefore, if all are
moving in one direction, and with one velocity v, and
if m be the number of particles, or quantity of mat¬
ter, m v will express the quantity of motion y, or
q-±imv.
166. In like manner, we may conceive the acceler¬
ating forces f which have produced this velocity y in
each particle, as added into one sum, or as combined
on one particle. They will thus compose a force,
which, for distinction’s sake, it is convenient to mark
by a particular name. We shall call it the MOTIVE
FORCE, and express it by the symbol p. It will then
be considered as the aggregate of the number m of equal
accelerating forces f each of which produces the velo¬
city v on one particle. It will produce the velocity
m v, and the same quantity of motion q.
167. Let there be another body, consisting of «
particles, moving with one velocity u. Let the moving
force be represented by *. It is measured in like man¬
ner by nu. Therefore we have, p \ lezzm v : nit, and
that is,
p IF
m n
The velocities which may be produced by the similar
action of different motive forces, in the same time, are
directly as these forces, and inversely as the quantities
of matter to which they are applied.
- < • _±_P
In general,
And /being = /—
t mt
Remark.
163. If t wo particles of matter are similarly impel¬
led or opposed through given spaces, the changes in the
squares of velocity are as the forces and spaces jointly ;
or £1 f s.
This follows, by similar reasoning, from art. 49.
It is evident that this proposition applies directly to
the argument so confidently urged lor the propriety of
the Leibnitzian measure of forces, namely, that four
springs of equal strength, and bent to the same degree,
generate, or extinguish only a double velocity.
164. If two particles of matter are similarly impelled
through given spaces, the spaces are as the forces and
the squares of the times jointly.
2
168. In the application of the theorems concerning
accelerating or retarding forces, it is necessary to attend
carefully to the distinction between an accelerative and
a motive force. The caution necessary here has been ge¬
nerally overlooked by the writers of Elements, and this
has given occasion to very inadequate and erroneous no¬
tions of the action of accelerating powers. Thus, if a
leaden ball hangs by a thread, which passes over a pulley,
and is attached to an equal ball, moveable along a hori¬
zontal plane, without the smallest obstruction, it is known
that, in one second, it will descend 8 feet, dragging the
other 8 feet along the plane, with a uniformly accelera¬
ted motion, and will generate in it the velocity 16 feet
per second. Let the thread be attached to three such
balls. We know that it will descend 4 feet in a second, am.
generate the velocity 8 feet per second. Most readeis
are disposed to think that it should generate no greater
velocity than 5f feet per second, or f of 16, because it
is applied to three times as much matter (i62.)« Alie
rr error
M I C S.
495
rate in the body by uniformly impelling it along the Of Moving
fourth part oj the defective chord oj the equicurve Force!*.
circle, w—~
II. B Y N A
, ?;ng error lies in considering the motive force as the same in
Ls, both cases, and in not attending to the quantity of mat-
«**—*'ter to which it is applied. Neither of these conjectures
is right. The motive force changes as the motion ac¬
celerates, and in the first case it moves two balls, and in
the second it moves four. The motive force decreases
similarly in both motions. When these things are con¬
sidered, we learn by articles 202 and 207, that the mo¬
tions will be precisely what we observe.
Of Defecting Forces, in General.
169. It was observed, in art..71, that a curvilineal
motion is a case of continual deflection. Therefore, when
such motions are observed, we know that the body is
under the continual influence of some natural force, act¬
ing in a direction which crosses that of the motion in
every point. We must infer the magnitude and di¬
rection of this deflecting force by the magnitude and di¬
rection of the observed deflection. Therefore, all that
is affirmed concerning deflections in the 71st and subse¬
quent articles, may be affirmed concerning deflecting
forces. It follows, from what has been established con¬
cerning the action of accelerating forces, that no force
can produce a finite change of velocity in an instant.
Now, a deflection is a composition of a motion already
existing with a motion accelerated from rest by insensi¬
ble degrees. Supposing the deflecting force of invaria¬
ble direction and intensity, the deflection is the compo¬
sition of a motion having a finite velocity with a mo¬
tion uniformly accelerated from rest. Therefore the
linear deflection from the rectilineal motion must in¬
crease by insensible degrees. The curvilineal path,
therefore, must have the line of undeflected motion for
its tangent. To suppose any finite angle contained be¬
tween them would be to suppose a polygonal motion,
and a subsultory deflection.
Therefore no finite change of direction can be pro¬
duced by a defecting force in an instant.
170. The most general and useful proposition on
this subject is the following, founded on art. 75.
Theforces by which bodies are defectedfrom the tan¬
gents in the different points of their curvilineal paths are
proportional to the squares of the velocities in those points
directly, and inversely to the defective chords of the
equicurve circles in the same points. We may still ex¬
press the proposition by the same symbol,
where f means the intensity of the deflecting force.
171. We may also retain the meaning of the proposi¬
tion expressed in article 76, where it is shewn that the
actual linear deflection from the tangent is the third
proportional to the deflective chord and the arch describ¬
ed in a very small moment. For it was demonstrated
in that article (see fig. 18.) that BZ : BC~BC : BO.
We see also that B b, the double of BO, is the mea¬
sure of the velocity, generated by the uniform action
of the deflecting force, during the motion in the arch
BC of the curve.
172. The art. 77. also furnishes a proposition of
frequent and important use, viz.
The velocity in any point of a curvilinear motion is
that which the defecting force in that point would gent-
.Remark.
I37‘ The propositions now given proceed on the sup¬
position that, when the points A and C of fig. 18. af¬
ter continually approaching to B, at last coalesce with
it, the last circle which is described through these three
points has the same curvature which the path lias in B.
It is proper to render this mode of solving these ques¬
tions more plain and palpable.
If ABCD (fig. 34.) be a material curve or mould, Fig. 34.
and a thread be made fast to it at D, this thread may
be lapped on the convexity of this curve, till its extre¬
mity meets it in A. Let the thread be now unlapped
or evolved from the curve, keeping it always tight.
It is plain that its extremity A will describe another
curve line Abe. All curves, in which the curvature
is neither infinitely great nor infinitely small, may be
thus described by a thread evolved from a proper-
curve. The properties of the curve Abe being known,
Mr Huyghens (the author of this way of generating
curve lines) has shewn how to construct the evolved
curve ABC which will produce it.
From this genesis of curves we may infer, 1st, that
the detached portion of the thread is always a tangent
to the curve ABC ; 2dly, that when this is in any si¬
tuation B b, it is perpendicular to the tangent of the
curve Ab c in the point b, and that it is, at the same
time, describing an element of that curve, and an ele¬
ment of a circle ccb*,, whose momentary centre is B,
and which has B b for its radius. 3dly, That the part
b A of the curve, being described with radii growing
continually shorter, is more incurvated than the circle
£«, which has B £ for its constant radius.' For similar
reasons the arch £ c of the curve A 6 c is less incurva¬
ted than the circle ab x. 4thly, That the circle ccb x
has the same curvature that the curve has in b, or is an
equicurve circle. B & is the radius, and B the cen¬
tre of curvature in the point b.
ABC is the CURVA EVOLUTA 01* the EVOLUTE.
A £ c is sometimes called the INVOLUTE of ABC, and
sometimes its EVOLUTRix.
174. By this way of describing curve lines, we see
clearly that a body, when passing through the point b of
the curve Abe may be considered as in the same state,
in that instant, as in passing through the same point b
of the circle and the ultimate ratio of the de¬
flections in both is that of equality, and they may be
used indiscriminately.
The chief difficulty in the application of the preced¬
ing theorems to the curvilineal motions which are ob¬
served in the spontaneous phenomena of nature, is in as¬
certaining the direction of the deflection in every point
of a curvilineal motion. Fortunately, however, the
most important cases, namely those motions, where the
deflecting forces are always directed to a fixed point,
afford a very accurate method. Such forces are called
by the general name of
Central Forces.
X 7 If bodies describe circles with a uniform motion,
the defecting forces are always directed to the centres of
the-:.
496
DYNAMIC S.
Part;
Of Moving circles, and are proportional to the square of the ve~
force*, locities, directly, and to their distances from the centre,
' v- “ inversely.
For, since their motion in the circumference is uni¬
form, the areas formed by lines drawn from the centre
are as the times, and therefore (72.) the deflections,
cur vilineal path, are inversely as the cubes of its distances^ ^
from the centre of forces. For the centripetal force forc(t::
in circular motions is proportional to da* (172.). But'——y^f
when the deflections (and consequently the forces) are
1 • 1 ✓ \
directed to a centre, we have a (75.) and
and the deflecting forces (164.) are directed to the cen¬
tre. Therefore, the deflective chord is, in this case,
the diameter of the circle, or twice the distance o( the
body from the centre. Therefore, if we call the distance
up
from the centre d, we have f =; —.
T 76. These forces are also as the distances, directly,
and as the square of the time of a revolution, inversely.
For the time of a revolution (which may be called
the periodic time) is as the circumference, and there¬
fore as the distance, directly, and as the velocity, in-
, . d . d ,
verseIv. Therefore t——, and u.*_—, and v —-tir?
J ’ V " f *
177. These forces are also as the distances, and the
square of the angular velocity, jointly.
For, in every uniform circular motion, the angular
velocity is inversely as the periodic time. Therefore,
calling the angular velocity, a, a'zz -, and -r= dtr,
and therefore fdpd a1.
178. The periodic time is to the time of falling along
half the radius by the uniform action of the centripetal
force in the circumference, as the circumference of a
circle is to the radius.
For, in the time of falling through half the radius,
the body would describe an arch equal to the radius
(37,—6.) because the velocity acquired by this fall is
equal to the velocity in the circumference (167.). The
periodic time is to the time of describing that arch as
the circumference to the arch, that is, as the circum¬
ference is to the radius.
179. When a body describes a curve which is all in
one planf, and a point is so situated in that plane, that
a line drawn from it to the body describes round that
point ai'eas proportional to the times, the deflecting fence
is always directed to that point (72.)
180. Conversely. If a body is deflected by a force
always directed to a fixed point, it will describe a curve
line lying in one plane which passes through that point,
and the line joining it with the centre offorces will de¬
scribe areas proportional to the times (73O
The line joining the body with the centre is called
the RADIUS VECTOR. The deflecting force is called
CENTRIPETAL, or ATTRACTIVE, if its direction be al-
wavs toward that centre. It is called repulsive, or
CENTRIFUGAL, if it be directed outwards from the cen¬
tre. In the first case, the curve will have its concavity
toward the centre, but, in the second case, it will be
convex toward the centre. The force which urges a
piece of iron towards a magnet is centripetal, and that
which causes two electrical bodies to separate is centri¬
fugal.
181. The force by which a body may be made to de¬
scribe circles round the centre of forces, with the angu¬
lar velocities which it has in the different points of its
a* r: therefore d a? dp. d X ^7, therefore
This force is often called centrifugal, the centrifugal
force of circular motion; and it is conceived as always
acting in every case of curvilineal motion, and to act
in opposition to the centripetal force which produces
that motion. But this is inaccurate. We suppose this
force, merely because we must employ a centripetal
force, just as we suppose a resisting vis inertise, because
we must employ force to move a body.
182. If a body describe a curve line ABC by means
of a centripetal (fig. 35.) force directed to S, and vary- Fig. 35,,
ing according to some proportion of the distances from it,
and if another body be impelled toward S in the straight
line a b S by the same force, and if the two bodies have
the same velocity in any points A and a which are equi¬
distant from S, they will have equal velocities in any
other two points C and c, which are also equidistant
from S.
Describe round S, with the distance SA, the circu¬
lar arch A a, which will pass through the equidistant
point a. Describe another arch B b, cutting off a small
arc AB of the curve, and also cutting AS in D. Draw
DE perpendicular to the curve.
The distances AS and a S being equal, the centri¬
petal forces are also equal, and may be represented by
the equal line AD and ab. The velocities at A and
a being equal, the times of describing AB and a b will
be as the spaces (14.). The force a £ is wholly em¬
ployed in accelerating the rectilineal motion along a S.
But the force AD, being transverse or oblique to the
motion along AB, is not wholly employed in thus ac¬
celerating the motion. It is equivalent to the two
forces AE and ED, of which ED, being perpendicu¬
lar to AB, neither promotes nor opposes it, but incur-
vates the motion. The accelerating force in A there¬
fore is AE. It was shewn, in art. 48, that the change
of velocity is as the force and as the time jointly, and
therefore it is as AE X AB. For the same reason, the
change of the velocity at <2 is as a i X o °r 0
But, as the angle ADB is a right angle, as also AED,
we have AE : AD“AD : AB, and AE X ABzrAD2,
=zab*. Therefore, the increments of velocity acquir¬
ed along AB and a b are equal. But the velocities at
A and a were equal. Therefore the velocities at B
and b are also equal. The same thing may be said ol
every subsequent increase of velocity, while moving a-
long BC and be; and therefore the velocities at C and
c are equal.
The same thing holds when the deflecting force is
directed in lines parallel to a S, as if to a point S' infi¬
nitely distant, the one body describing the curve line
\ A'B', while the other describes the straight line VS.
183. The propositions in art. 73. and 74. are also true
in curvilineal motions bv means of central forces.
When
I -t II.
DYNAMICS.
tj loving When the path of the motion is a line returning
I ices, into itself, like a circle or oval, it is called an ORBIT ;
' otherwise it is called a trajectory.
The time of a complete revolution round an orbit is
called the periodic time.
184. The formulaserves for discovering the
law of variation of the central force by which a body
describes the different portions of its curvilineal path ;
(l * 7
and the formulaserves for comparing the forces
by which different bodies describe their respective orbits.
185. It must always be remembered, in conformity
'll jire* *
to art. 77. that/=— or/=  expresses the linear
c c
deflection from the tangent, which may be taken for
a measure of the deflecting force, and that f—
2 v'
or/=
2 arc*
expresses the velocity generated by this
force, during the description of the arc, or the velo¬
city which may be compared directly with the velocity
of the motion in the arc. The last is the most ac¬
curate, because the velocity generated is the real change
of condition.
186. A body may describe, by the action of a centri¬
petal force, the direction of which passes through C
(fig. 36.), a figiti'e VPS, which figure revolves {in its
own plane') round the centre of forces C, in the same
manner as it describes the quiescent figure, provided
that the angular motion of the body in the orbit be to
that of the orbit itself in arty constant ratio, such as
that (f m to n.
For, if the direction of the orbit’s motion be the
same with that of the body moving in it, the angular
motion of the body in every point of its motion is in¬
creased in the ratio of m to nJf-m, and it will be in the
same ratio in the different parts of the orbit as before,
that is, it will be inversely as the square of the distance
from S (75.). Moreover, as the distances from the
centre in the simultaneous positions of the body, in the
quiescent and in the revolving orbit, are the same, the
momentary increments of the area are as the moment¬
ary increments of the angle at the centre *, and there¬
fore in both motions, the areas increase in the constant
ratio of m to m-\-n (75*)* Therefore the areas of the
absolute path, produced by the composition of the two
motions, will still be proportional to the times ; and
therefore (73.) the deflecting force must be directed to
the centre S •, or, a force so directed will produce this
compound motion.
187. The differences between the forces by which a
body may be made to move in the quiescent and in the
moveable orbit are in the inverse triplicate ratio of the
distances from the centre offorces.
Let VKSBV (fig, 36.) be the fixed orbit, and up k
bu the same orbit moved into another position and let
« ?Si <5 QV be the orbit described by the body in
absolute space by the composition of its motion in the
orbit with the motion of the orbit itself. If the body
he supposed to describe the arch VP of the fixed orbit
while the axis \C moves into the situation ft C, and if
the arch up be made equal to ^ P, then will be the
place of the body in the moveable orbit, and in the
compound path \ p. If the angular motion in the fix¬
ed orbit be to the motion of the moving orbit as m to
ft, it is plain that the angle VCP is to VCp as m to
mJf-n. Let PK and p k \se two equal and very small
arches of the fixed and moving orbits. PC and pc are
equal, as are also IvC and A: C, and a circle described
round C with the radius CK will pass through k. If
we now make VCK to VC n as ?« to m-\-n : the point
ft of the circle K/cft will be the point of the compound
path, at which the body in the moving orbit arrives
when the body in the fixed orbit arrives at K, and pn
is the arch of the absolute path described, while PK is
described in the fixed path.
In order to judge of the difference between the force
which produces the motion PK in the fixed orbit and
that which produces pn in the absolute path, it must
be observed that, in both cases, the body is made to ap¬
proach the centre by the difference between CP and CK,
This happens, because the centripetal forces, in both
cases, are greater than what would enable the body to
describe circles round C, at the distance CP, and with
the same angular velocities that obtain in the two paths,
viz. the fixed orbit and the absolute path. We shall
call the one pair of forces the circular forces, and the
other the orbital. Let C and c represent the forces
which would produce circles, with the angular veloci¬
ties which obtain in the fixed and moving orbits, and
let O and 0 be the forces which produce the orbital
motions in these two paths.
These things being premised, it is plain that 0—c is
equal to O—C, because the bodies are equally brought
towards the centre by the difference between O and C
and by that between 0 and c. Therefore 0—O is equal
to c—C (a). The difl’erence, therefore, of the forces
which produce the motions in the fixed and moving or¬
bits is always equal to the difi’erence of the forces which
would produce a circular motion at the same distances,
and with the same angular velocity. But the forces
which produce circular motions, with the angular mo¬
tion that obtains in an orbit at different distances from
the centre of forces, are as the cubes of the distances
inversely (i750- And the two angular motions at the
same distance are in the constant ratio of m to fti-f-ft.
Therefore the forces are in a constant ratio to each
other, and their differences are in a constant ratio to
either of the forces. But the circular force at different
distances is inversely as the cube of the distance (121.).
Therefore the difference of them in the fixed and move-
able orbits is in the same proportion. But the differ¬
ence of the orbital forces is equal to that of the cir¬
cular. Therefore, finally, the difference of the centri¬
petal
497
Of Moving
Forces.
CO
(a) For let A 0, AO, A c, AC represent the four forces 0, O, c, and C. By what has been said, we find that
ocirOC. To each of these add O c, and then it is plain that 0 O—C C, that is, that the difference of the cir¬
cular forces c and C is equal to that of the orbital forces 0 and O.
VOL. VII. Part II. i 3 R
498
DYNAMICS.
Of Movin* petal forces by winch a body may be retained in a fix-
Forces.3 ed orbit, and in the same orbit moving as determined
1   'in article l3o. is always in the inverse triplicate ratio
of the distances from the centre of forces.
In this example, the motion of the body in the or¬
bit is in the same direction with that ot the orbit, and
the force to be joined with that on the fixed orbit is
always additive. Had the orbit moved in the opposite
direction, the force to he joined would have been sub¬
tractive, unless the retrograde motion of the orbit ex¬
ceeded twice the angular motion of the body. But in
all cases, the reasoning is similar.
188. Thus we have considered the motions of bodies
influenced by forces directed to a fixed point. But we
cannot conceive a mere mathematical point of space as
the cause or occasion of any such exertion of forces.
Such relations are observed only between existing bo¬
dies or masses of matter. The propositions which have
been demonstrated may be true in relation to bodies
placed on those fixed points. I hat continual tendency
towards a centre, which produces an equable descrip¬
tion of areas round it, becomes intelligible, if we sup¬
pose some body placed in the centre of forces, attract¬
ing the revolving body. Accordingly, we see very re¬
markable examples of such tendencies towards a cen¬
tral body in the motions of the planets round the sun,
and of the satellites round the primary planet.
But, since it is a universal fact that all the relations
between bodies are mutual, we are obliged to suppose
that whatever force inclines the revolving body towards
the body placed in the centre of forces, an equal lorce
(from whatever source it is derived) inclines the central
body towards the revolving body, and therefore it can¬
not remain at rest, but must move towards it. The
notion of a fixed centre of forces is thus taken away
again, and we seem to have demonstrated propositions
inapplicable to any thing in nature. But more atten¬
tive consideration will shew us that our propositions are
most strictly applicable to the phenomena of nature.
189. For, in the first place, the motion of the com¬
mon centre of position of two, or of any number of
bodies, is not affected by their mutual actions. These,
being equal and opposite, produce equal and opposite
motions, or changes of motion. In this case, it follows
from art. 115. that the state of the common centre is
not affected by them. _ .
loo* Now, suppose two bodies S and I, situated at
37* the extremities of the line SP (fig. 37.0*. Their centre
of position is in a point C, dividing their distance in such
a manner that SC is to CP as the number of material
atoms in P to the number in S or SC : PCrzP : S.
Suppose the mutual forces to be centripetal. Then,
being equal, exerted between every atom of the one, and
every particle of the other, the vis motrix may be ex¬
pressed by PxS. This must produce equal quantities
of motion in each of the bodies, and therefore must
produce velocities inversely as the quantities of matter.
In any given portion of time, therefore, the bodies will
move towards each other, to s and p, and S s will be
to Pp, as P to S, that is, as SC to PC. Therefore we
shall still have sC : pC=SC : PC. Their distances
from C will always be in the same proportion. Also
we shall have SC : SP=P : S+P, and sC : pC—P . S
+P ; and therefore SC : SP=sC : sY. Consequent¬
ly, in whatever manner the mutual forces vaiy by a va-
Part I
nation of distance from each other, they will vary in the of M0Vt
same manner by the same variation of distance from C. Foreeti
And, conversely, in whatever manner the forces vary by 1 
a change of distance from C, they vary in the same man¬
ner by the same change of distance from each other.
Let us now suppose that when the bodies are at S
and P, equal moving forces are applied to each in the
opposite directions SA and PB. Did they not attract
each oilier at all, they would, at the end of some small
portion of time, be found in the points A and B of a
straight line drawn through C, because they will move
with equal quantities of motion, or with velocities SA
and PB inversely as their quantities of matter. There¬
fore SA : PBrrSC r PC, and A, C, and B are in a
straight line. But let them now attract, when impelled
from S and P. Being equally attracted towards each
other, they will describe carve lines Sa and P b, so
that their deflections A and B b are as SC and PC j
and we shall have aC : b C=rSC : PC. As this is true
of every part of the curve, it follows that they describe
similar curves round C, which remains in its original
place.
Lastly, If the motion of P be considered by an ob¬
server placed in S, unconscious of its motion, since he
judges of the motion of P only by its change of direc¬
tion0 and of distance, we may make a figure which will
perfectly represent this motion. Draw the line EF
equal and parallel to PS, and EG equal and parallel to
ab. Do this for every point of the curve Sa and Pb.
We shall then form a curve EG similar to the curves
S a and P b, having the homologous lines equal to the
sum of the homologous lines of these two curves. Thus
the bodies will describe round each other curve lines
which are similar and equal (lineally) to the lines which
they describe round their common centre by the same
forces. They may appear to describe areas proportional
to the times round each other; and they really describe
areas proportional to the times round their common
centre of position, and the forces, which really relate
to the body which is supposed to be central, have the
same mathematical relation to their common centre.
Thus it appears that the mechanical inferences^
drawn from a supposed relation to a mere point of space,
are true in the real relations to the supposed central
body, although it is not fixed in one place.
191. The time of describing any arch FG of the
curve described round the other body at rest in a centre
offerees (where we may suppose it forcibly withheld Irom
moving) is to the time "of describing the similar srch P b
round the common centre of position in the subduplicate
ratio of S+P to S, that is, in the ratio of -/S + P to
VS; For the forces being the same in both motions^
the spaces described by their similar actions, that is, their
deflections from the tangent, are as the squares of the
times T and f( 204-)^ TIiat ifi_5G r : P, and
T : *=VHG : VB 6, = ^S + P : VS.
Hence it follows that the two bodies S and P are
moved in the same way as il they did not act on each
other, but were both acted upon by a third body, placed
in their common centre C, and acting with the same
forces on each ; and the law of variation of the forces
by a change of distance from each other, and from this
third bodv, is the same. .
192. If a body P (fig. 38.) revolve around another Fig. j
body
?/C47‘rh-i&a7<7 Sculp ■ ‘
*
lf~Ar-c7iil>aJa[ ^ru7/jy .e
DYNAMICS.
it. II-
jiJ.oving liody S, by the action of a central force, while S moves
iLe*. in any path ASB, P will continue to describe areas
> ^—^proportional to the times round S, if every particle in
P be affected by the same accelerating force that acts,
in that instant, on every particle in S. For, such ac¬
tion will compound the same motions Vp and S s with
the motions of S and P, whatever they are ; and it was
shown in art. 69. that such composition does not affect
their relative motions. This is another way of making
a body describe the same orbit in motion which it de¬
scribes while the orbit is fixed (186.)
Such is the view of the abstract doctrines of motion Of Moving
and of moving forces which we proposed to lay before Forces,
our readers. Ihose who have heard the excellent lec- v—' ^
ture of the late Professor Robison of the university of
Edinburgh will probably see that we have availed our¬
selves of his valuable instructions 5 and the learned
reader will readily perceive that we have enriched our
treatise with much important matter by borrowing free¬
ly from the writings of the same distinguished philoso¬
pher.
   -— 
D Y N D Y R
liiano. DYNANOMETER, an instrument for ascertain-
. ing the relative strength of men and animals. Of an
instrument of this kind, invented by Regnier, and of
which a description is given in vol. ii. Jour, de I'Ecole
Polytechnique, the author thus speaks. “ Some import¬
ant knowledge, says he, might be acquired, had we
the easy means of ascertaining, in a comparative man¬
ner, our relative strengths at the different periods of
life, and in different states of health. Buft’on and Gue-
neau, who had some excellent ideas on this subject, re¬
quested me to endeavour to invent a portable machine,
which, by an easy and simple mechanism, might con¬
duct to a solution of this question, on which they were
then engaged. These philosophers were acquainted
with that invented by Graham, and improved by Dr
Desaguliers, at London ; but this machine, construct¬
ed of wooden work, was too bulky and heavy to be
portable ; and, besides, to make experiments on the
different parts of the body, several machines were ne¬
cessary, each suited to the part required to be tried.
They were acquainted also with the dynanometer of
Citizen Leroy of the Academy of Sciences at Paris.
It consisted of a metal tube 10 or 12 inches in length,
placed vertically on a foot like that of a candlestick,
and containing in the inside a spiral spring, having
above it a graduated shank terminating in a globe. This
shank, together with the spring, sunk into the tube in
proportion to the weight acting upon it, and thus point¬
ed out, in degrees, the strength of the person who pres¬
sed on the ball with his hand.
“ This instrument, though ingenious, did not appear
sufficient however to Buff'on and Gueneau j for they
wished not merely to ascertain the muscular force of a
finger or hand, but to estimate that of each limb sepa¬
rately, and of all the parts of the body. I shall not
here give an account of the attempts I made to fulfil
the wishes of these two philosophers, but only observe,
that in the course of my experiments I had reason to
be convinced that the construction of the instrument was
not so easy as might have been expected. Besides the
use which an enlightened naturalist may make of this
machine, it may be possible to apply it to many other
important purposes. For example, it may be employ¬
ed with advantage to determine the strength of draught
cattle ; and, above all, to try that of horses, and com¬
pare it with the strength of other animals. It may
serve to make known how far the assistance of well- Dynano
constructed wheels may favour the movement of a car- meter
riage, and what is its vis inerliee in proportion to the U
load. We might appreciate by it, also, what resistance D.y.r,a'
the slope of a mountain opposes to a carriage, and be ■ C lurn~
able to judge whether a carriage is sufficiently load¬
ed in proportion to the number of horses that are to be
yoked to it. In the arts, it may be applied to machines
of which we wish to ascertain the resistance, and when
we are desirous to calculate the moving force that ought
to be adapted to them. It may serve, also, as a Ro¬
man balance to weigh burdens. In short, nothing
would be more easy than to convert it into an anemo¬
meter, to discover the absolute force of the wind, by
fitting to it a frame of a determined size filled up with
wax cloth ; and it would not be impossible to ascertain
by this machine the recoil of fire-arms, and consequent¬
ly the strength of gun-powder.
“ This dynanomeler, in its form and size, has a near
resemblance to a common graphometer. It consists of
a spring twelve inches in length, bent into the form of
an ellipsis $ from the middle of which arises a semicir¬
cular piece of brass, having engraved upon it the dif¬
ferent degrees that express a force of the power acting
on the spring. The whole of this machine, which
weighs only two pounds and a half, opposes, however,
more resistance than may be necessary to determine the
action of the strongest and most robust horse.” For "
a fuller description, see Phil. Mag. vol. i.
DYNASTY, among ancient historians, signifies a
race or succession of kings of the same line or family.
Such were the dynasties of Egypt. The word is form¬
ed from the Greek ^vyxfuu, of dvyorvM, to be powerful,
or king.
The Egyptians reckon 3c dynasties within the space
of 36,525 years 5 but the generality of chronologers
look upon them as fabulous. And it is very certain,
that these dynasties are not continually successive, but
collateral.
DYRRACHIUM, in Ancient Geography, a town
on the coast of Ulyricum, before called Epidamnum, or
Epidamnus, an inauspicious name, changed by the Ro¬
mans to Dyrrachium ; a name taken from the peninsula
on which it stood. Originally built by the Corcyreans.
A Roman colony (Pliny). A town famous in story : its
port answered to that of Brundusium, and the passage
3 R 2 between
Dyrra-
chium
D Y S [S°o
between both was very ready and expeditious. It was
also a very famous mart for the people living on the
Adriatic j and the free admission of strangers contri-
Dysentery. butej ,,^1, to ;ts increase: A contrast to the conduct
v of the Apollonians ; who, in imitation of the Spartans,
discouraged strangers from settling among them.
DYSiE, in Mythology, inferior goddesses among
the Saxons, being the messengers of the great Woden,
whose province it was to convey the souls of such as
died in battle to his abode, called Valkali, i. e. the hall
of slaughter 5 where they were to drink with him and
their other gods cercvisia, or a kind of malt liquor, in
the skulls of their enemies. The Dysce conveyed those
who died a natural death to Hela, the goddess of hell,
where they were tormented with hunger, thirst, and
every kind of evil.
DYSCRASY, among physicians, denotes an ill ha¬
bit or state of the humours, as in the scurvy, jaundice,
&c.
DYSENTERY, in Medicine, a diarrhoea or flux,
wherein the stools are mixed with blood, and the bowels
miserably tormented with gripes. See MEDICINE
Index.
] D Y V
DYSENTERIC fever. See Medicine Index. Dysectec
DYSERT, a borough town of Scotland, in the coun- |i
ty of Fife, situated on the northern shore of the frith of. D)'vou^
Forth, about eleven miles north of Edinburgh.
DYSOREXY, among physicians, denotes a want of
appetite, proceeding from a weakly stomach.
DYSPEPSY, a difficulty of digestion.
DYSPNOEA, a difficulty of breathing, usually cal-
led asthma. See Medicine Index.
DYSURY, in Medicine, a difficulty of making
water, attended with a sensation of heat and pain. See-
Medicine Index.
DYTLSCUS, Water-Beetle. See Entomology
Index.
DYVOUR, in Scots Law i otherwise Bare-man:
A person who, being involved in debt, and unable to
pay the same,—for avoiding imprisonment and other
pains, makes cession of his effects in favour of his cre¬
ditors ; and does his devoir a.n&. duty to them, proclaim¬
ing himself bare-man and indigent, and becoming debt
bound to them of all that he has. The word is used
in the same sense as Bankrupt : see that article j and
Law Index.
E
E THE second vowel, and fifth letter of the alplia-
5 bet. The letter E is most evidently derived from
the old character in the ancient Hebrew and. Phoe¬
nician alphabets, inverted by the Greeks to this posi¬
tion E, and not from the Hebrew He rr- From the
same origin is also derived the Saxon e, which is the
first letter in their alphabet that differs from the Latin
one. It is formed by a narrower opening of the la¬
rynx than the letter A *, but the other parts of the
mouth are used nearly in the same manner as in that
letter.
It has a long and short sound in most languages.
The short sound is audible in bed, fret, den, and other
words ending in consonants : its long sound is produ¬
ced by. a final e, or an e at the end of words j as in
glebe, here, hire, scene, sphere, interfere, revere, sin¬
cere, &c. in most of which it sounds like ee ; as also in
some others by coming after i, as in believe, chief, grief,
reprieve, &c. and sometimes this long sound is expressed
by ee, as in bleed, beer, creed, &c. Sometimes the fi¬
nal e is silent, and only serves to lengthen the sound of
the preceding vowel, as in rag, rage, stag, stage, hug,
huge, &c. The sound of e is obscure in the following
words oxen, heaven, bounden, fire, massacre, maugre,
The Greeks have their long and short e, which they
call epsilon and eta. The French have at least six kinda
ofe’s: the Latins have likewise a long and short c;
they also write e instead of a, as dtceni for dicam, &c.
and this is no doubt the reason why a is so often
changed into e in the preter tense, as ago, egi; facto,
feci, &c.
As a numeral, E stands for 2$o, according to the
verse,
E, quoque ducentos et quinquaginta tenebit.
E,
Eacbard
In music it denotes the tone e-la-mi. In the kalen-
dar it is the fifth of the dominical letters. And in sea
charts it distinguishes all the easterly points: thus,
E alone denotes East} and E. by S. and E. by N. East
by South, and East by North.
EACHARD, John, an English divine of great
learning and wit in the 17th century, bred at Cam¬
bridge, author (in 167c) of The Grounds and Occa-
sions of the Contempt of the Clergy and Religion in¬
quired into. In 1675 he was chosen master of Catha-
rine-hall upon the decease of Dr John Lightfoot; and
the year following was created D. D. by royal mandate.
He died in 1696. _ ...
Eachard, Laurence, an eminent English historian
of the 18th century, nearly related to Dr John Eacliard^
He was the son of a clergyman, who, by the death of
his elder brother, became master of a good estate in
Suffolk. He was educated in the university of Cam¬
bridge, entered into holy orders, and was presented to
the living of Welton and Elkington in Lincolnshire,
where he spent above 20 years of his life, and distin¬
guished himself by his writings, especially his History
of England, which was attacked by Dr Edmund Ca-
lamy and by Mr John Oldmixon. His “ General ec¬
clesiastical History from the Nativity of Christ to the
first Establishment of Christianity by Human Laws un¬
der the emperor Constantine the Great,” has passed
through several editions. He was installed archdeacon
E A D [ 5oi ] E A G
• hard Stowe and prebend of Lincoln in 1712. He died
fc mem. in 1730.
' EADMERUS, an esteemed historian, was an Eng¬
lishman j but his parents, and the particular time and
place of his nativity, are not known. He received a
learned education, and very early discovered a taste
for history, by recording every remarkable event that
came to his knowledge. Being a monk in the cathe¬
dral of Canterbury, he had the happiness to become
the bosom friend and inseparable companion of two
archbishops of that see, St Anselm and his successor
Ralph. To the former of these he was appointed
spiritual director by the pope ; and that prelate would
do nothing without his permission. In the year 1120,
he was sent for by King Alexander I. of Scotland, ta
be raised to the primacy of that kingdom j and hav¬
ing obtained leave of King Henry and the arch¬
bishop of Canterbury, he departed for Scotland, where
he was kindly received by the king} and on the third
day after his arrival, he was elected bishop of St An¬
drew’s with much unanimity. But on the day after
his election, an unfortunate dispute arose between the
king and him, in a private conference about his con¬
secration. Eadmerus having been a constant compa¬
nion of the late and of the present archbishop of Can¬
terbury, was a violent stickler for the prerogatives of
that see.. He therefore told the king, that he waa
determined to be consecrated by none but the archbi¬
shop of Canterbury, who he believed to be the pri¬
mate of all Britain. Alexander, who was a fierce
prince, and supported the independency of his crown
and kingdom with great spirit, was so much offended,
that he broke off the conference in a violent passion,
declaring, that the see of Canterbury had no pre-emi-
nency over that of St Andrew’s. This breach be¬
tween the king and the bishop-elect became daily
wider, till at length Eadmerus, despairing of recover¬
ing the royal favour, sent his pastoral ring to the
king, and laid his pastoral staff on the high altar,
from whence he had taken it, and abandoning his bi¬
shopric returned to England. He was kindly re¬
ceived by the archbishop and clergy of Canterbury,
though they disapproved of his stiffness, and thought
him too hasty in forsaking the honourable station to
which he had been called. Nor was it long before
Eadmerus became sensible of his error, and desirous
of correcting it. With this view he wrote a long
submissive letter to the king of Scotland, entreating
his leave to return to his bishopric, promising compli¬
ance with his royal pleasure in every thing respecting
his consecration, which was accompanied by an epistle
to the same purpose from the archbishop. These let¬
ters, however, which were written A. D. 1122, did
not produce the desired effect. But Eadmerus is most
worthy of the grateful remembrance of posterity for
his historical works, particularly for his excellent history
of the affairs of England in his own time, from A. D.
1066 to A. D. 1122} in which he hath inserted many
original papers, and preserved many important facts,
that are nowhere else to be found. This work hath
been highly commended, both by ancient and modern
writers, for its authenticity, as well as for regularity of
composition and purity of style. It is indeed more
free from legendary tales than any other work of
this period } and it is impossible to peruse it with at¬
tention, without conceiving a favourable opinion of Eadmems
the learning, good sense, sincerity, and candour of its Eagle.
author. 1   ■, .»
EAGLE. See Falco, Ornithology Index.
Eagle, in Heraldry, is accounted one of the most
noble bearings in armory ; and, according to the learn¬
ed in this science, ought to be given to none but such
as greatly excel in the virtues of generosity and cou-
rage, or for having done singular services to their sove¬
reigns } in which case they may be allowed a whole
eagle, or an eagle naissant,. or only the head or other
parts thereof, as may be most agreeable to their ex¬
ploits..
The eagle has been borne by way of ensign or stand¬
ard, by several nations. The first who seem to have
assumed the eagle are the Persians } according to the
testimony of Xenophon. Afterwards it was taken by
the Romans; who, after a great variety of standards,
at length fixed on the eagle, in the second year of the
consulate of C. Marius : till that time, they used in¬
differently wolves, leopards, and eagles, according to
the humour of the commander.
The Roman eagles, it must be observed, were not
painted on a cloth or flag} but were figures in relievo,
of silver or gold, borne on the tops of pikes } the wings>
being displayed, and frequently a thunderbolt in their
talons. Under the eagle on the pike, were piled buck¬
lers, and sometimes crowns. Thus much we learn from
the medals.
Constantine is said to have first introduced the eagle
with two heads, to intimate, that though the empire,
seemed divided, it was yet only one body. Others
say, that it was Charlemagne who resumed the eagle as.
the Roman ensign, and added to it a second head } but
that opinion is destroyed, by an eagle with two heads,
noted by Lipsius, on the Antonine column ; as also by
the eagle’s only having one head on the seal of th&
golden bull of the emperor Charles IV. The con¬
jecture, therefore, of F. Menestrier appears more pro¬
bable, who maintains that as the emperors of the East,
when there were two on the throne at the same time,
struck their coins with the impression of a cross, with
a double traverse, which each of them held in one.
hand, as being the symbol of the Christians } the like
they did with the eagle in their ensigns } and instead
of doubling their eagles, they joined them toge¬
ther, and represented them with two heads. In
which they were followed by the emperors of the
West.
F. Papebroche wishes that this conjecture of Menes¬
trier was confirmed by ancient coins } without which,
he rather inclines to think the use of the eagle with
two heads to be merely arbitrary } though he grants
it probable, that it was first introduced on occasion of
two emperors on the same throne.
The eagle on medals, according to M. Spanheim,
is a symbol of divinity and providence } and, accord-*
ing to all other antiquaries, of empire. The princes
on whose medals it is most usually found, are the Pto-.
lemies and the Seleucides of Syria. An eagle with
the word consecratio, expresses the apotheosis of an
emperor.
Eagles, a name found very frequently in the an¬
cient histories of Ireland, and used to express a sort of
base money that was current in that kingdom in the
first
E A L
[ 502 ]
EAR
Engle
first years of the reign of Edward I. that is, about the
year 12*] 2. There were, besides the eagles, lionines,
rosades, and many other coins of the same sort,, named
according to the figures they were impressed with.
The current coin of the kingdom was at that time a
composition of copper and silver, in a determined pro¬
portion ; but these were so much worse than the stand¬
ard proportion of that time, that they were not intrin¬
sically worth quite half so much as the others. They
were imported out of France and other ioreign coun¬
tries. When this prince had been a few years esta¬
blished on the throne, he set up mints in Ireland for
the coining sufficient quantities of good money, and
then decried the use of these eagles, and other the like
kinds of base coins, and made it death, with confisca¬
tion of effects, to import any more of them into the
kingdom.
Eagle, in Astronomy% is a constellation of the north¬
ern hemisphere, having its right wing contiguous to the
equinoctial. See AdUlLA.
There are also three several stars, particularly de¬
nominated among the Arab astronomers, nasr, e.
“ eagle.” The first, nasr sohail, the “ eagle of Cano¬
pus,” called also sitareh jemen, the star of Arabia ! e-
lix, over which it is supposed to preside 5 the second,
nasr althair, the “ flying eagle j” and the third, nasr
alvcke, the “ resting eagle.”
White Eagle, is a Polish order of knighthood, in¬
stituted in 1325 by Uladislaus V. on marrying his son
Casimir with a daughter of the great duke of Li¬
thuania.
The knights of this order were distinguished by a
gold chain, which they wore on the stomach, whereon
hung a silver eagle crowned.
Black Eagle, was a like order, instituted in 1701
by the elector of Brandenburgh, on his being crowned
king of Prussia.
The knights of this order wear an orange-coloured
ribboir, to which is suspended a black eagle.
Eagle, in Architecture, is a figure of that bird an¬
ciently used as an attribute or cognizance of Jupiter,
in the capital and friezes of the columns of temples con¬
secrated to that god.
Eagle-flower. See Balsamine.
EAGLE-stone, in Natural History, in a stone by the
Greeks called cctites, and by the Italians pietra d'aqui-
1a, as being supposed to be sometimes found in the
eagle’s nest. It is of famous traditionary virtue, either
for forwarding or preventing the delivery of women in
labour, according as it is applied above or below the
womb. Matthiolus tells us, that birds of prey could
never hatch their young without it, and that they go
in search of it as far as the East Indies. Bausch
lias an express Latin treatise on the subject. See
TEtites.
EAGLET, a diminutive of eagle, properly signify¬
ing a young eagle. In heraldry, when there are se¬
veral eagles on the same escutcheon, they aie termed
eaglets.
EALDERMAN, or Ealdorman, among the
Saxons, was of like import with earl among the
Danes.
The word was also used for an elder, senator, or
statesman. Hence, at this day, we call those aldermen
who are associates to the chief officer in the common Ealdeima
council of a city or corporate town.
EAR. See Anatomy Index. Ear-Pick)
Several naturalists and physicians have held, thatY-*>
cutting oil' the ear rendered persons barren and unpro-
lific ; and this idle notion was what first occasioned the
legislators to order the ears of thieves, &c. to be cut
off, lest they should produce their like.
The ear has its beauties, which a good painter ought
by no means to disregard j where it is well formed, it
would be an injury to the head to be hidden. Sueto¬
nius insists, particularly, on the beauties of Augustus’s
ears ; and iElian, describing the beauties of Aspasia,
observes, she had short ears. Martial also ranks large
ears amnng the number of deformities.
Among the Athenians, it was a mark of nobility
to have the ears bored or perforated. And among
the Hebrews and Romans, this was a mark of servi¬
tude.
Loss of one ear is a punishment enacted by 3 and 6
Edw. VI. cap. 4. for fighting in a churchyard $ and
hy 2 and 3 Edw. VI. cap. 15. for combinations to raise
the price of provisions, labour, &c. if it be the third
offence, beside pillory, and perpetual infamy, or a fine
of 40I.
By a statute of Henry VIII. maliciously cutting
off the ear of a person is made a trespass, for which
treble damages shall be recovered ; and the offender is
to pay a fine of ten pounds to the king, 37 Hen.
VIII. cap. 6. § 4. In the Index to the Statutes at
Large, it is said, that this offence may be punished as
felony, by 22 and 23 Car. II. cap. I. § 7. commonly
called Coventry's act ; but ear is not mentioned in that
statute.
Ear of Fishes. See Anatomy Index.
Ear, in Music, denotes a kind of internal sense,
whereby we perceive and judge of harmony and musi¬
cal sounds. See Music.
In music we seem universally to acknowledge some¬
thing like a distinct sense from the external one of
hearing ; and call it a good ear. And the like distinc¬
tion we should probably acknowledge in other affairs,
had we got distinct names to denote these powers of
perception by. Thus a greater capacity of perceiving
the beauties of painting, architecture, &c. is called a
fine taste.
Ear is also used to signify a long cluster of flowers
or seeds, produced by certain plants j usually called by
botanists spied. The flowers and seeds of wheat, rye,
barley, &c. grow in ears. The same holds of the
flowers of lavender, &c. We say the stem of the ear,
i. e. its tube or straw ; the knot of the ear *, the lobes
or cells wherein the grains are enclosed j the beard of
the ear, &c.
Ear-Ac/i. See Medicine Index.
EARING, in the sea language, is that part of the
bolt rope which at the four corners of the sail is left
open, in the shape of a ring. The two uppermost parts
are put over the ends of the yard arms, and so the sail is
made fast to the yard $ and into the lowermost earings,
the sheets and tacks are seized or bent at the clew.
EAR-Pick, an instrument of ivory, silver, or other
metal, somewhat in form of a probe, for cleansing the
ear. The Chinese have a variety of these instruments,
with
2
E A R C 503 ] E A Si
'-Pick with which they are mighty fond of tickling their ears j
1) but this practice, Sir Hans Sloane observes, must be
irth. very prejudicial to so delicate an organ, by bringing
L -y—too grea{; a 0f |lumours on
Ear-Ring. See Pendent.
Ear-Wax. See Anatomy Index.
EARWIG. See Forficula, Entomology Index.
EARL, a British title of nobility, next below a
marquis, and above a viscount.
The title is so ancient, that its original cannot be
clearly traced out. Thus much, however, seems toler¬
ably certain, that among the Saxons they were called
ealdormen, quasi elder men, signifying the same with
senior or senator among the Romans ; and also schire-
tnen, because they had each of them the civil govern¬
ment of a several division or shire. On the irruption
of the Danes they changed their names to eorels, which,
according to Camden, signified the same in their lan¬
guage. In Latin they are called comites, (a title first
used in the empire), from being the king’s attendants ;
a societate nomen sumpserunt, reges enim tales sibi associ-
ant. After the Norman conquest they were for some time
called counts, or countees, from the French ; but they
did not long retain that name themselves, though their
shires are from thence called counties to this day. It
is now become a mere title ; they having nothing to do
with the government of the county; which is now en¬
tirely devolved on the sheriff, the earl’s deputy, or vice-
comes. In writs, commissions, and other formal instru¬
ments, the king, when he mentions any peer of the de¬
gree of an earl, usually styles him “ trusty and well be¬
loved cousin an appellation as ancient as the reign of
Henry IV. $ who being either by his wife, his mother,
or his sisters, actually related or allied to every earl in
the kingdom, artfully and constantly acknowledged that
connection in all his letters and other public acts 5
whence the usage has descended to his successors,
though the reason has long ago failed.
An earl is created by cincture of sword, mantle
of state put upon him by the king himself, a cap
and a coronet put upon his head, and a charter in his
hand.
Earl Marshal. See Marshal.
EARNEST (arrh^e), money advanced to bind the
parties to the performance of a verbal bargain. By the
civil law, he who recedes from his bargain loses his
earnest, and if the person who received the earnest give
back, he is to return the earnest double. But with us,
the person who gave it, is in strictness obliged to abide
by his bargain ; and in case he decline it, is not dis¬
charged upon forfeiting his earnest, but may be sued
for the whole money stipulated.
EARTH, among ancient philosophers, one of the
four elements of which the whole system of nature was
thought to be composed. See Element.
Earths, in Chemistry, are such substances as have
neither taste nor smell, are incombustible, are nearly
insoluble in water, and have a specific gravity under
5. Such are lime, barytes, &c. See Chemistry In¬
dex.
Earth, in Astronomy and Geography, one of the
primary planets $ being this terraqueous globe which
we inhabit.
For the astronomical facts with regard to the earth,
see Astronomy j for its geographical history, see
Geography j and for the opinions or theories of its Earth
formation and changes, see Geology Index. |]
EARTHQUAKE. See Geology Index. Easter-
EARTH-worm. See Helminthology Index. , Islantl-
. EASEL pieces, among painters, such small pieces,
eitoer portraits or landscapes, as are painted on the.
easel, i. e. the frame whereon the canvas is laid. They
are thus called to distinguish them from larger pictures
drawn on walls, ceilings, &c.
EASEMENT, m Laiv, a privilege or convenience
which one neighbour has ot another, whether by char¬
ter or prescription, without profit : such are, a way
through his lands, a sink, or the like. These, in many
cases, may be claimed.
EASING, in the sea language, signifies the slacken¬
ing a rope or the like. Thus, to ease the bow line, or
sheet, is to let them go slacker; to ease the helm, is
to let the ship go more large, more before the wind, or
more larboard.
EAST, one of the four cardinal points of the world ;
being that point of the horizon where the sun is seen
to rise when in the equinoctial.
The word east is Saxon. In Italy, and throughout
the Mediterranean, the east wind is called the levante :
in Greek, u.ix.'voM and cnrriXiaTYis, because it comes from
the side of the sun, cctt iiA<s< ; in Latin eurus.
EASIER, a festival of the Christian church, ob¬
served in memory of our Saviour’s resurrection.
The Greeks call it pasga, the Eziins pascka, a He¬
brew word signifying passage, applied to the Jewish
feast of the passover. It is called easier in English,
from the goddess Eostre, worshipped by the Saxons
with peculiar ceremonies in the month of April.
The Asiatic churches kept their caster upon the very
same day the Jews observed their passover, and others
on the first Sunday after the first full moon in the new
year, This controversy was determined in the council
of Nice ; when it was ordained that caster should be
kept upon one and the same day, which should always
be a Sunday, in all Christian churches in the world.
For the method of finding caster by calculation, see
Chronology.
Easter Island, an island in the South Sea, lying in
N. Lat. 27. 5. W. Long. 109. 46. It is thought to
have been first discovered in 1686 by one Davis an
Englishman, who called it Davis"ls Land. It was next
visited by Commodore Roggewein, a Dutchman, inN
1722; who gave it the name of Easter Island, and
published may fabulous accounts concerning the coun¬
try and its inhabitants. It was also visited by a Spa¬
nish ship in 1770, the captain of which gave it the
name of St Carlos. The only authentic accounts of
this island, however, which have yet appeared, are those
published by Captain Cook and Mr Forster, who visit¬
ed it in the month of March 1774. According to these
accounts, the island is about 10 or 12 leagues in circum¬
ference, and of a triangular figure; its greatest length
from north-west to south-east is about four leagues,
and its greatest breadth two. The hills are so high, that
they may be seen at the distance of 15 or 16 leagues.
The north and east points of the island are of a consi¬
derable height; between them, on the south-east side,
the shore forms an open bay, in which Captain Cook
thinks the Dutch anchored in 1722. He himself an¬
chored on the west side of the island, three miles north¬
wards
E A S [ 5°4 ] E A S
Easici- ward from the south point. This, he says, is a good
Island, road with easterly winds j but a dangerous one when
“"’■'v the wind blows from the contrary quarter, as the othei
on the south-east side must be with easterly winds; so
that there is no good accommodation to be had for
shipping round the whole island.
The island itself is extremely barren ; and bears evi¬
dent marks not only of a volcanic origin, but of having
been not very long ago entirely ruined by an eruption.
As they approached the south point, Mr Forster in¬
forms us, that they observed the shore to rise perpen¬
dicularly. It consisted of broken rocks, whose ca¬
vernous appearance, and black or ferruginous colour,
seemed to indicate that they had been thrown up by
subterraneous fire. rIwo detached rocks he about a
quarter of a mile off this point: one of them is singu¬
lar on account of its shape, and represents a huge co¬
lumn or obelisk ; and both these rocks were inhabited
bv multitudes of sea fowls. On landing and walking
into the country, they found the ground covered with
rocks and stones of all sizes, which appeared to have been
exposed to a great fire, where they seemed to have ac¬
quired a black colour and porous texture. Two or three
shrivelled species of grasses grew among these stones,
and in some measure softened the desolate appearance
of the country. The farther they advanced, the more
ruinous the face of the country seemed to be. The
roads were intolerably rugged, and filled with heaps of
volcanic stones, among which the Europeans could not
make their way but with the greatest difficulty; but
the natives leaped from one stone to another with sur¬
prising agility and ease. As they went northward
along the island, they found the ground still of the same
nature ; till at last they met with a rock of large black
melted lava, which seemed to contain some iron, and
on which was neither soil nor grass, nor any mark of
vegetation. Notwithstanding this general barrenness,
however, there are several large tracts covered with
' cultivated soil, which produces potatoes of a gold yel¬
low colour as sweet as carrots, plantains, and sugar
v canes. The soil is a dry hard clay ; and the inhabi¬
tants use the grass which grows between the stones
in other parts of the island as a manure, and for pre¬
serving their vegetables when young from the heat ef
the sun.
The most remarkable curiosity belonging to this
island is a number of colossal statues ; of which, how¬
ever, very few remain entire. These statues are placed
only on the sea coast. On the east side of the island
were seen the ruins of three platforms of stone work, on
each of which had stood four of these large statues ;
but they were all fallen down from two of them, and
one from the third: they were broken or defaced
by the fall. Mr Wales measured one that had fallen,
which was 15 feet in length, and six broad over the
shoulders; each statue had on its head a large cylin-
dric stone of a red colour, wrought perfectly round.
Others were found that measured near 27 feet, and up¬
wards of eight feet over the shoulders ; and a still lar¬
ger one w?as seen standing, the shade of which was suf¬
ficient to shelter all the party, consisting of near 30
persons, from the rays of the sun. The workmanship
is rude, but not bad, nor are the features of the face
ill formed; the ears are long, according to the distor¬
tion practised in the country, and the bodies have hard¬
ly any thing of a human figure about them. How Ea»tfr
these islanders, wholly unacquainted with any media- island
nical power, could raise such stupendous figures, and w“v—»
afterwards place the large cylindric stones upon their
heads, is truly wonderful ! The most probable conjec¬
ture seems to be, that the stone is factitious; and that
each figure was gradually erected, by forming a tem¬
porary platform round it, and raising it as the work
advanced ; but they are at any rate very strong proofs
of the ingenuity and perseverance of the islanders in the
age when they were built, as well as that the ancestors
of the present race bad seen better days than their de¬
scendants enjoy. The water of this island is in general
brakish, there being only one well that is perfectly
fresh, which is at the east end of the island: and when¬
ever the natives repair to it to slake their thirst, they
wash themselves all over ; and if there is a large com¬
pany, the first leaps into the middle of the hole, drinks,
and washes himself without ceremony; after which
another takes his place, and so on in succession. This
custom was much disrelished hy their new friends,
who stood greatly in need of this valuable article, and
did not wish to have it contaminated by such ablu¬
tions.
The people are of a middle size. In general they are
rather thin ; go entirely naked ; and have punctures on
their bodies, a custom common to all the inhabitants of
the South Sea Islands. Their greasest singularity is the
size of their ears, the lobe of which is stretched out so
that it almost rests on their shoulder; and is pierced with
a very large hole, capable of admitting four or five fin¬
gers w'ith ease. The chief ornaments for their ears are
the white down of feathers, and rings which they wear
in the inside of the hole, made of the sugar cane, which
is very elastic, and for this purpose is rolled up like a
watch spring. Some were seen clothed in the same
cloth used in the island of Otaheite, tinged of a bright
orange colour with turmeric; and these our voyagers
supposed to be chiefs. Their colour is a chesnut brown ;
their hair black, curling, and remarkably strong;
and that on the head as well as the face is cut short.
The women are small, and slender limbed: they have
punctures on the face, resembling the patches some¬
times used by European ladies; they paint their face
all over with a reddish brown ruddle, and above this
they lay a fine orange colour extracted frpm turmeric
root; the whole is then variegated with streaks of white
shell lime. But the most surprising circumstance of all
with regard to these people, is the apparent scarcity of
women among them. The nicest calculation that could
be made, never brought the number of inhabitants in
this island to above 700, and of these the females bore
no proportion in number to the males. Either they
have but few females, or else their women were restrain¬
ed from appearing during the stay of the ship; not¬
withstanding, the men showed no signs of a jealous dis¬
position, or the women any scruples of appearing in
public; in fact, they seemed to be neither reserved nor
chaste ; and the large pointed cap which they wore
gave them the appearance of professed wantons. But
as all the women who were seen were liberal of their
favours, it is more than probable that all the married
and modest ones had concealed themselves from their
impetuous visitants in some inscrutable parts of the
island; and what further strengthens this supposition is,
E A U
;ter
ad
!j.
that heaps of stones were seen piled up into little hil¬
locks, which had one steep perpendicular side, where
a hole went under ground. The space within, says
Mr Forster, could be but small ; and yet it is probable
j that these cavities served, together with their miserable
huts, to give shelter to the people at night; and they
may communicate with natural caverns, which are very
common in the lava currents of volcanic countries.
The few women that appeared were the most lascivious
of their sex perhaps that have been ever noticed in any
country; shame seemed to be entirely unknown to
them.
EATON, a town of Buckinghamshire, situated on
the north side of the Thames, opposite to Windsor, and
famous for its collegiate school, founded by King Hen¬
ry VI. being a seminary for King’s College, Cam¬
bridge, the fellows of which are all from this school.
See Etox.
EAU de Carmes. See Pharmacy.
Eau de Luce, a fragrant alkaline liquor which was
some years ago in great repute, especially among the
fair sex, and of which the leading perfection is, that it
shall possess and retain a milky opacity.
Mr Nicholson, in the second number of his valuable
Journal, tells us, that being informed by a philosophical
friend, that the usual recipes for making this compound
do not succeed, and that the use of mastic in it has hi¬
therto been kept a secret, he made the following trials
to procure a good eau de luce.
One dram of the rectified oil of amber was dissolved
in four ounces of tbe strongest ardent spirit of the
shops; its specific gravity being 840 at 60 degrees of
Fahrenheit. A portion ot the clear spirit was poured
upon a larger quantity of fine powdered mastic than it
was judged could be taken up. This was occasionally
agitated without heat ; by which means the gum resin
was for the most part gradually dissolved. One part
of the oily solution was poured into a phial, and to this
was added one part of the solution of mastic. No opa¬
city or other change appeared. Four parts of strong
caustic volatile alkali were then poured in, and imme¬
diately shaken. The fluid was of a dense opaque white
colour, affording a slight ruddy tinge when the light
was seen through a thin portion of it. In a second
mixture, four parts of the alkali were added to one of
the solution of mastic; it appeared of a less dense and
more yellowish white than the former mixture. More
of the gum resinous solution was then poured in ; but it
still appeared less opaque than that mixture. It was
ruddy by transmitted light. The last experiment was
repeated with the oily solution instead of that of mastic.
The white was much less dense than either of the fore¬
going compounds, and the requisite opacity was not
given by augmenting the dose of the oily solution. No
ruddiness nor other remarkable appearance was seen by
transmitted light. These mixtures were left at repose
for two days ; no separation appeared in either of the
compounds containing mastic ; the compound, consist-
mg of the oily solution and alkali, became paler by the
separation of a cream at the top.
ft appears, therefore, that the first of these three
mixtures, subject to variation of the quantity of its in¬
gredients, and the odorant additions which may be
made, is a good eau de luce.
In a subsequent number of the same Journal, we have
Vox.. VII. Part II. f
L 5=5 1
E B I
the following recipe by one of the author’s correspond¬
ents, who had often proved its value by experience.
“ Digest ten or twelve grains of the whitest pieces of
mastic, selected for this purpose and powdered, in two
ounces of alcohol; and, when nearly dissolved, add
twenty grains of elemi. When both the resins are dis¬
solved, add ten or fifteen drops of rectified oil of am¬
ber, and fifteen or twenty of essence of bergamot :
shake the whole well together, and let the feces sub¬
side. The solution will be of a pale amber colour. It
is to be added in very small portions to the best ayua
ammonicepuree, until it assumes a milky whiteness, sha¬
king the phial well after each addition, as directed by
Macquer. The strength and causticity of the ammo¬
niac are of most essential consequence. If, upon the
addition of the first drop or two of the tincture, a dense
opaque coagulated precipitate is formed, not much un¬
like that which appears on dropping a solution of silver
into water slightly impregnated with common salt, it is
too strong, and must be diluted with alcohol.”
EAVES, in Architecture, the margin or edge of the
roof of a house ; being the lowest tiles, slates, or the
like, that hang over the walls, to throw off water to a
distance from the wall.
EAVES-Droppers, are such persons as stand under
the eaves, or walls, and windows of a house, by night
or day, to hearken after news, and carry it to others,
and thereby cause strife and contention in the neigh¬
bourhood. They are called evil members of the com¬
monwealth by the stat. of West. 1. c. 33. They mav
be punished either in the court leet by way of present¬
ment and fine, or in the quarter sessions by indictment
and binding to good behaviour.
EBBING of the Tides. See Tide.
EBDOMAIilUS, in ecclesiastical writers, an offi¬
cers formerly appointed weekly to superintend the per¬
formance of divine service in cathedrals, and prescribe
the duties of each person attending in the choir, as to
reading, singing, praying, &c. To this purpose the
ebdomary, at the beginning of his week, drew up in
form a bill or writing of the respective persons, and
their several offices, called tabula, and the persons there
entered were styled intabulati.
EBDOME, Efidopn, in antiquity, a festival kept on
the seventh of every lunar month, in honour of Apollo,
to whom all seventh days were sacred, because one of
them was his birth-day; whence he was sometimes call¬
ed Ebdomagenes. For the ceremonies of this solemnity
see Pottet'^s Archeeol. Greec. lib. ii. cap. 20.
EBENUS, the Ebony Tree. See Botany Index.
EBERHAKD, John Augustus, an eminent Ger¬
man theologian. See Supplement.
EBION, the author of the heresy of the Ebionites*
was a disciple of Cerinthus, and his successor. He im¬
proved upon the errors of his master, and added to
them new opinions of his own. He began his preach¬
ing in Judea : he taught in Asia, and even at Rome.
His tenets infected the isle of Cyprus. St John oppo¬
sed both Cerinthus and Ebion in Asia; and it is
thought, that this apostle wrote his gospel, in the year
97, particularly against this heresy.
EB IONITES, ancient heretics, who rose in the
church in the first ages, and formed themselves into a
sect in the second century, denying the divinity of
Jesus Christ.
3S
Eau Ja
Luce
II.
Ebiouites.
Origeu
E B I
t 506 ]
E B O
Ebioniies. Origen takes them to have been so called from the
' v 1 Hebrew word ebion, which in that language signifies
■poor ; because, says he, they were poor in sense, and
wanted understanding. Eusebius, with a view to the
same etymology, is ot opinion they were thus called, as
having poor thoughts of Jesus Christ, taking him for
no more than a mere man.
It is more probable the Jews gave this appellation to
the Christians in general out of contempt; because in
the first times there were few but poor people that em¬
braced the Christian religion. This opinion Origen
himself seems to give into, in bis book against Celsus,
where he says that they called Ebionites, such among
the Jews as believed that Jesus was truly the expected
Messiah.
It might even be urged, with some probability, that
the primitive Christians assumed the name themselves,
in conformity to their profession. It is certain Epipha-
nius observes, they valued themselves on being poor,
in imitation ot the apostles. TLhe same Epiphamus,
however, is of opinion, that there had been a man
of the name of Ebion, the chief and founder of the
sect of Ebionites, contemporary with the Nazarenes
and Cerinthians. He gives a long and exact account
of the origin of the Ebionites, making them to have
risen after the destruction of Jerusalem, when the first
Christians, called Nazarenes, went out of the same to
live at Pella.
The Ebionites were little else than a branch of Na-
zarenes : only that they altered and corrupted in many
things the purity of the faith held among those first
adherents to Christianity. For this reason Origen dis¬
tinguishes two kinds of Ebionites, in his answer to
Celsus; the one believed that Jesus Christ was born of
a virgin ; and the other, that he was born after the man¬
ner of other men.
The first were orthodox in every thing, except that
to the Christian doctrine they joined the ceremonies of
the Jewish law, with the Jews, Samaritans, and Naza-
renes; together with the traditions of the Pharisees.
They differed from the Nazarenes, however, in several
things, chiefly as to what regards the authority of the
sacred writings j for the Nazarenes received all for
Scripture contained in the Jewish canon ; whereas the
Ebionites rejected all the prophets, and held the very
names of David, Solomon, Isaiah, Jeremiah, and Eze¬
kiel, in abhorrence. They also rejected all St Paul’s
epistles, whom they treated with the utmost disrespect.
They received nothing of the Old Testament but
the Pentateuch •, which should intimate them to have
descended rather from the Samaritans than from the
Jews. They agreed with the Nazarenes in using the
Hebrew gospel of St Matthew, otherwise called the
Gospel of the Twelve Apostles •, but they had corrupted
their copy in abundance of places •, and particularly,
had left out the genealogy of our Saviour, which was
preserved entire in that of the Nazarenes, and even in
those used by the Cerinthians.
Some, however, have made this gospel canonical, and
of greater value than our present Greek gospel of St
Matthew : See Nazarenis. These last, whose sen¬
timents, as to the birth of our Saviour, were the same
with those of the Ebionites, built their error on this
very genealogy*.
Besides the Hebrew gospel of St Matthew, the
Ebionites had adopted several other books, under the kbionij
names of St James, John, and the other apostles: they
also made use of the Travels of St Peter, which are
supposed to have been written by St Clement; but had
altered them so, that there was scarce any thing of
truth left in them. They even made that saint tell a
number of falsehoods, the better to authorise their own
practices. See St Epiphanius, who is very diffusive on
the ancient heresy of the Ebionites, Herr. 30. But
his account deserves little credit, as, by his own con¬
fession, he has confounded the other sects with the
Ebionites, and has charged them with errors to which
the first adherents of this sect were utter strangers.
EBONY of Crete. See Ebenus, Botany Index,
Eeoxy Wood is brought from the Indies, exceeding¬
ly hard and heavy, susceptible of a very fine polish, and
on that account used in mosaic and inlaid works, toys,,
&.c. There are divers kinds of ebony ", the most usual
among us are black, red, and green, all of them the
product of the island of Madagascar, where the natives
call them indifferently hemon inainthi, q. d. black wood.
The island of St Maurice, belonging to the Dutch,
likewise furnishes part of the ebonies used in Europe.
Authors and travellers give very different accounts
of the tree that yields the black ebony. By some of
their descriptions, it should be a sort of palm tree 5 by
others a cytisus, &c. The most authentic of them is
that of M. Falcourt, who resided many years in Ma¬
dagascar as governor thereof; he assures us, that it
grows very high and big, its bark being black, and its
leaves resembling those of our myrtle, of a deep dusky
green colour.
Tavernier assures us, that the islanders always take
care to bury their trees when cut down, to make them
the blacker, and to prevent their splitting when wrought.
F. Plumier mentions another black ebony tree, disco¬
vered by him at St Domingo, which he calls spartiutn
portulaceefoliis acvlealum ebeni mater ice. Candia also
bears a little shrub, known to the botanists under the
name of Ebenus Cretica, above described.
Pliny and Dioscorides say the best ebony comes from
Ethiopia, and the worst from India ; but Theophrastus
prefers that of India. Black ebony is much preferred
to that of other colours. The best is a jet black, free
of veins and rind, very massive, astringent, and of an
acrid pungent taste. Its rind, infused in water, is said
to purge pituita, and cure venereal disorders j whence
Mattbiolus took guaiacum for a sort of ebony. It
yields an agreeable perfume when laid on burning coals •,
when green, it readily takes fire from the abundance of
its fat. If rubbed against a stone, it becomes brown.
The Indians make statues of their gods, and sceptres
for their princes, of this wood. It was first brought to
Rome by Pompey, after he subdued Mithridates. It
is now much less used among us than anciently, since
the discovery of so many ways of giving other hard
woods a black colour.
As to the green ebony, besides Madagascar and St
Maurice, it likewise grows in the Antilles, and espe¬
cially in the isle of Tobago. The tree that yields it is
very bushy", its leaves are smooth, and of a fine green
colour. Beneath its bark is a white blea, about two
inches thick •, all beneath which, to the very heart, is
a deep green, approaching towards a black, though
sometimes streaked with yellow veins. Its use is not
confined
r
fcn.
A [ 5=7 ] E C C
it is likewise good in dyeing, mer solstice, and consequently answered to the latter
part ot our June and beginning of July. The Boeoti¬
ans called it Hippodromus, and the Macedonians Lous.
oee Month. Ihe word is a derivation from the Greek
ixxltpGn, * hecatomb, because of the great number of
hecatombs sacrificed in it.
ECAVLSSADE, in the manege, is used for a jerk
of the cavesson.
ECBATANA, in Ancient Geography, the royal re¬
sidence and the capital of Media, built byDeioces kin<^
of the Medes, according to Herodotus: Pliny says, by
Seleucus ; hut that could not be, because it is men¬
tioned by Demosthenes. It was situated on a gentle
declivity, distant 12 stadia from Mount Orontes, and
was in compass 150 stadia. Here stood the royal’trea-
sury and tombs. It was an open unwalled town, but
had a very strong citadel, encompassed with seven walls,
one within and rising above another. The extent of
the outmost was equal to the whole extent of Athens,
according to Herodotus j the situation favouring this
construction, as being a gentle ascent, and each wall
was of a different colour—Another .Eciotam* of Persia,
a town of the Magi (Pliny).—A third of Syria.
ECCENTRICITY. See Excentricity.
ECCHELLENSIS, Abraham, a learned Maro-
nite, whom the president Le Jai employed in the edi¬
tion of his Polyglott Bible. Gabriel Sionita, bis coun¬
tryman, drew him to Paris, in order to make him his
fellow labourer in publishing that Bible. They fell
out $ Gabriel complained to the parliament, and cruelly
defamed his associate } their quarrel made a great noise.
The congregation de propaganda fide associated him,
1636, with those whom they employed in making an
Arabic translation of the Scriptures. They recalled
him from Paris, and he laboured in that translation at
Rome in the year 1652. While he was professor of
the Oriental languages at Rome, he was pitched upon
by the great duke Ferdinand II. to translate from A-
rabic into Latin, the 5th, 6th, and 7th books of Apol¬
lonius’s Conics $ in which he was assisted by John Al-
phonso Borelli, who added commentaries to them. He
died at Rome in 1644.
ECCHYMOSIS, from f*^*»*<, to pour out, or from
*>£» out of, and x,vp.6<, juice. It is an effusion of hu¬
mours from their respective vessels, under the integu¬
ments ; or, as Paulus iEgineta says, “ When the flesh
is bruised by the violent collision of any object, and its
small veins broken, the blood is gradually discharged
from them.” This blood, when collected under the
skin, is called ecchymosis, the skin in the mean time
remaining entire ; sometimes a tumour is formed by it,
which is soft and livid, and generally without pain. If
the quantity of blood is not considerable, it is usually
resorbed ; if much, it suppurates ; it rarely happens
that any further inconvenience follows j though, in
case of a very bad habit of body, a mortification may
be the result, and in such case regard must be bad
thereto.
ECCLAIRCISSEMENT. See Esclaircisse-
MENT.
ECCLESIASTES, a canonical book of the Old
Testament, the design of which is to shew the vanity of
all sublunary things.
It was composed by Solomon j who enumerates the
3 S 2 several
E C
confined to mosaic work :
as yielding a fine green tincture. As to red ebony,
called also grenadilla, we know little of it more than
, the name.
The cabinet-makers, inlayers, &c. make pear tree
and other woods pass for ebony, by giving them the
black colour thereof. This some do by a few washes
of a hot decoction of galls ; and when dry, adding-
writing ink thereon, and polishing it with a stiff brush,
and a little hot wax ; and others heat or burn their
wood black.
EBORACUM, in Ancient Geography, a famous
city of the Brigantes in Britain, the residence of Sep-
timius Severus and Constantius Chlorus, and where
they both died $ a Roman colony ; and the station of
the Legio Sexta Victrix. Now York. W. Long. 50.
Lat. 54. Caer-frock, or Caer-efiioc, in British (Cam¬
den).
EBRO, anciently Iberus, a large river of Spain,
which, taking its rise in Old Castile, runs through Bis¬
cay and Arragon, passes by Saragossa, and, continuing
its course through Catalonia, discharges itself with great
rapidity into the Mediterranean, about 20 miles below
the city of Tortosa.
EBUDiE, or Hebudes, in Ancient Geography,
islands on the west of Scotland. The ancients differ
greatly as to their situation, number, and names j said
in general to lie in the north of Ireland and west of
Scotland. Now called the Western Isles, also Hebrides ;
this last a modern name, the reason of which does not
appear, unless it be a corruption of Hebudes. By Beda
called Mevanice, an appellation equally obscure.
EBULLITION, the same with Boiling. The
word is also used in a synonymous sense with Effer¬
vescence.
EBUSUS, in Ancient Geography, the greater of the
two islands called Pityusse, in the Mediterranean, near
the east coast of Spain, to the south-west of Majorca.
Famous for its pastures for cattle, and for its figs. Now
Ivica, ioo miles in compass, without any noxious ani¬
mals but rabbits, who often destroy the corn.
ECALESIA, TLxciMn*, in antiquity, a festival kept
in honour of Jupiter, surnamed Hecalus, or Hecalesius,
from Hecale, one of the borough towns in Attica.
ECASTOR, in antiquity, an oath wherein Castor
was invoked. It was a custom for the men never to
swear by Castor, nor the women by Pollux.
ECATEA, Ek«]««c6, in antiquity, statues erected to
the goddess Hecate, for whom the Athenians had a
great veneration, believing that she was the overseer of
their families, and that she protected their children.
ECATESIA, TLitxlqriec, in antiquity, an anniversary
solemnity, observed by the Stratonicensians, in honour
of Hecate. The Athenians likewise had a public en¬
tertainment or supper every new moon, in honour of
the same goddess. The supper was provided at the
charge of the richer sort $ and was no sooner brought
to the accustomed place but the poor people carried all
off, giving out that Hecate had devoured it. For the
rest of the ceremonies observed on this occasion, see
Pott. Arch. Grcec. lib. ii. cap. 20.
ECATOMBiEON, ExcelipGietw, in Chronology, the
first month ef the Athenian year. It consisted of 30
‘lays, and began on the first new moon after the sum-
Ecclesi¬
astes,
Ecclesi¬
astical.
Blackst.
Comment.
E C C [ 5°8 ]
several olijects on which men place their happiness, altogether certain,
and then shows the insufficiency oi all worldly enjoy¬
ments. # , • , a 1 al
, The Talmudists made King Hezekiah to be the
' author of it: Grotius ascribes it to Zorobabel, and
others to Isaiah j but the generality of commentators
believe this book to be the produce of Solomon’s re¬
pentance, after having experienced all the lollies and
pleasures of life.
ECCLESIASTICAL, an appellation given to
whatever belongs to the church: thus we say, ecclesia¬
stical polity, jurisdiction, history, &c.
Ecclesiastical Courts. In the time of the Anglo-
Saxons there was no sort of distinction between the
lay and the ecclesiastical jurisdiction : the county court
was as much a spiritual as a temporal tribunal: the
rights of the church were ascertained and asserted at
the same time, and by the same judges, as the rights
of the laity. For this purpose the bishop of the dio¬
cese, and the alderman, or in his absence the sheriff of
the county, used to sit together in the county court,
and had there the cognizance of all causes as well ec¬
clesiastical as civil; a superior deference being paid to
the bishop’s opinion in spiritual matters, and to that
of the lay judges in temporal. This union of power
was very advantageous to them both : the presence o
the bishop added weight and reverence to the sheriff’s
proceedings j and the authority of the sheriff was equal¬
ly useful to the bishop, by enforcing obedience to his
decrees in such refractorv offenders as would other¬
wise have despised the thunder of mere ecclesiastical
censures.
But so moderate and rational a plan was wholly in¬
consistent with those views of ambition that were then
forming by the court of Rome. It soon became an
established maxim in the papal system of policy, that
all ecclesiastical persons, and all ecclesiastical causes,
should be solely and entirely subject to ecclesiastical ju¬
risdiction only: which jurisdiction was supposed to be
lodged in the first place and immediately in the 1 ope,
by divine indefeasible right and investiture from Chi 1st
himself, and derived from the Pope to all inferior tri¬
bunals. Hence the canon law lays it down as a rule, tha^t
tc sacerdotes d regibus honorandi sunt^ non judicundi /
and places an emphatical reliance on a fabulous tale
which it tells of the emperor Constantine, That when
some petitions were brought to him, imploring the aid
of his authority against certain of his bishops accused
of oppression and injustice ; he caused, (says the holy
canon) the petitions to be burnt in their presence, dis¬
missing them with this valediction : “ Ite, et inter vos
causas vestras discuhte, quia dignum non est ut nosju-
dicemus Deos.'1'1
It w as not, however, till after the Norman conquest,
that this doctrine was received in England, when Wil¬
liam I. (whose title was warmly espoused by the mo¬
nasteries which he liberally endowed, and by the fo¬
reign clergy whom he brought over in shoals from
France and Italy, and planted in the best preferments
of the English church) was at length prevailed upon
to establish this fatal encroachment, and separate the
ecclesiastical court from the civil; whether actuated by
principles of bigotry, or by those of a more refined po¬
licy, in order to discountenance the laws of King Ed¬
ward abounding with the spirit of Saxon liberty, is not
3
E C C
   But the latter, if not the cause, Ecc!
was undoubtedly the consequence of this separation :
for the Saxon laws were soon overborne by the Nor- L °j^
man justiciaries, when the county court fell into disre¬
gard by the bishop’s withdrawing his presence, in obe¬
dience to the charter of the Conqueror; which prohi¬
bited any spiritual cause from being tried in the secu¬
lar courts, and commanded the suitors to appear before
the bishop only, whose decisions were directed to con¬
form to the canon law.
King Henry I. at his accession, among other resto¬
rations of the laivs of King Edward the Confessor, re¬
vived this of the union of the civil and ecclesiastical
courts. Which was, according to Sir Edward Coke,
after the great heat of the conquest was past, only a
restitution of the ancient law of England. This how¬
ever was ill relished by the Popish clergy, who, under
the guidance of that arrogant prelate Archbishop An¬
selm, very early disapproved of a measure that put
them on a level with the profane laity, and subjected
spiritual men and causes to the inspection of the secu¬
lar magistrates; and therefore, in their synod at West¬
minster, 3 Hen. I. they ordained, that no bishop should
attend the discussion of temporal causes j which soon
dissolved this newly effected union. And, when upon
the death of King Henry I. the usurper Stephen was
brought in and supported by the clergy, we find one
article of the oath which they imposed upon him was, that
ecclesiastical persons and ecclesiastical causes should
be subject only to the bishop’s jurisdiction. And as it
was about that time that the contest and emulation be¬
gan between the laws of England and those of Rome,
the temporal courts adhering to the former, and the
spiritual adopting the latter as their rule of proceed¬
ing } this widened the breach between them, and made
a coalition afterwards impracticable; which probably
would else have been effected at the general reforma¬
tion of the church.
Ecclesiastical courts are various; as the Archdea¬
con’s, the Consistory, the court of Arches, the
Peculiars, the Prerogative, and the great court
of appeal in all ecclesiastical causes, viz. the Court ol
Delegates. See these articles.
As to the method of proceeding in the spiritual Black
courts, it must (in the first place) be acknowledged to Comm
their honour, that though they continue to this day to
decide many questions which are properly ot temporal
cognizance, yet justice is in general so ably and im¬
partially administered, in those tribunals (especially of
the superior kind), and the boundaries of their power
are now so well known and established, that no mate¬
rial inconvenience at present arises from this jurisdic¬
tion still continuing in the ancient channel. And,
should any alteration be attempted, great confusion
would probably arise, in overturning long established
forms, and new-modelling a course of proceedings that
has now prevailed for seven centuries.
The establishment of the civil law process in all the
ecclesiastical courts was indeed a masterpiece of papal
discernment, as it made a coalition impracticable be¬
tween them and the national tribunals, without mani¬
fest inconvenience and hazard. And this consideration
had undoubtedly its weight in causing this measure to
be adopted, though many other causes concurred, la
particular, it may be here remarked, that the Pandects
or
E C C
J sjasli. or CQHcetions of civil law, being written in the Latin
juris, tongue, anil referring so much to the will of the prince
"'and his delegated officers of justice, sufficiently recom¬
mended them to the court of Rome, exclusive of their
intrinsic merit. To keep the laity in the darkest ig¬
norance, and to monopolize the little science which
then existed entirely among the monkish clergy, were
deep-rooted principles of papal policy. And as the
bishops of Rome affected in all points to mimic the
imperial grandeur, as the spiritual prerogatives were
moulded on the pattern of the temporal, so the canon
law process was formed on the model of the civil law j
the prelates embracing, with the utmost ardour, a me¬
thod of judicial proceedings, which was carried on in
a language unknown to the bulk of the people, which
banished the intervention of a jury (that bulwark of
Gothic liberty), and which placed an arbitrary power
of decision in the breast of a single man.
The proceedings in the ecclesiastical courts are there¬
fore regulated according to the practice of the civil and
canon laws j or rather to a mixture of both, corrected
and new-modelled by their own particular usages, and
the interposition of the courts of common law. For,
if the proceedings in the spiritual court be ever so re¬
gularly consonant to the rules of the Roman law, yet
if they be manifestly repugnant to the fundamental
maxims of the municipal laws, to which, upon prin¬
ciples of sound policy, the ecclesiastical process ought
in every state to conform (as if they require two wit¬
nesses to prove a fact, where one will suffice at common
law) j in such cases, a prohibition will be awarded
against them. But under these restrictions, their or-
dinary course of proceeding is, first, by citation, to
call the party injuring before them. Then by libel (Ji-
bellus, “ a little book”), or by articles drawn out in a
formal allegation, to set forth the complainant’s ground
of complaint. To this succeeds the defendant's answer
upon oath j when, if he denies or extenuates the charge,
they proceed to 21 roofs by witnesses examined, and their
depositions taken down in writing by an officer of the
court. If the defendant has any circumstances to offer
in his defence, he must also propound them in what is
called his defensive allegation, to which he is entitled in
his turn to the plaintiff's answer upon oath, and may
from thence proceed to proofs as well as his antagonist.
The canonical doctrine of purgation, whereby the par¬
ties were obliged to answer upon oath, to any matter,
however criminal, that might be objected against
them (though long ago overruled in the court of
chancery, the genius of the English law having broken
through the bondage imposed on it by its clerical
chancellors, and asserted the doctrines of judicial as well
as civil liberty), continued till the middle of the last
century to be upheld by tiie spiritual courts $ when
the legislature was obliged to interpose, to teach them
a lesson of similar moderation. By the statute of
13 Car. II. c. 12. it is enacted, that it shall not be
lawful for any bishop, or ecclesiastical judge, to tender
or administer to any person whatsoever, the oath usu¬
ally called the oath ex officio, or any other oath where¬
by he may be compelled to confess, accuse, or purge
himself of any criminal matter or thing, whereby he
may be liable to any censure or punishment. When
all the pleadings and proofs are concluded, they are re-
1 509 ]
E C H
ferred to the consideration, not of a jury, but of a single Ecclcbiasti-
judge j who takes information by hearing advocates on cal Court*"
both sides, and thereupon forms his interlocutory decree II
or definitive sentence, at his own discretion, from which ^hmops-
there. generally lies an appeal, in the several stages v 
mentioned in the articles above referred to j though, if
the same be not appealed from him in 15 days, it is
final, by the statute 25 Henry VIII. c. 19.
But the point in which these jurisdictions are the
most defective, is that of enforcing their sentences when
pronounced j for which they have no other process but
that of excommunication; which would be often de¬
spised by obstinate or profligate men, did not the
civil law step in with its aid. See Excommunica¬
tion.
Ecclesiastical Corporations, are where the mem¬
bers that compose them are spiritual persons. They
were erected for the furtherance of religion and per¬
petuating the rights of the church. See Corpora¬
tions.
Ecclesiastical State. See Clergy.
ECCLESIASTICUS, an apocryphal book, gene¬
rally bound up with the Scriptures j so called, from its
being read in the church, ecclesia, as a book of piety
and instruction, but not of infallible authority.
The author of this book was a Jew, called Jesus the
son of Sirach. The Greeks call it the Wisdom of the
son of Sirach.
ECCOPROTICS, in Medicine, laxative or loosen¬
ing remedies, which purge gently, by softening the
humours and excrements, and fitting them for expul¬
sion.—The word is composed of the Greek particle i#,
and xowgaj, excrement.
ECDICI, among the ancients, patrons of
cities, who defended their rights, and took care of the
public money.. Their office resembled that of the mo¬
dern syndics.
ECHAPE, in the manege, a horse begot between
a stallion and a mare of different breeds and countries.
ECHAPER, in the manege, a gallicism used in the
academies, implying to give a horse head, or to put on
at full speed.
ECHENEIS, the Remora. See Ichthyology
Index.
ECHEVIN, in the French and Dutch polity, a
magistrate elected by the inhabitants of a city or town,
to take care of their common concerns, and the deco¬
ration and cleanliness of the city.
At Paris, there is a prevot and four echevins; in
other towns, a mayor and echevins. At Amsterdam,
there are nine echevins; and at Rotterdam, seven.
In France, the echevins take cognizance of rents,
taxes, and the navigation of rivers, &c. In Holland,
they judge of civil and criminal causes 5 and if the cri¬
minal confesses himself guilty, they can see their sen¬
tence executed without appeal.
ECHINATE, or Echinated, an appellation given
to whatever is prickly, thereby resembling the hedge¬
hog.
ECH1NITES, in Natural History, the name by
which authors call the fossil centronia, frequently found
in chalk pits.
ECHINOPHORA. See Botany Index.
ECHINOPS. See Botany Index.
ECHINUS,.
Echinus
H
Eclio.
E C H . f 51
a genus of animals belonging to the
vermes mollusca. See Helminthology
ECHINUS,
order of
Index.
  v "1 ' Echinus, In Architecture^ a member or ornament
near the bottom of the Ionic, Corinthian, and Compo¬
site capitals.
ECHLTES. See Botany Index.
ECHIUM, Viper’s Bugloss. See Botany Index.
ECHO, or Eccho, a sound reflected or reverberat-,
ed from a solid, concave, body, and so repeated to the
f See i4co;i-ear f * vvord is formed from the Greek sound,
ffecs, N° a6 which comes from the verb >!£*», «o«o.
The ancients being wholly unacquainted with the
true cause of the echo, ascribed it to several causes suf¬
ficiently whimsical. The poets, who were not the worst
of their philosophers, imagined it to be a person of
that name metamorphosed, and that she affected to take
up her abode in particular places j for they found by
experience, that she was not to be met with in all. (See
below, Echo in fabulous history}. But the moderns,
who know sound to consist in a certain tremor or vibra¬
tion in the sonorous body communicated to the conti¬
guous air, and by that means to the ear, give a more
consistent account of echo. .
For a tremulous body, striking on another solid bo¬
dy, it is evident, may be repelled without destroying
or diminishing its tremor j and consequently a sound
may be redoubled by the resilition of the tremulous
body, or air. . .
But a simple reflection of the sonorous air is not
enough to solve the echo : for then every plain surface
of a solid hard body, as being fit to reflect a voice or
sound, would redouble it, which we find does not
To produce an echo, therefore, it should seem that
a kind of concameration or vaulting were necessary, in
order to collect, and by collecting to heighten and in¬
crease, and afterwards reflect, the sound 5 as we find is
the case in reflecting the rays of light, where a concave
mirror is required. , ,
In effect, as often as a sound strikes perpendicular y
on a wall, behind which is any thing of a vault or arch,
or even another parallel wall, so often will it be rever¬
berated in the same line, or other adjacent ones.
For an echo to be heard, therefore, it is necessary
the ear be in the line of reflection: for the person who
made the sound to hear its echo, it is necessary he be
perpendicular to the place which reflects it; and lor a
manifold or tautological echo, it is necessary there be a
number of walls, and vaults or cavities, either placed
behind or fronting each other.
A single arch or concavity, &c. can scarce ever stop
and reflect all the sound j but if there be a convenient
disposition behind it, part of the sound propagated thi¬
ther being collected and reflected as before, will pre-
sent’another echo : or, if there be another concavity,
opposed at a duo distance to the former, the sound re-
fleeted from the one upon the other will be tossed back
again by this latter, &c. .
Many of the phenomena of echoes are well consider¬
ed by the bishop of Leighs, &c. who remarks, that any
sound, falling either directly or obliquely on any dense
body of a smooth, whether plain or arched, superficies,
is reflected, or echoes, more or less. The surface, says
he, must be smooth $ otherwise the air, by reverbeia-
o ] E C H
tion, will be put out of its regular motion, and the
sound thereby broken and extinguished. He adds, that
it echoes more or less, to show, that when all things
are as before described, there is still an echoing, though
it be not always heard, either because the direct sound
is too weak to beat quite back again to him that made
it j or that it does return to him, but so weak, that it
cannot be discerned j or that he stands in a wrong place
to receive the reflected sound, which passes over his
bead, under his feet, or on one side of him ; and which
therefore may be heard by a man standing in the place
where the reflected sound does come, provided no in-
terposed body intercepts it, but not by him that first
made it.
Echoes may be produced with different circum¬
stances. For, 1. A obstacle reflects the sound
back in its due tone and loudness j allowance being
made for the proportionable decrease of the sound, ac¬
cording to its distance.
2. A convex obstacle reflects the sound somewhat
smaller and somewhat quicker, though weaker, than
otherwise it would be.
3. A concave obstacle echoes back the sound, bigger,
slower, and also inverted j but never according to the
order of words. #
Nor does it seem possible to contrive any single echo,
that shall invert the sound, and repeat backwards ; be¬
cause, in such case, the word last spoken, that is, which
last occurs to the obstacle, must be repelled first j which
cannot be. For where in the mean time should the
first words hang and be concealed ; or how, after such a
pause, be revived, and animated again into motion ?
From the determinate concavity or archedness of
the reflecting bodies, it may happen that some of them
shall only echo back one determinate note, and only
from one place.
4. The echoing body being removed farther off, it
reflects more of the sound than when nearer ; which is
the reason why some echoes repeat but one syllable,
some one word, and some many.
5. Echoing bodies may be so contrived and placed,
as that reflecting the sound from one to the other, ei¬
ther directly and mutually, or obliquely and by succes¬
sion, out of one sound, a multiple echo or many echoes
shall arise.
Add, that a multiple echo may be made, by so pla¬
cing the echoing bodies at unequal distances, that they
may reflect all one way, and not one on the other; by
which means, a manifold successive sound will be heard;
one clap of the hands, like many ; one /m, like a laugh¬
ter ; one single word, like many of the same tone and
accent; and so one viol, like many of the same kind,
imitating each other.
Lastly, Echoing bodies may be so ordered, that from
any one sound given, they shall produce many echoes
different both as to tone and intension. By which
means a musical room may be so contrived, that not
only one instrument playing therein shall seem many
of the same sort and size, but even a concept of differ¬
ent ones, only by placing certain echoing bodies so,
that any note placed shall be returned by them m
jds, 5ths, and 8ths.
Echo is also used for the place where the repetition
of the sound is produced or heard.
Echoes are distinguished into divers kinds, viz.
S l. Single,
Echo
E C H [5
Jio# !• Single, which return the voice but once. Whereof
some are tonical, which only return a voice when mo¬
dulated into some particular musical tone : Others,
polysyllabical, which return many syllables, words, and
sentences. Of this last kind is that fine echo in Wood-
stock park, which Dr Plot assures us, in the day time,
will return very distinctly seventeen syllables, and in
the night twenty.
2. Multiple or tautological; which return syllables
and words the same oftentimes repeated.
In echoes, the place where the speaker stands is call¬
ed the centrum phonicum, and the object or place that
returns the voice, the centrum phonocampticmn.
At the sepulchre of Metella, wife of Crassus, was an
echo, which repeated what a man said five times.
Authors mention a tower at Cysticus, where the echo
repeated seven times. One of the finest echoes we read
of is that mentioned by Barthius, in his notes on Sta¬
tius’s Thebais, lib. vi. 30. which repeated the words
a man uttered 17 times : it was on the banks of the
Naha, between Coblentz and Bingen. Barthius assures
us, he had proved what he writes j and had told 17
repetitions. And whereas, in common echoes, the re¬
petition is not heard till some time after hearing the
word spoke, or the notes sung ; in this, the person who
speaks or sings is scarce heard at all ; but the repeti¬
tion most clearly, and always in surprising varieties j the
echo seeming sometimes to approach nearer, and some¬
times to be further off. Sometimes the voice is heard
very distinctly, and sometimes scarce at all. One hears
only one voice, and another several 5 one hears the
echo on the right, and another on the left, &c. At
Milan in Italy, is an echo which reiterates the report
of a pistol 56 times j and if the report is very loud, up¬
wards of 60 reiterations may be counted. The first
20 echoes are pretty distinct; but as the noise seems
to fly away, and answer at a greater distance, the re¬
iterations are so doubled, that they can scarce be count¬
ed. See an account of a remarkable echo under the
article Paisley.
Echo, in Architecture, a term applied to certain
kinds of vaults and arches, most commonly of the el¬
liptic and parabolic figures, used to redouble sounds,
and produce artificial echoes.
Echo, in Poetry, a kind of composition wherein the
last words or syllables of each verse contain some
meaning, which, being repeated apart, answers to
some question or other matter contained in the verse j
as in this beautiful one from Virgil:
Crudelis mater magis, an puer improbus ille $
Improbus ille puer, crudelis tu quoque mater.
The elegance of an echo consists in giving a new sense
to the last words j which reverberate, as it were, the
motions of the mind, and by that means affect it with
surprise and admiration.
Echo, in fabulous history, a daughter of the Air
and Tellus, who chiefly x-esided in the vicinity of the
Cephisus. She was once one of Juno’s attendants,
and became the confidant of Jupiter’s amours. Her
loquacity, however, displeased Jupiter, and she was de¬
prived of the power of speech by Juno, and only per¬
mitted to answer to the questions which were put to
her. Pan had formerly been one of her admirers, but
he never enjoyed her favours. Echo, after she bad
11 ] E C L
been punished by Juno, fell in love with Narcissus j but Echo
being despised by him, pined herself to death, having 11
nothing but her voice left. Ecliptic.
ECHOMETER, among musicians, a kind of scale
or rule, with several lines thereon, serving to measure
the duration and length of sounds, and to find their in¬
tervals and ratios.
ECHOUERIES. See under Trichecus.
ECK1US, John, an eminent and learned divine,
professor in the university at Ingolstadt, memorable
for the opposition he gave to Luther, Melancthon,
Caralostadius, and other leading protestants in Ger¬
many. He wrote many polemical tracts ; and among
the rest, a Manual of Controversies, printed in 1535,
in which he discourses upon most of the heads contested
between the Protestants and Papists. He was a man
of uncommon learning, parts, and zeal, and died in
1543-
ECLECTICS, (eclectici), a name given to some an¬
cient philosophers, who without attaching them¬
selves to any particular sect, took what they judged
good and solid from each. Hence their denomina¬
tion ; which, in the original Greek, signifies, “ that
may be chosen,” or “ that choosesof the verb
fxAiy», I choose.—Laertius notes, that they were also,
lor the same reason, denominated analogetici; but
that they call themselves Philalethes, i. e. lovers of
truth.
The chief or founder of the eclectici was one Po-
tamon of Alexandria, who lived under Augustus and
Tiberius ; and who, weary of doubting of all things
with the Sceptics and Pyrrhonians, formed the eclectic
sect 5 which Vossius calls the cclective.
Towards the close of the second century, a sect
arose in the Christian church under the denomination
of Eclectics, or modern Platonics. They professed to
make truth the only object of their inquiry, and to
be ready to adopt from all the different systems and
sects such tenets as theytthought agreeable to it.—-
However, they preferred Plato to the other philoso¬
phers, and looked upon his opinions concerning God,
the human soul, and things invisible, as conformable to
the spirit and genius of the Christian doctrine. One of
the principal patrons of this system was Ammonius
Saccas, who at this time laid the foundation of that
sect, afterwards distinguished by the name of the new
Platonics, in the Alexandrian school. See Ammoniu*
and Platonists.
Eclectics were also a certain sect of physicians
among the ancients, of whom Archigenes, under Tra¬
jan, was the chief, who selected from the opinions of
all the other sects that which appeared to them best
and most rational ; hence they are called eclectics, and
their prescriptions niedicina eelectiea.
ECLIPSE, in Astronomy, the deprivation of the
light of the sun, or of some heavenly body, by the in¬
terposition of another heavenly body between our sight
and it. See Astronomy Index.
ECLIPTA, in Botany, a genus of the polygamia
superflua order, belonging to the syngenesia class of
plants. The receptacle is chaffy; there is no pappus,
and the corollulae of the disk quadrifid.
ECLIPTIC, in Astronomy, a great circle of the
sphere, supposed to be drawn through the middle of the
zodiac, making an angle with the equinoctial of about
23°
E C T [51
230 30', wliicli is the sun’s greatest declination j or,
more strictly speaking, it is that path or way among
the fixed stars, that the earth appears to describe to an
eye placed in the sun. Sec Astronomy Index.
Some call it via solisy “ the way of the sun 5” be¬
cause the sun in his apparent annual motion never de¬
viates from it, as all the other planets do more or less.
Ecliptic, in Geography, a great circle on the ter¬
restrial globe, not only answering to, but falling within,
the plane of the celestial ecliptic. See Geography.
ECLOGUE, in Poetry, a kind of pastoral com¬
position, wherein shepherds are introduced conversing
together. The word is formed from the Greek vchoy/i,
choice; so that, according to the etymology, eclogue
should be no more than a select or choice piece 5 hut
custom has determined it to a farther signification, viz.
a little elegant composition in a simple natural style
and manner.
Idyllion and eclogue, in their primary intention, are
the same thing : thus, the idyllia, of Theocri¬
tus, are pieces wrote perfectly in the same vein with the
eclogce of Virgil. But custom has made a diflerence
between them, and appropriated the name eclogue to
pieces wherein shepherds are introduced speaking:
idyllion, to those wrote like the eclogue, in a simple
natural style, but without any shepherds in them.
ECLUSE, a small but strong town of the Dutch
Low Countries, with a good harbour and sluices. The
English besieged it in vain in 1405, and the people of
Bruges in 1436. It is defended by several forts, and
stands near the sea. E. Long. 3. 20. N. Lat. 51, 2I*
ECONOMISTS, a sect of philosophers, who have
explained and illustrated the principles of political sci¬
ence. See Supplement.
ECONOMY, Political. See Political Economy.
ECPHRACTICS, in Medicine, remedies which at¬
tenuate and remove obstructions. See AttenuanTS,
and Deobstruents, Materia Medica Index.
ECSTACY. See Extasy.
ECSTATIC!, e*s-*t<*<h, from I am entran¬
ced, in antiquity, a kind of diviners who were cast into
trances or ecstasies, in which they lay like dead men,
or asleep, deprived of all sense and motion } but, after
some time, returning to themselves, gave strange rela¬
tions of what they had seen or heard.
ECTHESIS, in church history, a confession of faith,
in the form of an edict, published in the year 639, by
the emperor Heraclius, with a view to pacify the trou¬
bles occasioned by the Eutychian heresy in the eastern
church. However, the same prince revoked it, on be¬
ing informed that Pope Severinus had conderaned it, as
favouring the Monothelites ; declaring at the same
time, that Sergius, patriarch of Constantinople, was the
author of it.
ECTHLIPSIS, among Latin grammarians, a figure
of prosody, whereby the m at the end of a word, when
the following word begins with a vowel, is elided, or
cut off, together with the vowel preceding it, for the
sake of the measure of the verse : thus they read mulC
ille, for multum ille.
ECTROPIUM, in Surgery, is when the eyelids are
inverted, or retracted, so that they show their internal
or red surface, and cannot sufficiently cover the eye.
ECTYLOTICS, in Pharmacy, remedies proper for
consuming callosities.
2 ] E D B
ECU, or Escu, a French crown ; for the value of
which, see Money.
ED AY, one of the Orkney isles, is about five miles
and a half long, and about a mile and a half broad.
It has several good harbours, and contains about 600
inhabitants.
EDDA, in antiquities, is a system of the ancient
Icelandic or Runic mythology, containing many cu¬
rious particulars of the theology, philosophy, and
manners, of the northern nations of Europe ; or of
the Scandinavians, who had migrated from Asia, and
from whom our Saxon ancestors were descended. Mr
Mallet apprehends that it was originally compiled,
soon after the Pagan religion was abolished, as a course
of poetical lectures, for the use of such young Ice¬
landers as devoted themselves to the profession of a
scald or poet. It consists of two principal parts ; the
Jirst containing a brief system of mythology, properly
called the Edda ; and the second being a kind of art of
poetry, and called scalda or poetics. The most ancient
Edda was compiled by Soemund Sigfusson, surnam-
ed the Learned, who was born in Iceland about the
year 1057. This was abridged, and rendered more
easy and intelligible, about 120 years afterwards, by
Snorro Stnrleson, who was supreme judge of Iceland
in the years 1215 and 1222 j and it was published in
the form of a dialogue. tie added also the second
part in the form of a dialogue, being a detail of dif¬
ferent events transacted among the divinities. The
only three pieces that are known to remain of the more
ancient Edda of Soemund, are the Volupsa, the Hava-
maal, and the Runic chapter. The Volupsa, or pro¬
phecy of Vola or Fola, appears to be the text, on
which the Edda is the comment. It contains, in two
or three hundred lines, the whole system of mythology
disclosed in the Edda, and may be compared to the
Sibylline verses, on account of its laconic yet bold style,
and its imagery and obscurity. It is professedly a re¬
velation of the decrees of the Father of nature, and
the actions and operations of the gods. It describes
the chaos, the formation of the world, with its various
inhabitants, the functions of the gods, their most signal
adventures, their quarrels with Loke their great ad¬
versary', and the vengeance that ensued j and con¬
cludes with a long description of the final state of the
universe, its dissolution and conflagration, the battle of
the inferior deities and the evil beings, the renova¬
tion of the world, the happy lot of the good, and the
punishment of the wicked. The Havamaal, or Sub¬
lime Discourse, is attributed to the god Odin, who is
supposed to have given these precepts of wisdom to
mankind ; it is comprised in about 120 stanzas, and re¬
sembles the book of Proverbs. Mr Mallet has given se¬
veral extracts of this treatise on the Scandinavian ethics.
The Runic chapter contains a short system of ancient
magic, and especially of the enchantments wrought by
the operation of Runic characters, of which Mr Mal¬
let has also given a specimen. A manuscript copy of
the Edda of Snorro is preserved in the library of the
university of Upsal ; the first part of which hath been
published with a Swedish and Latin version by M.
Goranson. The Latin version is printed as a supple¬
ment to M. Mallet’s Northern Antiquities. The first
edition of the Edda was published by Resenius, pro¬
fessor at Copenhagen, in a large quarto volume, m the
year
E 13 E [ t
Ijja year 1665 j containing the text of the Edtla, a Latin
l| translation by an Icelandic priest, a Danish version,
ick,l and various readings from different MSS. M. Mallet
has also given an English translation of the first part,
accompanied with remarks j from which we learn, that
the Edda teaches the doctrine of the Supreme, called
the Universal Father, and Odin, who lives forever, go¬
verns all his kingdom, and directs the great things as
well as the small; who formed the heaven, earth, and
air; made man, and gave him a spirit or soul, which
shall live after the body shall have mouldered away ; and
then all the just shall dwell with him in a place Gimlc
or Vingolf the palace of friendship; but wicked men
shall go to Hela, or death, and from thence to Niflheim,
or the abode of the wicked, which is below in the ninth
world. It inculcates also the belief of several inferior
gods and goddesses, the chief of whom is Frigga or
Frea, i. e. lady, meaning hereby the earth, who was
the spouse of Odin or the Supreme God; whence
we may infer that, according to the opinion of these
ancient philosophers, this Odin vras the active prin¬
ciple or soul of the world, which uniting itself with
matter, had thereby put it into a condition to pro¬
duce the intelligences or inferior gods, and men and
all. other creatures. The Edda likewise teaches the
existence of an evil being called Loke, the calumnia¬
tor of the gods, the artificer of fraud, who surpasses
all other beings in cunning and perfidy. It teaches
the creation of all things out of an abyss or chaos ;
the final destruction of the world by fire ; the absorp¬
tion of the inferior divinities, both good and bad, into
the bosom of the grand divinity, from whom all things
proceeded, as emanations of his essence, and who will
survive all things; and the renovation of the earth in
an improved state.
EDDISH, or Eadish, the latter pasture or grass
that comes after mowing or reaping ; otherwise called
eagrase or earsh, and etch.
EDDOES, or Edders, in Botany, the American
name of the Arum escidenturn.
P..DD\, (Saxon), of ed, “ backward,” and ea,
water,” among seamen, is where the water runs
back contrary to the tide ; or that which hinders the
free passage of the stream, and so causes it to return
again. That eddy water, which falls back, as it were,
on the rudder of a ship under sail, the seamen call the
dead water.
Eddy Wind is that which returns or is beat back
fiom a sail, mountain, or any tiling that may hinder
its passage.
EDELINCK, Gerard, a famous engraver, born
at Antwerp, where he was instructed in drawing and
engraving. He settled at Paris, in the reign of
Louis XIV. who made him his engraver in ordinary.
Edelinek was also counsellor in the Royal Academy
of Painting. His works are particularly esteemed for
the neatness of the engraving, their brilliant cast, and
the prodigious ease apparent in the execution; and
to this facility is owing the great number of plates
we have of his; among which are excellent portraits
of a great number of illustrious men of his time.
Among the most admired of his prints, the fol¬
lowing may be specified as holding the chief place.
1. A battle between four horsemen, with three figures
tying slain upon the ground, from Leonardo da Vinci.
Vol. VII. Part II. -f
H3] E D H
2. A holy family, with Elizabeth, St John, and two
angels, from the famous picture of Raphael in the kin^
of Prance’s collection. The first impressions are before
the arms ol M. Colbert were added at the bottom of
the plate; the second are with the arms; and in the
third the arms are taken out, but the place where they
had been inserted is very perceptible. 3. Mary Mag¬
dalen bewailing her sins, and trampling upon the riches
of the world, from Le Brim. The first impressions are
without the narrow border which surrounds the print.
4. Alexander entering into the tent of Darius, a large
print on two plates, from Le Brun. This engraving
belongs to the three battles, and triumphal entry of
Alexander into Babylon, by Girard Amiran, and
completes the set. The first impressions have the
name of Goyton the printer at the bottom. 5. Alex¬
ander entering into the tent of Darius (finished by
P. Drevet), from Peter Mignard. Edelinck died in
1707, in an advanced age, at the Hotel Royal at the
Gobelins, where he had an apartment. He had a
brother named John, who was a skilful engraver, but
died young.
EDEN, (Moses) the name of a country, with a
garden, in which the progenitors of mankind were
settled by God himself: Th<y term denotes pleasure
or delight. It w'otild he endless to recount the se¬
veral opinions concerning its situation, some of them
very wild and extravagant. Moses says, that “ a ri¬
ver went out of Eden to water the garden, and from
thence it was parted and became into four heads.”
The river is supposed to he the common channel of
the Euphrates and Tigris, after their confluence;
which parted again, below the garden, into two dif¬
ferent channels; so that the two channels before, and
the other two after their confluence, constitute the
heads mentioned by Moses. Which will determine
the situation of the garden to have been in the south
of Mesopotamia, or in Babylonia. The garden was
also called Paradise; a term of Persic original, denot¬
ing a garden. See Paradise.
EDGINGS, in Gardening, the series of small but
durable plants set round the edges or borders of flower
beds, &c. The best and most durable of all plants for
this use is box ; which, if well planted and rightly ma¬
naged, will continue in strength and beauty for many
years. The seasons for planting this are the autumn,
and very early in the spring: and the best species for
this purpose is the dwarf Dutch box.
Formerly, it was also a very common practice to
plant borders, or edgings, of aromatic herbs ; as thyme,
savory, hyssop, lavender, and the like; but these are
all apt to grow woody, and to be in part, or wholly,
destroyed in hard winters. Daisies, thrift, or sea july-
flower, and chamomile, are also used by some for this
purpose : but they require yearly transplanting, and a
great deal of trouble, else they grow out of form ; and
they are also subject to perish in very hard seasons.
EDHILING, Edhilingus, an ancient appellation
of the nobility among the Anglo-Saxons.
The Saxon nation, says Nithard (Hist. lib. iv.) is
divided into three orders or classes of people ; the edhi-
lingi, thefrilingi, and the la%%i: which signify the no-
bility, the freemen, and the vassals or slaves.
Instead of edhiling, we sometimes meet with atkeling,
or cstheling; which appellation was likewise given to
3 T the
Tdeiinck
tl
Edhiliiijf.
EDI [5
Edhiling
Si
Edinburgh.
the king’s son, and the presumptive heir of the crown.
See Atheeing.
EDICT, in matters of polity, an order or instru¬
ment, signed and sealed by a prince, to serve as a law
14 ] EDI
to his subjects. We find frequent mention of the edicts
of the praetor, the ordinances of that officer in the '—-yv
Roman law.
EDINBURGH.
r... .x T7DINBURGH, a city of Mid-Lothian, in Scotland,
the^nanjr. situated in W. Long. 30, and N. Lat. 56°, near the
southern bank of the river Forth.—The origin of the
name, like that of most other cities, is very uncertain.
Some imagine it to be derived from Eth, a supposed
king of the Piets j others from Edwin, a Saxon prince
of Northumberland, who overran the whole or greatest
part of the territories of the Piets, about the year
617 } while others choose to derive it irom two Gaelic
words Dun Edin, signifying the face of a hill. The
name Edinburgh itself, however, seems to have been
unknown in the time of the Romans. The most an¬
cient title by which we find this city distinguished is
that of Castelh Mynyd Agned; which, in the British lan¬
guage, signifies “ the fortress of the hill ol St Agnes.”
Afterwards it was named Castrum Puellarum, because
the Pictish princesses were educated in the castle (a
• necessary protection in those barbarous ages) till they
Time of were married.^—The ages in which these names were
its fouada- given cannot indeed now be exactly ascertained :. but
tionuncer- the town certainly cannot boast of very great antiquity •,
tain' since, as Mr Whittaker informs us, the celebrated King
Arthur fought a battle on the spot where it is situated
towards the end of the fifth century.
The Romans, during the time they held the domi¬
nion of part of this island, divided their possessions into
six provinces. The most northerly of these was called
Valentia, which comprehended all the space betwixt
the walls of Adrian and Severus. Thus Edinburgh,
lying on the very outskirts of that province which was
most exposed to the ravages of the barbarians, became
perpetually subject to wars and devastations j by means
of which, the time of its first foundation cannot now be
guessed at.
The castle is certainly very ancient. It continued
in the hands of the Saxons or English from the inva¬
sion of Octa and Ebusa in the year 452 till the defeat
of Egfrid king of Northumberland in 685 by the Piets,
who then repossessed themselves of it. The Saxon
kings of Northumberland reconquered it in the ninth
century } and it was retained by their successors till
the year 956, when it was given up to Indulphus
king of Scotland. In 1093 it was unsuccessfully be¬
sieged by the usurper Donald Bane. Whether the city
was at that time founded or not is uncertain. Most
probably it was : for as protection from violence was
necessary in those barbarous ages, the castle of Edin¬
burgh could not fail of being an inducement to many
people to settle in its neighbourhood j and thus the
city would gradually be founded and increase.—In
1128, King David I. founded the abbey of Holy-
roodhouse, for certain canons regular: and granted
them a charter, in which he styled the town JBurgo jneo
de Edwinesburgh, “ my borough of Edinburgh.” By
the same charter he granted these canons 40 shillings
yearly out of the town revenues ; and likewise 48 shil¬
lings more from the same, in case of the failure of cer¬
tain duties payable from the king’s revenue ; and like¬
wise one half of the tallow, lard and hides, of all the
beasts killed in Edinburgh. 3
In 1174, the castle of Edinburgh was surrendered Castle sd
to Henry II. of England, in order to purchase therenderd
liberty of King William I. who had been defeated
and taken prisoner by the English. But when Wil¬
liam recovered his liberty, he entered into an alliance
with Henry, and married his cousin Ermengarde ; up¬
on which the castle was restored as part of the queen’s
dower.
In 1215, this city was first distinguished by having a
parliament and provincial synod held in it.—In 1296,
the castle was besieged and taken by Edward I. of
England 5 but was recovered in 1313 by Randolph earl
of Moray, who was afterwards regent of Scotland du¬
ring the minority of King David II. At last King
Robert destroyed the fortress, as well as all others in
Scotland, lest they should afford shelter to the English
in any of their after incursions into Scotland.—It lay
in ruins for a considerable number of years ; but was
afterwards rebuilt by Edward III. of England, who
placed a strong garrison in it.
In 1341 it was reduced by the following stratagem.
A man pretending to be an English merchant, came
to the governor, and told him that he had on board his
ship in the Forth, some wine, beer, biscuits, See. which
he would sell him on very reasonable terms. A bargain
being made, he promised to deliver the goods next
morning at a very reasonable rate • but at the time ap¬
pointed, twelve men, disguised in the habit of sailors,
entered the castle with the goods and supposed mer¬
chant : and having instantly killed the porter and cen-
tlnels, Sir William Douglas, on a preconcerted signal,
rushed in with a band of armed men, and quickly made
himself master of the place, after having cut most of the
garrison in pieces. _ 4
The year 1437 is remarkable for the execution of Cruel«
the earl of Athol and his accomplices, who had a con-cuttou^
cern in the murder of James I. 1 he crime, it must
be owned, was execrable •, but the punishment was al-janM.5j
together shocking to humanity. For three days suc¬
cessively the assassins were tortured by putting on their
heads iron crowns, heated red hot, dislocating their
joints, pinching their flesh with red hot pincers, and
carrying them in that dreadful situation through the
streets upon hurdles. At last an end was put to their
sufferings, by cutting them up alive, and sending the
parts of their mangled bodies to the principal towns of
the kingdom. > j
About the end of the 14th century it was custom-Edinbur
ary to consider Edinburgh as the capital of the king-beco»ei
dom. The town of Leith, with its harbour and mills, the cap
had been bestowed upon it by Robert I. in 1329 5 an‘‘
his grandson John earl of Garrick, who afterwards
ascended the throne by the name of Robert HI. con¬
ferred upon all the burgesses the singular privilege °i
r building
E D I N B
MirgU. building houses in the castle, upon the sole condition
f-JL/.tliat they should be persons of good fame ; which we
must undoubtedly consider as a proof that the number
of these burgesses was at that time very small. In
1461, a very considerable privilege was conferred on
the city by Henry VI. of England when in a state of
exile j viz. that its inhabitants should have liberty to
trade to all the English ports on the same terms with
the city of London. This extraordinary privilege was
bestowed in consequence of the kindness with which
that king was treated in a visit to the Scottish
monarch at Edinburgh 5 but as Henry was never re¬
stored, his gratitude was not attended with any bene¬
fit to this city. From this time, however, its privi¬
leges continued to be increased from various causes.
In 1482 the citizens had an opportunity of libe¬
rating King James from the oppression of bis nobles,
by whom he had been imprisoned in the castle. On
this account the provost was by that monarch made
hereditary high sheriff within the city, an office which
he continues still to enjoy. The council at the
same time were invested with the power of making
laws and statutes for the government of the city ; and
the trades, as a testimony of the royal gratitude for
their loyalty, received the banner known by the name
of the Blue Blanket; an ensign formerly capable of
producing great commotions, but which has not now
been displayed for many years past. However, it still
exists ; and the convener of the trades has the charge
of keeping it.
r(.al It was not long after the discovery of America that
e ini- the venereal disease, imported from that country, made
; its way to Edinburgh. As early as 1497, only five
years after the voyage of Columbus, we find it looked
upon as a most dreadful plague ; and the unhappy per¬
sons affected with it were separated as effectually as pos¬
sible from society. The place of their exile was Inch-
keith, a small island, near the middle of the Forth ;
which, small as it is, has a spring of fresh water, and
now affords pasture to some sheep.
1 of _ By the overthrow of James IV. at the battle of
wn Flowden, the city of Edinburgh was overwhelmed
with grief and confusion, that monarch having been
attended in his unfortunate expedition by the earl of
Angus, then provost, with the rest of the magistrates,
and a number of the principal inhabitants, most of
whom perished in the battle. After this disaster, the
inhabitants being alarmed for the safety of their city,
it was enacted that every fourth man should keep
watch at night •, the fortifications of the town were
renewed, the wall being also extended in such a man¬
ner as to enclose the Grassmarket, and the field on
which Heriot’s Hospital, the Grey Friars Church, and
Charity Woikhouse, stand. On the east side it was
made to enclose the College, Infirmary, and High
School-, after which, turning to the north, it met the
old wall at the Netherbow port. After this alarm was
over, the inhabitants were gradually relieved from the
trouble ot watching at night, and a certain number of
militia appointed to prevent disturbances ; who con¬
tinue to this day, and are known by the name of
the Town Guard. Before these new enclosures, most
of the principal people lived in the Cowgate without
the wall j and the burying place was situated where the
U R G H. 515
Parliament Close now is. In our days of peace, when Edinburgh,
no alarm of an enemy is at all probable, great part of -11 v' ■ ■ ’
the walls, with all the gates, have been taken down,
and the city laid quite open, in order to afford more
ready passage to the great concourse of people with
whom the street is daily filled. But at the period,
we speak of, not only were the inhabitants much less
numerous by reason of the small extent of the city,
but it was depopulated by a dreadful plague j so that,
to stop if possible the progress of the infection, all
houses and shops were shut up for 14 days, and some
where infected persons had died were pulled down al¬
together. g
In 1504, the tract of ground called the Bur rough Erection of
Muir was totally overgrown with wood, though nowj,vco^en
it affords not the smallest vestige of having been jn louses-
such a state. So great was the quantity at that time,
however, that it was enacted by the town council, that
whoever inclined to purchase as much wood as was
sufficient to make a new front for their house, might
extend it seven feet into the street. Thus the city
was in a short time filled with houses of wood instead
of stone ; by which, besides the inconvenience of ha¬
ving the street narrowed 14 feet, and the beautv off
the whole entirely marred, it became much more lia¬
ble to accidents by fire : but almost all these are now
pulled down ; and in doing this a singular taste in the
masonry which supported them is said to have been dis¬
covered. 9
In 1542, a war with England having commenced Edinburgh
through the treachery of Cardinal Beaton, an English destroyed
fleet of 200 sail entered the Fort!) ; and having landed
their forces, quickly made themselves masters of the 0
towns of Leith and Edinburgh. They next attacked
the castle, but were repulsed from it with loss ; and bv
this they were so enraged, that they not only destroyed
the towns of Edinburgh and Leith, but laid waste the
country for a great way round.—These towns, how¬
ever, speedily recovered from their ruinous state ; and,
in 1547, Leith was again burned by the English after
the battle of Pinkey, but Edinburgh was spared. ro
Several disturbances happened in this capital at the S,eSe “fthe
time of the Reformation, of which an account is given (w^1 Eli
under the article Scotland \ but none of these greatly zabeth’s
affected the city till the year 1570, at which time time,
there was a civil war on account of Q. Mary’s forced
resignation. The regent, who was one of the contending
parties, bought the castle from the perfidious governor
(Balfour) for 5000I. and the priory of Pittenweem.
He did not, however, long enjoy the fruits of this in¬
famous bargain. Sir William Kirkaldy, the new go¬
vernor, a man of great integrity and bravery, declared
for the queen. The city in the mean time was some¬
times in the hands of one party and sometimes of ano¬
ther; during which contentions, the inhabitants, as
may easily be imagined, suffered extremely. In the
year 1570 above mentioned, Queen Elizabeth sent a
body of IOCO foot and 300 horse, under the command
of Sir Will iain Drury, to assist the king’s party. The
castle was summoned to surrender; and several skir¬
mishes happened during the space of two years, in
which a kind of predatory war was carried on. At
last a truce was agreed on till the month of January
1 $73 ; and this opportunity the earl of Morton, now
3 T 2 regent,
5,6 E D I N B
KAmbar^li. regent, matle use of to build two bulwarks across the
  mhigh street, nearly opposite to the tolbooth, to defend
the. city from the fire of the castle.
On the first of January, early in the morning, the
oovernor began to cannonade the city. Some of the
cannon were pointed against the fish-market, then
held on the high street •, and the bullets falling among
the fishes, scattered them about in a surprising manner,
and even drove them up so high in the air, that they
fell down upon the tops of the houses. This unusual
spectacle having brought a number of people out of
their houses, some of them were killed, and others
dangerously wounded. Some little time afterwards,
several houses were set on fire by shot from the castle,
and burned to the ground, which greatly enraged the
people against the governor. A treaty was at last con¬
cluded between the leaders of the opposite factions ;
but Kirkaldy refused to be comprehended in it. The
regent therefore solicited the assistance of Queen Eli¬
zabeth, and Sir 'William Drury was again sent into
Scotland with 1500 foot and a train of artillery. The
castle was now besieged in form, and batteries raised
against it in different places. The governor defended
himself with great bravery for 33 days j but finding
most of the fortifications demolished, the well choked
up with rubbish, and all supplies of water cut off, he
was obliged to surrender. The English general, in
the name of his mistress, promised him honourable
treatment; but the queen of England shamefully gave
him up to the regent, by whom he was hanged.
Soon after this, the spirit of fanaticism, which suc¬
ceeded the Reformation, produced violent commotions,
not only in Edinburgh, but through the whole king¬
dom. The foundation of these disturbances, and in¬
deed of most others which have ever happened in Chri¬
stendom on account of religion, was that pernicious
maxim of Popery, that the church is independent of
the state. It is not to be supposed that this maxim
was at all agreeable to the sovereign *, but such was
the attachment of the people to the doctrines of the
clergy, that King James found himself obliged to com¬
pound matters with them. This, however, answered the
purpose hut very ind 1 Herently j and at last a violent up-
The city roar was excited. The king was then sitting in the
incurs the court of session, which was held in the tolbooth,
displeasure vvllen a petition was presented to him hy six persons,
James ]amentjng ti,e dangers which threatened religion 5 and
being treated with very little respect by one Bruce, a
minister, his majesty asked who they were that dared
to convene against his proclamation ? He was answer¬
ed by Lord Lindsay, that they dared to do more, and
would not suffer religion to be overthrown. On this
the king perceiving a number of people crowding in¬
to the room, withdrew into another without making
any reply, ordering the door to be shut. By this the
petitioners were so much enraged, that on their return
to the church the most furious resolutions were taken ;
and had it not been for the activity of Sir Alexander
Home the provost, and Mr Watt the deacon convener,
who assembled the crafts in his majesty’s behalf, it is
more than probable that the door would have been
forced, and an end put to his life. Ibis affront was
so much resented by the king, that he thought proper
to declare Edinburgh an unfit place of residence for the
court ur the administration of justice. In consequence
U R G H.
of this declaration, he commanded the college of justice, Painbur*:
the inferior judges, and the nobility and barons, to «■
retire from Edinburgh, and not to return without ex¬
press license. This unexpected declaration threw the
whole town into consternation, and brought back the
magistrates and principal inhabitants to a sense ot their
duty. With the clergy it was far otherwise. They
railed against the king in the most furious manner,
and endeavouring to persuade the people to take
up arms, the magistrates were ordered to imprison
them *, but they escaped by a timely flight. A de¬
putation of the most respectable burgesses was then
sent to the king at Linlithgow, with a view to miti¬
gate his resentment. But he refused to be pacified j
and on the last day of December 1596 entered the
town between two rows of his soldiers who lined the
streets, while the citizens were commanded to keep
within their houses. A convention of the estates was
held in the tolbooth, before whom the magistrates
made the most abject submissions, but in vain. The
convention declared one ol the late tumults, in which
an attack had been made upon the king’s person, to
be high treason ; and ordained, that ii the magistrates
did not find out the authors, the city itself should he
subjected to all the penalties due to that crime. It was
even proposed to raze the town to the foundation, and
erect a pillar on the spot where it had stood, as a mo¬
nument of its crimes. The inhabitants were now re¬
duced to the utmost despair; but Queen Elizabeth In¬
terposing in behalf of the city, the king thought pro¬
per to abate somewhat ol his rigour. A criminal
prosecution, however, was commenced, and the town
council were commanded to appear at Perth by the first
of February. On their petition, the time lor their ap¬
pearance was prolonged to the first of March ; and the
attendance of 13 of the common council was declared
sufficient, provided they had a proper commission from
the rest. The trial commenced on the 5th day of
the month ; and one of the number having failed in his
attendance, the cause was immediately decided against
the council ; they were declared rebels, and their re¬
venues forfeited. » |
For 15 days the city'continued in the utmost eonfu-Is again
sion ; but, at last, on their earnest supplication, and 5
fering to submit entirely to the king’s mercy, the com¬
munity were restored on the following conditions, which
they had formerly proffered : That they should conti¬
nue to make a most diligent search for the authors of
the tumult in order to bring them to condign punish¬
ment ; that none of the seditious ministers should be
allowed to return to their charges, and no others ad¬
mitted without his majesty’s consent ; and that in the
election of their magistrates they should present a list
of the candidates to the king and his lords of council
and session, whom his majesty and their lordships might
approve or reject at pleasure. To these conditions the
king now added some others; viz. that the houses
which had been possessed by the ministers should be de¬
livered up to the king; and that the clergymen should
afterwards live dispersed through the town, every one
in his own parish.: That the town council house should
be appointed for accommodating the court of exche¬
quer : and that the town should become bound lor the
safety of the lords of session from any attempts of the
burgesses, under a penalty of 40,000 merks ; and, lastly,
E D I N B
nirgh. that the town should Immediately pay 20,000 merles to
y-—*-'his majesty.
Upon these terms a reconciliation took place j which
appears to have been very complete, as the king not on¬
ly allowed the degraded ministers to he replaced, but in
1610 conferred a mark of his favour on the town, by
allowing the provost to have a sword of state carried
before him, and the magistrates to wear gowns on pub¬
lic occasions. In 1618 be paid bis last visit to this city,
when be was received with the most extravagant pomp
and magnificence. See Scotland.
The events which, during this period, regard the in-
U R G H.
Si?
tn fs,&c.
p1 die ternal police of the city, were principally the follow¬
ing. After the unfortunate battle at Pinkey, the ma¬
gistrates, probably apprehending that now their power
was enlarged by reason of the present calamity, pro¬
ceeded in some respects in a very arbitrary manner j
forcing the inhabitants to furnish materials for the pub¬
lic works ; enjoining merchants to bring home silver
to be coined at the mint ; and ordering lanterns to be
hung out at proper places to burn till nine at night, &c.
Another invasion from England being apprehended in
1558, the city raised 1450 men for its defence, among
whom there are said to have been 200 tailors, so that
their profession seems to have been in a very flourishing
state at that time. During the disturbances which
happened at the Reformation, and of which a particular
account is given under the article Scotland, it was
enacted, that the figure of St Giles should be cut out of
the town standard, and that of a thistle inserted in its
place. It was likewise enacted, that none but those who
professed the reformed religion should serve in any of¬
fice whatever $ and the better to preserve the extraor¬
dinary appearance of sanctity which was affected, a pil¬
lar was erected in the North Loch, for the purpose of
ducking fornicators.
In 1595, the boys of the High School rose against
their masters 5 and such was the barbarism of those
days, that one of these striplings shot a magistrate with
a pistol, who had come along with the rest to reduce
them to obedience. The reason of the uproar was,
that they were in that year refused two vacations,
which had been customary in former times: however,
they were at last obliged to submit, and ever since have
been allowed one for about six weeks in the autumn.
The same year the house of one of the bailies was as¬
saulted by the tradesmen’s sons, assisted by journeymen
who had not received the freedom of the town j he es¬
caped with his life, but the offenders were banished the
city for ever.
In the beginning of the reign of Charles I. a per¬
fect harmony seems to have subsisted between the court
and the city of Edinburgh ; for in 1627 King Charles I.
presented the city with a new sword and gown to be
worn by the provost at the times appointed by his fa¬
ther James VI. Next year he paid a visit to this ca¬
pital, and was received by the magistrates in a most
pompous manner j but soon after this the disturbances
arose which were not terminated but by the death of
that unfortunate monarch. Tiifese commenced on an
attempt of Charles to introduce Episcopacy into the
kingdom $ and the first step towards this was the erec¬
tion of the three Lothians and part of Berwick into
a diocese, Edinburgh being the episcopal seat, and the
church of St Giles the cathedral. An account of the
'atj an-
:s il he
me.
disturbance occasioned by the first attempt to read the Edinliu!-
prayer book there, is given under the article Britain ;  v*—■*
but though the attempt was given over, the minds of
the people were not to be quieted. Next winter they
resorted to town in such multitudes, that the privy-
council thought proper to publish two acts ; by one of
which the people were commanded, under severe pe¬
nalties, to leave the town in 24 hours ; and bv the
other, the court of session was removed to Linlithgow.
I he populace and their leaders were so much enraged
by the latter, that Lord Traquair and some of the bi¬
shops narrowly escaped with their lives ; and next year
(1638 )matters became still more serious. For now,
the king having provoked his subjects throughout all
Scotland with the innovations he attempted in religion,
Edinbuigli was made the general place of rendezvous,
and the most formidable associations took place ; an
account of which has already been given under the ar¬
ticle Britain. Each of the towns in Scotland had a
copy ; and that which belonged to Edinburgh, crowd¬
ed with 5000 names, is still preserved among the re¬
cords of the city. Notwithstanding this disagree¬
ment, however, the king once more visited Edinburgh
in 1641, and was entertained by the magistrates at an
expence of 12,oocl. Scots. It does not appear that af¬
ter this the city was in any way particularly concerned
with the disturbances which followed either through¬
out the remainder of the reign of Charles I. the com¬
monwealth, or the reign of Charles II. In 1680 the
duke of York with his duchess, the princess Anne,
and the whole court of Scotland, were entertained by
the city in the Parliament House, at the expence of
15,000b Scots. At this time it is said that the scheme
of building the bridge over the North Loch was first
projected by the duke.
From the time that King James VI. paid his last vi- Regnia-
sit to Edinburgh in 1618, till the time of the union tions made
in 17071 a considerable number of private regulations ^-7 ^ ma'
were made by the magistrates ; some of them evident-S‘Strates’
ly calculated for the good of the city, others strongly
characteristic of that violent spirit of fanaticism which
prevailed so much in the last century. Among the
former was an act passed in 1621, that the houses, in¬
stead of being covered with straw or boards, should have
their roofs constructed of slate, tiles, or lead. This act
was renewed in 1667 ; and in 1668 an act was passed re¬
gulating their height also. By this they were restrained
to five stories, and the thickness of the wall determined
to be three feet at bottom. In 1684 a lantern with a
candle was ordered to be bung out on the first floor of
every house, in order to light the streets at night; and
there were two coaches with four horses each ordered
to be bought for the use of the magistrates ; but it
does not appear bow long they continued to be used.
In 1681 the court of session discontinued its sittings
in summer : but as this was found to be attended with
inconvenience, an act was passed for their restoration,
which has continued ever since. During the time of
the civil war in 1649, ^le c*ty was v*s‘ted by the
plague, which is the last time that dreadful distemper
ijatb made its appearance in this country. The in¬
fection was so violent, that the city was almost de¬
populated, the prisoners were discharged from the
tolbooth, and an act was made for giving one Dr
Joannes Politius a salary of 8c!. Scots per month, for
visiting ;
EDINBURGH.
518
Edinburgh visiting those who were infected with the disease. In
■' J677 the first coffee-houses were allowed to be opened,
hut none without a license : and the same year the
town council regulated the price of penny weddings;
ordaining the men to pay no more than two shillings,
and the women 18 pence; very extravagant prices ha¬
ving been exacted betore.
Jn contradistinction to these salutary acts, we may
state those which show an extravagant desire of pre-
serving the appearance of virtue in the female sex, as
if it had been possible for others to inspire them with
virtuous notions if they had not imbibed them ot them¬
selves. In 1633 an act of council was passed, by which
women were forbidden to wear plaids over their taces,
under penalty of five pounds and the forfeiture of the
plaid for the first fault. Banishment was the punish¬
ment of the third. The reason assigned for this act was,
that matrons were not known from strumpets and loose
women, while the plaid continued to be worn over the
face. This act was renewed in 1637 and 1638. Suc¬
ceeding town councils continued to show the same re¬
gard to these matters ; for in 1695 they enacted, that
no innkeeper, vintner, or aleseller, should for the fu¬
ture employ women as waiters or servants, under the
penalty of five shillings sterling for each.
The following anecdote may perhaps make the vir¬
tues of these legislators themselves wear a suspicious
aspect. In 1649 the city having borrowed 40,000!.
Scots, in order to raise their quota of men for his ma¬
jesty, the payment of it was absolutely refused by the
town-council when a demand was made foi that ptu-
pose. That they might not, however, depend entirely
upon their own opinion in a matter of such importance,
they took that of the General Assembly upon the
subject; and it was determined by these reverend di¬
vines, that they were not in conscience bound to pay
for an unlawful engagement which their predecessors
had entered into. But in 1652, Cromwell’s parliament,
who pretended to no less sanctity than they, declared
themselves of a very different opinion ; and on the ap¬
plication of one of the creditors, forced them to repay
the sum.
13 . The treatment which the brave marquis of Montrose
ue at me ut met with, likewise fixes an indelible stigma both upon
of the mar-the magistrates and clergy at that time. Having been
quis of l)U(_ under sentence of excommunication, no person was
Motiuose. ajjowej t0 8peak to him or to do him the least office of
friendship. Being met without the city by the ma¬
gistrates and town guard, he was by them conducted
in a kind of gloomy procession through the streets
bareheaded, and in an elevated cart made for the pur¬
pose ; the other prisoners walking two and two before
him. At the time of his execution he was attended
by one of the ministers, who, according to his own ac¬
count, did not choose to return till he had seen him
casten over the ladder.
The union in 1707 had almost produced a war be¬
tween the two kingdoms which it was designed to unite ;
and on that occasion Edinburgh became a scene of the
most violent disturbances, of which a particular account
is given under the article Britain. During the time
the act was passing, it was found absolutely necessary
for the guards and four regiments of toot to do duty
in the city. The disturbances were augmented by the
disagreement of the two members of parliament; and
notwithstanding the victory gained at that time by the Edinbui ij
court party, Sir Patrick Johnston the provost, who —v-
voted for the union, was obliged afterwards to leave 17 ;|]
the country. In 1715 the city remained faithful to
the royal cause, and proper measures were taken for its I7IJ JJj
defence. A committee of safety was appointed, the 17,5.
city guard increased, and 400 men raised at. the ex¬
pence of the town. The trained bands likewise were
ordered out, zoo of whom mounted guard every night:
by which precautions the rebels were prevented from
attempting the city : they, however, made themselves
masters of the citadel of Leith ; hut fearing an attack
from the duke of Argyll, they abandoned it in the
night time. A scheme was even laid for becoming
masters of the castle of Edinburgh ; for which purpose
they bribed a serjeant to place their scaling ladders.
Thus some of the rebels got up to the top of the walls
before any alarm was given ; but in the mean time the
plot being discovered by the Serjeant’s wife, her husband
was hanged over the place where he had attempted to
introduce the rebels. The expence of the armament
which the city had been at on this occasion amounted
to about 1700I. which was repaid by government in the
year 1721.
The loyalty of this city was still farther remarkable
in the year 1725, when disturbances were excited in
all parts of the kingdom, particularly in the city ol
Glasgow, concerning the excise bill ; lor all remained
quiet in Edinburgh, nothwithstanding the violent out¬
cries that were made elsewhere ; and so remarkable was
the tranquillity in the metropolis, that government af¬
terwards returned thanks to the magistrates for it. In
1736, however, the city had again the misfortune to fall
under the royal dipleasure, on the following account.
Two smugglers having been detected in stealing their
own goods out of a customhouse, were condemned to
be hanged. The crime was looked upon as trivial;
and therefore a general murmur prevailed among the
populace, which was no doubt heightened by the fol- jst
lowing accident. At that time it had been customary Captair
for persons condemned to die to be carried each Sun-
day to the church, called from that circumstance the 1
Tolbooth church. The two prisoners just mentioned
were conducted in the usual way, guarded by three
soldiers, to prevent their making their escape : but ha¬
ving once gone thither a little before the congrega¬
tion met, one of the prisoners seized one ol the guanls
in each hand, and the other in his teeth, calling out
to his companion to run ; which he immediately chii
with such speed, that he soon got out of sight, am!
was never heard ot afterwards. rIhe person who had
thus procured the life ol his companion without re¬
gard to his own, would no doubt become a general ob¬
ject of compassion ; and of course, when led to the
place of execution, the guard were severely ptlud by
the mob, and some of them, according to the testimony
of the witnesses who were ssvorn on the occasion, pretty
much wounded. By this Captain Porteous, who
commanded the guard, was so much provoked, that be
gave orders to fire, by which six people were killed
and eleven wounded. The evidence, however, even
of the fact that the orders to fire were given, appears
not to have been altogether unexceptionable ; never¬
theless, on this he was tried and condemned to be exe¬
cuted. At that time the king was absent in Hanover,
having
E D I N B
B" burgli.
jO
neiiigh.
yised
it ac-
having left tlie regency in the hands of the queen j and
the case of the unfortunate Porteous having been re¬
presented to her, she was pleased to grant him a re¬
prieve : but such was the inveteracy of the people
against him, that they determined not to allow him to
avail himself of the royal clemency. On the night
previous to the day that had been appointed for his exe¬
cution, therefore, a number of people assembled, shut
the gates of the city, and burnt the door of the prison,
the same which the mob would formerly have broken
open in order to murder King James. They then took
out Porteous, whom it was found impossible to rescue out
of their hands, though every method that the magi¬
strates could take for that purpose in such a confusion
was made use of. It was even proved that the member
of parliament went to the commander in chief, and re¬
quested that he would send a party of soldiers to quell
the disturbance, but was absolutely denied this request,
because he could not produce a written order from the
provost to this purport; which, in the confusion then ex¬
isting in the city, could neither have been expected to
be given by the provost, nor would it have been safe for
any person to have carried it about him. Thus the un-
happy victim was left in the hands of his executioners ;
and being dragged by them to the place destined for
receiving his fate, was hanged on a dyer’s sign post. As
they had not brought a rope along with them, they
broke open a shop where they knew they were to be
had ; and having taken out what they wanted, left the
money upon the table, and retired without committing
any other disorder.
Such an atrocious insult on government could not
but be highly resented. A royal proclamation was is¬
sued, offering a pardon to any accomplice, and a re¬
ward of 200I. to any person who would discover one of
those concerned. The proclamation was ordered to be
read from every pulpit in Scotland the first Sunday of
every month for a twelvemonth : but so divided were
the people in their opinions about this matter, that ma¬
ny of the clergy hesitated exceedingly about complying
with the royal order, by which they were brought in
danger of being turned out of their livings ; while those
who complied were rendered so unpopular, that their
situation was rendered still worse than the others.
All the efforts of government, however, were insuffi¬
cient to produce any discovery; by which, no doubt,
the court was still more exasperated ; and it was now
determined to execute vengeance on the magistrates
and city at large. Alexander Wilson, the provost
at that time, was imprisoned three weeks before he
could be admitted to bail ; after which, he and the
tour bailies, with the lords of justiciary, were order¬
ed to attend the house of peers at London. On
their arrival there a debate ensued, whether the lords
should attend in their robes or not? but at last it was
agreed that they should attend in their robes at the
bar. This, however, was refused by their lordships,
who insisted that they should be examined within the
bar; upon which the affair of their examination was
dropped altogether. A bill at last passed both houses,
by which it was enacted that the city of Edinburgh
should be fined 2O0cl. for the benefit of Porteous’s
widow (though she was prevailed upon to accept of
I500I, for the whole); and the provost was declared
incapable of ever serving government again in any
U R G H. 5J9
capacity whatever. To prevent such catastrophes in time Edinburgh-
coming, the town council enacted, that, on the first' r—*
appearance of an insurrection, the chief officers in the
different societies and corporations should repair to the
council to receive the orders of the magistrates for the
quelling of the tumult, under the penalty of 81. 6s. 8d.
for each omission. 20
1745» the city was invested by the Pretender’s The city
army; and on the 17th of September, the Netherbowtaken by
gate being opened to let a coacb pass, a party of High- ^he rebels
landers, who had reached the gate undiscovered, rush-1"
ed in, and took possession of the city. The inhabi¬
tants were commanded to deliver up their arms at the
palace of Holyroodhouse ; a certain quantity of mili¬
tary stores was required from the city, under pain of
military execution ; and an assessment of 2s. 6d. upon
the pound was imposed upon the real rents within the
city and liberties for defraying that expeuce.
The pretender’s army guarded all the avenues to the
castle; but no signs of hostilities ensued till the 25th of
the month, when the garrison being alarmed from some
unknown cause, a number of cannon were discharged
at the. guard placed at the West Port, but with very
little effect. This gave occasion to an order to the
guard at the Weigh-house, to prevent all intercourse
between the city and castle; and then the governor
acquainted the provost by letter, that unless the com¬
munication was preserved, he would be obliged to dis¬
lodge the guard by means of artillery. A deputa¬
tion was next sent to the Pretender, acquainting him
with the danger the city was in, and entreating him to
withdraw the guard. With this lie refused to comply ;
and the Highland centinels firing at some people who
were carrying provisions into the castle, a pretty smart
cannonading ensued, which set on fire several Jiouses,
killed some people, and did other damage. The Pre¬
tender then consented to dismiss the guard, and the
cannonading ceased. After the battle of Culloden, the
provost of Edinburgh was obliged to stand a very long
and severe trial, first at London and then at Edinburgh,
for not defending the city against the rebels ; which,
from the situation and extent of the walls, every one
must have seen to be impossible.
During this trial a very uncommon circumstance
happened ; the jury having sat two days, insisted that
they could sit no longer, and prayed for a short respite.
As the urgency of the case was apparent, and both par¬
ties agreed, the court, after long reasoning, adjourned
till the day following, taking the jury bound under a
penalty of 500I. each; when the court continued sitting
two days longer, and the jury were one day enclosed.
I he event was, that the provost was exculpated.
After the battle of Culloden the duke of Cumber¬
land caused fourteen of the rebel standards to be burn¬
ed at the cross ; that of the Pretender was carried by
the common executioner, the others by chimney-sweep--
ers ; the heralds proclaiming the names of the com¬
manders to whom they belonged as they were thrown
into the fire. At this time the city of Edinburgh felt
a temporary inconvenience from the election of their
magistrates not having taken place at the usual time; G'overii
so that it became necessary to apply to his majesty ment of*the
for the restoration of the government of the city. This city restor-
was readily granted, the burgesses being allowed a pollcd*
tax ; after which an entire new set of magistrates was
returned;,
520 E D I N B
KdinbiH' L returned, all of them friends to the house of Hanover j
  v—' and soon after the freedom of the city in a gold box
was presented to the duke of Cumberland.
With these transactions all interferences betwixt go¬
vernment and the metropolis of Scotland were ended $
the rest of its history therefore only consists of inter¬
nal occurences, the regulations made by its own ma¬
gistrates for the benefit of the city, their applications
To government for leave to improve it, or the execution
of these improvements j of which we shall now give a
12 brief detail.
Salary be- In the year 1716, the city first bestowed a settled sa-
stowed on lary on the provost, in order to enable him to support
the provost. t[ie dignity of the first magistrate. This was at first
jool. •, was afterwards augmented to 500^* an^ now we
believe is a larger sum. In 1718 it was recommended
to the magistrates to distinguish themselves by wearing
coats of black velvet, for which they were allowed
10I. but this act being abrogated in iy54» chains
were assigned as badges of their office, which
continue to wear. Provost Ivincaid happened to die in
office in the year 1777? which being a rare occur¬
rence, perhaps the only one at that time of the kind to
be met with in the records of Edinburgh, he was bu¬
ried with great solemnity. A similar funeral procession
took place at the death of Mr Coulter in 1809.
Account of Tumults have been frequent in Edinburgh, chiefly on
tumults. account of the dearness of provisions. In 1740 Bell’s
mills were first attacked by the populace, and afterwards
Leith mills ; nor could the rioters be dispersed till the
military had fired among them and wounded three, of
whom one died *, and it was found necessary to order
some dragoons into the city in order to preserve tran¬
quillity. In 1742, another violent tumult took place,
owing to a custom of stealing dead bodies from their
tiraves for anatomical purposes, which had then become
common. The populace beat to arms, threatened destruc¬
tion lo the surgeons j and, in spite of the efforts of the
magistrates, demolished the house of the beadle at St
Cuthbert’s. In 1756 new disturbances, which required
the assistance of the military, took place : the cause at
this time was the impressing of men for the war which
was then commencing. A disturbance was likewise ex¬
ceed in 1760. This was occasioned by the footmen, who
till then were allowed to follow their masters into the
plavhouse, and now took upon them to disturbjfie en¬
tertainment of the company ; the consequence of which
was, that they were turned out, and have ever since
been obliged to wait for their masters. In 1763 and
i *765, the tumults on account of the price of provi¬
sions were renewed ; many of the mealmongers had
their houses broken open and their diops destroyed.
The magistrates, as usual, were obliged to call in a
party of dragoons to quell the disturbance ; but at the
same time, to put an effectual stop, as far as was in their
power, to these proceedings for the future, they gave
security, that people who brought grain or provision
into the market should be. secured in their property.
Since that time there have been no tumults directly on
the account of provisions', though in 1784 a terrible
riot and attack of a distillery at Canonmills took place,
on a supposition that the distillers enhanced the price of
meal by using unmalted grain, ffhe attack was re¬
pelled by the servants of the distillery j hut the mob
could not be quelled until the sheriff called the soldiers
u R G H.
quartered in the castle to his assistance, The same Ediubur;! ’
night a party of rioters set out for Ford, a place ten v y-J
miles to the southward, where there was likewise a
large distillery which, as there was none to make any
opposition, they soon destroyed. One man was killed
in this riot at Edinburgh by the fire of a servant of the
distillery, and several of the rioters were afterwards
secured and punished.
In the years 1778 and 1779 two very alarming di- j
sturbances happened, vvhtch threatened a great deal of
bloodshed, though happily they were terminated with¬
out any. The first was a mutiny of the earl of Sea-
forth’s Highland regiment, who were at this time quar¬
tered in the castle. These having been ordered to em¬
bark, for some reason or other unanimously refused, and
posted themselves on the top of Arthur’s seat, where
they continued for two days. Troops were collected to
prevent their escape, and the inhabitants were ordered
to keep within doors at the first toll of the great bell,
which was to he a signal of violence about to take
place j but fortunately all the fears, naturally arising
from the expectation of this event, were dissipated by an
accommodation. Ihe other happened on account of the
attempt to repeal the penal laws against the Papists j
and was much more alarming than the other, as being
the effect of a premeditated scheme and determined re¬
solution to oppose government. On the second of Febru¬
ary 1779 a mob assembled in the evening, burned a
Popish chapel, and plundered another. Next day they
renewed their depredations j destroying and carrying
off the books, furniture, &c. of several Popish priests
and others of that persuasion. The riot continued all
that day, though the assistance of the military was
called in but happily no lives were lost, nor was there
any firing. The city was afterwards obliged to make
good the damage sustained by the Catholics^ on this
occasion, which was estimated at 1500I. I his year
also an unlucky accident happened at Leith. About
50 Hi ghland recruits having refused to embark, a par¬
ty of the South Fencibles was sent to take them pri¬
soners. Unexpectedly, however, the Highlanders stood
upon their defence *, when, after some words, a firing
commenced on both sides, and about one half of the
Highlanders were killed and wounded, the remainder
being taken prisoners and carried to the castle. Captain
Mansfield and two or three privates were killed in this •
affray. 241|
\Ye shall close this history of Edinburgh with a ge-Generai j
neral account of the improvements which have lately history j
taken place in it, and of which a particular description the^ f
will afterwards be given, ffhese began in the year?
jy ,j35 when the foundation-stone of the Exchange
was laid, at which time there was a grand procession,
and the greatest concourse of people ever known in
Edinburgh. A triumphal arch was erected for the
purpose,through which the procession passed, and me¬
dals were scattered among the populace. In 1756 the
high street was cleared by the removal of the cross 5
though many regretted this, on account of its being a
very ancient and elegant building. In the middle it
had an unicorn placed on the top of a pillar 20 feet
high but this fine ornament was broken to pieces by
the giving way of the tackle by which it was attempt¬
ed to remove it. It is now again erected at Drum, a
seat formerly belonging to Lord Somerville, about four
EDINBURGH.
ig burgh miles from Edinburgh. In 1763 the first stone of the
J North bridge was laid by Provost Drummond j and in
1767 an act of parliament was obtained for extending
the l oyalty of the city over the fields to the northward,
where the New Town is now situated. About the
same time a spot of ground upon the south side of the
town was purchased by a private person for 1200I.
which being feued out for building, gave rise to the
increase of the town in that quarter; and this pro¬
ceeded the more rapidly, as the houses built there were
free from the duties imposed upon others subject to the
royalty. In 1774 the foundation of the Register Of¬
fice was laid. In 1784 the project for rendering the
access to the town equally easy on both sides was be¬
gun to be put in execution by laying the foundation of
the South bridge. At the same time a great improve¬
ment was made by reducing the height of the street
several feet all the way from the place where the cross
stood to the Netherbow; by which means the ascent
is rendered more easy, not only for carriages, but also
for persons who walk on foot. At the same time, the
street was farther cleared by the removal of the town
guard house, which had long been complained of as an
encumbrance. The taking down of the Luckenbooths
in 1802-3, removed a still greater encumbrance. The
old jail at the west end, and the land over Mr
Creech’s shop at the east end, however, still remained
to disfigure the street till 1817, when both were pulled
down, and the street laid completely open. By the re¬
moval of these buildings, and of the old council cham¬
ber, the cathedral of Saint Giles is now exposed to
view on all sides. As several of its parts are much de¬
cayed,and the whole hasrathera dilapidated appearance,
k is in contemplation to case it over with new stone, pre¬
serving the original plan and style of building. The last
improvement which requires to be mentioned, is the mag¬
nificent new road over the Calton hill, which was begun
in 1816, and opened in 1820. It is connected with
Prince’s street by the Regent bridge, a single arch of
50 feet span, but finished in the upper part in a very
handsome style, and adorned with two fine ranges of
buildings. This new road, with the Regent bridge,
forms a very fine approach to the city on the east, and
is admired by all travellers for its singular appear¬
ance, and the picturesque views it affords of the
town.
Having thus given a concise history of the city from
its earliest foundation, we shall now proceed to describe
it in its most improved state.
Edinburgh is situated upon a steep hill, rising from
east to west, and terminating in a high and inaccessible
rock, upon which the castle stands. At the east end
or lower extremity of this hill stands the abbey of
Holvroodhouse, or king’s palace, distant from the
castle upwards of a mile ; and betwixt which, along
the top of the ridge, and almost in a straight line, runs
the High street. On each side, and parallel to this
ridge or hill, is another ridge of ground lower than
that in the middle, and which does not extend so far
to the east: that on the south being intercepted by Sa¬
lisbury rocks and Arthur’s seat, a hill of about 800
feet of perpendicular height; and that on the north by
the Calton hill, considerably lower than Arthur’s seat;
60 that the situation of this city is most singular and
Vol. VII. Part II. f
521
»rg
romantic ; the east or lower part of the town lying be-Edinburgh
tween two hills; and the west or higher part rising up ' v—
towards a third hill, little inferior in height to the
highest of the other two, upon which, as has been ob¬
served, the castle is built, and overlooks the town.
Ihe buildings of the town terminate at the distance
of about 200 yards from the castle gate ; which space
affords a most delightful as well as convenient and
healthful walk to the inhabitants. The prospect from
this spot is perhaps the finest anywhere to be met with,
for extent, beauty, and variety.
In the valley or hollow betwixt the mid and the south
ridges, and nearly parallel to the High street, is another
street called the Cowgate ; and the town has now ex¬
tended itself over most part of that south ridge also.
Betwixt the mid and the north ridges was a loch, which,
till of very late, terminated the town on that side. From
the High street towards the loch on the north, and
Cowgate on the south, run narrow cross streets or lanes,
called wynds and closes, which grow steeper and steeper
the farther west or nearer the castle ; so that, were it
not for the closeness and great height of the buildings,
this city, from its situation and plan, might naturally be
expected to be tiie best aired, as well as the cleanest,
in Europe. The former, notwithstanding these disad¬
vantages, it enjoys in an eminent degree; but we can¬
not compliment it upon the latter, notwithstanding every
possible means has been used by the magistrates for that
purpose. ' '26
Ihe gradual increase of the city of Edinburgh may Account of
in some degree be understood from the traces of its an-t^ie Kia^ual
cient walls that still remain. James II. in 1450, first i"c1fea,e ‘f
bestowed on the community the privilege of fortify- inbU'8 *'
ing the city with a wall, and empowered them to levy a
tax upon the inhabitants for defraying the expence.
When the city was first fortified, the wall reached no*
farther than the present water-house, or reservoir on
the Castle hill: from thence to the head of Halker-
ston’s wynd, just below the new bridge, the city was de¬
fended by the North Eocb ; an inconsiderable morass,
which, being formerly overflowed, formed a small lake*
that lias since been drained. From this place to the
foot of Leith wynd, it does not appear how the city
was fortified : but from the foot of Leith wynd to the
Nether-how port it was defended only by a range of
bouses ; and when these had become ruinous, a wall was
built in their place. The original wall of Edinburgh,
therefore, began at the foot of the north-east rock of
the castle. Here it was strengthened by a small for¬
tress, the ruins of which are still to be seen, and are call¬
ed the Well-house tower, from their having a spring in
their neighbourhood. When the wall came opposite to
the reservoir, it was carried quite across the hill, having
a gate on the top for making a communication between
the town and castle. In going down the hill, it went
slanting in an oblique direction to the first angle in
going down the West-bow, where was a gate named
the Upper-how Port, one of the hooks of which still
remains. Thence it proceeded eastward in such a man¬
ner, as would have cut off not only all the Cowgate,
but some part of the Parliament bouse ; and being con¬
tinued as far as the Mint close, it turned to the north¬
east, and connected itself with the buildings on the
north side of the High street, where was the original
3 U Nether*
522
Edinburgh.
E D I N B
Nether-bow Port, about 50 yards west from that which
afterwards went by the same name.
Soon after the building of this wall, a new street
was formed on the outside of it, named the Cowgate,
which in the 16th century became the residence ot the
nobility, the senators of the college of justice, and other
persons of the first distinction. After the fatal battle
of Flowden, however, the inhabitants ol the Cowgate
became very anxious to have themselves defended by
a wall as well as the rest. The wall ot the city was
therefore extended to its present limits. This new
wall begins on the south-east side of the rock on which
the castle is built, and to which the town wall comes
quite close. From thence it descends obliquely to the
"WestPort; then ascends part of a hill on the other
side, called the High Riggs ; after which, it runs east¬
ward with but little alteration in its course, to the
Bristo and Potter-row ports, and from thence to the
Pleasance. Here it takes a northerly direction, which
it keeps from thence to the Cowgate port j alter which
the enclosure is completed to the Nether-how by the
houses of St Mary’s wynd. The original Nether-bow
port, being found not well adapted for defence, was
pulled down, and a new one built in 1571 by the ad¬
herents of Queen Mary. In 1606, the late hand¬
some building was erected about 50 yards below the
place where the former stood. It was two stories high,
and had an elegant spire in the middle ; but being
thought to encumber the street, and the whole build¬
ing being in a crazy situation, it was pulled down by
order of the magistrates in 1764.
In the original wall of Edinburgh there was, as has
been already observed, a port on the Castle-hill. On
the extension of the wall, after building the bouses in
the Cowgate, this gate was pulled down. That in the
upper or West-bow stood for a much longer time, and
was pulled down within the memory of some persons
lately or perhaps still living. Besides these, there was
a third, about 50 yards above the head of the Canon-
gate 5 but whether there were any more, is uncertain.
The ports or gates of the new walls were, 1. The West
Port, situated at the extremity of the Grass Market •,
beyond which lies a suburb of the town and a borough
of regality, called Portsburgh. Next to this is a wicket,
struck out of the town wall in 1744, for the purpose of
making an easier communication between the town and
the public walks in the meadows, than by Bristo port.
The next to this was Bristo Port, built in 1515 ; beyond
which lies a suburb called Bristo Street. At a small
distance from Bristo was the Rottei'-row Port, which
took this name from a manufactory of earthen ware in
the neighbourhood. Formerly it was called Kirk of
Field Port. Between this and the Cowgate port stood
another, called St Mary's Wynd Port, which extended
from east to west across the foot of the Pleasance, and
which was demolished only since the middle of the last
century. Close to the middle of this stood the Cow¬
gate Port; which opened a communication between
the Covvgate and St Mary’s wynd, and the Pleasance.
The Nether-bow Poi't has been already spoken of. At
the foot of Leith wynd was another gate, known by
the name of Leith Wynd Port; and within it was a
wicket giving access to the church of Trinity College,
and which still remains. At the foot of Halkerston’s
S
URGE.
wynd was another, which, as well as the former, was Edinburg
built about the year 1560. Both of these were pulled —v-*
down some years ago, and all the rest in 1785. Ano¬
ther still remains at the foot of the Canongate, known
by the name of the Water-gate.
For 250 years the city of Edinburgh occupied the
same space of ground, and it is but very lately that its
limits have been so considerably enlarged. In the
middle of the 16th century, it is described as extending
in length about an Italian mile, and about half as much
in breadth ; which answers very nearly to its present
limits, the late enlargements only excepted. This space
of ground, however, was not at that time occupied in
the manner it is at present. The houses were neither
so high nor so crowded upon each other as they are now.
This was a consequence of the number ot inhabitants
increasing, which has occasioned the raising of the
houses to such a height as is perhaps not to be paral¬
leled in any other part of the world. Till the time of
the Reformation, the burying ground of the city
extended over all the space occupied by the Par¬
liament square, and from thence to the Cowgate.
The lands lying to the southward of the Cowgate were
chiefly laid out in gardens belonging to the convent of
Black friars, and the church of St Mary in the Field. .
These extended almost from the Pleasance to the Pot-
terrow port. From the Bristo to the West port the
ground was laid out in gardens belonging to the Gray
friars. The magistrates, on their application to Queen
Mary, obtained a grant of the Gray friars gardens for
a burying place j for which it was given as a reason,
that they were somewhat distant from the town. Here,
however, it must be understood, that these gardens
were distant from the houses, and not without the
walls ) for they had been enclosed by them long be¬
fore. In the time of James I. the houses within the
walls, seem to have been in general, it not universally,
covered with thatch or broom ; and not above 20 feet
high. Even in the year 1621, these roofs were so
common, that they were prohibited by act of parlia¬
ment, in order to prevent accidents from fire. In the
middle of the 17th century, there were neither courts nor
squares in Edinburgh. The Parliament close or square
is the oldest of this kind in the city. Miln’s square,
James’s court, &c. were built long after ; and Argyle’s
and Brown’s squares about the years 175° or I7^0, 27
The New Town was projected in the year I752JNcwT('
but as the magistrates could not then procure an ex¬
tension of the royalty, the execution of the design was
suspended for some time. In I7^7» an ac^ was °^‘
tained, by which the royalty was extended over the
fields to the northward of the city ; upon which ad¬
vertisements were published by the magistrates, de¬
siring proper plans to be given in. Plans were given
in accordingly, and that designed by Mr James Craig
architect was adopted. Immediately afterwards, peo¬
ple were invited to purchase lots from the town coun¬
cil j and such as purchased became bound to conform
to the rules of the plan. In the mean time, however,
the town council had secretly reserved to themselves a
privilege of departing from their own plan ; which
they afterwards made use of in such a manner as pro¬
duced a law-suit. According to the plan held forth
to the purchasers, a canal was to be made through that
EDINBURGH,
nirgU. place where the North Loch had been, and the bank
' on the north side of it laid out in terraces : but instead
of this, by an act of council, liberty was reserved to
the town to build upon this spot; and therefore, when
many gentlemen had built genteel houses in the new
town on faith of the plan, they were surprised to find
the spot appointed for terraces and a canal, beginning
to be covered with mean irregular buildings, and
work houses for tradesmen. This deviation was im¬
mediately complained of ; but as the magistrates show¬
ed no inclination to grant any redress, a prosecution
was commenced against them before the Lords of Ses¬
sion. In that court the cause was given against the
pursuers, who thereupon appealed to the House of
Lords. Here the sentence of the Court of Session was
reversed, and the cause remitted to the consideration
of their Lordships. At last, after an expensive con¬
test, matters were accommodated. The principal term
of accommodation was, that some part of the ground
was to be laid out in terraces and a canal; but the
time of disposing it in that manner, was referred to the
Lord President of the Court of Session and the Lord
Chief Baron of the Exchequer. The fall of part of
the bridge, hereafter mentioned, proved a very consi¬
derable disadvantage to the New Town ; as it neces¬
sarily induced a suspicion that the passage, by means
of the bridge, could never be rendered safe. An over¬
sight of the magistrates proved of more essential detri¬
ment. A piece of ground lay to the southward of the
Old Town, in a situation very proper for building.
This the magistrates had an opportunity of purchasing
for 1200I.} which, however, they neglected, and it was
bought by a private person, who immediately feued it
out in lots for building, as has been already mentioned.
The magistrates then began to see the consequence,
namely, that this spot being free from the duties to
which the royalty of Edinburgh is subject, people would
choose to reside there rather than in the New Town.
Upon this they offered the purchaser 2000I. for the
ground for which he had paid 1200I. ; but as he de¬
manded 20,oool. the bargain did not take place. Not¬
withstanding these discouragements, the New Town is
now almost finished ; and from the advantages of its
situation, and its being built according to a regular
plan, it has undoubtedly a superiority over any city in
Britain. By its situation, however, it is remarkably
exposed to storms of wind, which at Edinburgh some¬
times rage with uncommon violence.
It has three streets, almost a mile in length, run¬
ning from east to west, intersected with cross streets at
proper distances. Queen’s street, the most northerly,
till lately that Heriot row and Great King street were
built, is zoo feet broad, and commands an extensive
prospect ot the Forth, the county of Fife, and the ship¬
ping in the river. That called George's Street, which
is in the middle, is no less than 115 feet wide. It is
terminated at each end by two very elegant and ex¬
tensive squares •, that on the east end is called St An-
(1 few's Square; the other, which is not yet finished, is
called Charlotte's Square. Prince’s street is the most
southerly; and extends from the northern extremity of
the bridge, quite to the west end of the town. It was on¬
ly finished in 1805. From the west end of Prince’s street,
a spacious street (Maitland street) has been opened to
join the two roads to Glasgow by Airdrie and Whit-
burn. This has greatly improved the approach to the - ■ —‘ >Uu
town from the west. The northern part of the New
lown, which is now in progress, is distinguished from
the older part, by the superior style of the architecture.
Henot row, with its continuation Abercromby place,
and Great King street now building, are peculiarly
beautitul in their design and decorations.
The most remarkable public buildings in Edinburgh
I. The Castle.' This stands on a high rock, accessible Public
only on the east side. On all others it is very steep, and buildings
in some places perpendicular. It is about 300 feet highdescribed,‘
from its base : so that, before the invention of artillery,
it might well have been deemed impregnable ; though
the event showed that it was not. The entry to this
fortress is defended by an outer barrier of pallisadoes $
within this is a dry ditch, draw-bridge, and gate, de¬
fended by two batteries which flank it; and the whole
is commanded by a half moon mounted with brass
cannon, carrying balls of 12 pounds. Beyond these are
two gate-ways, the first of which is very strong, and has
two portcullises. Immediately beyond the second gate-
way, on the right hand, is a battery mounted with brass
cannon, carrying balls of 12 and 18 pounds weight. On
the north side are a mortar and some gun batteries. The
upper part of the castle contains a half-moon battery, a
chapel, a parade for exercise, and a number of hous’es
in the form of a square, which are laid out in barracks
for the officers. Besides these, there are other barracks
sufficient to contain 1000 men; a powder magazine,
bomb proof; a grand arsenal, capable of containing’
8000 stand of arms ; and other apartments for the same
use, which can contain 22,000 more : so that 30,000
stand of arms may be conveniently lodged in this castle.
On the east side of the square above mentioned, were
formerly royal apartments ; in one of which King James
VI. was born, and which is still shown to those who
visit the castle. In another, the regalia of Scotland
were deposited on the 26th of March 1707; but as
they were never shown to any body, a suspicion had
arisen that they were carried to London. This has
however been removed. Commissioners, with the ne¬
cessary powers, opened a large oaken chest in February
1818, in which were found the Scottish crown, scep¬
tre, and sword of state, of elegant workmanship, and in
perfect preservation.
The governor of the castle is generally a nobleman,
whose place is worth about zoool. a-year ; and that of
deputy governor, 500I. This last resides in the house
appointed for the governor, as the former never inha¬
bits it. There is also a fort-major, a store-keeper,
master-gunner, and chaplain ; but as this last does not
reside in the castle, worship is seldom performed in the
chapel. The parliament house was formerly included
in the great square on the top, and the royal gardens
were in the marsh afterwards called the North Loch ;
the king’s stables being on the south side, where the
houses still retain the name, and the place where the
barns were still retains the name of Castlebarns.
The castle is defended by a company of invalids, and
four or five hundred men belonging to some marchino'
regiment, though it can accommodate 1000, as above
mentioned; and this number has been sometimes kept
3 U 2 . in
?■ u>
524
EDINBURGH.
Edinburgh, in it. It could not, in all probability, withstand, even
  J for a few hours, a well directed bombardment: for no
part but the powder magazine is capable ot resisting
these destructive machines 5 and the splinters from the
rock on which the castle is built, could not fail to render
them still more formidable. Besides, the water of the
well, which is very bad, and drawn up from a depth of
100 feet, is apt to subside on the continued discharge
of artillery, which produces a concussion in the rock.
2. The Palace of Holyroodhouse. This, though much
neglected, is the only royal habitation in Scotland that
is not entirely in ruins. It had a handsome square of
230 feet in the inside, surrounded with piazzas. The
front, facing the west, consists of two double towers
joined by a beautiful low building, adorned with a
double balustrade above. The gate-way in the middle
is decorated with double stone columns, supporting a
cupola in the middle, representing an imperial crown,
with a clock underneath. On the right hand is the
great staircase which leads to the council chamber and
the royal apartments. rIhese are large and spacious, but
unfurnished : in one of them the Scotch peers meet to
elect 16 of their number to represent them in parliament.
The gallery is on the left hand, and measures 15® f^t
by 2r]\. It is adorned with the supposed portraits of
all the kings of Scotland. In the apartments of the
duke of Hamilton, which he possesses as hereditary
keeper of the palace, Queen Mary’s bed of crimson da¬
mask, bordered with green fringes and tassels, is still
to be seen, but almost reduced to rags. Here also
strangers are shown a piece of wainscot, hung upon
hinges, which opens to a trap stair communicating with
the apartments below. Through this passage Darnley
and the other conspirators rushed in to murder the un¬
happy Rizzio. Towards the outward door of these
apartments are large dusky spots on the floor, said to
be occasioned by Rizzio’s blood, which could never be
•washed out. In the lodgings assigned to Lord Dun-
more is a picture by Van Dyke, esteemed a masterly
performance, of King Charles I. and his queen go¬
ing a-hunting. There are likewise the portraits of
their present majesties at full length by Ramsay. The
lodgings above the royal apartments are occupied by
the duke of Argyle as heritable master of the house¬
hold.
The front of this palace is two stories high j the
roof fiat*, but at each end the front projects, and is or¬
namented with circular towers at the angles. Here
the building is much higher, and the rest of the palace
is three stories in height. The north-west towers were
built by James V. for his own residence : his name is
still to be seen below a niche in one of these towers.
During the minority of Queen Mary, this palace was
burned by the English ; but soon after repaired and
enlarged beyond its present size. At that time it
consisted of five courts, the most westerly of which
was the largest. It was bounded on the east by the
front of the palace, which occupied the same space it
does at present j but the building itself extended fur¬
ther to the south. At the north-west corner was a
■strong gate with Gothic pillars, arches, and towers,
part of which was not long ago pulled down. Great
part of the palace was burnt by Cromwell’s soldiers j
but it was repaired and altered into the present form
after the Restoration. The fabric was planned by Sir
William Bruce a celebrated architect, and executed Bdintu:
by Robert Mylne mason. The environs of the palace ' y
afford an asylum for insolvent debtors j and adjoin¬
ing to it is an extensive park, all of which is a sanc¬
tuary.
The abbey church was formerly called the monastery
of Hohjroodhouse, and built by King David I. in 11 28.
He gave it the name of Hohjrood house, in memory, as
is said, of his deliverance from an enraged hart, by the
miraculous interposition of a cross from heaven. Ibis
monastery he gave to the canons regular of St Augus¬
tine : on whom also he bestowed the church of Edin¬
burgh castle, with those of St Cuthbert’s, Corstorphin,
and Libberton, in the shire of Mid Lothian, and of
Airth in Stirlingshire ; the priories of St Mary’s Isle
in Galloway, of Blantyre in Clydesdale, of Rowadill
in Ross, and three others in the Western Isles. To
them he also granted the privilege of erecting a bo¬
rough between the town of Edinburgh and the church
of Holyroodhouse. From these canons it had the
name of the Canongate, which it still retains. In this
new borough they had a right to hold markets. They
had also portions of land in different parts, with a most
extensive jurisdiction, and right of trial by duel, and
fire and water ordeal. They had also certain re¬
venues payable out of the exchequer and other funds,
with fishings, and the privilege of erecting mills
on the water of Leith, which still retain the name
of Canon mills. Other grants and privileges were be¬
stowed by succeeding sovereigns ; so that it was deem¬
ed the richest religious foundation in Scotland. At
the Reformation, its annual revenues were 442 bolls
of wheat, 640 bolls of bear, $6o bolls of oats, 500
capons, two dozen of hens, as many salmon, 12 loads
of salt *, besides a great number of swine, and about
250I. sterling in money. At the Reformation, the
superiority of North Leith, part of the Fleasance, the
barony of Broughton, and the Canongate, were vested
in the earl of Roxburgh j and were purchased from
him by the town council of Edinburgh in 1636. In
1544, the church suffered considerably by the invasion
of the English ; but was speedily repaired. At ths
Restoration, King Charles II. ordered the church to be
set apart as a chapel royal, and prohibited its use as a
common parish church tor the future. It was then fit¬
ted up in a very elegant manner. A throne was
erected for the sovereign, and 12 stalls lor the knights
of the order of the Thistle: but as mass had been ce¬
lebrated in it in the reign of James \ 11. and it had
an organ, with a spire, and a fine chime of bells on
the west side, the Presbyterians at the Revolution
entirely destroyed its ornaments, and left nothing hut
the bare walls.—Through time, the roof of the church
became ruinous *, on which the duke of Hamilton re¬
presented its condition to the barons of exchequer, and
craved that it might be repaired. This request was
complied with : but the architect and mason who were
employed, covered the roof with thick flag stones,
which soon impaired the fabric 5 and on the 2d of
December 1768, the roof fell in. Since that time, no
attempt has been made to repair it, and it is now en¬
tirely fallen to ruin. .
The ruins of this church, however, are still sufficient
to discover the excellency of the workmanship. Here
some of the kings of Scotland are interred j and an
odd
EDINBURGH.
Ei burgh, odd kind of curiosity has been the occasion of exposing
^jv—-'some bones said to be those of Lord Darnley and a
countess of Roxburgh who died several hundred years
ago. Those said to belong to the former were very
large, and the latter had some flesh dried upon them.
The chapel was fitted up in the elegant manner above
mentioned by James VII. but such was the enthusiasm
of the mob, that they not only destroyed the orna¬
ments, but tore up even the pavement, which was of
marble.
To the eastward of the palace is the bowling green,
now entirely in disorder; and behind it is a field called
St Anti's Yards. Beyond this is a piece of ground call¬
ed the King's Park ; which undoubtedly was formerly
overgrown with wood, though now there is not a single
tree in it. It is about three miles in circumference ;
and was first enclosed by James V. It contains the
rocky hills of Arthur's Seat and Salisbury Craigs,
which last afford an inexhaustible stone quarry ; and
upon the north side of the hill stands an old ruinous
chapel, dedicated to St Anthony. The stones are used
in building, as well as for paving the streets and high¬
ways. The park was mortgaged to the family of Had¬
dington for a debt due to them. A good number of
sheep and some black cattle are fed upon it. A foot¬
path, completed in 1820, along the north-west side of
Salisbury Craig, affords one of the most beautiful and
romantic walks in existence.
3. St Giles's Church is a venerable Gothic building,
measuring in length 206 feet. At the west end, its
breadth is no ; in the middle, 129 ; and at the east
end, 76 feet. It has a very elevated situation, and
is adorned with a lofty square tower ; from the sides
and corners of which arise arches of figured stone work:
these meeting with each other in the middle, complete
the figure of an imperial crown, the top of which ter¬
minates in a pointed spire. The whole height of this
tower is 161 feet.
This is the most ancient church in Edinburgh. From
a passage in an old author called Simeon Dunelmensist
some conjecture it to have been built before the year
854 ; but we do not find express mention made of it
before 1359. The tutelar saint of this church, and of
Edinburgh, was St Giles, a native of Greece. He
lived in the sixth century, and was descended of an
illustrious family. On the death of his parents, he
gave all his estate to the poor ; and travelled into
France, where he retired into a wilderness near the
conflux of the Rhone with the sea, and continued there
three years. Having obtained the reputation of ex¬
traordinary sanctity, various miracles were attributed
to him ; and he founded a monastery in Languedoc,
known long after by the name of St Giles's.—In the
reign of James II. Mr Preston of Gorton, a gentleman
whose descendants still possess an estate in the county
of Edinburgh, got possession of an arm of this saint ;
which relick he bequeathed to the church of Edin¬
burgh. In gratitude for this donation, the magistrates
granted a charter in favour of Mr Preston’s heirs, by
which the nearest heir of the name of Preston was
entitled to carry it in all processions. At the same
time, the magistrates obliged themselves to found
an altar in the church of St Giles’s, and appoint a
chaplain for celebrating an annual mass for the soul of
Mr Preston ; and likewise, that a tablet, containing
his arms, and an account of his pious donation, should Edinburgh*
be put up in the chapel.—St Giles’s was first simply a ——y— •->
parish church, of which the bishop of Lindisfarn or
Holy Island, in the county of Northumberland, was pa¬
tron. He was succeeded in the patronage by the ab¬
bot and canons of Dunfermline, and they by the ma¬
gistrates of Edinburgh. In 1466, it was erected into
a collegiate church by James HI. At the Reforma¬
tion, the church was, for the greater convenience, divi¬
ded into several parts. The four principal ones are ap¬
propriated to divine worship, the lesser ones to other
purposes. At the same time the religious utensils be-
longing to this church were seized by the magistrates.
They were,—-St Giles’s arm, enshrined in silver,
weighing five pounds three ounces and a half; a silver
chalice, or communion cup, weighing 23 ounces ; the
great eucharist or communion cup, Kith golden weike and
stones ; two cruets of 25 ounces ; a golden bell, with a
heart, of four ounces and a half; a golden unicorn ; a
golden pix, to keep the host ; a small golden heart,
with two pearls; a diamond ring; a silver chalice, pa-
tine, and spoon, of 32 ounces and a half: a communion
table cloth of gold brocade ; St Giles's coat, with a lit¬
tle piece of red velvet which hung at his feet; a round
sil ver eucharist,* two silver censers, of three pounds fif¬
teen ounces ; a silver ship for incense ; a large silver
cross, with its base, weighing sixteen pounds thirteen
ounces and a half; a triangular silver lamp ; two silver
candlesticks, of seven pounds three ounces ; other two,
of eight pounds thirteen ounces ; a silver chalice gilt,
of 20J ounces ; a silver chalice and cross, of 75 ounces;
besides the priests robes, and other vestments, of gold
brocade, crimson velvet embroidered with gold, and
green damask.—These were all sold, and part of the
money applied to the repairs of the church ; the rest
was added to the funds, of the corporation.
In the steeple of St Giles’s church are three large
bells brought from Holland in 1621 ; the largest
weighing 20O0lb. the second 700, and the third 300.
There are also a set of music bells, which play every
day between one and two o’clock, or at any time in the
case of rejoicings. The cathedral is divided by parti¬
tion walls; and the principal apartments are used as
four separate churches, which are distinguished by the
names of the ~New or High Church, the Old Church, the
Tolbooth Church, which is contiguous to the prison, and
the Little Church, or Haddow's Hole Church, which de¬
rives its latter name from a gentleman who had been
confined in it. The principal division is called the
High Church, which has been elegantly repaired and
new seated. There is a very elegant and finely orna¬
mented seat for his majesty, with a canopy supported
by four Corinthian pillars decorated in high taste. This
seat is used by the king’s commissioner during the
time the General Assembly sits. On the right hand is
a seat for the lord high constable of Scotland, whose
office it is to keep the peace within doors in his ma¬
jesty’s presence ; it being the duty of the earl marshal
to do the same without. The seats belonging to the
lords of council and session are on the right of the lord
high constable; and on the left of the throne was a seat
for the lord high chancellor of Scotland ; but that office
being now abolished, the seat is occupied by others.
On the left of this sit the barons of exchequer ; and,
to the left of them, the lord provost, magistrates,
and
526 EDI N B
Edinburgh, and town council. The pulpit, king’s seat, and gal-
* v leries, are covered with crimson velvet with gold and
silk fringes.
The aisle of St Giles’s church is fitted up with seats
for the general assembly, who meet here j and there
is a throne for his majesty’s commissioner, with a cano¬
py of crimson silk damask, having the king’s arms em¬
broidered with gold, presented by the late Lord Cath-
cart to his successor in office. In this church is a mo¬
nument dedicated to the memory of Lord Napier, baron
of Merchiston, well known as the inventor ol loga¬
rithms ; a second, to the earl of Murray, regent of
Scotland during the minority of James VI. ; and a
third, to the great marquis of Montrose.
4. The Parliament House, in the great hall of which
the Scottish parliament used to assemble, is a magnifi¬
cent building. The hall is 123 feet long and 42 broad,
with a fine arched roof of oak, painted and gilded. In
this the lawyers and agents now attend the courts, and
single judges sit to determine causes in the first in¬
stance, or to prepare them for the whole court, who sit
in an inner room formerly appropriated to the privy
council. Since the division of the court into two bodies
in 1808, an additional chamber has been built for the
second division, on the west side of the large hall. The
statue of President Forbes is now placed in this room.
The statue of President Blair was placed in the cham¬
ber of the first division in 1818 ; and in the same year
a marble statue of Lord Melville was erected in the
outer or large hall. Two smaller apartments were
built for the use of the judge ordinaries, at the south
end of the large hall in 1820. In this hall, there are
also full-length portraits of King William III. Queen
Mary his consort, and Queen Anne, all done by Sir
Godfrey Kneller ; also of George I. John duke of
Argyle, and Archibald duke of Argyle, by Mr Aikman
of Cairney.
The Scottish Court of Exchequer occupies the new
apartments above and to the east of the Parliament
house, on the second floor. The valuable library of the
Faculty of Advocates, occupies the ground floor ot the
Parliament house ; but a splendid new room above that
of the writers to the signet is preparing. Besides
30,000 printed volumes, it contains many scarce and
valuable manuscripts, medals, and coins : here is also
an entire mummy in its original chest, presented to the
faculty (at the exp^ence of 300!.) by the earl of Mor¬
ton, late president to the Royal Society. As these
rooms are immediately below the hall where the par¬
liament sat, they are subject to a search by the lord
high constable of Scotland ever since the gunpowder
plot ; and this is specified in the gift from the city to
the faculty. This library was founded in the year
1682, by Sir George Mackenzie lord advocate. Among
other privileges, it is entitled to a copy of every book
entered in Stationers hall. Before the great door is a
noble equestrian statue of Charles II. the proportions
of which are reckoned exceedingly just. Over the en¬
trance are the arms of Scotland, with Mercy and Truth
on each side for supporters.
5. The Tolbooth was erected in 1561, not for the
purposes merely of a prison, but likewise for the ac¬
commodation of the parliament and other courts •, but
it has since become so very unfit for any of these
purposes, that it is now proposed to pull it down, and re-
U R G H.
build it in some other place, especially as it is very in- Edinbuj i
convenient in its present situation on account of its en-u-^i
cumbering the streets. The provost is captain of the tol¬
booth, with a gaoler under him : and the latter has a
monopoly of all the provisions for the prisoners ; a cir¬
cumstance which must certainly be considered as a
grievous oppression, those who are least able to pur¬
chase them being thus obliged to do so at the highest
price. There is a chaplain who has a salary of 30I. a
year.
6. Bridewell. “ On the Calton-hill, to be seen from
the North Bridge, is a correction-house or Bridewell.
built within these few years. It is a strong stone fabric.
The principal part of the building is in the form of the
letter D, with a house for the governor at some dis¬
tance opposite to the northern or rectilineal part of it.
The whole is surrounded by lofty walls, betwixt which
and the house is an area laid out as a garden.
“ This is said to be one of the most complete buildings
of the kind in Britain. It consists of five stories $ the
uppermost of which is used as an hospital for sick pri¬
soners and for store-rooms, &cc. The other four stories
are laid out in the following manner: A passage goes
along the middle of the semicircular part of the build¬
ing, with apartments on each hand. The apartments
on the outward side of the curvature are smaller than
those on the inner side, They are double the number,
and are used as separate bed-chambers for each of the
persons confined. The apartments on the inner side of
the semicircle, of which there are thirteen in each
story, are allotted for labour. They have a grate in
front, and look into the inner court. Opposite to
them, in the flat side of the building, is a dark apart¬
ment with narrow windows, from which, without be¬
ing seen, the governor can see how the prisoners in the
apartments for work are employed. The court, or
space in the middle between the flat and semicircular
part of the building, is roofed in at the top ; and a
great part of it is covered with glass, so as to light the
whole. On the floor of the area is a stove, which
during winter heats the whole apartments allotted to
labour. There is also a pulpit, from which a chaplain
preaches on Sundays; and the prisoners come into the
front apartments to attend the service.
“ The bed-chambers, looking outwards to the country,
are lighted by a long narrow windows in each. The
window is glazed. The frame in which the glass is
fixed is of iron. It turns on pivots fixed at the top
and bottom, so as to be opened and shut at pleasure.
Each bed-chamber, which is about eight feet long by
seven broad, is furnished with a bed and a bible. The
frame of the bed is of iron, the bed consists of a straw
mattress of the best quality. The whole floors and par¬
titions of the building are of stone. No wood is used
excepting for the doors of the apartments. There are
cells, however, for solitary confinement for male cri¬
minals, in which the frames of the beds are of wood,
lest, by breaking them, topis or weapons of a danger¬
ous nature should be obtained. Large cisterns, supplied
with rvater from the city’s reservoir, are placed at the
top of the house, from which the water is distributed to
the different stories, and to a kitchen, washing house,
and baths, on the ground floor.
“The institution is managed with great care. Besides
being superintended by the magistrates of Edinburgh,
E bnrgh. th® sheriff of the county once each month visits every
u- y”""**1 corner of it. It is kept in a state of the most perfect
cleanness. The prisoners, when first received, are
clothed in a uniform belonging to the place ; and their
own clothes, after being cleaned, are preserved for them
till their dismission. They remain during the day in
the apartments allotted to labour, from which they are
always dismissed as soon as it becomes dark to their bed¬
chambers. The women spin, and the men pick oakum.
Their food consists of oatmeal porridge with small beer,
for breakfast and supper ; and for dinner, of broth
made of fat and vegetables, resembling what in Scotland
is called shearer''s kail (reaper’s broth). Those that
exert any tolerable industry are allowed bread to their
broth, and also a larger portion of porridge. Only one
death has occurred in the house during the last four
years; and in that case the individual who died had
come into Bridewell under a complication of diseases.
In truth, the food, clothing, good air, and comfortable
lodging, which are enjoyed in this place, are far supe¬
rior, to what the greater number of inhabitants can ex¬
pect to obtain on their return to the world at large.
Srlffc* 0^T° reside here, therefore, is a punishment from moral
y' J ’ and not from physical causes ; that is to say, because
p,i4. it is attended with the loss of freedom and of societv,
and because it is a place of infamy.”
7. The society of Writers to the Signet have a very-
fine hall, 136 feet long, and adorned with a double row
of Corinthian columns. It is in the new buildings at
the north end of the Parliament House. The office of
keeper of the signet is very lucrative, and he is allowed
a depute and clerks under him. Before any one enters
into this society he must attend the college for two
years, and serve five years as an apprentice to one of
the society. There is a very excellent library belong¬
ing to this hall, which is rapidly increasing. Each
member of this society pays 100I. of apprentice fee,
and look when he enters.
8. The Exchange is a large and elegant building,
with a court of about 90 feet square in the middle.
On the north side are piazzas where people can walk
, under cover, the other three sides being laid out in
shops ; but the merchants have never made use of it to
meet in, still standing in the street as formerly. The
back part of the building formerly used for the general
customhouse of Scotland, where the commissioners met
to transact business, is now occupied by the offices for
the city business, including the apartments sof the town
council. There are above 20 rooms for the different
departments, to which the access is by a hanging stair
60 feet in height. In looking over the window before
he ascends this stair, a stranger is surprised to find him¬
self already 40 feet from the ground, which is owing to
the declivity on which the Exchange is built. The fine
mansion of Bellevue, north of the New Town, is now
converted into apartments for the customhouse.
The Trustees Office for the improvement of fisheries
and manufactures in Scotland is in the south-west cor¬
ner of the Exchange ; the fund under their manage¬
ment being part of the equivalent money given to Scot¬
land at the Union. This is distributed in premiums
amongst those who appear to have made any consider¬
able improvement in the arts.
0. The North Bridge, which forms the main passage
of communication betwixt the Old and New Towns,
EDINBURGH.
527
was founded, as has already been observed, in 176?, by Edinburg
Provost Drummond ; but the contract for building it
was not signed till August 21. 1764. The architect
was Mr William Mylne, who agreed with the town
council of Edinburgh to finish the work for 10,140k
and to uphold it for 10 years. It was also to be finish¬
ed before Martinmas 1769 : but on the 3d of August
that year, when the work was nearly completed, the
vaults and side walls on the south fell down, and five
people were buried in the ruins. This misfortune was
occasioned by the foundation having been laid, not up¬
on the solid earth, but upon the rubbish of the houses
which had long before been built on the north side of
the High street, and which had been thrown out into
the hollow to the northward. Of this rubbish there
were no less than eight feet between the foundation of
the bridge and the solid earth. Besides this deficiency
in the foundation, an immense load of earth which had
been laid over the vaults and arches in order to raise
the biidge to a proper level, had no doubt contributed
t° produce the catastrophe above mentioned.—The
bridge was repaired, by pulling down some parts of the
side walls, and afterwards rebuilding them ; strengthen¬
ing them in others, with chain bars ; removing the
quantity of earth laid upon the vaults, and supplying
its place with hollow arches, &c. The whole was sup¬
ported at the south end by very strong buttresses and
counterforts on each side ; but on the north it has only
a single support.— The whole length of the bridge, from
the High street in the Old Town to Prince’s street in
the New, is 1125 feet; the total length of the piers
and arches is 310 feet. The width of the three great
arches is 72 feet each : of the piers, 13^ feet; and of
the small arches, each 20 feet. The height of the great
arches from the top of the parapet to the base, is 68
feet; the breadth of the bridge within the wall over
the arches is 40 feet, and the breadth at each end 30
feet.—On the southern extremity of this bridge stands
the General Post Office for Scotland ; a neat plain
building, with a proper number of apartments for the
business, and a house for the secretary.
The communication betwixt the two towns by means
of this bridge, though very complete and convenient for
such as lived in certain parts of either, was yet found
insufficient for those who inhabit the western districts.
Another bridge being therefore necessary, it was pro¬
posed to fill up the valley occasionally with the rubbish
dug out in making the foundations of houses in the New
Town ; and so great was the quantity, that this was
accomplished so as to be fit for the passage of carriages
in little more than four years and a half,
10. The South Bridge, is directly opposite to the
other, so as to make but one street, crossing that called
the High Street almost at right angles. It consists of
19 arches of different sizes: but only one of them is
visible, viz. the large one over the Cowgate; and even
this is small in comparison with those of the North
Bridge, being no more than 30 feet wide and 31 feet
high. On the south it terminates at the University
on one hand, and the Royal Infirmary on the other.
The Tron Church, properly called Christ Church, stands
at the northern extremity, facing the High Street, and
in the middle of what is now called Hunter's Square,
in memory of the worthy chief magistrate who plan¬
ned those improvements, but did not live to see them
executed.
528 E D I N B
Edinburgh, executei). On the west side of this square the Mer-
chant Company have built a very handsome hall for
the occasional meetings of their members. This bridge
was erected with a design to give an easy access to the
great number of streets and squares on the south side,
as well as to the country on that quarter from whence
the city is supplied with coals. The street on the top
is supposed to be as regular as any in Europe j every
house, being of the same dimensions, excepting that
between every two of the ordinary construction there
is one with a pediment on the top, in order to prevent
that sameness of appearance which would otherwise
take place. So great was the rage for purchasing
ground on each side ot this bridge lor building, that
the areas sold by public auction at 50I. per foot in
front. By this the community will undoubtedly be
considerable gainers*, and the proprietors hope to in¬
demnify themselves for their extraordinary expence by
the vast sale of goods supposed to attend the shops in
that part of the town j though this seems somewhat
more dubious than the former.
x j, The Concert Trlall, called also St Cecihci s Hull^
stands in Niddery’s street j and was built, in 1762,
after the model of the great opera theatre in Parma.
The plan was drawn by Sir Robert Mylne, architect
of Blackfriars bridge. The musical room is of an oval
form, the ceiling being a concave elliptical dome, light¬
ed from the top by a lanthorn. The society for which
this hall was built has gradually fallen into neglect, and
the tenement, after being occupied by a congregation of
Baptists for some time, was sold to the grand lodge in
1812, and now bears the name of Freemasons Hall.
The Musical Society was first instituted in the year
1728. Before that time, several gentleman had formed
a weekly club at a tavern kept by one Steil, a great
lover of'music, and a good singer of Scots songs. Here
the common entertainment consisted in playing on the
harpsichord and violin the concertos and sonatas of
Handel, just then published. The .meeting, however,
soon becoming numerous, they instituted, in the year
above mentioned, a society of 70 members, for the
purpose of holding a weekly concert. The affairs of
the society were regulated by a governor, deputy-go¬
vernor, treasurer, and five directors, who were annual¬
ly chosen by the members. The meetings were
continued ever since that time on much the same
footing as at first, and the number of members in¬
creased to 200. The weekly concerts weie on Eiiday ,
the tickets being given gratis by the Directors, and at¬
tention paid in the first place to strangers. Oratorios
were occasionally performed throughout the year; and
the principal performers had also benefit concerts.
The band were excellent in their several departments ;
and several of the members being also good performers,
took their part in the orchestra. There were al¬
ways many applications on the occasion of a vacancy j
and such was generally the number of candidates, that
it was no easy matter to be admitted. This society,
however, as already stated, has been long neglected,
and the hall disposed of for other purposes.
12. The University. In the year I58*> a grant was
obtained from King James VI. for founding a college
or university within the city of Edinburgh ; and the
citizens, aided by various donations from.well disposed
persons, purchased a situation for the intended new
U R G H.
college, consisting of part of the areas, chambers, and Edinb-jU
church of the collegiate provostry and prebends of the r-*i
Kirk-a-field, otherwise called Templnm et Prafectura
Sanctee Mar ice in campis, lying on the south side of the
city. Next year, a charter of confirmation and erec¬
tion was obtained also from King James VI. from which
the college to be built did afterwards derive all the
privileges of an university.
In 1583, the provost, magistrates, and council, the
patrons of this new institution, prepared the place in
the best manner they could for the reception of teachers
and students ^ and in the month of October the same
year, Robert Rollock, whom they had invited from a
professorship in St Salvator’s College in the university
of St Andrew’s, began to teach in the new college
of Edinburgh. Other professors were soon after elect¬
ed j and in the year 1586, Rollock was appointed
principal of the college, and the following year also
professor of divinity, immediately alter he had confer-
ed the degree of M. A. on the students who had been
under his tuition for four years. The offices of prin¬
cipal and professor of divinity remained united till the
year 1620.
In the 1617, King James VI. having visited Scot¬
land after his accession to the crown of England, com¬
manded the principal and regents of the college of
Edinburgh to attend him in Stirling castle j and after
they had there held a solemn philosophical disputation
in the royal presence, his majesty was so much satis¬
fied with their appearance, that he desired their col¬
lege for the future might be called The College of King
James, which name it still bears in all its diplomas or
public deeds.
For several years the college consisted only of a
principal, who was also professor ot divinity, with four
regents or professors ot philosophy. Each ot these
regents instructed one class of students for four years,
in^Latin, Greek, school logic, mathematics, ethics,
and physics, and graduated them at the conclusion of
the fourth course. A professor of humanity or Latin
was afterwards appointed, who prepared the students
for entering under the tuition of the regents *, also a
professor of mathematics, and a professor of Hebrew
or oriental languages. It was not till about the year
1710 that the four regents began to be confined each
to a particular profession ; since which time they have
been commonly styled Professors of Greek, Logic, Mo¬
ral Philosophy, and Natural Philosophy.—The first me¬
dical professors instituted at Edinburgh, were Sir Ro¬
bert Sibbald and Doctor Archibald Pitcairn, in the
year 1685 *. These, however, were only titular profes- * See t
sors*, and for 30 years afterwards, a summer lecture on
the officinal plants, and the dissection of a human body
once in two or three years, completed the whole course
of medical education at Edinburgh. In 1720, an at¬
tempt was made to teach the different branches of phy¬
sic regularly, which succeeded so well, that ever since,
the reputation of the university as a school for medicine
hath been constantly increasing, both in the island of
Britain, and even among distant nations.
The college is endowed with a very fine library,
founded in 1580 by Mr Clement LitUe advocate,
who bequeathed it to the town council. They order¬
ed a house to be built for it in the neighbourhood of
St Giles’s church, where it was for some time kept
under
Salaries.
under the care of the eldest minister of Edinburgh,
' but was afterwards removed to the college. This col-
lection is enriched, as well as others of a similar kind,
by receiving a copy of every book entered in Station¬
ers hall, according to the statute for the encourage¬
ment of authors. Besides this, tire only fund it has is
the money paid by all the students at the university,
except those of divinity, upon their being matriculated j
and a sum of 5!. given by each professor at his admis¬
sion. The amount of these sums is uncertain, but has
been estimated at about 150I. annually. The students
of divinity, who pay nothing to this library, have one
belonging to their own particular department.
Here. are shown two skulls, one almost as thin as pa¬
per, pretended to be that of the celebrated George Bu¬
chanan ; and, by way of contrast, another said to have
been that of an idiot, and which is excessively thick.
Here also are preserved the original protest against the
council of Constance for burning John Huss and Jerome
of Prague in 1417 ; the original contract of Queen
Mary with the dauphin of France, and some valuable
coins and medals. There are also several portraits j
particularly of Robert Bollock the first principal of the
university. King James VI. John Napier the inventor
of logarithms, John Knox, Principal Carstairs, Mr
Thomson the author of the Seasons, &c. The museum
contains a good collection of natural curiosities, the
number of which is daily increasing. The anatomical
preparations are worth notice, as are also those belong¬
ing to the professor of midwifery.
The celebrity of this college has been greatly owing
to the uniform attention of the magistracy in filling up
the vacant chairs with men of known abilities in their
respective departments.
The university of Edinburgh “ having been instituted
after the Reformation, among a frugal people that had
no love for ecclesiastical dignities, it differs greatly
from the wealthy foundations which receive the name
of universities and colleges in England, or in the ca¬
tholic countries of the continent of Europe. The uni¬
versity of Edinburgh consists of a single college, which
enjoys the privilege of conferring degrees. It consists
of a principal, with a salary of nil. 2s. o|d. whose of¬
fice is in a great measure nominal, and of a professor
In each of the following departments :
EDINBURGH.
Midwifery - - -
Clinical Surgery
Military Surgery - •
Medical Jurisprudence
Natural History
Faculty of Arts.
Moral Philosophy
Rhetoric and Belles Lettres
Greek - - ‘ -
Eatin - - . .
Natural Philosophy
Mathematics - - _
Practical Astronomy
Logic -
Agriculture ...
529
Edinburgh.
IOO O
100 o
100 o
70 o
102 4
70 o
52 4
52 10
52 4
6
I13
100
32
5°
5t
o
5t
o
Si
8
o
Si
Faculty of Theology.
Divinity ...
Church history
Oriental languages
Faculty of Law.
Law of Nature and Nations.—Salary
variable, but always above
Civil Law - - . _
Scots Law ...
Civil History and Antiquities
Faculty of Medicine,
Anatomy and Surgery
Practice of Medicine
Botany ....
Materia Medica
Chemistry ....
Theory of Medicine
Vou. VII. Part II.
Salaries.
L.l6l 2
IOO
119
O
12
300
100
100
100
50
77
o o
“ Of these, the professors of church history and natu¬
ral history, botany, clinical and military surgery, me¬
dical jurisprudence, astronomy, law of nature and na¬
tions, and rhetoric, are in the gift of the crown. The
professor of agriculture was nominated by Sir William
Pultney, founder of the institution. The remaining
chairs are in the gift of the town-council of Edinburgh.
Besides these classes here enumerated, the medical pro-BemUkt of
fessors alternately give clinical lectures upon the Scotland, I.
of the patients in the royal infirmary of Edinburgh.” 4f.
The university is now attended by not less than 2000
students in the different departments of science and li¬
terature.
The old buildings being very mean, and unfit for
the reception of so many professors and students, and
quite unsuitable to the dignity of such a flourishing
university, as well as inconsistent with the improved,
state of the city, the Lord Provost, Magistrates, and
Council, set on foot a subscription for erecting a new
structure, according to a design of Robert Adam, Esq.
architect. Part of the old fabric has in consequence
been pulled down, and the new building is already in
considerable forwardness. The foundation stone was
laid on Monday the 16th of November, with great so¬
lemnity, by the Right Hon. Francis Lord Napier,
grand master mason of Scotland, in the presence of
the Right Hon. the Lord Provost, Magistrates, and
lown Council of the city of Edinburgh, with the
principal, professors, and students of the university of
Edinburgh, a number of nobility and gentry, and
the masters, officers, and brethren of all the lodges
of free masons in the city and neighbourhood, who
marched in procession from the Parliament House
clown the High street. After the different masonic
ceremonials were performed, two crystal bottles, cast
on purpose at the glass house of Leith, were deposited
in the foundation stone. In one of these were put
different coins of the present reign, each of them be¬
ing previously enveloped in crystal, in such an ingeni¬
ous manner, that the legend on the coins could be di¬
stinctly read without breaking the crystal. In the other
bottle were deposited seven rolls of vellum, containing
a short account of the original foundation and present
state of the university, together with several other pa¬
pers, in particular the different newspapers, containing
advertisements relative to the college, &c. and a list of
the names of the principal and professors, also of the
present lord provost and magistrates, and officers of
3 ^ the
53°
Edinburgh.
E D I N B
the grand lodge of Scotland. The bottles being care¬
fully sealed u]>, were covered with a plate of copper
wrapt in block tin ; and upon the under side of the
copper were engraved the arms of the city of It.dio-
burgh and the university j likewise the arms of the
Right Hon. Lord Napier, grand master mason of Scot¬
land. Upon the upper side, a Latin inscription, of
which the following is a copy :
ANNUENTE DEO OPT. MAX.
' REGNANTE GEORGIO III. PRINCIPE
MUNIEICENTISSIMO j
academe® edinburgensis
®DIBUS,
INITIO QEJIDEM HUMILLIMIS,
ET JAM, POST DUO SECULA, PENE RUINOS1S }
NOVI HUJUS iEDIFJCIl,
UBI COMMODITAT1 SIMUL ET ELEGANTI®,
TANTO DOCTRINARUM DOMICILIO
DIGN®,
CONSULERETUR,
PRIMUM LAPIDEM POSUIT,
PLAUDENTE INGENTI OMNIUM ORDINUM
FREQUENTIA,
VIR NOB I LI SSI MUS
FRANC1SCUS DOMINUS NAPIER,
REIPUB. ARCHITECTONIC® APUD SCOTOS
CURIO MAXIMUS :
XVI. KAL. DECEMB.
ANNO SALUTIS HUMAN® MDCCLXXXIX.
®R® ARCHITECTONIC® ID3IDCCLXXXIX.
CONSOLE THOMA ELDER,
ACADEMI® PR®FECTO GULIELMO
ROBERTSON,
ARCHITECTO ROBERTO ADAM.
Q,. F. F. Q. S.
The building went on rapidly for some time ; but the
funds being far from sufficient for the extent of the plan,
it was necessarily stopped, and remained for many years
a useless pile resembling a ruin. At length in 1815, by
the exertions of Sir John Marjoribanks, member for the
city, a grant of io,oool. per annum for seven years was
obtained from parliament, to be expended under the di¬
rection of commissioners appointed in the bill. W ith
this aid the western side of the building has been entire¬
ly finished, and great progress is making with the other
parts. The east and west fronts extend 255 feet, and
the south and north 358. A new plan was adopted, de¬
signed by Mr Playfair, and modifying in some degree
that of Mr Adams. The library, occupying the south
side of the square, is to be divided into two floors, the
lower of which is separated into five compartments.
The upper floor will form one magnificent saloon. The
museum of natural history, which occupies the west side
of the area, and is now finished, consists of two floors
00 feet long, and fitted in the most tasteful and beauti¬
ful style. The fine collection it contains is in excellent
order, and admirably arranged. ...
The botanical garden belonging to the university is
situated at the distance of about a mile, on the road
between Edinburgh and Leith. It consists of about five
acres of ground ; and is furnished with a great variety
of plants, many of them brought from the most distant
quarters of the globe. The professor is botanist to the
king, and receives a salary of 120I. annually for the
support of the garden. A monument to the memory
3
U R G H.
of the celebrated botanist Linnaeus, was erected here Edinbii
by the late Dr Hope, who first planned the garden, and '—-y. ]
brought it to perfection.
The university of Edinburgh, like the others in this
kingdom, sends one member to the General Assembly
of the church of Scotland j and the widows of the pro¬
fessors have a right to the funds of those of ministers,
the professors being trustees on that fund along with
the presbytery of Edinburgh.
“ In the year 1772, the Board of Trustees for the
encouragement of Manufactures, &c. in Scotland, ap¬
pointed Mr Alexander Runciman, painter, to teach 20
boys or girls drawing, allowing him a yearly salary of
120I. Pie was succeeded in this office by Mr Allan •, to
whom followed Mr Graham, who was succeeded by Mr
A. Wilson in 1818. This institution being appropriat¬
ed for the use of manufactures, is not properly a school
of painting. In this last art, however, very eminent
teachers are to be found in Edinburgh, but no public
establishment exists for its encouragement.
“ Near the University there is also a Riding School,
called the Royal Academy for teaching Exercises. The
teacher of this academy receives a salary of 200I. a-year
from the crown, and is accommodated with a riding f I
school of 120 feet in length by 40 in breadth, and
stables to a considerable extent.
“ In Edinburgh there is established, in imitation of
that in London, a Royal Society, which has published
some volumes of transactions. It contains a number of
members of great respectability but in Edinbuigh men
of letters are apt to be extremely jealous and unsociable
with regard to each other. Jhis illiberahty of temper
prevents the Royal Society from being of much value, j j
Great numbers of the most accomplished and active
men of letters are unconnected with it j while it con¬
tains others who have been introduced to it merely by
their rank in the world, or the circumstance of having
attained to distinguished literary situations by the pa¬
tronage of men in power, who of late years have, in
this country, displayed little of that anxiety to discri¬
minate and bring into notice men of literary talents,
which once formed the most honourable characteristic
of the nobles and statesmen of Scotland.” L 5W 1
13. The Royal Infirmary was first thought of by the
College of Physicians in 1725. A fishing company
happening to be dissolved at that time, the partners
contributed some of their stock towards the establish¬
ment of the Infirmary. A subscription was also set on
foot, and application made to the General Assembly to
recommend the same throughout their jurisdiction.
This was readily complied with, and the assembly pass¬
ed an act for that purpose *, but very little regard was
paid to it by the clergy. Notwithstanding tins, how¬
ever 2000I. being procured, a small house was opened
for the reception of the sick poor in August 1729* 11
1736, the contributors towards the Infirmary were
erected into a body corporate by royal statute ; and
after this the contributions increased very considerably:
by which means the managers were enabled to enlarge
their scheme from time to time ; and at last to under¬
take the present magnificent structure, the foundation
of which was laid in 1738. During 25 years, when
this institution was in its infancy, Lord Hopetoun be¬
stowed upon it an annuity of 400I. In 1750* Doc¬
tor Archibald Ker bequeathed to this incorportion
200I. a-year in the island of Jamaica. In 1755^ ^
E D I N B
lords of tlie treasury made a donation to it of 8000I.
which had been appointed for the support of invalids.
In return for this, the managers of the Infirmary con¬
stantly keep 60 beds in readiness for the reception of
sick soldiers. This year also sick servants began to be
admitted into the Infirmary, and a ward was fitted up
for their reception.
This institution, however, was more indebted to
George Drummond, Esq. than to any other person. He
was seven times chosen lord provost of Edinburgh ; and
always directed his attention to the improvement of the
city, particularly to that of the Royal Infirmary. So
sensible were the managers of their obligations to him,
that, in their hall, they erected a bust of him with this
inscription, “ George Drummond, to whom this coun¬
try is indebted for all the benefit which it derives from
the Royal Infirmary.”—In 1748, the stock of the In¬
firmary amounted to 5000I.; in 1755, 107076!. be¬
sides the estate left by Doctor Ker $ in 1764, to
23,426. •, and in 1778, to 27,074!.
The Royal Infirmary is attended by two physicians
chosen by the managers, who visit their patients daily
in presence of the students. All the members of the
College of Surgeons were obliged to attend in rota¬
tion, according to seniority. If any surgeon declined
attendance, he was not allowed to appoint a depute •,
and the patients were committed to the care of one of
four assistant surgeons, chosen annually by the managers :
this was formerly the mode of attendance, but the ma¬
nagers have in consequence of a decision of the high
court of judicature assumed to themselves the sole right
of electing the surgeons.—From the year 1762 to 1769,
there were admitted 6261 patients; which number ad¬
ded to 109 who were in the hospital at the commence¬
ment of the year 1762, made, in all, 6370. Of these,
4395 were cured ; 358 died : the rest were either re¬
lieved, dismissed incurable, for irregularities, or by
their own desire, or remained in the hospital.—From
1770 to 1775, the patients annually admitted into the
Infirmary were, at an average, 1567 ; of whom 63
died. In 1766, there were admitted 1668, of whom
57 d led; and in 1777, the number admitted was 1593,
and of deaths 52. In the year 1786, there were ad¬
mitted 1822 patients : Of these 1354 were cured ; 166
relieved ; 84 died. In 1818 there tvere in the Infir¬
mary and in the Fever Hospital at Queensberry House,
3453 patients, of whom 189 only died.
The building consists of a body and two wings, each
of them three stories high, with an attic story and gar¬
ret, and a very elegant front. The body is 210 feet
long, and 36 broad in the middle, hut at the ends only
24 feet broad. There is a bust of King George II. in
a Roman dress, above the great door. The wings are
70 feet long, and 25 broad. In the centre is a large
atairease, so wide that sedan chairs may be carried
up. In the different wards, 228 patients may be ac¬
commodated, each in a different bed. There are
cold and hot baths for the patients, and also for the
citizens; and to these last the patients are never ad¬
mitted.
Resides the apartments necessary for the sick, there
are others for the officers and servants belonging to the
house. There are likewise rooms for the managers, a
consulting room for the physicians and surgeons, a
waiting room for the students, and a theatre that will
U R G H. 53 i
hold upwards of 200 people, for performing chirur-Edinburgh,
gical operations. There is a military ward, support- -\i——
ed by the interest of the 8000I. already mentioned ;
and in consequence of which a small guard is always
kept at the Infirmary. The wards for sick servants
are supported by collections at the church doors. Re¬
sides the surgical attendance already mentioned, there
are two physicians belonging to the house, who are
elected by the managers, and have a salary : there is
likewise a house surgeon and apothecary. Students
who attend the Infirmary, paid formerly 3I. 3s. which
is increased to 5I. 5s. annually, which brings in a con¬
siderable revenue towards defraying the expence of the
house. Two wards are set apart for the patients whose
cases are supposed to be most interesting ; and the me¬
dical professors in the university give clinical lectures
upon them by rotation. In 18x8, when typhus fever
was very prevalent, Queensberry House was set apart
as a fever hospital, and it is still in use for this pur¬
pose.
14. The Public Dispensary was founded by Dr Dun-
can in I77^» X01' the poor whose diseases are of such a
nature as to render their admission into the Infirmary
either unnecessary or improper. Here the patients
receive advice gratis four days in a week ; a register
is kept of the diseases of each, and of the effects pro-
duced by the medicines employed. All patients not
improper for dispensary treatment are admitted on the
recommendation of the elder or church warden of the
parish where they reside. The physicians officiate and
give lectures gratis ; so that the apothecary who lodges
m the house, and the medicines, are the only expences
attending this useful institution. The expence of the
whole is defrayed by public contributions, and from
a small annual fee paid by the students who attend
the lectures. It is under the direction of a president,
two vice-presidents and 20 directors elected annually
from among the contributors. One guinea entitles a
contributor to recommend patients and be a governor
for two years, and five guineas gives the same privilege
for life. Under the same management there is an insti¬
tution for the gratuitous inoculation for the cowpox.
15. The High School. The earliest institution of a
grammar school in Edinburgh seems to have been
about the year 15x9. The whole expence bestowed
upon the fix-st building of this kind amounted only to
about 40I. sterling. Another building, which had
been erected for the accommodation of the scholars in
1578, continued, notwithstanding the great increase
of their number, to be used for that purpose till 1777*
The foundation of the present new building was laid
on the 24th of June that year by Sir William Forbes,
Grand Master of the Free Masons. The total length
of this building is 120 feet from south to north; the
breadth in the middle 36, at each end 38 feet. The
great hall where the boys meet for prayers, is 68 feet
by 30. At each end of the ball is a room of 32 feet
by 20, intended for libraries. The building is two
stories high, the one 18, the other 17, feet in height.
The ex pence of the whole was reckoned at 4000I.
There is a rector and four masters, who teach about
8oo scholars annually. The salaries are trifling, and
the fees depend upon the reputation they have obtained
for teaching. There is a janitor, whose place is sup¬
posed to be worth about 70I. a-year. His business is
3X2 to
532 E D I N B
Edinburgh, to take care of the boys on the play ground ; and there
• i.—y—i. jg a woman who lives on the spot as- under-janitor,
whose place may be worth about 25I. annually. There
is a library, but not large, as each of the boys pays only
one shilling annually to its support.
There are four established English schools in Edm*
burgh, the masters of which receive a small salary,
upon express condition that they shall not take above
a limited sum per quarter from any of their scholars.
There are likewise many other private schools in Edin¬
burgh for all languages ^ and, in general, every kind
of education is to be had here in great perfection and
at a very cheap rate.
16. The Mint is kept up by the articles of Union,
with all the offices belonging to it, though no money
is ever struck here. It stands in the Covvgate, a little
to the west of the English church, but is in a ruinous
state, though still inhabited by the different officers,
who have free houses j and the bellman enjoys his sa¬
lary by regularly ringing the bell. Ibis place, as well
as the abbey of Holyroodhouse, is an asylum for
debtors.
17. The English Chapel stands near the Cowgate
Port, and was founded on the 3d of April X771* ^i,e
foundation stone was laid by General Qughton.. It is
a plain handsome building, neatly fitted up in the inside,
and somewhat resembling the church of St Martin s in
the Fields, London. It is 90 feet long, 75 broad,
and ornamented with an elegant spire of considerable
height. This building was sold to a congregation of
dissenters in 18x7, when the Episcopalian congrega¬
tion removed to their new chapel in York Place.
18. St Paters Chapel in York Place was founded in
3816, and completed in 1818. It is built in the Gothic
style as it prevailed in the reign of Henry VI. It con¬
sists of a nave with four octagon towers at the angles.
The outside length is 122 feet, and breadth 73. The
ceiling of the nave is a flat Gothic arch, covered with
ornamented tracery mouldings, as are also the ceilings
under the side aisles. The great eastern window is
fitted up with painted glass.
19. St John's Chapel sten&s at the west end of Prince’s
Street, on the south side. The architecture is of the
florid Gothic. It is 113 feet long by 62 in breadth.
The height of the great eastern window, which is finish¬
ed with stained glass, is 30 feet. The wall is supported
by buttresses, and adorned at top by minarets and
niches with tracery work.. It has a square tower at
the west end 120 feet high. Around it is a terrace,
covering arched burial vaults. Ihere is no gallery,
but two rows of very light Gothic columns support the
roof. This chapel was begun in 1816, and finished in
1819, at an expence exceeding 15,000!. sterling.
20. St George's Chapel, which stands in Aork Place,
is small, but finished in a very neat style.
U B G H.
21. The Roman Catholic Chapel stands at the eastern Edinbui..
termination ot Y"ork Place, close by the 1 antheon.
The body of the building is plain, but it is ornamented
with a very handsome Gothic facade.
22. Heriot's Hospital owes its foundation to George
Heriot, goldsmith to James VI. who acquired by his
business a large fortune. At his death, he left the
magistrates of Edinburgh 23,6251. xos. ‘ loi the
maintenance, relief, and bringing up of so many poor
and fatherless boys, freemen’s sons of the town ot
Edinburgh,” as the above sum should be sufficient
for. This hospital is finely situated on the west end
of the south ridge, almost opposite to the castle, and is
the most magnificent building ot the kind in Edin¬
burgh. It was founded in July 1628, according to a
plan (as is reported) of Inigo Jones y but the work be-
ino- interrupted by the civil wars, it was not finished
tilt the year 1650. The expence of the building is said
to have been upwards of 30,000!. (a) : and the hospital
is now possessed of an income of about 5000k a year j
though this cannot be absolutely ascertained, as the rents
are paid in grain, and of ceurse must be fluctuating.
It stands on a rising ground to the south-west ot the
city, and is a square ot 162 teet without, having a
court 94 feet square in the inside, with piazzas on
three of the sides. There is a spire with a clock over
the gateway, and each corner of the building is orna¬
mented with turrets ; but notwithstanding the magni¬
ficent appearance ot the outside, the inner part is
far from being convenient. I here is a statue ot the
founder over the gateway, in the dress of the times,
and a very good painting of him in the governors
room, with a picture of the late treasurer Mr Carmi¬
chael. There is a chapel 61 feet long and 22 broad,
which is now repairing in such a manner as will maks
it worthy of notice.. When Cromwell took possession
of Edinburgh after the battle of Dunbar, he quartered
his sick and wounded soldiers in this hospital. It was
applied to the same purpose till the year 1658, when
General Monk, at the request of the governors, re¬
moved the soldiers j and on the xith ol April 16595
it was opened for the reception of boys, 30 ol whom
were admitted into it.. The August alter, they weie
increased to 40 ? an^ in I66x, to 52, I753 ^!ie
number was raised to 130, and in 1763? I40,
18-19 the number was 180. — In this hospital the
boys are instructed in reading, writing, arithmetic, and
a knowledge of the Latin tongue. With such as choose
to follow any kind of trade, an apprentice fee of 30I.
is given when they leave the hospital; and those who
choose an academical education,, have an annuity of
IqI. a-year bestowed on them lor lour years. The
whole is under the oversight of the treasurer, who has
under him a house governor, housekeeper, and school¬
masters. Trr ,
23. Watson s
r tn be observed that money then bore 10 per cent, interest.—The above sums are taken from Mr
Arnot’s History of Edinburgh, who subjoins the following note. “ Where Maitland ‘^d pjer70T’s
erroneous account of George Heriots effects we do not know. He makes thesumreceived.out
effects, by the governors of the hospital, to be 43,608!. 11s. 3d. being almost doul,f1y/.^ f .
This blunder has been the cause of many unjust murmurings against the magistrates ol Edmiurgh, and
means of spiriting up.lawsuits against them.
EDINBURGH.
jurgli. 23. Watson's Hospital has its name from the founder
George Watson, who was at first clerk to Sir William
Dick provost of Edinburgh in 1676, then accountant
of the bank of Scotland ; after that he became receiver
of the city’s impost on ale, treasurer to the Merchants
Maiden Hospital, and to the Society for propagating
Christian knowledge. Dying a bachelor in 1723, he
' left 12,oool. for the maintenance and education of the
-children and grandchildren of decayed members of
the merchant company of Edinburgh. The scheme,
however, was not put into execution till the year 1738,
when the sum originally left had accumulated to
20,oool. The present building was then erected, in
which 70 boys are maintained and educated (1819).
It is much less magnificent than Heriot’s Hospital, but
the building is far from being despicable. It stands to
the southward of the city at a small distance from
Heriot’s Hospital, and was erected at the expence of
5000I.: its present revenue is about 1700!. It is un¬
der the management of the master, assistants, and trea-
surer of the Merchant Company, four old bailies, the
old dean of guild, and the two ministers of the Old
church. The boys are genteelly clothed and liberally
educated. Such as choose an university education are
allowed 10I. per annum for five years: those who go to
trades have 20I. allowed them for their apprentic fee,
and at the age of 25 years, if they have behaved pro¬
perly, and not contracted marriage without consent of
the governors, they receive a bounty of 50I. The boys
are under the immediate inspection of the treasurer,
schoolmaster, and housekeeper.
24. The Merchants Maiden Hospital was established
by voluntary contribution about the end of the last cen¬
tury, for the maintenance of young girls, daughters of
the merchants burgesses of Edinburgh. The gover¬
nors were erected into a body corporate, by act of par¬
liament, in 1707. The annual revenue amounts to
3000I. Eighty girls are maintained in it; who, upon
leaving the house, receive pi. 6s. 8d. The old build¬
ing in Bristo street having become inadequate, a new
one was erected in Lauriston lane, and was finished
in 1819. It is 180 feet in length, by 60 in depth, and
is in the Grecian style.
23. The Trades Maiden Hospital was founded in the
year 1704 by the incorporations of Edinburgh, for the
maintenance of the daughters of decayed members, on
a plan similar to that of the Merchants hospital. To
this, as well as to the former, one Mrs Mary Erskine,
a widow gentlewoman, contributed so liberally, that
she was by the governors styled joint foundress of the
hospital. Fifty girls are maintained in the house, who
pay of entry money ll. 13s. 4d. $ and, when they
leave it, receive a bounty of 3I. ns. i^d. The re¬
venues are estimated at 600I. a-year.
26. The Orphan Hospital was planned in 1732, by
Andrew Gairdner merchant, and other inhabitants.
It was promoted by the society for propagating Chri¬
stian knowledge, by other societies, by voluntary sub¬
scriptions, and a collection at the church doors.—In
1733, ^5e managers hired a house, took in 30 orphans,
maintained them, gave them instructions in reading
and writing, and taught them the weaving business.
In nsi. tliey were erected into a body corporate
by the town of Edinburgh : and, in- 1742, they ob¬
tained a charter of erection from his late majesty, ap-
5-33
pointing most of the great officers of state in Scotland, Edinburgh,
and the heads of the different societies in Edinburgh, ' v"" "1'
members of this corporation j with powers to them to
hold real property to the amount of 1000I. a-year.
Ihe revenue is inconsiderable j but the institution is
supported by the contributions of charitable persons.
Into this hospital orphans are received from any part
of the kingdom. None are admitted under seven, nor
continued in it after 14 years of age.
The orphan hospital is situated to the east of the
North bridge ; and is a handsome building, consisting
of a body and two wings, with a neat spire, furnished
with a clock and two bells. The late worthy Mr
Howard admits, that this institution is one of the most
useful charities in Europe, and is a pattern for all in¬
stitutions of the kind. The funds have been consider¬
ably increased, and the building greatly improved,
through the attention and exertions of Mr Thomas Tod
formerly treasurer.
27. The Trinity Hospital. This was originally found- ^
ed and amply endowed by King James II.’s queen. At
the Reformation it was stripped of its revenues ; but
the regent afterwards bestowed them on the provost of
Edinburgh, who gave them to the citizens for the use v
of the poor. In 1585, the town council purchased
from Robert Font, at that time provost of Trinity col¬
lege, his interest in these subjects j and the transaction
was afterwards ratified by James VI. The hospital was
then repaired, and appointed for the reception of poor
old burgesses, their wives and unmarried children, not
under 50 years of age. In the year 1700, this hos¬
pital maintained 54 persons 5 but, since that time, the
number has decreased.—The revenue consists in a
real estate of lands and houses, the gross rents of
which are 762I. a year, and 5500I. lent out in bonds
at 4 per cent.
This hospital is situated at the foot of Leith wynd,
The inmates are supplied with roast or boiled meat
every day for dinner, have money allowed them for
clothes, and likewise a small sum for pocket money.
There is a small library for their amusement, and they
have a chaplain to say prayers. The funds are under
the management of the town council. The number of
persons on the establishment in 1819 was 80 men,
and 30 women, besides 93 out-pensioners who receive
each 61. per annum. None are received under fifty-
years of age.
28. The Charity Workhouse was erected in 1743 by
voluntary contribution. It is a large plain building,
on the south side of the city. Here the poor are em¬
ployed, and are allowed twopence out of every shilling
they earn. The income of the house for the year end¬
ing 1st July 1818, including 2000I. of borrowed money,
amounted to 10,309!. 14s. yd. while the expenditure
for the same period was 10,8571. 4s. yd. The number
of persons in the house in 1818 was 890, but consider¬
able sums are paid to out-pensioners. The average
expence of maintaining each person in the house is
81. 8s. 6d. The only permanent fund for defraying this
expence is a tax of five per cent, on the valued rents of
the city. The rest is derived from collections at the
church doors and voluntary contributions j but as these
always fall short of what is requisite, recourse must
frequently be bad to extraordinary collections. The
sum arising from the rents of the city, however, is
constantly .
534 EDINBURG H.
Udinbuij'h.constantly increasing; but the members of the college
i. of justice are exempted from the tax.
29. “ To the south-west of the castle, near a suburb
called the Wrights Houses, on the site of a very ancient
building, which was demolished to make way for it,
Gillespie's Hospital has lately been erected. Its appel-
lation' is derived from the founder, an eminent manu¬
facturer of snuff in Edinburgh. It is intended for the
support of aged persons ; and those bearing the name
of the founder are preferred. It is a neat stone build¬
ing, executed in a style of moderate expence, with a
small tower in the centre and a parapet, and Gothic
turrets at suitable distances around the roof.
“ Besides these there are to be found in Edinburgh
several charitable establishments, which, though not
furnished with costly buildings, are not of a less bene¬
volent or valuable nature. Of these, one of the most
distinguished is the Hospital or Workhouse, or Asylum,
as it is called,/or the Industrious Blind; which is sup-
ported by the contributions of charitable persons, and
by the price of the articles manufactured in it. Here
the blind are taught such trades as may enable them to
earn a subsistence, or at least aid them in contributing
to their own support. They manufacture baskets,
matts, &c. ; and some of them have been taught to
act as weavers, for which purpose they use the fly-
shuttle.
“ The Magdalene Asylum also deserves notice ; my
which a most laudable attempt has of late years been
made, by a benevolent society, to reclaim, from vice
and misery, women who have degraded themselves by
public prostitution, but who think fit to retire thither
with the view of abandoning their mode of life, and of
supporting themselves by industry. Ihis institution is
managed with a degree of care and delicacy which does
the highest credit to its patrons. The objects of this
charity are kept concealed: they reap the fruits of
their own labour; and every effort is made to procure
employment for them. In particular, needle-work of
all sorts is executed in it in the neatest manner ; and
linen is washed, at moderate prices, for such persons in
the city as think fit to transmit these articles to the so-
ciety. . . . . .
“ Besides all these charities, there is an hospital in
the city for Lying-in Women, under the care of the
professor of midwifery : which is an institution analogous
to that of the Royal Infirmary.—There is a Society for
the Relief of the Destitute Sick, which has received con¬
siderable public countenance, though it has no appro¬
priate building or local establishment.—An institution
of a peculiar nature, not unconnected with the present
subject, called the Repository, ought not to pass un¬
noticed. It is a shop or ware-room on South Bridge
Street, to which ladies in straitened circumstances have
an opportunity of sending for sale curious, beautiftil, or
useful articles of needle-work, with the price affixed.
When a purchaser has been found for the goods, the
proceeds are transmitted in such a manner as to prevent
its iieing known to the public by whom the articles
Beauties o/were prepared. This institution has been promoted by
-Scot/and, \-the duchess of Buccleugh and many other persons of
69. rank.”
There are two other charity workhouses in the sub¬
urbs, much on the same plan with that now described.
one in the Canongate, and the other in St Cuthbert’s
or \Yest kirk parish. ;   r*
To this account of the charitable establishments in
Edinburgh, we shall add that of some others ; which,
though not calculated to decorate the city by any
public building, are perhaps no less^ deserving of
praise than any we have mentioned. The first is that
of Captain William Horn ; who left 3500I. in trust to
the magistrates, the annual profits to be divided on
Christmas day to poor out-day labourers, who must at
that season of the year he destitute of employment ;
five pounds to be given to those who have large fami¬
lies, and one half to those who have smaller.
Another charity is that of Robert Johnston, LL. D.
of London, who in 1640 left 3000I. to the poor of
this city ; 1000I. to be employed in setting them to
work, another 1000I. to clothe the boys in Heriot’*
Hospital, and the third icool. to bursars at the univer¬
sity.
About the beginning of this century John Strachan
left his estate of Craigcrook, now upwards of 300I.
a-year in trust to the presbytery of Edinburgh, to be
by them disposed of in small annual sums to poor old
people not under 65 years of age, and to orphans not
above 12.
There is besides a society for the support of the in¬
dustrious poor, another for the indigent sick, and there
are also many charity schools.
Having thus given an account of the most remark¬
able edifices belonging to Old Edinburgh, we shall
now proceed to those of the New Jown. Ibis is
terminated on the east side by the Calton hill, round
which there is a pleasant walk, and which affords
one of the finest prospects that can be imagined, vary¬
ing remarkably almost at every step. On this hill is
a burying ground, which contains a fine monument
to the memory of David Hume the historian.—Otv
the top is an observatory, the scheme for building
which was first adopted in the year 173^ >
sturbance occasioned by the Porteous mob prevented
any thing from being done towards the execution of it
at that time. The earl of Morton afterwards gave
100I. for the purpose of building an observatory, and
appointed Mr M‘Laurin professor of mathematics, to¬
gether with the principal and some professors of the
university, trustees for managing the sum. MrM‘Lau-
rin added to the money above mentioned the profits
arising from a course of lectures which he read on ex¬
perimental philosophy ; which, with some other small
sums, amounted in all to 300^ J M'Laurin
dying, the design was dropped.—Afterwards the mo¬
ney was put into the hands of two persons who became
bankrupt; but a considerable dividend being obtained
out of their effects, the principal and interest, about
the year 1776, amounted to 400I. A plan of the
building was made out by Mr Craig architect; and
the foundation stone was laid by Mr Stodart,lord provost
of Edinburgh, on the 25th of August 1776. About
this time, however, Mr Adam architect happening to
come to Edinburgh, conceived the idea of giving the
whole the appearance of a fortification, for which its
situation on the top of the Calton hill was very much
adapted. Accordingly a line was marked out for en¬
closing the limits of the observatory with a wall con¬
structed
E D I N B
urgh. structed with buttresses and embrasures, and having
T-—'' Gothic towers at the angles. Thus the money designed
for the work was totally exhausted, and the observatory
still remains unfinished j nor is there any appearance of
its being soon completed either by voluntary subscrip¬
tion or any other way.
30. Proceeding to the westward, the first remarkable
building is the Theatre, which stands opposite to the
Register Office, in the middle of Shakespeare Square.
The building is plain on the outside, but elegantly
fitted up within, and is generally open three days in
the week, and when full will draw about 150!. a-night ;
so that the manager generally finds himself wrell re¬
warded when he can procure good actors.
Entertainments of the dramatic kind came very early
into fashion in this country. They were at first only
representations of religious subjects, and peculiarly de¬
signed to advance the interests of religion ; the clergy
being the composers, and Sunday the principal time of
exhibition. In the 16th century, the number of play¬
houses was so great, that it was complained of as a nui¬
sance, not only in Edinburgh, but throughout the
kingdom. They soon degenerated from their original
institution ; and the plays, instead of being calculated
to inspire devotion, became filled with all manner of
buffoonery and indecency.—After the Reformation,
the Presbyterian clergy complained of these indecencies;
and being actuated bv a spirit of violent zeal, anathe¬
matised every kind of theatrical representation what¬
ever. King James VI. compelled them to pass from
their censures against the stage ; but in the time of
Charles I. when fanaticism was carried to the utmost
length at which perhaps it was possible for it to arrive,
it cannot be supposed that stage plays would be tolera¬
ted.—It seems, however, that amusements of this
kind were again introduced at Edinburgh about the
year 1684, when the duke of York kept his court
there. His residence at Edinburgh drew off one half
of the London company, and plays were acted in E-
dinburgh for some little time. The misfortunes at¬
tending the duke of York, however, and the establish¬
ment of the Presbyterian religion (the genius of which
is unfavourable to amusements of this kind), soon put
a stop to the progress of the stage, and no theatrical
exhibition was heard of in Edinburgh till after the
year 1715. The first adventurer was Signora Violante,
an Italian, remarkable for feats of strength, tumbling,
&c. In this way she first exhibited in a house at the
foot of Carruber’s close, which has since been employ¬
ed by different sectaries for religious purposes. Meet¬
ing with good success, she soon invited a company of
comedians from London; and these being also well
received, Edinburgh continued for some years to be
entertained with the performances of a strolling com¬
pany, who visited it annually. Becoming at last, how¬
ever, obnoxious to the clergy, they were in 1727
prohibited by the magistrates from acting within their
jurisdiction. But this interdict was suspended by the
court of session, and the players continued to perform
as usual.
Still, however, theatrical amusements were but
rare. The town was visited by itinerant companies
only once in two or three years. They performed in
the Taylor’s Hall in the Canongate ; which, when the
house was full, would.have drawn (at the rate of 2s. 6d.
URGH.
for pit and boxes, and is. 6d. for the gallery) 40I. or £4
45I. a night. About this time an act of parliamentv
was passed, prohibiting the exhibition of plays, except
in a house licensed by the king. Of this the presby¬
tery of Edinburgh immediately laid hold; and at their
own expence brought an action on the statute against
the players. 'I he cause was by the court of session
decided against the players ; who thereupon applied to
parliament for a bill to enable bis majesty to license a
theatre in Edinburgh. Against this bill petitions were
presented in 1739 to the bouse of commons by the
magistrates and town council, the principal and pro¬
fessors of the university, and the dean of guild and his
council ; in consequence of which, the affair was drop¬
ped. All this opposition, however, contributed in
reality to the success of the players ; for the spirit of
party being excited, a way of evading the act was ea¬
sily found out, and the house was frequented more
than usual, insomuch that Taylor’s Hall was found in¬
sufficient to contain the number of spectators.
I he comedians now fell out among themselves, and
a new' playhouse was erected in the Canongate in the
year 1746. The consequence of this was, that the old
one in Taylor’s Hall became entirely deserted, and
through bad conduct the managers of the new theatre
soon found themselves greatly involved. At last, a riot
ensuing through dissensions among the performers, the
playhouse was totally demolished.—When the extension
of the royalty over the spot where the New Town is
built was obtained, a clause was likewise added to the
bill, enabling his majesty to license a theatre in Edin¬
burgh. This was obtained, and thus the opposition
of the clergy for ever silenced. Mr Jackson’s patent
having expired in 1809, it was renewed in the name of
trustees as formerly, and acquired by Mr Henry Sid-
dons. Mr Siddons on his becoming manager, fitted up
Corri’s rooms as a theatre, in which performances were
continued for two seasons. Mr Siddons then acquired the
property of the old theatre, on becoming bound to pay
2000I. annually, for 21 years from the date of the patent.
Not far from this building, an amphitheatre was
opened in 1790, on the road to Leith, for equestrian
exhibitions, pantomime entertainments, dancing, and
tumbling. The circus was 60 feet in diameter ; and in
the forenoon ladies and gentlemen were taught to ride.
The bouse held about 1500 people. The building has
been since converted into a concert room, and applied
to various other uses.
31. The Register Office. This work was first sug¬
gested by the late earl of Morton, lord register of Scot¬
land, with a view to prevent the danger which attended
the usual method of keeping the public records. In
former times, indeed, these suffered from a variety of
accidents. Edward I. carried off or destroyed most of
them, in order to prevent any marks of the former in¬
dependence of the nation from remaining to posterity.
Afterwards Cromwell spoiled this nation of its records,
most of which were sent to the Tower of London. At
the time of the Restoration many of them were sent
down again by sea ; but one of the vessels was ship¬
wrecked, and the records brought by the other have
ever since been left in the greatest confusion.—The
earl of Morton taking this into consideration, obtain¬
ed from his majesty a grant of l2,oool. out of the for¬
feited estates, for the purpose of building a register
office, ,
535
inburjrli.
trj P4
6
E D I N B
;bur&,. office, or house for keeping tke records, and disposing
“ them in proper order. The foundation was laid on the
27th of June 1774, by Lord Frederick Campbell lord-
redster, Mr Montgomery of Stanhope lord advocate,
and Mr Millar of Barskimming lord justice clerk j
three of the trustees appointed by his majesty for exe¬
cuting the work. The ceremony was performed under
a discharge of artillery, in presence of the judges of the
courts of session and exchequer, and in the sight of a
multitude of spectators. A brass plate was put into the
foundation stone with the following inscription : CoN-
SERVANDIS TaBULIS PuBLICIS POSITUM EST, ANNO
M DCC.LXXIV, MUNIFICENTIA OPTIMI EX PIETISSIMI
FRINCIPIS Georgii Tertii. In a glass vase herme¬
tically sealed, which is also placed in the foundation
stone, are deposited specimens of the different coins of
his present majesty. • 1
The front of the building directly faces the bridge,
extends from east to west 100 feet, and is 40 feet back
from the line of Prince’s street. In the middle of the
front is a small projection of three windows in breadth.
Here is a pediment, having in its centre the arms of
Great Britain, and the whole is supported by four Co¬
rinthian pilasters. At each end is a tower projecting
beyond the rest of the building, having a Venetian
window in front, and a cupola on the top. The front is
ornamented from end to end with a beautiful Corin¬
thian entablature. In the centre of the building is a
dome of wooden work covered with lead. The inside
forms a saloon 50 feet diameter and 80 high, lighted
at top by a copper window 15 feRt diameter. Bound
the whole is a hanging gallery of stone, with an iron
ballustrade, which affords conveuiency for presses in
the walls for keeping the records. I he whole number
of apartments is 97; all of which are vaulted beneath,
and warmed with fire-places. This building, which is
the most beautiful of Mr Adam’s designs, was exe¬
cuted in a substantial manner, in about 16 years, at
the expence of near 40>oool. and is one of the piincipal
ornaments of the city. A. serjeant’s guard is placed
here from the castle, for the further protection of the
records. .
32. On the east side of St Andrew’s square stands
the General Excise Office, built by the late Sir Law¬
rence Dundas for his own residence, but sold by his son
for the above purpose. It is a very handsome building,
with a pediment in front ornamented with the king’s
arms, and supported by four Corinthian pilasters j and,
in conjunction with the two corner houses, has a fine
33. * St Andrew''s Church stands on the north side of
George’s street. It is of an oval form ; and has a very
neat spire of 186 feet in height, with a chime of eight
bells, the first and only one of the kind in Scotland. It
has also a handsome portico in front.
34. St George's Church stands on the west side of
St Andrew’s square, so as to close the perspective of
George street, It was founded in 1811, and finished
in i8DI4, at an expence of 33,000k The front to the
* square is 112 feet, and consists of a portico or vestibule,
with four columns, and two pilasters of the Ionic 01 del,
35 feet high. Behind the portico rises a dome to the
height of 150 feet, upon a basement of 40 feet square.
The extreme breadth of the building is 128 feet.
2
U B G H.
35. Opposite to St Andrew’s church is the Physic Edinh
dans Halt, designed for the meetings of the faculty, -y,
and which has a portico resembling that of the church.
36. Farther to the westward, on the south side, stand
the Assembly Rooms, which though a heavy looking
building on the outside, are nevertheless extremely ele¬
gant and commodious within. The largest is too feet
long and 40 broad, being exceeded in its dimensions by
none in the island, the large one at Bath excepted.
Weekly assemblies are held here for dancing, and card¬
playing, under the direction of a master of ceremonies ;
admission tickets five shillings each.
There are four Banking Companies in Edinburgh
established by statute, or by royal charters. These are
the Bank of Scotland, commonly called the Old Bank,
the Royal Bank of Scotland, the British Linen Com¬
pany, and the Commercial Bank.
37. The Bank of Scotland, commonly called the Old
Bank, was erected by act of parliament, A. 13. 1695.
By the statute of erection, the company was empowered
to raise a joint stock of 1,200,000k Scots, or ioo,oool.
sterling, for the purpose of carrying on a public bank.
The smallest share which any person could hold in the
bank was declared to be 1000I. Scots ; and the largest
sum for which any one was allowed to subscribe was
20,ocol. of the same money. Eight thousand are de¬
clared to be the qualification necessary to entitle any one
to be elected governor; 6ocol. deputy-governor ; and
3000I. for each director. The management of the af¬
fairs of the company was vested in a governor, deputy-
governor, and twenty-four directors ; and in choosing
these managers, each proprietor was declared to have a
vote for every 1000I. of stock held by him.
The office of this company was held in a house
down a narrow lane at the south side of that part
of the High street called the Lawn-market j but,
at a great expence, they erected for their accommo¬
dation a building which is situated at the foot of
Bank street, to the northward of the High street, in
full view of Prince’s street. This is at once a mag¬
nificent and beautiful fabric. The back of the build¬
ing is towards Prince’s street y and here, while erect¬
ing, it had the disadvantage, from its vast height, of
having somewhat the aspect of a tower. This effect,
however, is now removed by restoring the earth for the
purpose of covering up the lower part of it, and by a
wall of considerable height in the nature of a curtain,
which has been added to augment its apparent breadth.
It forms, upon the whole, a beautiful and most superb
fabric. As a work of magnitude, it is seen to most ad¬
vantage from the mound of earth which connects the
Old and the New Town, at that part of the mound
which is in the direction of the north-west angle of the
building. Here the eye is filled by the full, view of
two sides of the fabric, and by a display of its great
height. The result of which is, that as a magnificent
and stupendous structure, it seems to have no rival in
this country. _ ,
“ This banking company has established branches in
every considerable town in Scotland, excepting Glas¬
gow, which, in consequence of an amicable adjustment
to avoid rivalship, is left to the Royal Bank. By
agreement, the latter has a branch in Glasgow, and no
branch in any other town in Scotland.
3s'
E D I N B U H Cx H.
burgh. . ijg. 11 The Royal Bank was established in the follow-
"'v ing manner: By the articles of union, Scotland was de¬
clared to be liable to the same duties which were levied
by way of customs or excise in England. As these du¬
ties had, in the latter of these nations, been appropria¬
ted for the discharge of debts contracted by England
before the union, it was found reasonable to give Scot¬
land an equivalent for this additional burthen. The
sum, given by way of equivalent, was ordained to be
paid for certain purposes, and to certain persons or bo¬
dies corporate, mentioned in the articles of union and
in posterior statutes. The proprietors of these sums, to
the extent of 248,550!. sterling, were erected into a
body corporate, under the name of the Equivalent Com¬
pany ; and the said sum of 248,550!. was declared to be
the joint stock of the company. Upon application by
this company, they obtained a royal charter, empower¬
ing such of them as inclined to subscribe their shares
in the joint stock for that purpose, to carry on the busi¬
ness of banking. By this charter the subscribers to this
banking business were, in A. D. 1727, erected into a
body corporate, to be called, “ The Roiyal Bank of Scot¬
land." They were vested with the requisite powers,
and the management of the company’s affairs declared
to be in a governor, deputy-governor, nine ordinary and
nine extraordinary directors. The qualifications of
these managers were declared to be, that of the gover¬
nor to hold stock to the extent of 2000I. j of the depu¬
ty-governor, of 15001.5 of the ordinary directors, of
1000I.; and of the extraordinary directors, of 500I.
The sum originally subscribed was in,oool. 5 but by
a charter passed in favour of the Koyal Bank, A. D.
1738, explaining the privileges formerly bestowed up¬
on them, and enabling them to increase their capital,
they were empowered to raise their stock to a sum not
exceeding in whole, when joined to their original funds,
150,000k By the charter of erection ot this company,
a share of 300I. entitles a proprietor to one vote, one of
6ool. to two, of 1200I. to three, and of 2000I. to four 5
and no proprietor can have more than four votes.
39. “ Ihe British Linen Company, with a capital of
100,000k was incorporated by royal charter in 1746,
with a view to encourage the manufacture of linen in
Scotland. By the constitution of this company, its affairs
are declared to be under the management of a governor,
deputy-governor, and five directors. It is declared a ne¬
cessary qualification in the governor to be possessed of
a share in the company’s stock to the amount of
1000k 5 of the deputy governor, 500k 5 and of each
director, of 300k A share of 200k entitles a proprie¬
tor to vote in the choice of these managers, of 500k
to two votes, and of 1000k to four votes 5 but it is de-
1 dared that no proprietor shall possess more than four
votes.
,Tliis company carries on the business of banking,
and issues promissory notes like the two former com¬
panies ; but the banking business is carried on separately
rom the linen trade. The Linen Hall remains in the
Umongate ; but the apartments of the bank are removed
to a large house in St Andrew’s square, next to the
Excise Office.
40- The Commercial Bank was established in 1810,
with a capital of three millions. It is managed by or-
inary and extraordinary director* like the other banks,
it occupies a building erected by themselves in the Old
Vol. VII. Part II. +
Assembly close, High street. All these banks issue Edinburgh.
promissory notes for various sums not under one pound -I*
sterling.
Besides these there are several private banking
houses of great reputation in Edinburgh, which do not
issue promissory notes for small sums payable on de¬
mand, but which carry on the other branches of the Beauties of
banking trade, by transmitting money, discounting bills,
and accommodating individuals with cash accounts.” 'l' 2
It now remains only to speak something of the re-Religious
ligious and civil establishments of this metropolis, cstablish-
The highest of the former is the General Assembly 0fments<
the church of Scotland, who meet there annually in the
month of May, in an aisle of the church of St Giles
fitted up on purpose for them. The throne is filled by
a commissioner from his majesty, but lie neither debates
nor votes. He calls them together, and dissolves them
at the appointed time in the name of the king 5 but
they call and dissolve themselves in the name of the
Lord Jesus Christ. This assembly consists of 350 mem¬
bers chosen out of the various presbyteries throughout
the kingdom 5 and the debates are often very interest¬
ing and eloquent. This is the supreme ecclesiastical
court in Scotland, to which appeals lie from the infe¬
rior ones.
The ecclesiastical court next in dignity to the As¬
sembly is the Synod of Lothian and Tweeddale, who
meet in the same place in April and November 5 and
next to them is the Presbytery of Edinburgh. These
meet on the last TVednesday of every month, and are
trustees on the fund for ministers widows. They have
a hall in Scott’s close, where there is a good picture
of Hr Webster by Martin, which was put up at
the expence of the trustees, out of gratitude for the
trouble he took in planning and fully establishing the
fund.
The Society, for propagating Christian Knowledge
in the Highlands and Islands of Scotland, was esta¬
blished a body corporate by Queen Anne in the year
17°9» f°r ^ purpose of erecting schools to instruct
poor children in the principles of Christianity, as well
as in reading and writing. The society have a hall in
Warriston’s close, where their business is transacted.
From time to time they have received large contribu¬
tions, which have always been very properly applied 5
and for much the same purpose his majesty gives 1000I.
annually to the generally assembly of the church of
Scotland, which is employed by a committee of their
number for instructing the poor Highlanders in the
principles of the Christian religion.
The Erse church at Edinburgh was built about 30
years ago by subscriptions for the same laudable pur¬
pose. Great numbers of people resort to the metropo¬
lis from the Highlands, who understand no other lan¬
guage but their own, and consequently have no oppor¬
tunity of instruction without it ; and a most remar¬
kable proof of the benefit they have received from it is,
that though the church is capable of holding 1000
people, yet it is not large enough for those who apply
for seats. The minister has look per annum arising
from the seat rents, and holds communion with the church
of Scotland. A larger church for their accommodation
has since been built at the head of the Horse wynd.
With regard to the political constitution of Edin- p0lin‘eat
burgh, the town council have the direction of all pub-eonstitiu
3 Y fiction.
w t-n
Co
E D I N B
He affairs. The ordinary council consists only of 25
persons ; but the council ordinary and extraordinary ot
23. The whole is composed ot merchants and trades¬
men, whose respective powers and interests are so in¬
terwoven, that a balance is preserved between the two
bodies. The members of the town council are partly
elected by the members of the 14 incorporations, and
they partly choose their own successors. The election
is made iii the following manner: First, a list or leet ot
six persons is made out by each incorporation 5 irom
which number, the deacon belonging to the incorpora¬
tion must be chosen. These lists are then laid before
the ordinary council of 25, who “shorten the leets,
by expunging one half ot the names from eac 1 an
from the three remaining ones the deacon is to be
chosen. When this election is over, the new deacons
are presented to the ordinary council, who choose six
of them to be members of their body, and the six dea¬
cons of last year then walk off. The council ot 25
next proceed to the election of the three merchant and
two trades counsellors. The members of counci , w 10
now amount to 33 in number, then make out leets,
from which the lord provost, dean of guild, treasurer,
and bailies, must be chosen. The candidates tor each
of these offices are three in number 5 and the election
h made by the 30 members of council already men¬
tioned, ioined to the eight extraordinary council deacons.
The lord provost of Edinburgh, who is styled right
honourable, is high sheriff, coroner, and admiral, within
the city and liberties, and the town, harbour, and road
of Leith. He has also a jurisdiction in matters ot li.e
and death. He is preses of the convention ot royal
boroughs, colonel of the train bands, commander ot
the city guard and of Edinburgh jail. In the city he
has the precedency of all the great officers of state and
of the nobility •, walking on the right hand ot the king
or of his majesty’s commissioner J and has the privilege
of having a sword and mace carried before him. Ln-
der him are four magistrates called bailies, whose oilice
is much the same with that of aldermen in London.
There is also a dean of guild, who has the charge ot
the public buildings, and without whose warrant no
house nor building can be erected within the city. Me
has a council to consult with, a nominal treasurer, who
formerly had the keeping of the town’s money, which
is now given to the chamberlain. These seven are
elected annually; who with the seven of the former
year three merchants and two trades counsel ors, an
14 deacons or preses of incorporated trades, making m
all 33, form the council of the city, and have the sole
management and disposal of the city revenues ; by
which means they have the disposal of places to the
amount of 20.000I. annually. Formerly the provost
was also an officer in the Scots parliament, ihe ma¬
gistrates are sheriffs depute and justices of the peace ,
and the town council are also patrons for all the chu. dies
in Edinburgh, patrons of the university, and electors
of the city’s representative in parliament, ihey have
besides a very ample jurisdiction both civil and crimi¬
nal. They are superiors of the Canongate, Portsburgh,
and Leith ; and appoint over these certain of their own
number, who are called baron bailies: but the person
who presides over Leith has the title ot admiral be¬
cause he hath there a jurisdiction over maritime atlaus.
U R G H.
The baron bailies appoint one or two of the inhabi- fldmbuJ j
Pants of their respective districts to be their substitutes,1-—^
and these are called resident bailies. They hold courts
in absence of the baron bailies, for petty otlences and
discussing civil causes ot little moment.
No city in the world affords greater security to the
inhabitants in their persons and properties than Edin¬
burgh. Robberies are here very rare, and street murder
hardly known in the memory of man ; so that a person
may walk the streets at any hour of the night in per- ^
feet security. Formerly this was attributed to the^^
town guard. This institution originated from the con-gOTnl
sternation into which the citizens were thrown after the
battle at Flowden. At that time, the town council
commanded the inhabitants to assemble in defence ot
the city, and every fourth man to be on duty each
night. 'This introduced a kind of personal duty for
the defence of the town, caWtA watching and warding;
bv which the trading part of the inhabitants were ob¬
liged in person to watch alternately, in order to pre¬
vent or suppress occasional disturbances. This, how¬
ever, becoming in time extremely inconvenient, the
town council, in 1648, appointed a body of 60 men to
be raised, the captain of which was to have a monthly
pay of nl. 2s. 3d. two lieutenants of 2l. each, two
serjeants of ll. 5s. and the private men of 15s. each.
No regular fund was established for defraying this
expence : the consequence of which was, that the old
method of watching and warding was resumed; but
the people on whom this service devolved were
now become so relaxed in their discipline, that the
magistrates were threatened with having the king’s
troops quartered in the city if they did not appoint a
sufficient guard. On this 40 men were raised in 1679,
and in 1682 the number was increased to 108.
the Revolution, the town council complained of the
guard as a grievance, and requested parliameut that it
might be removed. Their request was immediately
granted, and the old method of watching and warding
was renewed. This, however, was now so intolerable,
that the very next year they applied to parliament for
leave to raise 1 26 men for the defence of the city, and
to tax the citizens for their payment. This being grant¬
ed the corps was raised and continued under the name
of’the town guard, till the establishment of the present
police. The establishment consisted of three officers
and about 90 men, who mounted guard by turns. I be
officers had a lieutenant’s pay ; the sei jeants, corporals,
drummers, and common soldiers, the same with those
of the army. Their arms were the same with those ot
the king’s forces : but when called upon to quell mobs,
they used Lochaber axes, a part of the ancient Scottish
armour only in use among themselves. . . . 31
The militia or trained band of the city consist orMilitW
16 companies of 100 men each. They were in use totnuje
turn out every king’s birth day; but only the officers^
now remain, who are chosen annually. They consist
of 16 captains and as many lieutenants and ensigns;
the provoot, as has already been mentioned, being the
colonel. _ .<
The town guard were paid chiefly by a tax on t
trading people; these being the only persons former¬
ly subject to watching and warding. The tax, how¬
ever, amounted only to 12501.3 and as the expence^
EDINBURGH.
4 nbufgk
3J
S em o(
pi e.
.the guard amounted to 1400I. the magistrates were
obliged to defray the additional charge by other means.
But in the year 1805, in consequence of a new sys¬
tem of police being established, the city guard was re¬
duced to one lieutenant, two serjeants, two corporals,
two drummers, and thirty men, the lord provost for the
time being to be captain, without pay, and the com¬
pany to be armed and clothed at the expence of the
city, but their pay to be defrayed out of the general
fund raised under the new police act j and the duty of
this company is to attend upon his majesty’s commis¬
sioner to the general assembly of the church of Scot¬
land, the magistrates and town council, the supreme
courts of justice, and to act in general for the support
of the new system of police.
The system of police above alluded to, was establish¬
ed in 1805 by act of parliament, under the authority of
which the city and suburbs were divided into six dis¬
tricts or wards for the more convenient execution of the
purposes to which the act extended. The regulations
included under this system of police relate to cleansing
and lighting the streets and passages in the city and
suburbs, apprehending and punishing vagrants and dis¬
orderly persons, suppressing common begging, prevent¬
ing nuisances and obstructions, and for other purposes
connected with the preservation of peace and good order.
The management of the whole affairs under this system
of police was entrusted to the general and resident com¬
missioners. The general commissioners appointed by
the act, were, the lord provost and magistrates of the
city of Edinburgh, with the lord president of the court
of session, the lord justice clerk, the lord chief baron of
the court of exchequer, the law officers of the crown,
and several other public characters, in conjunction with
the whole resident commissioners in the different wards.
There were to be seven resident commissioners in each
ward, the two highest in the list to go out, and two
others to be elected in their stead annually 5 the com¬
missioners to be occupiers of houses valued at twenty
pounds sterling of Iree rent yearly, excepting in two
wards, where occupying a house of twelve pounds rent
is a sufficient qualification. In each ward there were
to be elected by the resident commissioners, with the
approbation of the general commissioners, an inspector,
and such a number of officers of police and watchmen
as might be necessary, the officers of police and watch¬
men upon duty having the authority and possessing the
powers given by the law of Scotland to the office of
constable.
The general commissioners had the power of choosing
a wperintendant or master of police for the whole city
and suburbs included in the act, and to appoint a clerk
who shall do the duty of clerk to the general meetings,
as well as to the court of police to be held by the su-
perintemlant. The general commissioners also were
authorized to fix the number of officers and watchmen
to be employed in the different wards. The superin-
tendant of police having been appointed by the com¬
missioners, was to receive from the sheriff depute of the
county of Edinburgh the authority of a sheriff'substitute,
as well as a commission of sheriff' depute within the city
and liberties from the lord provost, who was principal
sheriff within these bounds, that the superintendant
acting as master or judge of police may have the full
powers of a magistrate in the execution of his duty.
539
By the powers with which the superintendant was in- Edinburgh,
vested, he might commit offenders to the tolbooth or to 'v-~ ■*
bridewell for a period not exceeding 60 days, and im¬
pose fines for offences not exceeding 40 shillings ster¬
ling, and give judgment in damages for any sum not
exceeding three pounds sterling with the expences in
either case. From the sentences of the supeiintendant
there was no appeal to the sheriff’depute of the county,
or to the lord provost as sheriff' principal within the city.
The superintendant of police was also the billet-master
within his bounds, and the inspectors of wards were billet-
masters within their several wards. The inspectors also
had the powers of procurator fiscals with respect to all
pro secutions lor offences committed within their hounds.
^ he expences necessary to carry the above act into
execution, were to be defrayed from a fund raised by
assessment on the inhabitants, of three per cent, on the
free rent of houses, shops, or warehouses j and for the
expences of clothing and alimenting the persons com-
mbted to bridewell a farther assessment, not exceeding
^ per cent, of the free rent of such houses, &c. For
the purpose of ascertaining rents, surveyors were ap¬
pointed ; and if the rent fixed by them should be over¬
rated, an appeal might be made to a committee of the
general commissioners specially appointed.
After a trial of seven years this bill was found ob¬
jectionable in many points ; and therefore in 1812 a
new bill was procured, which abolished the office of
judge of police, divided the city into 26 wards, with
three resident commissioners for each. The sheriff of
the county, and magistrates of Edinburgh, were ap¬
pointed judges. A superintendant, with a salary of
500I. a-year, was appointed, assisted by a clerk with
200I. and three lieutenants at 8ol. each. The total
expence of the establishment in 1817 was 18,482!. -54
The number of inhabitants in the city of Edinburgh Number of
is somewhat uncertain, and has been very variously “^‘“bitanis.
calculated. By a survey made in the year 1775, it ap¬
pears that the number of families in the city, Canon-
gate, and other suburbs, and the town of Leith, amount¬
ed to 13,806. The difficulty therefore is to fix the
number of persons in a family. Dr Price fixes this
number at 4tV i Mr Maitland, at 54$ and Mr Arnot,
at 6 5 so that, according to this last gentleman, the
whole number of inhabitants is 82,836 5 to which he
thinks 1400 more may be added for those in the garri¬
sons, hospitals, &c.
The following table exhibits a comparative view of
the population of the city of Edinburgh with Leith and
suburbs taken in different years. The enumeration
made in 1801 by act of parliament is supposed to be
considerably defective in the real amount of the inha¬
bitants, as an alarm was industriously spread that it,
was done with a view to the imposition of new taxes.
1678
1722
I7J5
1775
1791
1801
1811
35>500
40,420
57»I95
70,43°
84,886
82,560
102,987
According to this last enumeration the males were
43,982, the females 59,005, a most surprising differ¬
ence, if correct. The number of families was 23,104.
3 Y 2 There
EDINBURGH.
540
Edinburgh. There are in Edinburgh 14 incorporations, capable
  of choosing their own deacons, viz. The royal college
of surgeons ; the corporations of goldsmiths, skinners,
furriers, hammermen, wrights and masons, taylors, ba¬
kers, butchers, shoemakers, weavers, waukers, bonnet-
makers, and merchant company.
The markets of Edinburgh are plentifully supplied
with all sorts of provisions. Fresh butcher meat, as
well as fowl and fish, if the weather permit, may be
had every day ; and no city can be better supplied
with garden stuffs. The Edinburgh strawberries par¬
ticularly are remarkably large and fine. A strik¬
ing instance of the plenty of provisions with which
Edinburgh is supplied was observed in the year 1779,
when several large fleets, all of them in want of ne¬
cessaries, arrived in the Forth, to the amount of
about 500 sail, and having on board at least 20,000
men j yet the increased consumption of provisions,
which certainly ensued upon the arrival of so many
strangers, made not the least increase in the rate of the
markets, insomuch that several victualling ships sent
down by the navy board returned without opening
their hatches. The city mills are let to the corporation
of bakers in Edinburgh : and the bread made in the
city is remarkable for its good quality.
Edinburgh is supplied with water brought for some Edinbar;
miles in pipes, and lodged in two reservoirs, fromY'<
whence it is distributed through the city both to
public wells and private families. A revenue accrues
to the town from the latter, which must undoubtedly
increase in proportion as the city extends in magnitude.
There are but few merchants in Edinburgh, most of
them residing at the port of Leith : so that the sup¬
port of the city depends on the consumption of the
necessaries as well as the superfluities of life. There
are five different sorts of people on whom the shop¬
keepers, publicans, and different trades depend : 1. The
people of the law, who are a very respectable body in
the city. 2. The number of young people of both
sexes who come to town for their education, many of
the parents of whom come along with them. 3. The
country gentlemen, gentlemen of the army and navy,
and people who have made their fortunes abroad, &c.
all of whom come to attend the public diversions, or
to spend their time in such a manner as is most agree¬
able to them. 4. The vast concourse of travellers from
all parts. 5. Most of the money drawn for the rents of
country gentlemen is circulated among the bankers or
other agents. See Edinburgh, Suf?lement.
E D I
Edinburgh- EDINBURGHSHIRE,or Midlothian,is bound-
. slllfC‘ . ed on the north by the frith of Forth, and the river
^ Amond, which divides it from Westlothian or Linlith¬
gow ; on the east by Haddingtonshire *, on the south by
the counties of Lanark, Peebles, and Berwick j and at
the west corner by part of the county of Linlithgow.
It extends about 30 miles in length, and its breadth
varies from 16 to 20: containing in all about 354
square miles, or 226,560 English acres. The surface
of the country is pleasant, having much level ground,
interspersed with some hills, watered with many agree¬
able streams, and sheltered and decorated with woods.
The arable land, which may be calculated about one
third of the whole, is in a state of high cultivation, and
affords excellent crops. The two great ridges of hills
which pass through the county, called the Moorfoot and
the Pentland hills, afford pasture j the former is far
superior in quality to the latter:-in these hills it is ge¬
nerally remarked that the north side of the hill is the
finest and best pasture, contrary to what we should be
apt, a priori, to imagine. Like the other parts of the
country, this district experiences the consequences of an
insulated situation ; being subject to that instability and
uncertainty, that the climate in one day exhibits the
weather of every season of the year j the cold east winds
in the spring are exceedingly detrimental to fruit, and in
autumn the haars or mists from the sea, are apt to
whiten and wither the corns before they are ripe. The
immediate vicinity of many of the farms to the metro¬
polis affords the opportunity of procuring street dung
easily, and has been of material advantage in improving
the land ; it has this disadvantage, however, that by
long continuance the fields become very full of weeds,
particularly the scalier, or wild mustard ; it is imagined
that this would be obviated by throwing the field out
E D I
in pasture for a few years, and afterwards liming it wellE<linbm|
before ploughing. The chief rivers of the county of.^1*1^
Edinburgh, are the North and South Esks, which, unit¬
ing, fall into the frith of Forth at the town of Mussel¬
burgh *, the Amond, which falls into the same frith at
the village of Cramond, and the water of Leith, which
forms the harbour of that town j all of these abound
with trout. The islands of Inchkeith and Cramond,
and of Inchmickery, also belong to this county. Few
districts of Scotland afford more minerals than the coun¬
ty of Edinburgh j it abounds everywhere with coal,
limestone, and freestone of superior quality $ and iron
ore of different species is very abundant j compound
stone, called petuntse, is found in great quantity in the
Pentland hills, and has been successfully employed in
the manufacture of British porcelain. In the parish
of Ratho is found a fine species of whetstone or hone;
and in the parish of Duddingstone, at Brickfield, is found
clay, fit for making earthen ware. The hills are com¬
posed of porphyry and basalt or whinstone, which in
many places, particularly Arthur’s Seat and Craig-
Lockhart, exhibit regular forms. Near Glencross, and
in the Braid-hills, are found great veins of the heavy
spar, or barytes, which is often an attendant on metallic
veins, especially of lead and copper. All the hills con¬
tain specimens of zeolites, jaspers, spars, &c. From the
vicinity to the metropolis, numerous seats of nobility
and gentry are everywhere to be seen. Besides the
city of Edinburgh and its suburbs, in which we may in¬
clude the town of Leith, this county contains several
large towns and villages, as Dalkeith, Musselburgh, Li-
berton, Lassvvade, and Gilmerton, and is .divided into
31 parishes, of which the following is the population at
two different periods.
Parishes.
j;;; burgh-
ire
li
:0m.
w,-/—^
Mi1 tion.
— —
)eli>ion.
nit .
Parishes.
I Borthwick
Calder, West
Canongate
Carrington
5 Cock pen
Colingtown
Corstorphine
Cramond
Cranstoun
10 Crichton
Currie
Dalkeith
Duddingston
Edinburgh
15 Fala
Glencross
Heriot
Inveresk
Kirknewton
20 Lasswade
Leith, North
Leith, South
Libbertoun
Midcalder
25 Newbottle
Newton
Pennycuick
Batho
St Cuthberts
30 Stow
31 Temple
D I
Population
in I75S*
910
1294
45°°
555
640
792
995
1455
725
611
1227
3110
989
31,122
312
557
209
4645
II57
2190
2205
7200
2793
1369
H39
1199
890
930
12,193
1294
9°5
Population
1790—1798
858
1289
6200
329
1123
2395
I°37
1485
839
900
1300
4366
910
3i,898
372
385
300
5392
812
3000
2409
11,432
3457
12 c 1
I295
JI35
1721
825
32,947
1400
593
S4i ] E D R
EDITOR, a person of learning, who has the care
of an impression of any work, particularly that of an
ancient author: thus, Erasmus was a great editor; the
Louvain doctors, Scaliger, Petavius, F. Sirmond, Bi-'
shop Walton, Mr Hearne, Mr Ruddiman, &c. are
likewise famous editors.
EDOM, or Esau, the son of Isaac and brother ef
Jacob. The name ot Edom, which signifies red, was
given him, either because he sold his birthright to Ja¬
cob for a mess of red pottage, or by reason of the colour
of his hair and complexion. Idumaea derives its name
from Edom, and is often called in Scripture the land of
Edom. See the next article.
Edom, or Idumaea, in Ancient Geography, a di¬
strict of Arabia Petraea ; a great part also of the south
of Judaea was called Idumcea, because occupied by the
Idumaeans, upon the Jewish captivity, quite to Hebron.
But the proper Edom or Idumaea appears not to have
been very extensive, from the march of the Israelites,
in which they compassed it on the south eastwards, till
they came to the country of the Moabites. W7ithin
this compass lies Mount Hor, where Aaron died ;
marching from which the Israelites fought with King
Arad the Canaanite, who came down the wilderness
against them (Moses.) And this is the extent of the
Idumaea Propria lying to the south of the Dead sea ;
but in Solomon’s time extending to the Red sea,
(1 Kings ix. 26.).
EDMUND I. and II. See (History of) Eng¬
land.
EDRISI, an eminent Arabian geographer. See Sup¬
plement.
Editor
n.
Ediisi.
90,412
Population in 1811 148,607
See Edinburghshire, Supplement.
122,655
EDUCATION.
I&rl lars
oro .
un-
de-
Tj’DUCATION may be defined that series of means
by which the human understanding is gradually en¬
lightened, and the dispositions of the human heart are
formed and called forth, between earliest infancy and
the period when we consider ourselves as qualified to
take a part in active life, and, ceasing to direct our
views solely to the acquisition of new knowledge or
the formation of new habits, are content to act upon
the principles which we have already acquired.
This comprehends the circumstances of the child in
regard to local situation, and the manner in which the
necessaries and conveniences of life are supplied to him;
the degree of care and tenderness with which he is
nursed in infancy ; the examples set before him by
parents, preceptors, and companions ; the degree of
restraint or licentiousness to which he is accustomed ;
the various bodily exercises, languages, arts, and sci¬
ences, which are taught him, and the method and or¬
der in which they are communicated ; the moral and
religious principles which are instilled into his mind ;
and even the state of health which he enjoys during
that period of life.
1st, In this article we propose to give an account of
some of the most remarkable institutions for the educa¬
tion of youth which have been legally established or
have accidentally prevailed among various nations and Education,
in various periods of society. 2dly, An account of the v“—v—^
most judicious and the most fanciful plans which have
been proposed by those authors who have written on
the subject of education. And, lastly, To offer the re¬
sult of our own observations and recollections on this
important head. 4
In the infancy of society, very little attention can Education
be paid to the education of youth. Before men have*n a saT0£e
risen above a savage state, they are almost entirely the*1
creatures of appetite and instinct. The impulse of
appetite hurries them to propagate their species. The
power of instinctive affection is often, though not al*
wrays, so strong as to compel them to preserve and
nurse the fruit of their embraces. But even when
their wants are not so urgent, nor their hearts so de¬
stitute of feeling as to prompt them to abandon their
new-born infants to the ferocity of wild beasts or the
severity of the elements, yet still their uncomfortable
and precarious situation, their ignorance of the laws of
nature, their deficiency of moral and religious princi¬
ples, and their want of dexterity or skill in any of the
arts of life ; all these together must render them unable
to regulate th& education of their children with much
attention and sagacity. They may relate to them the
wild I
542
Education.
5
education.
wild inconsistent tales, in which all their notions con¬
cerning superior beings, and all their knowledge of the
circumstances and transactions of their ancestors, are
contained ; they may teach them to bend the bow, to
point their arrows, to hollow the trunk of a tree into a
canoe, and to trace the almost imperceptible path of
an enemy or a wild beast over dreary mountains or
through intricate forests: but they cannot impress
their minds with just ideas concerning their social re¬
lations, or concerning their obligations to a Supreme
Being, the framer and upholder of nature ■, they teach
them'not to repress their irregular appetites, nor to re¬
strain the sallies of passion when they exceed just bounds
or are improperly directed } nor can they inform their
understandings with very accurate or extensive views
of the phenomena of nature. Besides, they know not
how far implicit obedience to his parents commands
is to be acquired of the boy, nor how far he ought to
be left to the guidance of his own reason.
Among savages the influence of parental authority
soon expires, nor is the parent solicitous 10 maintain
it. As the eagle expels his young from his lofty
nest as soon as they become able to support them¬
selves in the air; so the savage generally ceases to care
for his child, or assume any power over him, as soon as
he becomes capable of procuring the means necessary
for his own subsistence. Savages being scarce con¬
nected by any social ties, being unacquainted with tne
restraint of civil laws, and being unable to contribute
in any great degree to the maintenance or protection
of one another •, each individual among them, as soon
as he attains that degree of strength and dexterity
which may enable him to procure the necessaries of
life, stands single and alone, independent on others,
and scorning to submit to their commands. . Ihe pa¬
rent, conscious of his inability to confer any important
benefits on his child, after he has advanced even a
very short way towards manhood, no longer endea¬
vours to controul his actions •, and the child proud of
his independence, scarce submits to ask his parents ad¬
vice. And even before his reaching this period of in¬
dependence, so few are. the benefits which parents can
bestow (being confined to supplying the necessaries of
life, and communicating the knowledge of a very few
of the rudest simplest arts), that children regard them
with little deference, nor do they always insist on im¬
plicit submission. \Vant of natural affection, and con¬
sciousness of superior strength, often prompt the pa¬
rent to abuse the weakness of his child. Act though
•mall the skill with which the savage can cultivate the
understanding or form the dispositions of his child,
though few the arts which he can teach him, and
though not very respectful or submissive the obedience
or deferences which he requires j yet there is one qua¬
lity of mind which the savage is more careful to inspire
than those parents who are directed in educating their
children by all the lights of civilized society. That
quality indeed is absolutely necessary to fit the savage
for his situation •, without it, the day on which he
ceased to enjoy the protection of his parents would
most probably he the last day of his life : That quality
is Fortitude. We may perhaps think, that the hard¬
ships to which the young savage is from the period
of his birth unavoidably exposed, might be enough .to
inspire him with fortitude j but as if these were in¬
sufficient, other means are applied to inspire him with Edacam
what the Stoics have regarded as the first of virtues. —y-.
He is compelled to submit to many hardships, unne¬
cessary but from a view to this. Children are there
called to emulate each other in bearing the severest
torments. Charlevoix relates, that he has seen a boy
and girl bind their arms together, place a burning coal
between them, and try who could longest endure with¬
out shrinking the pain to which they thus exposed
themselves. . . 6 i
Still, however, the young savages owes his education The saJ
rather to nature, and to the circumstances in which he indebted,
is placed and the accidents which befal him, than
the kindness or prudence of his parents. Nature fra3cjrcuIMt
endowed him with certain powers of understanding, ce, for j
sentiments, sensations, and bodily organs j he has beenedueati
placed in certain circumstances, and is exposed to a
certain train of events ; and by these means chiefly,
not by the watchful industry of instructors, does he be¬
come such as he appears when he has reached the years
of maturity. . 7 I
But man was not designed by his wise and beneficent Educaiic
Creator to remain long in a savage state ; the princi-in an mi
pies of his nature incline him to social life. .Reason, Pr®^ ^
distinguishing the superior advantages to be enjoyed
society, concurs with the social principle in his breast,
in prompting him to seek the company and conversa¬
tion of others of the human race. When men enter
into society, they always unite their powers and ta¬
lents, in a certain degree, for the common advantage
of the social body. In consequence of this, laws come
in time to be instituted; new arts are invented ; pro¬
gress is made in the knowledge of nature ; moral du¬
ties are better understood and defined ; juster ideas are
gradually acquired of all our social relations ; friend¬
ship, love, filial, parental, and conjugal affection, all
are heightened and refined. All these advantages do
not instantly result from men’s entering into a social
state ; the improvement of the human mind, and the
civilization of society, are gradual and progressive : But
as it is natural for men to unite in a social state, so it
is no less natural for society to be gradually improved
and civilized till it attain a high degree ot perfection
and refinement. i , *
When men have attained to such knowledge andAMtntk
improvement as to be entitled to a more honourable to tk«
appellation than that of savages, one part of their i'U-yoUthfl
provements generally consists in their becoming more ^ooi
judicious and attentive in directing the education ofsequene
their youth. They have now acquired ideas of de-ciw**-
pendence and subordination; they have arts to teachuoU
and knowledge to communicate ; they have moral prin¬
ciples to instil ; and have formed notions of their re¬
lations and obligations to superior powers, which they
are desirous that their children should also entertain.
Their affection to their offspring is now also more ten¬
der and constant. We observe at present in that state
of society in which we live, that the poor who can
scarce earn for themselves and their children the ne¬
cessaries of life, are generally less su-ceptible of paren¬
tal affection, in all its anxious tenderness, than the rich,
or those whom Providence hath placed in easy circum¬
stances ; ahd we may make use of this fact in reasoning
concerning the different degrees of the afhcti.on
felt bv the savage and the member of a civilized socie
Bpation
Pn I; e*
itai;h-
net for
(dvition
idg|t the
IDiMtS.
i»e t
P«r as
tlie
E D U C A T
ty. The savage may be considered as the poor man,
who with difficulty procures the necessaries of life even
for himself; the other, as the man in affluent circum¬
stances, who is more at leisure to listen to the voice
of tender and generous affection.
In this improved state of society, the education of
youth is viewed as an object of higher importance. The
child is dearer to his parent ; and the parent is now
more capable of cultivating the understanding and rec¬
tifying the dispositions of his child. His knowledge
of nature, and his dexterity in the arts of life, give him
more authority over a child than what the savage can
possess. Obedience is now enforced, and a system of
education is adopted ; by means of which the parent
attempts to form his child for acting a part in social
life. Perhaps the legislature interferes ; the education
of the youth is regarded as highly worthy of public
concern : it is considered that the foolish fondness or
the unnatural caprice of parents may, in the rising
generation, blast the hopes of the state.
In reviewing ancient history, we find that this ac¬
tually took place in several of the most celebrated go¬
vernments of antiquity. The Persians, the Cretans,
and the Lacedaemonians, were all of them too anxious
to form their youth for discharging the duties of citi¬
zens to entrust the education of the children solely to
the parents. Public establishments were formed among
those nations, and a series of institutions enacted, for
carrying on and regulating the education of their
youths : Not such as our European universities, in which
literary knowledge being the sole object of pursuit,
the student is maintained solely at his parents expence,
and attends only if his parents think proper to send
him ; but of a very different nature, and on a much
more enlarged plan.
The Persians, according to the elegant and accurate
account delivered by Xenophon in the beginniner of
his Cyropsedia, divided the whole body of their citi¬
zens into four orders ; the boys, the youth, the full-
grown men, and those who were advanced beyond that
period of life during which military service was requir¬
ed. For each of these orders particular halls were
appropriated. Each of them was subjected to the in¬
spection of twelve rulers. The adults and the super¬
annuated were required to employ themselves in the
performance of particular duties, suitable to their age,
their abilities and their experience ; while the boys
and the youth were engaged in such a course of edu¬
cation as seemed likely to render them worthy and use¬
ful citizens.
The hoys were not employed in their places of in¬
struction, in acquiring literary accomplishments; for to
such the Persians were strangers. They W’ent thither
to learn justice, temperance, modesty ; to shoot the
bow, and to launch the javelin. The virtues and the
bodily exercises were what the Persians laboured to
teach their children. These were the direct, and not
subordinate, purposes of their system of education. The
masters used to spend the greatest part of the day in
dispensing justice to their scholars ; who carried before
them actions for thefts, robberies, frauds, and other
such grounds of complaint against one another.—Such
were the means by which the Persians endeavoured to
instil, even in early youth, a regard for the laws of na¬
tural equity, and for the institutions of their country.
ION.
543
Till the age of 16 or 17, the boys were busied in ac-Education.
qniring those parts of education. At that period they 1 v—
ceased to he considered as boys, and were raised to the
order of the youths. After they entered this order,
the same views were still attended to in the carrying
on of their education. They were still inured to bo¬
dily labour. They were to attend the magistrates, and
to be always ready to execute their commands. They
were led out frequently to the chase ; and on such ex¬
peditions they were always headed by the king, as in
time ot war. Here they were taught to expose them¬
selves fearlessly to danger; to suffer, without repining
or complaint, hunger, thirst, and fatigue; and to con¬
tent themselves with the coarsest, simplest fare, for re¬
lieving the necessities'of nature. In short, whether at
home or out on some hunting expedition, they were
constantly employed in acquiring new skill and dexte¬
rity in military exercises, new vigour of mind and
body, and confirmed habits of temperance, fortitude,
abstinence, patience, patriotism, and noble integrity.
After spending ten years in this manner, their course
of education was completed ; they were admitted into
the class of the adults, and were esteemed qualified for
public offices. It must not escape our notice, that
the citizens were not compelled to send their children
to pass through this course of education in the public
halls ; but none except such as passed through this
course of education were capable of civil power, or
admitted to participate in public offices or public
honours.
Such are the outlines of that system of education
which Xenophon represents as publicly established
among the Persians. Were we able to preserve in a
translation all the manly and graceful simplicity of that
enchanting author, we would have offered to the per¬
usal of our readers the passage in which he has describ¬
ed it : but conscious of being inadequate to that task,
we have presumed only to extract the information
which it contains. „
Perhaps, however, this system of education did notReimu-Jw
subsist precisely as the eloquent disciple of Socrateson ^eD0*
describes it among that rude and simple people. On
other occasions he has commemorated such instances of persjan
their barbarity, as would tempt us to think them inca~educati«H.
pable of so much order and so much wisdom. Perhaps,
as the discoverers of the new world have sometimes
conferred on the inhabitants of that hemisphere, in the
accounts of them with which they entertained their
friends in Europe, amazing degrees of moral and po¬
litical wisdom, of skill and dexterity in the arts, of in¬
dustry and valour, which those uncivilized children of
nature were afterwards found not to possess ; so the
Athenian philosopher has also ascribed to the Persians
prudence and attention in regulating the education of
their youth beyond what people in so rude a state can
possibly exert.
But if we examine into the principles on which this
system of education proceeds, without concerning our¬
selves whether it once actually prevailed among the
Persians, or is the production of the fine imagination
of Xenophon, we will find it peculiarly suitable for a
nation just emerging from tbe rudeness and ignorance
of barbarity to a knowledge of social and civil rela¬
tions, and of the duties connected with such relations.
They have sacrificed their independence to obtain the
eomfosfc;
544
Education
EDUCATION.
comfort and security of a social state. They now
, glory in the appellation of citizens, and are desirous to
discharge the duties incumbent on a citizen. They
must inform their children in the nature of their social
relations, and impress them with habits of discharging
their social duties ; otherwise the society will soon he
dissolved, and their posterity will fall back into the
same wild miserable state from which they have emer¬
ged. But perhaps the circumstances, or abilities, or
dispositions of individuals, render them unequal to this
weighty task. It becomes therefore naturally an ob¬
ject of public care. The whole social body find it ne¬
cessary to deliberate on the most proper means for dis¬
charging it aright. 4 plan of education is then form¬
ed j the great object ot which is, to fit the youth loi
discharging the duties of citizens. Arts and sciences
are hitherto almost wholly unknown : and all that can
be communicated to the youth is only a skill in such
exercises as are necessary for their procuring subsis¬
tence, or defending themselves against human enemies
or beasts of prey ; and habits of performing those du¬
ties, the neglect of which must be fatal to the society or
the individual.
Such is the system of education which we have survey¬
ed as established among the Persians j and perhaps xve
may now be less suspicious than before of Xenophon s
veracity. It appears natural for a people who have
reached that degree of civilization in which they are
described, and have not yet advanced farther, to insti¬
tute such an establishment. Some such establishment
also appears necessary to prevent the society from fall¬
ing back into their former barbarity. It will prevent
their virtue and valour from decaying, though it may
perhaps at the same time prevent them from making
any very rapid progress in civilization and refinement.
Yet the industry, the valour, the integrity, and the pa¬
triotism which it inspires, must necessarily produce some
favourable change in their circumstances j and that
change in their circumstances will be followed by a
f7 change in their system of education.
Among the The Cretans, too, the wisdom of whose laws is so
Cretaiu. much celebrated in the records of antiquity, had a
public establishment for the education ot their youth.
Minos, whom they revered as their great legislator,
was also the founder of that establishment. Its tendency
was similar to that of the course of education pursued
among the Persians,—to form the soldier and the citi¬
zen. We cannot present our readers with a very par¬
ticular or accurate account of it j but such as we have
been able to procure from the best authorities we think
it our duty to lay before them.
The Cretans were divided into three classes 5 the
boys, the youth, and the adults. Between seven and
seventeen years of age, the boy was employed in learn¬
ing to shoot the bow, and in acquiring the knowledge
of his duties as a man and a citizen, by listening to
the conversation ot the old men in the public halls,
and observing their conduct. At the age of seven, he
was conducted to the public halls to enter on this
course of education. He was taught to expose himself
boldly to danger and fatigue j to aspire after skill and
dexterity in the use of arms and in the gymnastic ex¬
ercises $ to repeat the laws and hymns in honour of
the gods. At the age of seventeen he was enrolled
among the youth. Here his education was still con¬
tinued on the same plan. He was to exercise himselfEdm
among his equals in hunting, wrestling, and the mili-
tary exercises ; and while thus engaged, his spirits
were roused and animated by strains of martial music
played on such instruments as were then in use among
the inhabitants of Crete. One part of the education
of the Cretan youth, in which they were particularly
desirous to excel, was the Pyrrhic dance j which was
the invention of a Cretan, and consisted of various
military evolutions performed to the sound of instru¬
ments.
Such were the principles and arts in which the Cre¬
tan legislature directed the youth to be instructed.
This course of education could not he directed or su¬
perintended by the parent. It was public, and car¬
ried on with a view to fit the boy for discharging the
duties of a citizen when he should attain to man¬
hood.
It is easy to see, that such a system of education aemJ
must have been instituted in the infancy of society, be-®nt3,j
fore many arts had been invented, or the distinctions of^ I
rank had arisen 5 at a time when men subsisted in a con¬
siderable degree by hunting, and when the intercourse
of nations was on such a footing, that war, instead of ^
being occasional, was the great business of life. Such
a system of life would then naturally take place, even
though no sage legislator had arisen to regulate and en¬
force it.
Lycurgus, the celebrated lawgiver of Lacedaemon, Amo?
thought it necessary to direct the education of youth Lacii
in a particular manner, in order to prepare them formMtj
paying a strict obedience to his laws. He regarded
children as belonging more properly to the state than
to their parents, and wished that patriotism should be
still more carefully cherished in their breasts than filial
affection. The spirit of his system of education was
pretty similar to that of those which we have just view¬
ed as subsisting among the Persians and the Cretans.
As soon as a boy was born, he was submitted to the
inspection of the elders of that tribe to which his pa¬
rents belonged. If he was well shaped, strong, and
vigorous, they directed him to be brought up, and
assigned a certain portion of land for his maintenance.
If he was deformed, weak, and sickly, they condemn¬
ed him to be exposed, as not being likely ever to be¬
come an useful citizen. If the boy appeared worthy
of being brought up, he was intrusted to the care of
his parents till he attained the age of seven years; but
his parents were strictly charged not toispoil either his
mind or his bodily constitution by foolish tenderness.
Probably, too, the state of their manners was at that
time such as not to render the injunction peculiarly ne¬
cessary, . 1 j
At the age of seven, however, he was introduced
to a public class, consisting of all the boys of the same
age. Their education was committed to masters ap¬
pointed by the state ; and what was chiefly inculcated
on them in the course of it, was submissive obedience
and respect to their superiors ; quickness and brevity m
their conversation, and replies to such questions as
were put to them 5 dexterity and address in perform¬
ing what was commanded them, and firmness and pa¬
tience in bearing every pain or hardship to which they
might be exposed. One of the means used to form
them to habits of activity and address, was to permit,
nay,
E D U C
Elation. nay> to direct them to commit little acts of theft;
—> which, if they performed them so dexterously as to
avoid detection, they might afterwards boast of as
noble exploits : but if detected in such enterprises,
the awkward artless boy was exposed both to punish¬
ment and disgrace. To avoid the punishment and dis¬
grace incurred by being discovered in an act of theft,
the Spartan boy would often suffer with unshrinking for¬
titude the severest torments. It is related of one of
them, that rather than be detected with a young fox
under his cloak, which he had stolen, he suffered the
little animal to tear open his bowels. Not content with
beholding the children suffer by submitting voluntarily
to sucli hardships, the Spartans also endeavoured to
form them to fortitude, by whipping them on their re¬
ligious festivals, sometimes with such severity that they
expired under the lash. The Lacedaemonian youth
were also taught such bodily exercises, and the use of
such warlike weapons, as were necessary to render them
i . expert and skilful soldiers.
Re ,rks. I hey too, as well as the Cretans and Persians, a-
mong whom we have seen similar modes of education
adopted, were to be citizens and soldiers, not husband¬
men, mechanics, artists, merchants, &c. Their mode
of education, therefore, was simple and uniform. Its
aim was, to make them acquainted with the nature of
their social duties, and to form them to such vigour of
body and such firmness of mind as might render them
fit for the station in which they were to be placed, and
adequate to the part which they were to act. This
establishment for education was perfectly consistent
with the other parts of that legislature which was insti¬
tuted by Lycurgus. Youth educated among the La¬
cedemonians could hardly fail to become worthy mem¬
bers of that singular republic. Let us not, however,
regard the Spartans as singularly inhumane in their
treatment of youth. Let us reascend, in imagination,
to that period iu the progress of society from rudeness
to refinement, which they had reached when Ly¬
curgus arose among them. What were then their
circumstances, their arts and manners, their moral
piinciples, and military discipline ? Not very different
from those which the laws of Lycurgus rendered so
long stationary among them. He' no‘ doubt, rectified
some abuses, and introduced greater order and equa¬
lly. But man is not to be so easily metamorphosed
into a new form. As you cannot, at once, raise an
acorn to a venerable oak ; so neither will you be able
to change the savage, at once, into the citizen. All
the art or wisdom of Lycurgus, even though assisted
by all the influence of the prophetic Apollo, could
never have established his laws among his countrymen,
had not their character and circumstances previously
disposed them to receive them. But, grant this, and
you must, of consequence, allow, that, what to us
may appear cruel and inhumane, must have affected
their feelings in a different manner. The change in¬
troduced in the treatment of youth by the establish¬
ment Gi this svstem ol education, was probably recom¬
mended by its being more humane than what before
prevailed. Corrupted as are our manners, and effemi¬
nate our modes of education ; yet we would not per-
iaPs act wisely in laying them aside, to adopt in their
stead those of ancient Sparta. But the Spartan edu¬
cation was peculiarly well fitted to form citizens for
VoL. VII. Part II. +
A T I O N. 545
the republic of Lycurgus ; it was happily adapted to Education.
the state of society in which it was introduced. And,  v  
if we should inquire by what means Lycurgus was
enabled to fix the arts, the manners, and in short
the civilization of his country, for so long a period, in
a stationary state ; we would perhaps find reason to
ascribe that ellect to the public establishment which
he instituted for the education of youth ; to his
confining the Spartan citizens to the profession of
arms, and assigning all servile offices to the Helots ;
and to his prohibiting the use of gold and silver.
Among these however his establishment for education
occupies the chief place. Never was any state adorn¬
ed with more patriotic citizens than those of Sparta:
With them every private affection seemed to be swal¬
lowed up by the amor pci trice: the love of their coun¬
try was at least their ruling passion. Pcedaretes being
rejected when he offered himself a candidate for a seat
among the council of three hundred, returned home,
rejoicing that there were in Sparta no fewer than
three hundred whom his countrymen found reason to
regard as better citizens than himself. This was not
a seeming joy, assumed to conceal the pain which he
suffered from the disappointment ; it was heartfelt
and sincere. Such were the effects of their system of
education.
When we turn our eyes from the Persians, the Cre-Education
tans, and the Spartans, to the other nations of anti-among the
quity ; we nowhere behold so regular a system of pub-°.thel' na-
lic education. Among the Athenians and the Homans, t.,onf ofan'
the laws did not descend to regulate in so particular atiquitv
manner the management of the youth. These nations
gradually emerged from a state of the rudest barbarity,
to that polished, enlightened, and civilized state, which
rendered them the glory and the wonder of the hea¬
then world : but in no part of their progress from the
one state to the other do we find any such establishment
subsisting among them. So various, however, are the
circumstances which form and diversify the character
ot nations, that we cannot reasonably conclude, be¬
cause no such establishments existed among the Athe¬
nians and Romans, that therefore their existence was
unnatural among those nations who possessed them.
But though the education of youth was managed in a
different manner among these and most other nations
in the ancient world, than by public establishments,
which detached children from the care of their parents ;
yet still it was everywhere regarded as an object of the
highest importance. As the manners of mankind gradu¬
ally improved to a state of refinement; as the invention
of arts, and the discovery of science gradually intro¬
duced opulence and luxury ; connubial, parental, and
filial affection gradually acquired greater strength and
tenderness. Of consequence, children experienced more
of their parents care ; and that care was directed to
form them for acting a becoming part in life. Ac¬
cording to the circumstances of each nation, the arts
which they cultivated, and the form of government
under which they lived ; the knowledge which thev
sought to communicate to their children, and the ha¬
bits which they endeavoured to impress upon them,
were different from those of other nations : And again,
according to the different circumstances, tempers, abi¬
lities, and dispositions of parents, even the children of
each family were brought up iu a manner different from
3 ^ that
4
54-6
17
Quincti
han.
E D U C A T
that In whkli those of other families were managed.
. The Atlienians, the Romans, the Carthaginians, con-
ducted each of them the education of their youth in a
different manner, because they had each different ob¬
jects in view. But having considered the most singular
establishments for education which prevailed in the an¬
cient world, it seems unnecessary for us to descend to a
particular account of the manner which every nation,
or fantastic individual, thought proper to pursue in
bringing up their youth. It will probably be more
useful and entertaining to our readers, if we next pre¬
sent them with a view of some of the most judicious or
fanciful plans of education which have been proposed
by the writers on that subject.
One of the most respectable writers on education
among the ancients is the celebrated Quinctihan. _ He
taught rhetoric in Rome during the reign of pomitian,
and under several of the other emperors. When he re¬
tired from the exercise of his employment as a teacher
of rhetoric, he spent his leisure in the composition ol a
treatise, not merely on rhetoric, but on the most pro¬
per means for educating a boy so as to render him both
an eloquent orator and a good man. . .
In that valuable treatise, he enters into a minute de¬
tail of all that appears to him most likely to conduce to
those important ends.
As soon as the boy enters the world, he would have
the greatest care to be used in selecting those who are
to be&placed about him. Let his nurse have no impe¬
diment of speech. It will be happy for him, if his
parents be persons of sense and learning. Let his tu¬
tor, at least, possess these qualifications. As soon as Jie
attains the distinct use of his organs of speech, let him
be initiated in the first elements of literature. ^ xor
as he is capable of distinguishing and remembering at
a very early age ; so his faculties cannot possibly be
employed in a more advantageous manner. And even
at this early period of life, let maxims of prudence
and the first principles of morals be inculcated upon
his mind by the books which are put mto his hands,
and even by the lines which he copies in learning the
art of writing. The Greek language was to the Ro¬
mans in the days of Quinctilian, what the Latin and
Greek and French are to us at present, an acquisition
held indispensably necessary to those who aspired to a
liberal education j and Quinctilian judges it proper
that the boy should begin his application to letters
with the Greek language in preference to his mother
tongue. . ,
This judicious writer next examines a question which
has been often agitated. Whether a domestic or a pub¬
lic education is liable to the fewest inconveniences,
and likely to be attended with the greatest advantages ?
And he is of opinion, that in a domestic edncation the
boy is in danger of being corrupted by injudicious
fondness and evil example ; is not roused by the spur
of emulation j and is deprived of proper opportunities
for acquiring a just idea of his own power, or that
activity and dexterity which he will afterwards find so
necessary when he comes to act a part in he . 11 ®
in a public education, which was. preferred by some oi
the most renowned nations of antiquity, the morals are
not greatly exposed to corruption, emulation is roused,
friendships are formed, all the powers of the mind are
called forth to act with new vigour, and the youth is
2.
I O N.
prepared for performing his part on the great theatre Educatic
of the world. Quinctilian, therefore, wishes that pa-v-*<
rents would place their children in public seminaries of
education.
When a boy is committed to a master s care, the
master’s attention must be first directed to discover his
dispositions and the extent of his capacity. Of his
capacity he will form a favourable judgment, not from
his sprightliness, nor even from his quickness of appre¬
hension, but from his modesty, docility, and virtuous
dispositions. If the boy possess, these last qualifica¬
tions, the master will rejoice in him, as likely to give
him satisfaction and do him honour. According to
his temper and dispositions, let the boy be treated with
mildness or severity •, but never let severity extend to
blows. Let the boy be allured and led, by the most
artful and insinuating treatment, to do his duty j tnere
will then be no occasion to punish him for neglecting
it. . , ,
As Quinctilian’s professed object was, not merely to
give general directions for forming the heart and cul-
tivatinc the understanding, but to form a particular
character in life, the scholar and the orator*, he finds
it necessary to enter into minute details concerning the
manner in which the boy is to be instructed m speak¬
ing, writing, grammar, and composition $ of which it
does not appear necessary for us take particular no¬
tice in this place. Music and geometry, he thinks,
ought to make apart of the young orator’s studies;
as being useful to render him accurate in reasoning,
and capable of relishing the beauties of the poets. He
is also of opinion, that the boy should not be confined
to one branch of study, without being allowed to at¬
tempt others till he have made himself master ot that-
Let several parts of literature engage his attention
by turns: let him dedicate a considerable portion ot
his time to them. He may thus acquire habits of in¬
dustrious application which will remain with him
through life. .
With the tender attention of a good man, this sen¬
sible and elegant writer still accompanies. hi.s pupil
through the course of his studies ; anxiously insists that
he be placed under a master distinguished for purity of
morals, and for no mean abilities in his profession; di¬
rects his memory to be stored with the noblest passages
of the poets, orators, and historians; and carefully dis¬
cusses and refutes those opinions which represent ge¬
nius as above industry. The remaining part of his
work being employed on the principles of rhetoric,
without containing any thing on the subject of educa¬
tion in general, it is not necessary that we should here
present an analysis of it to our readers. But since
Quinctilian was so distinguished, not only as a rbeto*
rician, but as an instructor of youth, and displays s
much good sense and so solid a judgment, forme o
long experience, in whatever he advances on the su -
iect of education ; we could not, without extreme ne¬
gligence, omit taking notice ot him under tins ar¬
ticle, and affording our readers an opportunity oi
being instructed by listening to his sentiments on tins ^
heThe name of John Milton is so much revered in
tain, that his sentiments on any subject are ,nte^ !
to Britons. His life was dedicated to study : Luring
a part of it, he was employed in the task of mstruc ng
E D U C
, youth j and among his other works we find a treatise
on education. He had himself been educated accord¬
ing to that plan which has long been established in the
English universities 5 but with that mode of education
he was not satisfied. The object of his directions is
chiefly to form a scholar. He considered himself as
qualified to exhibit a model of “ a better education,
in extent and comprehension far more large, and yet
of time far shorter, and of attainment far more certain,
than any that had yet been ia, practice.” The follow¬
ing is the substance of his treatise.
As the end of learning is to cultivate our under¬
standings, and to rectify our dispositions j therefore the
design of our applying to the study of languages cannot
be merely that we may commit to memory the words
of which they consist, or that we may acquire a know¬
ledge of their analogy and structure j but that we may
enrich our minds with the treasures of wisdom which
they contain. But in the present modes of education
this design does not appear to be kept in view. The
learner of Latin is burdened with rules, and themes,
and verses, and orations ; but no care is taken to make
him master of the valuable knowledge which the classics
contain. And when he advances a little farther, he is
driven into the thorny paths of logic and metaphysics.
So, when his studies are completed, and he is consi¬
dered as having received a liberal education, he is al¬
most as destitute of real knowledge as when he first
entered a school.
But to render learning truly beneficial instead of
the school and university education which youth at
present receive, let the place of both school and uni¬
versity be supplied by an academy, in which they may
acquire all that is taught at either, except law and phy¬
sic. Let the academy afford accommodation for 150
persons ; 20 of whom may be servants and attendants.
As many academies as are necessary may be afterwards
erected on the model of this one. Let the youth who
are introduced into this academy begin their s^dies
with learning the principal rules of grammat irom
some good elementary book. In their pronunciation
of Latin, let them be taught to follow the pronuncia¬
tion of the Italians j as that of the English is in¬
distinct, and unsuitable to the genius of the language.
Next, read to them some entertaining book on educa¬
tion ; such as, the three first books of Quinctilian in
Latin, and Cebes, Plutarch, or some other of the So-
cratic discourses, in Greek ; and be careful to seize
every opportunity of inspiring them, by seasonable lec¬
tures and explanations, with love lor learning, admira¬
tion of great and virtuous characters, and a disposition
to cheerful obedience. At the same time, but at a dif¬
ferent hour of the day, let them be instructed in the
rules ol arithmetic and the. elements of geometry. Be¬
tween supper and bedtime, instruct them in the prin¬
ciples of religion and the sacred history. From the
writers on education let your pupils pass to the authors
on agriculture, to Cato, Varro, and Columella. Be¬
fore half these authors be read, they cannot but be
pretty well qualified to read most of the prose authors
in the Latin language ; and they may now, with great
propriety, learn the use of the globes, and make them¬
selves acquainted with the ancient and modern maps.
Let them, about the same time, begin the study of
the Greek tongue, and proceed in it as in the Latin :
A T I O N.
they will not fail to overcome, in a short time, all the
difficulties of grammar ; after which they will have ac¬
cess to all the treasures of natural knowledge to be
found in Aristotle and Theophrastus. In the same
manner they may make themselves acquainted with
A itruvius, Seneca, Mela, Celsus, Pliny, and Solinus.
And having thus passed through the principles of arith-
metic, geometry, astronomy, and geography, with a
general compact of physics j let them next turn their
attention to mathematics, in which they may begin
with the practical branch of trigonometry, which will
serve as an introduction to fortification, architecture,
and navigation, lo teach them the knowledge of na¬
ture, and instruct them in the arts of life, let them
have the assistance and instructions, not merely of ma¬
sters who are acquainted only with books, but of men
whose skill has been obtained by actual practice, even
of artists and mechanics. Next, let the poets obtain
their attention ; and they will now read them with ease
and pleasure. From the poets let your pupils proceed
to. the moralists j and, after acquainting themselves
with them, they may be allowed the entertainment of
some of the best Greek, Latin, and Italian dramatic
compositions. From these let them proceed to poli¬
tics j let them here study the law of Moses, the admi¬
rable remains ol the ancient lawgivers of Greece, the
Roman tables, edicts, and pandects, concluding with
the institutions of their mother country. Now let
them be more particularly instructed in the principles
of theology ; for by this time they may have acquired
the Hebrew language, together with the Chaldee and
the Syriac dialect, and may therefore read the Scriptures
in their original language. When their minds are thus
furnished, they will be able to enter into the spirit of
the noblest historians and poets. To get by heart,
and repeat in a proper manner, passages from tlm
writings of some of these, will have the happiest ef¬
fects in elevating their genius. Let this stately edifice
be crowned with logic and rhetoric. Far different
would be the eflects ot such a course of education,
from those produced by any which is at present pur¬
sued. We should then see abler writers,'more eloquent
speakers, and wiser statesmen. Similar to this, pro¬
bably, was the course taught in the famous schools of
Pythagoras, Plato, Isocrates, and Aristotle. This
would unite the advantages of an Athenian and a Spar¬
tan education : for our pupils should be taught the ex¬
ercises of wrestling and fencing, and the whole military
discipline.
Such are the ideas of our admired Milton on the
subject of education. An enthusiastic admirer of the
sciences, arts, and institutions of Greece and Rome ;
from his religious and political principles, no friend to
the universities j it was natural for a man of his learn¬
ing and ingenuity, jn an age of innovation, and in¬
fluenced by such prejudices, to form such a project as
that which we have surveyed. He seems not to have
reflected, that it is necessary for children to be lono-
occupied in obtaining a familiar acquaintance with
words, before they can gain from books any know¬
ledge of things ; overlooking this circumstance, and
perceiving plainly that the mode of education which
then prevailed confined the attention of youth almost
wholly to words, he could not but regard the scheme
which he proposed as likely to produce very happy
3^2 effects.
548 E D U C
Education, effects. His observation, that the appearances of ex-
' v~-i -< ternal nature are among the first objects which attract
the attention of youth, which he communicates by di-
• recting his pupils to peruse the writers on agriculture
and natural history as near the beginning of their stu¬
dies as possible j if not altogether just, yet must be
allowed to be nearly so. Perhaps human actions and
passions, and the series of events which happen around
us, are, by the time at which we begin our applica¬
tion to learning, the objects which most frequently and
strongly engage our attention : But the appearances
of external nature are at least the next object ot our
20 regard. _
Locke's Mr Locke, to whose abilities and noble desire to oe
Treatise on usefui to t[ie WOrld his country is so much indebted,
Education. jiag wrjtten> am0ng other things, on the education of
at
Bodily con
stitution.
youth. He was capable of thinking for himseli •, but
more desirous of rendering himself useful, than of being
admired for singularity. He is therefore an author to
whom we ought to listen, at least, with respectful at¬
tention. If Quinctilian and Milton had been employ¬
ed as teachers of youth, Mr Locke had been conver¬
sant with the world, had inquired into the principles
of human nature, and had no doubt endeavoured to
examine without prejudice the effects of those modes
of education of which he disapproves. When we con¬
sider, that, to render himself useful to the rising gene¬
ration, he could descend from the heights of science
to translate the fables of iEsop, and to perform othei
humble tasks in literature, which a philosopher ot
less benevolence and virtue would have disdained , we
cannot but look with veneration and gratitude on so
exalted a character. In his Treatise on Education,
the two great objects which Mr Locke keeps m view
are, ist, To preserve and strengthen the bodily con¬
stitution ; 2dly, To inform the understanding with use-
ful knowledge, and to cherish good dispositions in the
In his directions on the first of these heads, he seems
extremely anxious to prevent parents and others in
whose hands children are placed, from injuring them
by ill-directed tenderness. Plain fare, simple and
light clothing, abstinence from physic and from strong
liquors, he earnestly recommends as the most judi¬
cious means for preserving and confirming the health
of the child. In all his gratifications let the strictest
moderation be observed. If you permit him to in¬
dulge pretty freely in sleep, at least cause him to get
up °at an early hour in the morning. In one thing,
however, few parents will be willing to comply with
Mr Locke’s advice. He not only directs that the
child’s feet be frequently bathed in cold water, but
even expresses a wish, that his shoes were always kept
in such a condition as to admit water freely. I bis he
thinks likely to fortify the constitution of the body
in such a manner, as to render him less liable, in the
course of life, to such diseases as arise from any un¬
usual exposure to wetness or cold, than others whose
feet have been more carefully kept dry. Though, he
had prosecuted his studies with a design to enter into
the profession of physic, yet so unfavourable an opinion
did he entertain of the effects produced by medical pre¬
parations on the, human constitution, that he earnestly-
insists on the parent to beware of administering any ot
3
A T I O N.
them to his child. From the desire which Mr Locke Edncaii
discovers to have children exposed to hardship, and re-r-
strained from indulgence, in order to confirm the health
and invigorate the constitution, we may conjecture him
to have been an admirer of that severe mode of educa¬
tion which usually prevails in the earlier periods of the
existence of society. He seems to have thought, that
if a boy he brought up like a Huron or a Spartan, he
must necessarily become robust and healthy j without
reflecting, that of those children who are subjected to
such a course of education, too great a proportion are
unable to survive it: such is the natural delicacy of the
human frame. < ** j
When he turns his attention to the cultivating ofCuItiTat,
the understanding, and the forming of the dispositions,
Mr Locke still deservedly claims the regard of the pa-^,],
rent and the preceptor. With a virtuous indignation
he reprobates that negligence and folly by which we
generally corrupt the heart and spoil the temper of child¬
ren, even in that period of infancy •, so as to render
them incorrigible when they advance farther in life.
Their appetites are pampered, all their desires are gra¬
tified : and if we are at any time disposed to refuse
what they ask, they have an all-powerful engine to
compel our compliance with their wishes. They assail
us with tears *, and we then yield to their requests, how¬
ever hurtful to themselves or inconvenient to us. We
often studiously instruct them in vicious tricks, and call
forth their evil passions. At so early an age, their rage
or cunning can scarcely injure us j and we reflect not
that habits of peevishness and deceit must be peculiarly
hurtful to themselves.
But though all the foolish desires of children ought
not to be gratified, and though we should carefully avoid
leading them into any bad habit; yet it is not necessary
nor prudent to treat them with harshness or severity.
Let them be formed to obedience from their earliest
years: let them be accustomed to submit implicitly
to the direction of those on whom they depend. But
beware of souring their temper and depressing their
spirits by harshness : and, on the other hand, renietn-
ber that it is no less improper to give the boy a habit of
neglecting his duty, except when he is allured to it by
the hopes of reward. As he advances towards man¬
hood, and attains the use of reason, you may admit
him to greater familiarity, and allow him to follow Ins
own inclinations more than at an earlier period : and
if, instead of indulging all his freaks in childhood, you
have carefully accustomed him to obedience and sub¬
mission, without enforcing these by improper means, he
will now be able to regulate his conduct with some de¬
gree of prudence.
° But while caution is to be used in bestowing rewards
and inflicting punishments, still rewards and punishments
are indispensably necessary in the management of the
child. Inspire your boy with a sense of shame, and
with a generous thirst for praise. Caress and honour
him when he does well : treat him with neglect when
he acts amiss. This conduct will produce much better
effects than if you were at one time to chide and beat
him ; at another, to reward him with a profusion of
sweetmeats and play-things.
Think not that children are to be taught propriety
of conduct bv loading their memory with rules, <h-
7 ° recting
ation. recting them how to act on every particular occasion.
—'Burden them not with rules, but impress them with ha¬
bits.
Be not desirous of forming them at too early an age,
to all that politeness and propriety of manners which
you wish to distinguish them when they become men.
Let them be taught an easy, graceful carriage of body:
but give yourself no concern, though they now and
then blunder against the punctilios of good breeding 5
time will correct their awkwardness.
With regard to that important question, whether
children ought to be sent to a public school, or are like¬
ly to be better trained up in a domestic education ? so
impossible is it fer one master to extend his attention to
a number of boys, and so likely is the contagion of vice
to be caught among the crowd of a public school, that
a private seems more favourable than a public educa¬
tion to virtue, and scarce less favourable to learning.
When you resolve to give your son a domestic edu¬
cation, be careful to regulate that domestic education
in a judicious manner. Keep him at a distance from
evil example : choose the most favourable seasons for
communicating instruction : strictly enforce obedience ;
but never by blows, except in case of obstinacy, which
you find otherwise incurable. If his engagements in
life prevent the parent from superintending and di¬
recting his son’s education personally, let him commit
him to the care of a virtuous and judicious tutor. Let
the tutor be rather a man of experience in the world
than of profound learning 5 for it is more necessary that
the pupil be formed for conducting himself with pru¬
dence in the world, and be fortified against those temp¬
tations to which he will be exposed when he enters up¬
on active life, than that his head be stuffed with Latin
and logic.
Here Mr Locke, notwithstanding that his own
mind was stored with the treasures of Grecian and
Roman literature, takes occasion to declare himself
pretty freely against that application to ancient learn¬
ing, which was then indispensably required in the edu¬
cation of youth. He considers languages and philoso¬
phy as rather having a tendency to render the youth
unfit for acting a prudent and becoming part in life
than forming for it 5 and he therefore insists that these
should be but in a subordinate degree the objects of his
attention.
Let the tutor encourage the child under his care to
a certain degree of familiarity 5 let the pupil be accu¬
stomed to give his opinion on matters relative to him¬
self : let him be taught justice, by finding injustice to
others prejudicial to himself; let him be taught libe¬
rality, by finding it advantageous; let him be rendered
superior to teasing his parents or tutor with com¬
plaints, by finding his complaints unfavourably received,
lhat you may teach him to restrain every foolish or
irregular desire, be sure never to indulge his wishes,
save when you find the indulgence proper for him and
convenient for yourself. Curiosity, however, is a prin¬
ciple which ought to be industriously roused in the
breast of the child, and cherished there by meeting
always the readiest gratification. However you may
oppose the boy’s inclinations in other things, vet re¬
fuse him not a proper portion of recreation : let him in¬
dulge in play, while he continues to play with keen¬
ness and activity ; but suffer him not to loiter about
EDUCATION.
549
in listless indolence. To restrain your child from fool-Education.
hardy courage, point out to him the dangers lo which -"-v"  
it exposes him : to raise him above timorous cowardice,
and inspire him with manly fortitude, accustom him
Irom the earliest period of life to an acquaintance with
such things as he is most likely to be afraid of: subject
him now and then to pain, and expose him to danger ;
but let such trials be judiciously conducted.
Idleness or curiosity sometimes leads children to cru¬
elty in the treatment of such animals as are placed
within their power. Dogs, cats, birds, and butterflies
often suffer from their inhumanity. But when they
seem inclined to such cruelty, let them be carefully
watched, and let every means be used to awake their
hearts to generous sensibility. Allow them to keep
tame birds, dogs, &c. only on condition of their using
them with tenderness. Perhaps this unhappy disposi¬
tion to cruelty is occasioned, or at least fostered, by
people’s laughing when they behold the impotent ef¬
forts of children to do mischief; and often going so far
as even to encourage them in maltreating those crea¬
tures which are within their reach. We entertain them,
too, with stories of fighting and battles ; and represent
characters distinguished for atrocious acts of inhumanity
as great and illustrious. But let such practice be care¬
fully refrained from, if you wish to inspire your child
with generous and humane sentiments. Teach him gen¬
tleness and tenderness, not only to brute animals, but
also to servants and companions.
Curiosity is to be roused and cherished in the breast
of the child : but by what means ? Answer his inquiries
readily : though his questions be put in awkward lan¬
guage, let not that hinder you from attending to the
objects of them. Curiosity is natural to the human
mind ; and if you repress not the curiosity of the child,
he will often be moved by its impulse to the pursuit of
knowledge. Let him find his eagerness in the pursuit
of knowledge a source of applause and esteem. Avoid
the folly of those who sport with the credulity of child¬
ren, by answering their questions in a ludicrous or de¬
ceitful manner.
You must, however, not only listen with obliging at¬
tention to his questions, and strive to gratify his curio¬
sity ; but even whenever he attempts to reason on such
subjects as are offered to his observation, be careful to
encourage him ; praise him if he reasons with any de¬
gree of plausibility ; even if he blunders, beware of ri¬
diculing or laughing at him. With regard to the boy’s
playthings : while you indulge him freely in innocent
diversions, give him such playthings as may be neces¬
sary in the amusements in which he engages, provided
they be such as he cannot make himself; but it will be
still better for him to exercise his dexterity and inge¬
nuity in making them himself.
After throwing out these things concerning the ge¬
neral principles on which education should be carried
on, Mr Locke next proceeds to those particular parts
of knowledge in which he thinks every young gentle¬
man ought to be instructed. In virtue, wisdom, breed¬
ing, and learning, he comprehends all that is necessary
to enable his pupil to act a x’espectable part in life.
In forming the boy to virtue, the first thing to be done
is to inform him of the relation subsisting between hu¬
man creatures and a supreme independent Being, their
creator, preserver, and governor; and to teach him,
that.
550
EDUCATION.
Education that obedience and worship are due to that Being. But
when you inform the child of the existence of an invisi¬
ble Being, beware of impressing his mind with any no¬
tions concerning spirits or goblins, which may render
him incapable of bearing darkness or solitude. In in¬
fancy our minds are, by the indiscretion of those about
* us? (generally impressed with such prejudices concerning
a thousand frightful forms, ever ready to assail or haunt
us under the shade of night, that we become incapable
of manly fortitude during the course of life : the soldier
who will boldly' face death in the field of battle, shall
perhaps tremble and take to flight at the rustling of a
few leaves, or the grunting of a hog in the dark. But
were the imaginations of children not crazed with wild
stories concerning spirits and hobgoblins, darkness would
be no more alarming to them than light. After inform¬
ing the child of the existence of a Deity, and teaching
him to pray to him ; next labour to impress his nnnd
with a veneration for truth, and habituate him to a strict
adherence to it on every occasion. Endeavour also to
render him gentle and good-natured.
The best means you can use to teach him wisdom or
prudence in conducting himself in the ordinary business
and intercourse of life, is to teach him to despise the
mean shifts of cunning. The rest must be learned by
actual experience in life.
The decencies of life, comprehended under the word
Good Breeding, form no inconsiderable part of a good
education. In teaching these, two things are to be
attended to: Inspire the youth with a disposition to
please and oblige all with whom he is conversant 5 next,
teach him how to express that disposition in a becoming
manner. Let boisterous roughness, haughty contempt
of others, censoriousness, impertinent raillery, and a
spirit of contradiction, be banished from his temper and
behaviour. At the same time, beware of leading him
to regard the mere forms of intercourse as a matter of
the highest importance. Remember that genuine good
breeding is only an easy and graceful way of expressing
yood sense and benevolence in his conversation and de¬
portment. ¥ , .
Mr Locke, when he comes to give his opinion con¬
cerning those parts of learning which are proper to.be
taught a young gentleman, and the manner jn which
they ought to be communicated, advises to initiate the
child in the art of reading, without letting him know
that he is engaged about a matter of any importance,
or learning an accomplishment which you are solicitous
that he should acquire. Present it to him in the form of
an amusement, or teach him to consider it as an high
honour to be permitted to learn his alphabet •, otherwise
be will turn from it with disgust. When by insinuating
arts you have allured him to apply to reading, put into
bis bands such books as are plain, entertaining, and in¬
structive. Insist not on his reading over the Bible : in¬
stead of gaining any advantage from, an indiscriminate
perusal of it at this period of Hie., he is likely to acquire
the most confused notions of religion, and an indiffer¬
ence for the sacred volume during the rest of life : yet
it may be highly proper to cause him to peruse.some
of its" beautiful historical passages, and to familiarize
him with its elegant and simple moral precepts. After
learning to read his mother tongue, the hoy’s attention
ought to be next directed to the art of writing. The
easiest, way to teach him that art, is to get a plate en¬
graved, after the model of any hand which you think Ediicaii
most proper for his imitation. With this plate get ayt
number of copies cast with red ink ; the letters of these
the learner may trace with his pen filled with black ink:
and he will thus in a short time, and without much
trouble to yon or himself, acquire a decent hand. As
drawing is useful on many occasions in life, if the boy
be not naturally incapable of acquiring it, he may with
great propriety dedicate some part of his time and at¬
tention to that art.
When the scholar has attained a tolerable degree of
skill in writing, and in reading and speaking his native
language, he must next begin an acquaintance with
other languages. Among these, the first object of his
study will naturally be the Latin. Yet let none waste
their time in attempting to acquire a knowledge of
Latin, but such as are designed for some of the learned
professions, or for the life of a gentleman without a
profession. To these last it may be useful $ to others
it is wholly unserviceable. But in learning the Latin
tongue, a much happier method than burdening and
perplexing him with rules of grammar, would be to
make him speak it with a tutor who was sufficiently
master of it for that purpose. Thus might he spend
that time which is usually occupied in acquiring this
language, in learning some other necessary branches
of education. But if you cannot conveniently have the
boy taught the language by the way of conversation,
let the introductory books be accompanied with an
English version, which he may have easy recourse to
for the explanation of the Latin. Never perplex him
with grammatical difficulties. Reflect that, at his
age, it is impossible to enter into the spirit of. those
things. Render every thing as easy and pleasing as
possible: for the attention will not fail to wander, even
though you labour not to render the task disagreeable.
Skill in grammar may be useful ; but it is to those
whose lives are to be dedicated to the study of the dead
languages : that knowledge which the gentleman and
the man of the world may have occasion to derive from
the treasures contained in the ancient languages, may
be acquired, without a painful study of prosody or syn¬
tax. As the learning of any language is merely, learn¬
ing words*, if possible, let it be accompanied with the
acquisition of some real knowledge of things; such as
the nature of plants, animals, &c. their growth and pro¬
pagation. But if you cannot or will not give your boy
a private education, and are still resolved to send him
to school, to he whipped through the usual course of
Greek and Latin ; at least act with so much good
sense and humanity, as to insist that he be not burdened
and tormented with the composition of Latin themes
and verses. Neither let his memory be oppressed with
whole pages and chapters from the classics. Such ridi¬
culous exercises have no tendency, whatever prejudice
may urge to the contrary, to improve him either in the
knowledge of languages or of nature.
Mr Locke seems to wish that the French language,
which in his days had attained to higher refinement
and a more regular analogy than any of the other mo¬
dern languages of Europe;—he seems to wish that
the French ivere learned along with the Latin : and he
wishes the study of these languages to be accompanie
with the study of arithmetic, geography, history, and
chronology. Let these branches of knowledge e
rated
E D U C A
^ communicated to the learner in one of the two lan-
guages $ and he will thus acquire the language with
greater facility. He next points out the advantages
of the branches of knowledge which he recommends
as proper to be learned together with the languages $
but on that head he says nothing singular. One me¬
thod which he recommends for facilitating the study
of language is, to put into the youth’s hands, as soon
as he has acquired a tolerable knowledge of chronolo¬
gy, some of the most entertaining Latin historians:
the interesting nature of the events which they relate
will not fail to command his attention, in spite of the
difficulty which he must find in making out their mean¬
ing. The Bible and Tully’s Offices will be his best
guides in the study of ethics. The law of nature and
nations, as well as the civil and political institutions of
his country, will form to him an important object,
which he ought to study with the most careful atten¬
tion. Rhetoric and logic, though generally regarded
as objects of great importance in a liberal education,
can neither of them contribute much, with all their
rules and terms, to render him an acute reasoner or an
eloquent speaker ; and it is therefore unnecessary for
him to honour them with very particular attention.
Tully and Chillingworth will be more beneficial in
teaching him to reason and to persuade, than all the
treatises on rhetoric and logic which he can possibly
peruse, or all the lectures on those arts which he can
gain opportunities to hear. In every art and every
science, practice and experience are infinitely better
than rules. Natural philosophy, as contributing to
inspire the breast with warmer sentiments of devotion,
and serving also to many useful purposes in life, ought
to make a part in the young gentleman’s studies.
But the humble experimental writers on that subject
are to be put into his hands in preference to the lofty
builders of systems. As for Greek, our pupil is not
to be a professed scholar, but a gentleman and a man
of the world : and therefore it does not appear neces¬
sary that Greek should make a part in the system of
his education. But in none of these studies will the
pupil ever attain any proficiency, unless he be accu¬
stomed to method and regularity in the prosecution of
them. In languages, let him gradually ascend from
what is simplest to what is most difficult: in history,
let him follow the order of time ; in philosophy, that
of nature.
Dancing, as contributing to ease and gracefulness
of carriage, ought to make part in our young gentle¬
man’s education. Fencing and riding being fashion¬
able, cannot well be denied him. As he is likely, in
the course of life, to have some leisure hours on his
hands, and to be sometimes disposed to active recrea¬
tion, let him learn some mechanical trade, with the
exercise of which he may agreeably fill up some of those
hours. If he is to possess any property, let him not be
unskilled in the management of accounts. Travel, in¬
stead ot being useful, appears more likely to be hurt¬
ful to the understanding and morals of the traveller,
unless deferred to a later period than that at which
young men are usually sent out to complete their edu¬
cation by traversing through foreign countries.
Here Mr Locke concludes his work with observing,
that he does not ofl'er it to the world as a full or com¬
prehensive treatise on the subject of education, but
T I O N.
55i
merely as the outlines of what occurred to him as most Education,
proper to be observed in breeding up a young gentle- * ■—-v— ..j
man not intended ior any learned profession or mecha¬
nical employment, but for acting a respectable part in
life at the head of a competent hereditary fortune. ^
In considering the sentiments of this respectable phi-Remarks,
losopher oq the subject of education, we perceive, that
as he was, on the one hand, superior to those preju¬
dices which render us incapable of distinguishing the
defects or absurdities of any custom or institution which
has long prevailed ; so, on the other hand, he was free
from that silly vanity which disposes those who are sub¬
ject to its influence to affect novelty and singularity of
sentiment on every subject which they consider. Though
a member of one of the universities, he hesitates not
to declare himself against a very laborious attention to
classical learning; and his reasoning is, through the
whole of his treatise, rather plain and solid than subtle
or refined.
Yet, however we respect the soundness of his under¬
standing or the benevolence of his intentions, we can¬
not avoid observing, that his opinions are not always
such as experience justifies. He had no doubt taken
notice of some instances in which the too great anxiety
of parents about the preservation of their children’s
health was the very means of rendering their constitu¬
tion feeble and tender through the course of life ; and
from that circumstance might be led to propose those
expedients which he mentions for preserving the health
and strengthening the constitution of children. But a
little more observation or inquiry would have easily
convinced him, that some of his expedients, instead of
strengthening the child’s constitution, would in all pro¬
bability shorten his days.
He had perhaps seen some of the heroes of classical
literature, who were familiar with Demosthenes and
Cicero, and had Homer and Virgil at their finger ends,
-—he had seen some of those gentlemen so overloaded
with their cargo of Greek and Latin as to be unfit for
the ordinary business and intercourse of life j and such
instance# might tempt him to forget the advantages
which he himself, and a long series of philosophers,
patriots, and statesmen, with whose names the annals of
our country are adorned, had derived from a regular
classical education. But as we are afterwards to de¬
liver our own sentiments on the subject, we will not
here extend our observations on Mr Locke to a greater
lenSth* ... , 24
An author more distinguished than Mr Locke for Roussea:J.
tenderness of sentiment, singularity* eloquence, and
whim, has presented the public with a work on the
subject of education, in which, with unexampled bold¬
ness, he inveighs against all the established modes, as
well as reprobates whatever had been advanced by for¬
mer writers on the subject; and at the same time de¬
lineates a plan of education which he would persuade
us is infinitely superior to those which he explodes.
This writer is the amiable and pathetic Rousseau : And
though he be often vain, paradoxical, and whimsical j
yet the charms of genius and sentiment which adorn
his writings will at least engage our attention while he 2
unfolds his opinions.- Iniprudeiit ■
He sets out with observing, that our business in theraanage-
bringing up of children should be, to second and to callment ot’
forth nature , and that, instead of this, we almost always ?lllidren J"n
oppose ' y
552 E D U C A
Education oppose her Intentions and operations. As soon as the
i —‘y— child sees the light, he is wrapped in swathing hands.
His limbs are thus restrained from that free motion
which is necessary to their growth and vigour ; and
even the internal parts of his frame are rendered inca¬
pable of their proper functions. Mothers are too proud
or indolent, or too fond of gaiety and dissipation, to sub¬
mit to the task of nursing their own children. The
poor infants are committed to some hireling nurse, who
not being attached to them by natural affection, treats
them with negligence or inhumanity. But is that
mother capable of any delicacy of sentiment, who can
permit another to suckle her child, and to share with
her, or perhaps wholly supplant her, in the filial afiec-
tion of that child ?
Again, When parents undertake the care of their in¬
fant children, they often injure them by mistaken ten¬
derness. They pamper them with delicate meats, cover
them with warm clothes, and anxiously keep them at
a distance from all that has the appearance of danger :
not attending to the economy of nature, who subjects
us in infancy to a long train of epidemical distempers,
and exposes us during the same period to innumerable
danffers •, the design of which doubtless is, to teach us
a prudent concern for our own safety, and to strength¬
en and confirm our constitutions.
A child no sooner enters into life, than it begins to
cry *, and during a great part of infancy continues fre¬
quently to shed tears. We either attempt to soothe it
into good nature, or seek to silence it by harsher means j
and it is thus we infuse into its infant mind those evil
passions which we afterwards presume to impute to
nature.
As the mother generally disdains to nurse her own
child, so the father is seldom at leisure to take any share
in the management of his education: he is put into the
hands of a tutor. But that tutor whose time and atten¬
tion can be purchased for money is unworthy of the
charge. Either be yourself your son’s preceptor, or
gain a friend whose friendship to you shall be his sole
motive to undertake the task.
Manage- After a few preliminary observations to the above
mens ofE- purport, our author introduces his Emilius ; in whose
milius dur-education he delineates that plan which he prefers,
ing infancy.pVeeeptor whom he would assign Emilius must be
young’, and must dedicate his attention to Emilius alone,
from"the time when his pupil enters the world till he
attain the full age of manhood. Emilius, to receive the
full benefit of his preceptor’s system of education, and
to afford full scope to it, must possess a genius of the
middle class ; no prodigy of parts, nor singularly dull ;
he must have been born to affluent circumstances and
an elevated rank in life. His preceptor is invested
with the rights, and takes upon him the obligations,
of both father and mother. Emilius is, when put
into the hands of his preceptor, a well-shaped, vigorous,
and healthy child. The first care of the preceptor is to
provide him with a nurse, who, as he is new born, must
be newly delivered ? it is of still higher importance
that she be clean, healthy, virtuous, and of mild dispo¬
sitions. While suckling her charge, she shall feed plen-
tifully, chiefly on a vegetable diet. The child must be
frequently bathed, in cold water if possible ; if you be¬
gin with warm, however, use it by degrees colder and
colder, till at length he is able to bear it entirely cold.
T I O N.
He is not to he wrapped in swaddling clothes or rol- Educati,J
lers, or hound with staybands but put in good warmy—#
blankets, and in a roomy cradle : Let him stretch and
move his limbs at freedom, and crawl about on hands
and knees at his pleasure. The greatest care must now
be taken to prevent the child from contracting any ha¬
bits whatever : Suffer him not to use one arm more
than another, or to eat or sleep at stated hours. Pre¬
pare him for the enjoyment of liberty, by preserving to
him the exercise of his natural abilities, unfettered by
any artificial habits.
As soon as the child begins to distinguish objects, let
his education begin. Some objects are naturally agree¬
able, others frightful. Accustom him to look upon
any object that may come in his way without being
affrighted. Children are at first ignorant of local re¬
lations, and learn to distinguish them only by experi¬
ence j and while Emilius is yet an infant, incapable of
speaking or walking, he may be assisted in acquiring
the knowledge of these.
In his feeble helpless condition, the child must feel
many wants and much uneasiness j tears are the lan¬
guage which nature has given him to make known his
distresses and wants. When the child cries, it would
be much more prudent and humane to examine what
he suffers or stands in need of, than, as is usually done,
to rock or sing him asleep ; or, when these means suc¬
ceed not, to threaten or use him brutally.
In managing children, as nature has endowed them
with no superfluous powers, we ought not to confine
them from the free use of those which they are able to
exert. It is our duty to supply their deficiency both
of mental and bodily powers but while we are ready to
administer on every occasion to their real wants, we must
beware of gratifying their caprice or unreasonable hu¬
mours. In order to distinguish between their natural
and fantastic wants, we must study the language and
signs by which they express their wishes and emotions.
Though crying be the means which nature has given in¬
fants to enable them to procure relief or assistance, yet
when they cry they are not always in need of either.
They often cry from obstinacy or habits of peevishness.
But if, instead of attempting to soothe them by divert¬
ing their attention to other objects, we would on such
occasions entirely neglect them, they would soon cease
to indulge in such fits of crying.
When children begin to speak, we are usually anxious
about their language and articulation, and are every
moment correcting their blunders. But instead of hop¬
ing to teach them purity or correctness of speech by
such means as these, let us be careful to speak easily
and correctly before them, and allow them to express
themselves in the best manner they can. By such means
we will be much more likely to obtain our wishes in
this matter. When they speak, let us not listen with
such solicitude as to relieve them from the necessity or
using an open distinct articulation.
WThen the child attains the power of expressing him¬
self in artificial language, he may then be considered a^>
having reached the second period of infancy. He needs
not now make known his wants by tears, and should
therefore be discouraged from the use of them. Let
his tears be entirely neglected. He now begins to run
about, and you are anxious to prevent him from hurt¬
ing himself but vour anxiety can only render him
° ' peevish
E D U C
,) tion peevish or timid. Remove him from any very alarm-
/ ing danger, and then suffer him to run about at
his pleasure. He will now and then bleed, and
hurt himself j but he will become bold, lively, and
cheerful.
ib:lion In regulating the conduct of your child, let him
a 'ori‘ know that he is dependant; but require not of him an
implicit submission to your will. Let his unreasonable
desires be opposed only by his natural inability to gra¬
tify them, or by the inconveniences attending the gra¬
tification. When he asks what is necessary or reason¬
able, let him instantly obtain it; when he asks what is
unreasonable or improper, lend a deaf ear to all his
entreaties and demands. Beware of teaching him to
establish his authority over you by means of the forms
of politeness. A child will scarcely take the trouble to
address you with If you please, unless he has been made
to regard these as a set of magic syllables, by the use
of which he may subject every person to his will. His
If you please then means I please; pray, with him,
stands for do. Though you put in his mouth the words
of humility, his tone and air are those of authority that
will be obeyed.
Sacrifice not the present happiness of your child for
the sake of any distant advantage.
Be not too anxious to guard him against natural
evil. 1 he liberty which he enjoys while he is now and
then permitted to expose himself to blows, or cold, or
wetness, is more than a sufficient compensation for all
, that he thus suffers.
sir Seek not to impress him with ideas of duty or oblis;a~
iraul!- tion.' Till children reach the years of discretion, they
1101 are incapable of any notions of the distinctions of mo¬
rality. Avoid therefore even the use of the terms
by which they are expressed in their hearing. While
they continue to be affected only by sensible objects,
seek not to extend their ideas beyond the sphere of
sensation. Try all the powers of language, use the
plainest and most'familiar methods you can contrive J
you shall still be unable to give the boy at this age any
just ideas of the distinction between right and wrong.
He may readily conceive, that for one set of actions
you will punish him, and that by another he will ob¬
tain your approbation ; but farther than this his ideas
of right and wrong, of virtue and vice, cannot yet be
carried.
The powers of the human mind are gradually un¬
folded. At first, the infant is capable only of percep¬
tion j by and by, his instincts and passions begin to
exert their force ; at length, as he advances towards
manhood, reason begins to act, and he becomes able
to feel the beauty of virtue and the deformity of
vice.
But. though you seek not to regulate his conduct
by notions of duty, yet let him feel the yoke of neces¬
sity. Let him know, that as he is weaker than you,
he must not, therefore, expect that you should be sub¬
ject to his will j and that, as he has neither skill nor
strength to controul the laws of nature, and make every
object around him bend to his pleasure, he cannot hope
to obtain the gratification of all his wishes. Thus you
teach him virtue before he knows what virtue is ; and
call forth his reason without misleading or perverting
it. Let him feel his impotence ; but forbid him not
to think, that if he had power there would be no rea-
Vol. VII. Part II. f
AT I ON.
son why he might not at pleasure even turn the world Education
upside down. ,
Hitherto you have given your pupil no verbal in¬
structions, nor must you yet attempt to instruct him by
any other means than experience j let all his knowledge
be literally of his own acquisition.
Let not the parent who has observed the conduct of
children brought up in the usual Way he afraid that, if
his child should be treated like our pupil, he would be¬
come stupid and vicious. Nature sends not human be¬
ings into the world with a predisposition to vice : we
sow the seeds of it in the infant heart; and by our ab¬
surd modes of treatment, we also enfeeble and pervert
the powers of the understanding.
But from the hour of his birth till he attain the arre
of twelve, the education of Emilius shall be purely ne¬
gative. Could we but bring him up healthy and ro¬
bust, and entirely ignorant, till that period, the eyes of
bis understanding would then be open to every lesson :
free from the influence of habit and prejudice, bis pasl
sions would not then oppose us j and we might render
him the wisest and most virtuous of men. If we can
but lose time, if vve can but advance without receiving
any impressions whatever, our gains are unspeakable^.
Nature gives the powers of every mind some particular
direction : but that particular bias, impressed by the
hand of nature, cartnot be distinguished before the pe¬
riod we have mentioned ; and if you counteract nature,
instead of seconding her views, the consequences can¬
not but be highly unfavourable both to the heart and
the understanding of your pupil.
Perhaps, in the midst of society, it may he difficult
to bring up our pupil without giving him some idea of
the relations between man and man, and of the mora¬
lity of human actions. Let that, however, be deferred
as long as possible.
Were Emilius to witness a scene of anger, and to ask
the cause of the appearances winch lie beheld, he should
be told that the persons were affected with a fit of sud¬
den illness. We might thus perhaps prevent the un¬
happy effects of such an example.
1 he first moral notions which should he communi¬
cated to the child are those of property. To communi¬
cate the ideas of property to our pupil, we will di
rect him to take possession of something ; for instance,
of a piece of ground belonging to some other person,
and in a state of cultivation. Let him cultivate this
spot of ground anew, sow it with seeds, and look ea¬
gerly forward to the time of harvest in the hopes of
reaping the fruit of his labours. In the mean time, let
the proprietor of the ground take notice of what is
done, destroy your pupil’s rising crop, and complain of
the injustice done him. While the boy laments bis
loss and the disappointment of his hopes, in all the
bitterness of grief, let the proprietor of the ground
still insist on the injury done him, and complain of
what he suffers by the purpose for which he himself
had cultivated and sown the ground being frustrated.
Our pupil, now sensible of the reasonableness of the
other’s claims, will desist from bis lamentations, and
only beg to have some other spot assigned him which
he may cultivate at his pleasure without offending any
person. This he will justly consider as his own pro¬
perty, to the productions of which raised by his own
labour he has an exclusive right, and in the occupying
4 ^ of
554-
KJucatioR.
EDUCATION.
molest him. In some such alted of characters, is the man who does the least harm EducaL
manner as this may the nature of property, the idea of
which easily refers in the instance to the first occupier,
and afterwards the exchange of property, be explained
to him. . , . , .
Another instance of the manner in which the pupil
is now to be managed may not be improper in this
place. He is possibly so rude and boisterous as to spoil
or break whatever is within his reach. Be not angry
with him, however: if he break the utensils which he
has constant need of, be in no haste to supply him
with others in their room; let other things be re¬
moved out of bis way : if he break the windows ot
his apartment, let him be exposed night and day to
the cold ; complain not of the inconvenience yourself,
but order matters so that he may feel it. After some
time, let them he mended up *, and if he break them
again, change your method. Tell him calmly, “ ihese
windows are mine j I took care to have them put
there *, and I will prevent their being again broken,
by confining you in a dark room.” Let all his en¬
deavours to avoid this prove ineffectual. Let him be
actually confined, and be liberated only on proposing
and agreeing to the condition of breaking no moie
windows. When he proposes this condition, be ready
to listen to him ; observe that it is well thought on,
and that it is a pity he did not think of it sooner. Con¬
sider this engagement between you as sacred ; tieat
him as before, and you cannot fail to attain the end in
view.
The moral world now opens to us : But no sooner
are we able to distinguish between right and wrong,
than we become desirous to conceal those instances in
which we act wrong. Lying is therefore a vice of
which your pupil is now apt to be guilty : you cannot
always prevent, hut you can punish', but let the punish¬
ments which you inflict appear to the child only the
natural consequences of his conduct. If he is in any
instance convicted of a lie, let his assertions no longer
gain credit. By this means, sooner than by precepts,
or any other speciea of punishment, will you be able to
reclaim him from the habit of lying.
The methods generally taken to render children
virtuous are preposterous and foolish. Tfo render them
generous and charitable, we give them money, and bid
them bestow it in-alms, while we ourselves give nothing;
but the parent or master, and not the child, should
bestow the alms. Example might produce the wished-
for effect. Besides, children are strangers to the value
of money. A gingerbread cake is more to them than
a hundred guineas. Though you teach them to give
away money, till you persuade them to part readily
with those things which they value most, you do not in¬
spire them with generosity. Would you make them
liberal by showing them that the most liberal is always
best provided for ? this is to teach covetousness, not li¬
berality. Example is the only means by which you
can, at this period, hope to teach your pupil any of the
virtues.
The only lesson of morality that can with any pro¬
priety be inculcated on children, is to injure no pei-
son. * Even the positive precept of doing good, must
be considered as subordinate to this negative one ot
doing no harm. The most virtuous and the most ex-
to his fellow creatures.
In a public education, it will be necessary to attempt
the communication of moral instruction at an earlier
period than in a private one. In a private education,
it will always be best to allow the moral powers of
children to ripen as much as possible before you en¬
deavour to inform and direct them by precepts.
There is an inequality among geniuses ', and fond
mothers and fathers may be disposed to plead for ex¬
ceptions in favour of such of their children as they
view with a partial eye. “ The boy’s mind is more
capacious, his powers are riper, than those of others.”
But however great the seeming disparity of geniuses
may be, it is at bottom but inconsiderable. Let the
age of children be therefore regarded as a common
measure by which their treatment is to be regulated..
However quick and tenacious the memories of chil¬
dren may seem, they can derive little advantage from
the exertions of memory till such time as judgment
begins to act. All the knowledge that they acquire
in the course of the usual system of education, is
merely the knowledge of words. 1 he languages,
geography, chronology, in short all that they are
taught, and called to display so ostentatiously at this
period of life, serve no other purpose than to fill their
minds with words. . 29
History is esteemed a proper thing to he put into History
the hands of children. But except you wish to con-how far
fine their attention to the external and physical actions,^,
it is almost nothing they can acquire by the perusaltj,e
of it. And if divested of the moral distinctions of0fl)oy«.
actions, of the workings of the passions, and the com¬
plication of interests, what is there to render history
entertaining ? We may indeed easily teach them to re¬
peat the words kings, emperors, wars, conquests, revo¬
lutions, laws: but of the things which you use these
words to denote, you will find they are hitherto inca¬
pable of forming any clear ideas.
But the mere knowledge of words is not science',
make your pupil acquainted with things, and lie will
not fail to acquire their names. Emilius must never be
set to get any composition by heart, not even fables.
be careful to place before him those scenes and objects,
the images of which it may be useful for him to have
impressed on his memory ; but by no other means seek
to assist him to improve that faculty.
Emilius shall not even learn to read till he attain the
age of twelve : * for, before that period, it can be of no
benefit to him j and the labour would only make him
unhappy during that period of life which is naturally
the golden part of our days. But when he has attain-
ed the proper age, matters shall be so ordered, that ie
shall find his ignorance of letters an inconvenience. A
card shall be sent him, which being unable to read, he
will apply to some of those about him. They may be
unwilling to oblige him, or otherwise engaged.. H, at
length, it is read to him, that may be when it is now
too late to take advantage of some agreeable invitation
which it contained. This may be two or three times
repeated. At length he becomes eager to learn to read*,
and accomplishes that almost without assistance.
The principle on which we proceed, is to leave ie
pupil almost wholly under his own direction, seeming^
EDUCATION,
ition leas^ 5 *° ^eat^ ^“ra acquire new accomplishments,
-—’solely from the desire of increasing his powers, and
extending his influence 5 and humbly to follow nature,
not to force her.
As we are desirous of cultivating his understanding,
the means which we employ for that purpose is, to cul¬
tivate those abilities on which it depends j he is always
active and in motion. Let us first make him a man in
point of health and vigour, and he will soon become a
man in understanding.
By our constant attention to the welfare of children,
we render it unnecessary for them to attend to it them¬
selves. What occasion has your son or pupil to observe
whether the aspect of the sky threaten rain, when he
knows that you will take care to have him sheltered
from a shower j or to regulate the length of his excur¬
sions, when he is sure that you will not suffer him to
lose his dinner ?
While matters are so ordered that Emilius thinks
himself subject only to his own will, though all his mo¬
tions are regulated according to your pleasure j instead
of becoming fantastic and capricious, he insenibly ac¬
quires the habit of keeping utility in view in all his
actions.
The first objects which engage the attention of chil¬
dren are the appearances of the material world around
them: our first study is a kind of experimental philo¬
sophy; our instruments and instructors are our hands,
our feet, and our eyes. By exercising these bodily
organs, the boy will acquire more real knowledge
even in the period of childhood, than if he should de¬
dicate nine-tenths of his time to books, from the age
of six to sixty. All who have examined, with any sa¬
gacity, the characters, circumstances, and manners of
the ancients, have agreed in attributing to their gym¬
nastic exercises that superior strength of body and
mind which renders them objects of admiration to the
moderns.
Our pupil’s clothes cannot be too light and easy. If
tight and close, they fetter and confine his joints and
limbs, and likewise obstruct the circulation of the
blood; if accustomed to warm clothing, he will soon
become incapable of bearing cold,
we In every thing let him be habituated to what is
er- plain and hardy. Let his bed be coarse and hard, his
clothes plain, his fare simple. Infants must be freely
indulged in sleep: but as Emilius is now advanced be¬
yond infancy, he must be accustomed at times to go
to bed late and get up early, to be sometimes hastily
waked from sleep; and thus to prepare himself for what
he may afterwards have occasion to submit to in the
course of life.
As this period is in a particular manner that of ex¬
ercise, and Emilius is encouraged to take as much
exercise as he chooses ; we must endeavour to prompt,
but without seeming to direct him to such as are most
proper. Swimming, though not generally attended to,
is yet one of the first which a boy ought to learn. It
may, on many occasions in life, be of the greatest ad¬
vantage, by enabling us to save our own life or the
life of others. Emilius shall be taught to swim; he
shall be taught whatever can really enlarge the sphere
of his power : “ could I teach him to fly in the air, I
would make him an eagle; if to bear the fire, a sala¬
mander.”
To exercise the senses is not merely to make Use bf Education,
them ; it is to learn to judge by them. Call not your —-y-—»
pupil to exert his strength on every occasion ; but
let him learn to judge of the truth of the information
which he receives from one sense, by having recourse to
the evidence of another.
It is not impossible to improve the senses to a higher
degree of perfection than that which they usually at¬
tain. Blind men generally possess the sense of touch
in a more exquisite degree, than we who have also
eyes to guide and inform us. But they acquire this
superior delicacy and acuteness of sensation, only by
their finding it necessary to have more frequent re¬
course to the information of that sense. Here is then
a wide field for improvement and agreeable exercise lo
our pupil. 3I
What a variety of useful diversions might he be led Darkness
to entertain himself with in the course of the night. aud ghosts.
The hours of darkness are generally hours of terror,
not only to men, but also to the brute animals. Even
reason, knowledge, and courage, are not always suffi¬
cient to render us superior to the terror which darkness
inspires.
This timidity is usually attributed to the tales of
ghosts and goblins with which we are frightened in
infancy. But it originates from another cause : our
ignorance of what is passing around us, and our ina¬
bility to distinguish objects during that period of
darkness. The passion of fear was implanted by nature
in the human breast, in order that it might serve to
put us on our guard against danger. But in conse¬
quence of our being subject to the influence of that
passion, when we are ignorant of what surrounds us,
imagination calls up dangers on all hands. And such
is the cause from which our terror in darkness naturally
arises.
But the only way to free our pupil from this tyran¬
ny of imagination, is to oppose to it the power of ha¬
bit. A bricklayer or tyler is never giddy on looking
down from the roofs of houses. Neither will our pupil
be alarmed by the terrors of darkness, if he be accu¬
stomed to go frequently abroad under night. It is easy
to contrive a number of little amusements, the agree¬
ableness of which may, for a time, overcome our pupil’s
aversion for darkness ; and thus may a habit be at
length impressed.
Let us give yet another instance of the means by
which children may be led to do what we wish, with¬
out our imposing any restraint on their will. Sup¬
pose Emilius is lazy and inactive, and we wish to make
him learn to run. When walking out with the young
sluggard after dinner, I would sometimes put a couple
of his favourite cakes in my pocket; of these each of
us should eat one in the course of our walk. After
some time I would show him I had put a third cake
in my pocket. This he would not fail to ask after
finishing his own : no say I, I can eat it myself, or we
will divide it;—or stay, we had better let these two
little boys there run a race for it. Accordingly I pro¬
pose the race to the boys; who readily accept the con¬
ditions, and one of them carries off the prize. After-
seeing this several times repeated, Emilius begins to
think himself qualified to obtain the third cake as well
as any of the little boys, and to look upon running as
an accomplishment of some consequence. He seeks an
4 A 2 opportunity
556 EDUCATION.
KIdeation, opportunity of being permlttsd to enter the lists. He we visit tbe spot to contemplate tire rising of the Educat
  runs t and after being two or three times outstripped, glorious luminary. After contemplating for some ‘
is at length successful, and in a short time attains an
3t undoubted superiority.
Drawing. As children naturally imitate almost whatever they
behold, they are often disposed to attempt drawing.
In this our pupil might be obliged, not merely for the
sake of the art, but to give him a steady hand and a
good eye. But he should draw from nature, not from
other drawings or from prints. "Were he to draw the
likeness of a horse, he should look at the animal : if to
attempt a representation of a house, he should view the
house itself. In this method he will, no doubt, scratch
for a long time without producing any likeness : but
he will acquire what we proposed as the ends of his at¬
tempting to draw $ namely, steadiness of hand and
justness of sight, by this method, sooner than by any
33 other.
Geometry. Geometry, when taught in the usual way, is cer¬
tainly above the capacity of children j they cannot go
along with us in our reasonings : yet they are not to¬
tally incapable of acquiring even this difficult science ;
if, when they are prosecuting their amusements, you
lead them insensibly to observe the properties of the
circle, the triangle, and the square, and place them
now and then in circumstances when they may have
occasion to apply their knowledge of tliese to real uses
in life.
A child has been taught the various relations be¬
tween the outlines, surfaces, and contents of bodies, by
having cakes set before him, cut into all manner of re¬
gular solids j by which means he was led to master the
whole science of Archimedes, by studying which form
contained the greatest quantity.
There is a period between infancy and the age of
puberty, at which the growth and improvement of our
faculties exceed the increase of our desires. About I 2
or 13, when the appetite for the sex has not yet begun
to make itself felt, when unnatural wants are yet un¬
known, no false appetites yet acquired 5 at that pe¬
riod, though weak as a man, as a child the youth is
strong.
This interval, when the individual is able to effect
more than is necessary for the gratification of his
wishes, contains the most precious moments of his life,
which ought to be anxiously filled up in an useful man¬
ner. This is the best time, for employment, for in¬
struction, for study.
Now, let us begin to consider what is useful ; for,
hitherto, we have only inquired what was necessary.
In entering on our studies, we will make no account of
any hut such as instinct directs us to pursue : those
which the pedant and the pretended philosopher are
impelled to pursue solely from the desire of attract¬
ing the admiration of mankind, are unworthy of our
notice.
The earth which we inhabit, and the sun by whose
beams we are enlightened, are the first objects which
daim our attention. We will therefore direct the at¬
tention of our pupil to the phenomena of nature. We
will lead him to the knowledge of geography, not by
maps, spheres, and globes : we will lead Emilius out
on some beautiful evening to behold the setting sun.
Here we take particular notice of such objects as
mark the place of his going down. Next morning
time the successive appearances which the scene before
us assumes, and making Emilius observe the hills and
the other surrounding objects, I stand silent a few mo¬
ments, affecting to be occupied in deep meditation :
At last I address him thus : “ I am thinking, that
when the sun set last night, it went down yonder j
whereas this morning you see he is risen on the oppo¬
site side of the plain here before us. What can he the
meaning of this ?” I say nothing more at this time, but
rather endeavour to direct his attention to other ob¬
jects.
This is our first lesson on cosmography.
Our last observation was made about Midsummer j
W’e will next view the rising sun on some fine morn?
ing in the middle of winter. This second observation
shall he made on the very same spot which we chose
for the former. When Emilius and [ perceive the
sun now emerging above the horizon, we are struck
at the change of the place of his rising. By such
lessons as these may the pupil be gradually taught
a real, not a seeming, acquaintance with the relative
motions of the sun and the planets and with geogra-
PIiy*
During the first period of childhood, the great ob¬
ject of our system of education was to spend our time
as idly as possible, in order that we might avoid em- ^
ploying it to an ill purpose: but our views are nowObjtcUi
changed with our pupil’s progress in life y and wer®f>l'ie
have scarce enough of time for the accomplishment
our necessary pursuits,. We therefore proceed as quick-
ly as possible in making ourselves acquainted with the
nature of the bodies around us, and the laws by which
their motions and appearances are regulated. We
keep to this study at present, as being necessary for
the most important purposes in life, and as being the
most suitable to the present state of our pupil’s powers.
We still begin with the most common and obvious
phenomena of nature, regarding them as mere facts ;
and, advancing from tliese, we come to generalize by
degrees.
As soon as we are so far advanced as to be able to
give our pupil an idea of what is meant by the word
useful, we have attained a considerable influence over
his future conduct. On every occasion after this, a
frequent question between us will he, Of what use is
this ? This sliall be the instrument by means of which
I shall now be able to render him absolutely submissive
to my wishes. However, 1 will allow him to make use
of it iu his turn, and will be careful not to require of
him to do or learn any thing the utility of which he
cannot comprehend.
Books only teach people to talk about what they
do not understand. Emilius shall have as little re¬
course as possible to hooks for instruction. Yet if we
can find a book in which all the natural wants of man
are displayed in a manner suitable:, to tlie understand¬
ing of a child, and in which the means of satisfying
those wants are gradually displayed with the same
ease and simplicity ; such a hook will be worthy of
his most attentive study. There is such a hook to be
found ; but it is neither Aristotle, nor Bliny, nor
Buffon j it is Robinson Crusoe. Emilius shall have 35
the adventures of Robinson put into his hands: he Robin!'
^ shall Cru«o
E D U C
cation, shall imitate his example ; even affect his dress j and,
like Ixobinson, learn to provide for himself without the
aid of others.
Another employment of Emilius at this period
shall he, to visit the shops of various artisans ; and
when he enters a shop, he shall never come out with¬
out lending a hand to the work, and understanding
the nature and the reason of what he sees going for¬
ward.
Still, however, we are careful to afford not a hint
concerning those social relations, the nature of which
he is not able to comprehend.
The value and importance of the various arts are
ordinarily estimated, not according to their real uti¬
lity, but by a very injudicious mode of estimation:
Those which contribute in a particular manner to the
gratification of the fantastic wishes of the rich, are pre¬
ferred to those which supply the indispensable necessa¬
ries of life. But Emil ins shall be taught to view them
in a different light. Robinson Crusoe shall teach him
to value the stock of a petty ironmonger above that
of the most magnificent toy-shop in Europe. Let us
establish it as a maxim, that we are to lead our pupil
to form just notions of things for himself, not to dic¬
tate to him ours. He will estimate the works both of
nature and art by their relation to his own conve¬
nience *, and will therefore regard them as more pre¬
cious than gold—a shoemaker or a mason, as a man of
more importance than the most celebrated jeweller in
Europe.
The intercourse of the arts consists in the reciprocal
exchange of industry •, that of commerce, in the ex¬
change of commodities ; and that of money, in the ex¬
change of hills and cash. To make our pupil compre¬
hend the nature of these, we have now only to generalize
and extend to a variety of examples those ideas of the
nature of property, and of the exchange of property,
which we formerly communicated to him. The nature
of money, as bearing only a conventional value, which
it derives from the agreement of men to use it as a sign
for facilitating commerce, m^y be now explained to E-
niilius, and will be easily comprehended by him. But
go no farther : seek not yet to explain to the child, in
what manner money has given rise to the numerous
chimeras of prejudice and caprice ; nor how countries
which abound most in gold and silver, come to be the
most destitute of real wealth.
Still our views are directed to bring up our pupil in
such a manner that he may be qualified to occupy any
place in the order of society into which even the caprice
of fortune can throw him. Let us make him a man ;
not a slave, a lord, or a monarch. How much superior
the character of a king of Syracuse turned schoolmaster
:it Corinth, of a king of Macedon become a notary at
Rome, to an unhappy Tarquin incapable of supporting
himself in a state of independence when expelled from
his kingdom !
Whatever be our situation in the world, we can con-
f tribute nothing but our personal abilities to society,
lan loexert tllem is therefore the indispensable duty of
i ’every one who enjoys the advantages of a social state;
iereanii to cultivate them in our pupil to the best purpose,
ought to be the great aim of every course of education.
Emilius has already made himself familiar witfoall the
labour of industry.; I can therefore bid him culti-
A t 1 ° isr. s -7
■7';1'!lle |"d ;vl,:dl !‘e ■"'"T!8 ,f':om l,!s But Ed.tc,Hon.
it it should be lost, what shall be his resource ? He shall '—v——'
learn a trade, that he may be provided against such an
accident. And he shall not be a politician, a painter,
a musician, or an architect; to gain employment for his
talents in any of these three arts, would cost him no less
trouble than to regain his lost estate. He shall learn
some simple mechanical art: he will then need only to
step into the first shop he sees open, to perform his day ’s
labour, and receive his wages.
It may be here proper to take notice of a mistake in¬
to which people generally fall in determining the trade
or profession in which they are to place their children,
borne accident disposes the child to declare himself for
a particular employment : the parent regards that as
the employment to which his talents are fitted by the
design of nature ; and permits him to embrace it with¬
out inquiring whether another would have been more
suitable or advantageous. But because I am pleased
yvith my occupation, I am not on that account necessa¬
rily qualified for it. Inclinations do not confer abili¬
ties. It requires more careful and accurate observa¬
tion than is generally imagined, to distinguish the par¬
ticular taste and genius with which nature has endow¬
ed the mind of a child. We view him carelessly, and
of consequence we are apt to mistake casual inclination
for original disposition.
But Emilius needs not now to hesitate about the oc¬
cupation which he is to choose. It is to be some me¬
chanical employment. All the distinction we have now
to make is, to prefer One that is cleanly and not likely
to be injurious to his health, We shall make choice
of that of a joiner. We cannot dedicate all our time
to the trade ; but at least for two days in the week wb
will employ ourselves in learning our trade. We will
have no workshop erected for our convenience, nor
will we have a joiner to wait on us in order to give us
the necessary instructions : but for the two days in eve-
ry week which we dedicate to the purpose of learning
a trade, we will go to our master’s workshop; we
W'lll use before him in tne morning; work according
to his orders ; eat at his table ; and, after doing our¬
selves the honour of supping with his family, return to
our own hard mattresses at night. Wre shall be treated
only according to the merit of our performances. Our
master shall find fault with our work when clumsily or
negligently done, and be pleased with it only when
well executed.
While my pupil has been accustomed fo bodily ex. New Las
ercise and manual labour, his education has been hi-suggested
therto condueted in such a manner as to give him in-t0 Emilias
sensibly a taste for reflection and meditation. Before bf. his. al)-
he has been long a workman, therefore, he will begin * trade" t0
to become more sensible of that equality of ranks which
takes place in the order of society, tie will therefore
take notice of his own dependence, and of my apparent
wealth, and will be desirous to know why I contribute
not my personal exertions to society. I put off the
question with telling him, that I bestow my superfluous
wealth on him and the poor; and will take to make a
bench or table every week, that I may not be quite
useless to the public.
And now, when about to enter the most critical
period of life, when just on the brink of that age at
which the heart and blood begin to feel the impulse of
education.
Education, a new appetite, what progress has our pupil made .
tr^what knowledge has he acquired? All his science is
3S merely physical. Hitherto he has scarce acquired any
Progress I(leas of moral relations ; hut the essential relations be-
that Emi. tvveen men and things he has attentively studied. He
madebe- knows the general qualities of certain bodies j but upon
fore the those qualities he has not attempted to reason. Ete
age of pu- |ias an idea of abstract space by means or geometrical
berty. fi(TUres., of abstract quantity, by means of algebraical
signs. He has no desire to find out the essence oi things *,
their relations alone interest him. He values nothing
external but from its relation to himself. I he general
consent of mankind, or the caprice of custom, have not
yet given any thing a value in his eyes j utility alone is
his measure of estimation. He is laborious, tempeiate,
patient, resolute, and bold. His imagination never ex¬
aggerates danger. He scarce knows as yet what death
if; but should it approach him, he is prepared to sub¬
mit to necessity. He is virtuous in every thing relative
merely to himself. He is prepared to become a virtuous
member of society as soon as he shall be made acquainted
with the nature of his social relations. He is free from
vice and error as far as is possible for human nature.
He considers himself as unconnected with others ; re¬
quires nothing from any person, and thinks none has a
right to require any thing of him. Sure a youth ar¬
rived thus at his fifteenth year has not mispent the
period of his infancy.
New me a- But now our pupil has reached the most critical pe-
snires to be r;0(] of life. He now feels the influence ot the passion
adopted in for the sex. aml as soon as we become subject to the
of that passion, s,e ate no longer onsocal be-
ings. Tl.e svant of a mistress soon produces the want
of a friend. ^ f „„
As hitherto we have been careful not to force or
anticipate nature, so even now our attention must be
directed to divert the impulses of that dangerous appe¬
tite which now begins to make itself felt, lo conhne
the orowing passions within proper limits, let it be our
care to defer as long as possible the time at which they
begin to display themselves. For this purpose, let us
cautiously guard our words and actions in the presence
of our pupil. Let us be careful to give him no prema¬
ture instructions. „ . , , . ,
To excite and cherish that sensibility of mind which
now first begins to show itself, to extend the care ot
the youth beyond himself, and to interest him in the
welfare of his fellow creatures, let us be careful to put
such objects in his way as have a tendency to cal forth
and .refine the feelings. It is not possible for the hu¬
man heart to sympathize with those who are happier
than ourselves : our sympathy is moved only by the
sight of misery. We pity in others only those distres¬
ses to which we ourselves are liable: and our pity for
the misfortunes of others is measured, not by the quan¬
tity of the evil, but by the supposed sensibility ot the
sufferer. Let these observations serve to direct us in
what manner we are to form the minds of children to
humanity and compassion.
In prosecution of our design, to retard rather than ac¬
celerate the growth of the passions, let us, when that cri¬
tical period which we have so much feared comes on, se¬
clude him as much as possible from the intercourse of so¬
ciety, where so many objects appear to inflame the ap¬
petites. Let us be circumspect in the choice ot lus com¬
panions, his employment, his pleasures. Let all our care £ducatl(
be directed to nourish his sensibility without inflaming —
his desires. As his moral powers now begin to unfold
themselves, in cultivating them let us proceed not by
way of lecture, or by directing his attention to books,
but still by leading him to acquire experience. At _
length the period will arrive for communicating to him
some religious instruction. When he knows the na¬
ture of his relations to society, he may be informed of
his relation to, and dependence upon, a Deity. . _
[The creed of the Savoyard curate, containing
those sentiments concerning religious matters which
Rousseau seems to propose as the most proper to be
inculcated on his pupil, comes next in the order of the
work but it does not appear to be so closely con¬
nected with the subject of education as to render
it proper for us to give a view of it in this place.
The sentiments which he there advances, the reason¬
ings which he urges, are evidently hostile to reveal¬
ed religion ; and the power of his eloquence has
adorned slight and superficial arguments with such a
charm, that even the sternest believer, if not abso¬
lutely destitute of taste and feeling, must read them
with delight.]
And now, notwithstanding all my arts, I can no
longer keep back that moment which I have endeavour¬
ed to defer to as late a period as possible. As soon as I
perceive that it has entirely arrived, I no longer treat
Emilius as my pupil or disciple, but as my friend.
His affections are now expanded beyond himself J his
moral powers have begun to exert themselves, and have
received some cultivation j be also is become capable
of religious sentiments, and instructed in the nature oi
his relation to a supreme Being. Besides, it is now
requisite, if we consider the period to which nature
has conducted him, that he should no longer be treat¬
ed as a simple child. Hitherto ignorance has been Ins
guardian, but now he must be restrained by his own
good sense. ... *
Now is the time for me to give him in my accounts,
to show him in what manner his time and mine have
been employed ; to acquaint him with his station and
mine, with our obligations to each other, his moral
relations, the engagements he has entered into wi
regard to others, the degree of improvement which he
has attained, the difficulties he will hereafter meet
with, and the means by which he may surmount them j
—in a word, to point out to him his critical situation,
and the new perils which surround him *, and to lay
before him all the solid reasons which should engage
him to watch with the utmost attention over hw con-
duct, and to be cautious of indulging his youthful de
SirBooks, solitude, idleness, a sedentary and effemkMo..
nate life, the company ot women and young p P ’ en
are what we must carefully avoid at this age. . xie i*1 tjieptir
learned a trade, he is not unskilled in agriculture ,ofhls if
these may be means, but not our only means, toM”r e¬
serving him from the impulse of sensual desire,
now too familiar with these $ he can exercise
without taking the trouble to reflect; am w 11 e
hands are busy, his head may be enpgec!
thing quite different from that in which he isempl ^
ed. He must have some new exercise which may
once fix his attention and cause him to exertll,s ° J
E D U C
ation, powers. We can find none more suitable for this
y——' purpose than hunting. Now, therefore, Emilius shall
eagerly join in the chase ; and though I do not wish
him to acquire that cruelty of disposition and ferocity
of temper which usually distinguish those who dedicate
their lives to that barbarous diversion, yet at present
it may have the happiest effects in suspending the in¬
fluence of the most dangerous of passions.
When I have now conducted my pupil so far ; have
informed him of what I have done for him, and of the
difficulty of his situation ; and have resigned my au¬
thority into his hands ; he is so sensible of the dangers
to which lie is exposed, and of the tender solicitude
with which I have watched over him, that he still
wishes to continue under my direction. With some
feigned difficulty I again resume the reins. My au¬
thority is now established. I may command obedience j
but I endeavour to guard against the necessity of using
it in this manner.
To preserve him from indulging in licentious plea¬
sures, I let him know that nature has designed us for
living in a state of marriage, and invite him to go in
search of a female companion. I will describe to him
the woman whom he is to consider as worthy of his at¬
tachment in the most flattering colours. I will array
her in such charms, that his heart shall be hers before
he has once seen her. I will even name her: her name
shall he Sophia. His attachment to this imaginary
fair one will preserve him from all the allurements of
unlawful love. Jdesides, I take care to inspire him
with such reverence for himself, that notwithstanding
all the fury of his desires, he will not condescend to
pursue the enjoyments of debauchery. And though
I may now sometimes intrust him to his own care, and
not seek to confine him always under my eye j yet still
I will be cautious to watch over his conduct with care¬
ful circumspection.
But as Emilius is to be shortly introduced to his So¬
phia, it may perhaps be proper for us to inquire into
her character, and in what manner she has been brought
up.
ten ^'^ere a natural difference between the two sexes.
two The difference in the structure of their bodies shows
them to be destined by nature for different purposes in
life, and must necessarily occasion a distinction between
their characters. It is vain to ask which of them me¬
rits the pre-eminence: each of them is peculiarly fitted
to answer the views of nature. Woman is naturally
weak and timid, man strong and courageous ; the
one is a dependant, the other a protector. As the
guardian of her virtue, and a restraint on her desires,
woman is armed with native modesty. Reason is the
guide and governor of man. When a man or a wo¬
man are united by conjugal vows, a violation of those
vows is evidently more criminal in the woman than in
the man. The wife ought to be answerable for the
genuineness of the offspring with which she has been
intrusted by nature. It is no doubt barbarous and
wicked for the husband to defraud his wife of the only
reward which she can receive for the severe duties of
her sex: but the guilt of the faithless wife is still more
atrocious ; and the consequences of her infidelity are
still more unhappy.
But if nature has established an original distinction
between the characters of the two sexes 3 has formed
ATION.
559
them for different purposes, and assigned them differ-Education,
ent duties j it must follow, that the education of the
one sex ought to be conducted in a manner different
from that of the other. The abilities common to the
two sexes are not equally divided between them ; but
if that share which nature has distributed to woman be
scantier than what she has bestowed on man, yet the
deficiency is more than compensated by the qualities
peculiar to the female. When the woman confines
herself to assert her proper rights, she has always the
advantage over man ; when she would usurp those of
the other sex, the advantage is then invariably against
her.
But we require not that woman should be brought
up in ignorance. Let us consider the delicacy of her
sex, and the duties which she is destined to perform j
and to these we may accommodate the education which
we bestow upon her. While boys like whatever is at¬
tended with motion and noise, girls are fond of such
decorations as please the eye. Dolls are the favourite
plaything of the sex in their infant years. This is an
original taste, of the existence of which we have the
plainest evidence. All therefore that we ought to do
is, to trace and bring it under proper regulation. Al¬
low the girl to decorate her baby in whatever manner
she pleases 3 while employed about that, she will ac¬
quire such skill and dexterity in those arts which are
peculiar to her sex, that with scarce any difficulty she
will acquire needle-work, embroidery and the art of
working lace. Her improvements may even be ex¬
tended as far as designing, an art somewhat connected
with taste in dress 3 but there is no reason that their
skill in this art should he carried farther than to the
drawing of foliage, fruits, flowers, drapery, and such
parts of the art as bear some relation to dress. Al¬
ways assign reasons for the employment which you
give to young girls, hut be sure you keep them con¬
stantly busy. They ought to be accustomed to labo¬
rious industry, as well as to bear the abridgement of
their liberty. Use every art to prevent their work
from becoming disagreeable to them. For that pur¬
pose, let the mother be careful to make herself agree¬
able. A girl who loves her mother or her aunt, will
work cheerfully by them all day 5 while she to whom
her mother is not dearer than all the world besides,
seldom turns out well. Never suffer girls, even at their
diversions, to be entirely free from restraint, nor allow
them to run from one amusement to another. If you
now and then detect your daughter using a little artifice
to excuse herself from obedience, reflect that artifice is,
in a certain degree, natural to the fair sex 5 and as every
natural inclination, when not abused, is upright and
good, why should it not be cultivated ? In order to
give girls proper notions of dress, let them be taught
to consider splendour and elegance of dress, as designed
only to conceal the natural defects of the person 3 and
to regard it as the noblest triumph, the highest praise,
of beauty, to shine with unborrowed lustre in the
simplest attire. Forbid not young women to acquire
those arts which have a tendency to render them agree¬
able. Why refuse them the indulgence of learning to
dance, to sing, and to study such other accomplishments
as afterwards enable them to entertain their husbands ?
Girls are more disposed to prattle, and at an earlier
age, than boys. We may now and then find it ne¬
cessary
s6o
E B
Kd»e;iti(,n. ccssary to reSif&in tlieir volabllity.^ But the proper
'~*E“—1 question to them * on such occasions is not, its to boys,
Of whut use is this '9 but Jf' hut effects will this pro¬
duce? At this early period, when they are yet strangers
to the distinction between good and evil, and therefore
unable te form a just judgment concerning any person’s
conduct, we ought to restrain them carefully from
saving what 'ntay be disagreeable- to those with whom
they converse.
'Girls are no less incapable than boys of forming di¬
stinct notions of religion at an early age. A et, and
even for that very reason, religious instruction should
be communicated to them much sooner than to the
youth of the other sex. Were we to wait the period
when their mental faculties arrive at maturity, we might
perhaps lose the happiest time, from our inability to
make a right distinction. Since a woman’s conduct is
subject to public opinion, her belief ought therefore
to depend, not on reason, but on authority. Every
girl ought to follow the religion of her mother, eveiy
married woman that of her husband. Ahey cannot
derive a rule of faith from their own inquiry. Let us
therefore seek, not so much to instruct them in the
reasons of our belief, as to give thein clear distinct
notions of those articles which we require them to be¬
lieve. Be more careful to instruct her in those doc¬
trines which have a connexion with morality, than in
those mysterious articles which we are required to be¬
lieve, though we cannot comprehend them.
Such are the principles on which the education of
Emilius’s unknown mistress has been conducted.
[Notwithstanding the merit of that part of this trea¬
tise in which the author entertains us with the court¬
ship between his Emiliu* and Sophia, it does not ap¬
pear to be so intimately connected with the subject of
education as to render it proper for us to present our
readers with a view of it. We therefore pass over
the courtship, to give a view of our author’s sentiments
concerning the advantages to be derived from travel¬
ling, and the manner in which it ought to be direct-
Emifiusat-6 When Emilius has formed a firm attachment to So-
tached to a phia, and by his assiduities has been so fortunate as to
mistress. ^ ain’|ier affections, his great wish now is, to be united
with her in the bonds of marriage. But as he is still
voung, is but imperfectly acquainted with the nature
of those duties incumbent on him as a member of a
particular society, and is even ignorant of the nature
of laws and government, I must separate him from his
Sophia, and carry him to gain a knowledge of these
things, and of the character and circumstances of man¬
kind, in various countries, and under various forms of
civii’govemment, by travelling. Much has been said
concerning the propriety of sending young people to
travel, in order to complete their education. I he
multiplicity of books is unfavourable to real knowledge.
We read with avidity, and think that by reading we
render ourselves prodigiously wise. But we impose on
ourselves: the knowledge which we acquire, from books
is a false species of knowledge, that can never render
us truly wise.
To obtain real knowledge, you must observe nature
with your own eyes, and study mankind. But to gain
this knowledge by travelling, it is not necessary that
we should traverse the universe. W hoever has seen ten
43
Travel.
U C A T I O N.
Frenchmen has beheld them all J and whoever has sur- Edueatic
veyed and compared the circumstances and manners of
ten different nations may be said to know mankind.
To pretend that no advantages may be derived from
travelling, because some of those who travel return home
without having gained much real improvement, would
be highly unreasonable. Young people who have had
a bad education, and are sent on their travels without
any person to direct or superintend their conduct, can¬
not be expected to improve by visiting foreign coun¬
tries. But they whom nature has adorned with vir¬
tuous dispositions, and who have been so happy as to re¬
ceive a good education, and go abroad with a real de¬
sire of improvement, cannot but return with an in¬
crease of Virtue and wisdom. In this manner shall
Emilius conduct bis travels. To induce him to improve
in the most attentive manner that time which he should
spend in travelling, I would let him know, that as he
had now attained an age in which it might be proper
for him to form some determination with regard to the
plan of his future life, he ought therefore to look
abroad into the world, to view the various orders in
society, to observe the various circumstances of man¬
kind under different forms of government, and in
different parts of the globe j and to choose his country,
his station, and his profession. With these views should
Emilius set out on his travels : and with these views,
in the course of our travels, we should inquire into the
origin of society and government, into the nature of
those principles by means of which men are united in a
social state, into the various circumstances which have
given rise to so many different forms of government,
and into the necessary relation between government and
manners. Our stay in the great towns should be but
short: for as in them corruption of manners has risen
to a great height, and dissipation reigns, a long stay
in any great town might be fatal to the virtuous dis¬
positions of Emilius. Yet his attachment to Sophia
would alone be sufficient to save him from the dangers
to which his virtue is exposed. A young man must
either be in love, or be a debauchee. Instances may be
pointed out in which virtue has been preserved without
the aid of love; but to such instances I can give little
credit. . . 44
Emilius, however, may now return to his Sophia.Retmn
His understanding is now much more enlightened than from ^
when he set out on his travels. He is now acquainted
with several forms of government, their advantages
and defects, with the characters of several different na¬
tions, and with the effects which difference in circum¬
stances may be expected to produce on the characters
of nations. He has even been so fortunate as to get
acquainted with some persons of merit in each of the
countries which he has visited. With these advantages
gained, and with affection unchanged and unabated,
he returns to his Sophia. After having made him ac¬
quainted with the languages, the natural history, the
government, the arts, customs, and manners, of so
many countries, Emilius eagerly informs me that the
period which we bad destined for our travels is now ex¬
pired. I ask, What are then his purposes for life?
replies, that he is satisfied with the circumstances in
which nature has placed him, and with my endeavours
to render him independent on fortune, and wishes on y
for his Sophia to be happy. After giving him a tew
^ advices
EDUCATION.
|jeation.adyiees for tlie regulation of his conduct in life, I con-
duct him to his Sophia, and behold him united with her
in marriage. I behold him happy ; with affectionate
gratitude he blesses me as the author of his happiness ;
and I thus receive the reward of all the pains with
which I have conducted his education.
Mirks Such are the outlines of the system of education pro¬
posed by this singular and original genius. For origi¬
nality of thought, afiecting sentiment, enchanting de¬
scription, and bold vehement eloquence, this book is
one of the noblest pieces of composition, not only in
the French language, but even in the whole compass
of ancient and modern literature. The irregularity of
his method, however, renders it a very difficult task to
give an abridged view of his work. He conducts his
pupil, indeed, from infancy to manhood : But instead
of being barely a system of education, his work is be¬
sides a treasure of moral and philosophical knowledge.
He has chosen a path, and follows it from the bottom
to the summit of the hill: yet whenever a flower ap¬
pears on the right or left hand, he eagerly steps aside
to pluck it} and sometimes, when he has once stepped
aside, a new object catches his eye and seduces him
still farther. Still, however, he returns. His obser¬
vations are in many places loosely thrown together;
and many things are introduced, the want of which
would by no means have injured either the unity or the
regularity of his work. If we attempt to review the
principles on which he proceeds in reprobating the pre¬
valent modes of education, and pointing out a new
course, his primary and leading one seems to be, that
we ought to watch and second the designs of nature,
without anticipating her. As the tree blossoms, the
flowers blow, and the fruit ripens at a certain period ;
so there is a time fixed in the order of nature for the
sensitive, another for the intellectual, and another for the
moral powers of man to display themselves. We in
vain attempt to teach children to reason concerning
truth and falsehood, concerning right and wrong, before
the proper period arrive: We only confound their no¬
tions of things, and load their memories with words
without meaning; and thus prevent both their reason¬
ing and moral powers from attaining that strength and
acuteness of which they are naturally capable. He at¬
tempts to trace the progress of nature, and to mark in
what manner she gradually raises the human mind to
the full use of all its faculties. Upon the observations
which he has made in tracing the gradual progress of
the powers of the human mind towards maturity, his
system is founded.
As it is impossible to communicate to the blind any
just ideas of colours, or to the deaf of sounds: so it
must be acknowledged, that we cannot possibly com¬
municate to children ideas which they have not facul¬
ties to comprehend. If they are, for a certain period
of life, merely sensitive animals, it must be folly to treat
them during that period as rational and moral beings.
But s it a truth that they are, during any part of life,
guided solely by instinct, and capable only of sensation ?
Or, how long is the duration of that period ? Has na¬
ture unkindly left them to be, till the age of twelve,
the prey of appetite and passion ? So far are the facts
of which we have had occasion to take notice, concern¬
ing the history of infancy and childhood, from leading
You VII. Part II. +
561
to such a conclusion, that to us it appears undeniable Education.
that children begin to reason very soon after their en- ' v*"—'
trance into life. When the material world first opens
on their senses, they are ignorant of the qualities and
relations of surrounding objects: they know not, for
instance, whether the candle which they look at be near
or at a distance; whether the fire with which they are
agreeably warmed may also affect them with a painful
sensation. But they remain not long in this state of
absolute ignorance. They soon appear to have acqui¬
red some ideas of the qualities and relative situation of
bodies. They cannot, however, acquire such ideas,
without exerting reasoning powers in a certain degree.
Appearances must be compared, and inferences drawn,
be foie knowledge can be gained. It is not sensation
alone which informs us of the relative distances of bo¬
dies ; nor can sensation alone teach us, that the same
effects which we have formerly observed will be again
produced by the same cause.
But if children appear capable of reasoning at a very
early period, they appear also to be at a very early pe¬
riod subject to the influence of the passions: they are
angry or pleased, merry or sad, friends or enemies,
even while they hang at the breast; instead of being
selfish, they are naturally liberal and social. And if
we observe them with candid attention, we will find
that the passions do not display themselves sooner than
the moral sense. As nature has wisely ordered, that we
should not see, and hear, and feel, without being able
to compare and draw inferences from our perceptions ;
so it is a no less certain and evident law of nature, that
the passions no sooner begin to agitate the human
breast, than we become able to distinguish the beauty
and the deformity of virtue and vice. The child is not
only capable of gratitude and attachment to the person
who treats him with kindness; he is also capable of
distinguishing between gratitude and ingratitude, and
ol viewing each with proper sentiments. He cries
when you refuse to gratify his desires ; but he boldly
insists that he is injured when you use him cruelly or
unjustly. It is indeed impossible to attend to the con¬
duct of children during infancy, without being convin¬
ced that they are, even then, capable of moral distinc¬
tions. So little are they acquainted with artificial lan¬
guage, that we and they do not then well understand
each other. But view their actions ; consider those signs
by which nature has taught them to express themselves.
Our limbs, our features, and our senses, are not gradu¬
ally and by piecemeal bestowed as we advance towards
maturity; the infant boy comes not into the world
mutilated or defective : why then, in point of mental
abilities, should we be for a while brutes, without be¬
coming rational and moral beings till the fulness of
time be accomplished ? All the differences between the
phenomena of manhood and those of infancy and child¬
hood may be accounted for, if we only reflect, that
when children come into the world, they are totajly un¬
acquainted with all the objects around them ; with the
appearances of nature, and the institutions of society ;
that they are sent into the world in a feeble state, in
order that the helplessness occasioned by their ignorance
may attract the notice and gain the assistance of those
who are able to help them; and that they attain not
full strength in the powers either of mind or body,
4 B nor
562
EDUCATION.
Education.nor a sufficient acquaintance with nature, with artificial
1 language, and with the arts and institutions of society,
till they arrive at manhood.
Even. Rousseau, notwithstanding the art with which
he lays down his system, cannot avoid acknowledging
indirectly, on several occasions, that our social disposi¬
tions, our rational and our moral powers, display them¬
selves at an earlier period than that at which he wishes
us to begin the cultivation of them.
But though the great outlines of his system be mere¬
ly theory, unsupported by facts, nay plainly contra¬
dictory to facts ; yet his observations on the improprie¬
ty or absurdity of the prevalent modes of education are
almost always just, and many of the particular direc¬
tions which he gives for the conducting of education
are very judicious. He is often fanciful, and often de¬
viates from the common road, only to show that he is
able to walk in a separate path. Yet why should he
be opposed with so much virulence, or branded with so
many reproachful epithets ? His views are liberal and
extensive: his heart seems to have glowed with bene¬
volence : his book contains much observation of human
actions ; displays an intimate acquaintance with the mo¬
tives which sway the human heart j and if not a perfect
system for education, is yet superior to what any other
writers had before done upon the subject. . It is surely
true, that we ourselves often call forth evil passions in
the breasts of children, and impress them with bad ha¬
bits : it is no less true that we put books in their hands,
and load their memory with words, when we ought ra¬
ther to direct their attention to things, to the phenome¬
na of nature, and the simplest arts of life. The form
in which he has chosen to communicate his sentiments
on the subject of education renders the perusal of it
more pleasing, and his precepts more plain, than they
would otherwise have been : it is nearly that dramatic
form with which we are so much delighted in some of
the noblest compositions of the ancients.
After viewing the public establishments for educa¬
tion which existed in some of the most renowned states
of antiquity *, and after listening to the sentiments ot
the experienced Quinctiiian, the learned IMilton, the
judicious l-iocke, and the bold fanciful Rousseau, on this
interesting subject-, it may now be proper to lay before
the reader our own sentiments concerning the education
of youth under a few distinct heads.
Indeed, if we were disposed to give abridgements of all
the books which have been written on the subject of edu¬
cation, or even to hint at all the various modes which
have been recommended by teachers or theorists, we
might swell this article to an amazing size : Nay, were
we only to take notice of the many elegant and sen¬
sible writers who have of late endeavoured to call the
attention of the public to this subject, we might ex¬
tend it to an immoderate length. A Karnes, a Priest¬
ley, a Knox, a Madame de Sillery, and a Berquin,
might well attract and fix our attention. But as,
amono- such a crowd of writers, every thing advanced
by each cannot be original j and even of those things
which are original, only a certain, and that perhaps
even a moderate, proportion, can be just and judicious -,
and as they often either borrow from one another, or
at least agree in a very friendly manner, though in some
things they profess a determined hostility $ therefore
we shall content ourselves with having taken notice of Edncatid
four of the most respectable writers on the subject. *
In presenting to our readers the result of our own
observations and reflections, we shall throw our thoughts
nearly under the following heads. The management of
children from their birth till they attain the age of five
or six ; from that period till the age of puberty j and from
that age till manhood -, private and public education ; re¬
ligion and morals j the languages ; natural philosophy -,
the education of people of rank and fortune 5 education
of persons designed for a mercantile employment, and
for the other humbler occupations in active life not
particularly connected with literature $ education of the
female sex ; foreign travel j knowledge of the world -,
and entrance into active life. We do not pretend to be
able to include under these heads every thing worthy of
notice in the subject of education : but under these we
will be able to comprehend almost every thing of im¬
portance that has occurred to us on the subject.
I. On the Management of Infants from the Time of
their Birth till they attain the Age of five or six.
The young of no other animal comes into the world
in so helpless a state, or continues so long to need as¬
sistance, as that of the human species. The calf, the
lamb, and the kid, are vigorous and lively at the in¬
stant of their birth -, require only, for a very short pe¬
riod, nourishment and protection from their respective
dams and soon attain such degrees of strength and ac¬
tivity as to become entirely independent. The infancy
of the oviparous animals is not of longer continuance :
And, indeed, whatever department of the animal world
we may choose to survey, we still find that no species
is subject to the same severe laws as man during the
first period of life.
Yet the character and the views of man are so very
different from those of the other animals, that a more
careful attention to these may perhaps induce us to re¬
gard this seeming severity rather as an instance of the ^
peculiar kindness of the author of nature. From every M6BC0B:
observation which has been hitherto made on the powers pared to
and operations of the inferior animals, we are led to con-other am
sider them as guided and actuated chiefly, if not solely,™1^1
by instinct, appetite, and sensation : their views extend5^ help.
not beyond the present moment j nor do they acquireiessnes8;
new knowledge or prudence as they advance in life.infancy.
But the character of the human race is much more ex¬
alted. We have also powers and organs of sensation,
instincts and appetites 5 but these are the most ignoble
parts of our nature : our rational faculties and moral
powers elevate us above the brutes, and advance us to
an alliance with superior beings. These rational facul¬
ties and moral powers render us capable of social life,
of artificial language, of art, of science, and of religion.
Now, were one of the species to come into the world
full grown, possessed of that bodily strength and vigour
which distinguishes manhood, his ignorance would still
render him inadequate to the duties of life} nay,
would even render him unable to procure means for his
subsistence ; while his manly appearance would deprive
him of the compassion and benevolent assistance of
others and his strength and vigour would also render
him less docile and obedient than is necessary, in order
that
nation.
EDUCATION.
that J,e may receive instruction in the Julies and arts be naturally expected to prevail.
n
D iof in
fa
SU!
of life. Again, were the period of infancy as short to
the human species as to the other animals j were we
to be no longer subjected to a parent’s authority, or
protected by his care, than the bird or the quadruped j
we should be exposed to the dangers and difficulties of
the world before we had acquired sufficient knowledo-e
or prudence to conduct us through them, before vve
had gained any acquaintance with the ordinary pheno¬
mena of nature, or were able to use the language or
practise the arts of men in a social state.
Since then, it is by the benevolence of nature that
we are feeble and helpless at our entrance into life,
and that our progress towards maturity is slow and’
gradual ; since nature has destined us to he for a con¬
siderable time under the care and authority of our pa¬
rents ; and since the manner in which we are managed
during that early part of life has so important an in¬
fluence on our future character and conduct: it is
therefore incumbent on parents to direct that tender¬
ness, which they naturally feel for their oftsprino-, in
such a manner as to second the views of nature. °
When children come into the world, instinct directs
them . to recei ve nourishment from the breast, and
to claim attention to their pains and wants by crying.
We attend to their signs, and strive to render them as
easy as we can. They are washed, clothed with such
garments as we think most suitable, and suckled either
by their mother or by some other woman who is con¬
sidered as proper for the purpose. The absurd mode
of swaddling up infants in such a manner as to confine
them almost from all motion, and leave scarce a limb at
liberty, which has been so often exclaimed against and
represented as highly injurious to the symmetry and vi¬
gour ot the human frame, is now almost entirely laid
aside ; and therefore we need not raise our voice against
it. Still, however, there are certainly too many pins
and bandages used in the dress of infants : these are un¬
favourable to the circulation of the blood, impede the
growth, and often occasion those tears and that peevish¬
ness which we rashly attribute to the natural ill humour
ot the poor creatures. Their dress ought to be loose
and cool, so as to press bard on no joint, no vein nor
muscle j and to leave every limb at liberty. If too
heavy and close, it may occasion too copious a perspi¬
ration, and at the same time confine the matter perspi¬
red on the surface of the skin ; than which nothing can
be more prejudicial to the health of the child. It may
also, however, be too thin and cool : for as moderate
warmtn is necessary to the vegetation of plants ; so it is
no less necessary for promoting the growth of animals :
and, therefore, though the dress of infants ought to be
oose and easy, yet still it should be moderately warm.
Jt is common for mothers in affluent or even in
comfortable circumstances, to forego the pleasure of
nursing their own children, that they may avoid the fa¬
tigues with which it is attended. ' This practice has
long prevailed in various ages and among various na¬
tions : it lias been often reprobated with all the warmth
0 P^sion, and all the vehemence of eloquence, as disho¬
nourable, inhuman, contradictory to the designs of
nature, and destructive of natural affection : yet&still it
prevails; fathers and mothers are still equally deaf to
the voice of nature and the declamations of philoso-
P-’ers. Indeed, in a luxurious age, such a practice may
563
■ - * , - - - t   1° such an age, they Education.
wno are possessed of opulence generally persuade them- ' ^ •->
selves, that, to be happy, is to spend their time wholly
amid diversions and amusements, without descending to
useful industry, or troubling themselves about the ordi-
nary duties of life. Influenced by such notions, they
tunk it proper for them to manage their family affairs,
and to nurse and educate their children, by proxy ; nay,
to do foi themselves, nothing that another can perform
01 them. It is vain to make a serious opposition to
these absurd notions ; the false views of happiness, the
pride and the indolence produced by luxury, will still
be too powerful for us. We must not hope to per¬
suade the mother, that to receive the caresses, to
behold the smiles, and to mark the bodily and mental
poweis of her child in their gradual progress towards
maturity, would be more than a sufficient compensa¬
tion, for all the fatigues which she would undergo in
nursing and watching over him in his infant years. We
need not mention, that the mutual aflection between a
mother and her child, which is partly the effect of in¬
stinct, depends also, in no inconsiderable degree, on
the child’s spending the period of infancy in its mo-
thers s arms ; and that when she substitutes another in
her place, the child naturally transfers its affection to
the person who performs to it the duties of a mother.
need not urge these, nor the various other reasons
which seem to recommend to every mother the province
of suckling her own children, and watching over their
infant years ; for we will either not be beard, or be
listened to with contempt. Tet we may venture to sug¬
gest, that if the infant must be committed to a stran¬
ger,. some degree of prudence may be employed in se¬
lecting the person to whom he'is to be intrusted.
Her health, her temper, and her manner of speaking,
must be attended to. A number of other qualifica¬
tions are also to be required in a nurse: but it is rather
the business of the physician to give directions with re¬
gal d to these. If her habit of body be any way un¬
healthy, the constitution of the infant that sucks her
milk.cannot but be injured : if her temper be rough or
peevish, tiie helpless child subjected to her power will
be often harshly treated ; its spirit will he broken, and
its temper soured : if her pronunciation be inarticulate
or too rapid, the child may acquire a bad habit when
it first begins to exert its vocal organs, which will not
be easily corrected.
In the milder seasons of the year, infants ought to Influence of
be frequently carried abroad. Not only is the opentreatment
air favourable to health, but the freshness, the beau-in in.fan^.
tv, the variety, and the lively colours of the scenesjjUes and
ol nature, have the happiest efiects on the temper, anddisposi-
bave even a tendency to enliven and invigorate tlietions-
powers of the mind. At this period, the faculties of
the understanding and the dispositions of the heart
generally acquire that particular bias, and those di¬
stinguishing features, which characterize the individual
during the future part of his life, as quick or dull,
mild or passionate ; and which, though they be gene¬
rally attributed to the original conformation of the
mind by the band of nature, yet are owing rather to
the circumstances in which we are placed, and the
manner in which we are treated, during the first part
of life.
When children begin to walk, our fondness disposes
4 E 2 os
*3 '-TI
64
education.
iucation
us to adopt many expedients to assist them. But these
seem to he improper. It is enough for us to watch
ever them so as to guard them from any danger which
they might otherwise incur hy their first attempts to
move about. Those, who advise us not to be too an¬
xious to preserve children from those slight hurts to
which they are exposed from their disposition to acti¬
vity, before they have acquired sufficient strength or
caution, certainly give a judicious piece ot advice
which ought to be listened to. By being too atten¬
tive to tliem, we teach them to be careless o( them¬
selves ; by seeming to regard every little accident
which befals them as a most dreadful calamity, we in¬
spire them with timidity, and prevent them from ac¬
quiring manly fortitude. When children begin to lisp
out a few words or syllables, the pleasure which we
feel at hearing them aim at the use ot our language,
disposes us to listen to them with such attention as to
relieve them from the necessity of learning an open
distinct articulation. Thus we teach them to express
themselves in a rapid, indistinct, and hesitating man¬
ner, which we often find it difficult, sometimes even
impossible, to correct, when they are farther advanced.
Would we teach them a plain distinct articulation,
we ought not only to speak plainly and distinctly in
their presence, but also to disregard their questions and
requests, if not expressed with all the openness and
distinctness of pronunciation of which they are capa-
iNTan is naturally an imitative animal. Scarce any
of our natural dispositions is displayed at an earliei pe¬
riod than our disposition to imitation. Children’s
first amusements are dramatic performances, imitative
of the arts and actions of men. This is one. proot
among others, that even in infancy our reasoning fa¬
culties begin to display themselves •, for we cannot
agree with some philosophers that children are actuat¬
ed and guided solely hy instinct in their attempts at
imitation. ,
However that he, the happiest use might be made
of this principle which discovers itself so early in the
infant mind. Whatever you wish the child to acquire,
do in his presence in such a manner as to tempt him
to imitate you. Thus, without souring his mind hy
restraint during this gay innocent period of life, you
may begin even now to cultivate his natural powers.
Were it impossible at this time to communicate any
instruction to the hoy, without banishing that spright¬
ly gaiety which naturally distinguishes this happy age,
It would be best to think only how he might lose his
time in the least disadvantageous manner. But this
is far from being necessary. Even now the little crea¬
ture is disposed-to imitation, is capable of emulation,
and feels a desire to please those whose kindness has
gained his affection. Even now his sentiments and
conduct may he influenced by rewards when prudently
bestowed, and hy punishments when judiciously in¬
flicted. Why then should we hesitate to govern him
by the same principles, hy which the laws ot God and
society assert their influence on our own sentiments
and conduct ? Indeed, the imprudent manner in which
children are too generally managed at this early.period,
would almost tempt us to think it impossible to instruct
them, as yet, without injuring both their abilities and
dispositions. But this is owing solely to the carelessness,
stupidity, or capricious conduct of those under whose Edncaiio,-
care they are placed.
Is implicit obedience to be exacted ot children f and je
at what period of life should we begin to enforce it ? w™ej
As children appear to he capable both of reasoning and aild ^
of moral distinctions at a very early age •, and as they t0 t,e
are so weak, so inexperienced, so ignorant of the acted,
powers of surrounding bodies, and of the language,
institutions, and arts of men, as to be incapable of
supporting or conducting themselves without direc¬
tion or assistance j it seems therefore proper that they
be required even to submit to authority. I o the ne¬
cessity of nature both they and we must on many oc¬
casions submit. But if the will of a parent or tutor
be always found scarce less unalterable than the ne¬
cessity of nature, it will always meet with the same
respectful submissive resignation. It may not perhaps
be always proper to explain to children the reasons
for which we require their obedience : because, as the
range of their ideas is much less extensive than ours;
as they do not well understand our language, or com¬
prehend our modes of reasoning j and as they are now
and then under the influence of passion and caprice, as
well as people who are farther advanced in life j we
are therefore likely to fail in making them compre¬
hend our reasons, or in convincing them that they
are well grounded. And as it is proper to exact obe¬
dience of children ; so we should begin to req-ire it as
soon as they become capable of any considerable degree
of activity. Yet we must not confine them like slaves,
without allowing them to speak, to look, or to move,
but as we give the word. By such treatment we could
expect only to render them peevish and capricious. It
will be enough, at first, if we let them know that obe¬
dience is to be exacted 5 and if we restrain them only
where, if left at liberty, they would he exposed to im¬
minent danger. . , r
If then, at so early a time of life as before the age
of five or six, it is possible to render children obedient,
and to communicate to them instruction 5 what arts,
or what learning, ought we to teach them at. that pe¬
riod ? To give a proper answer to this question, is no
easy matter. It seems at first difficult to determine,
whether we ought yet to initiate them in letters. But
as their apprehension is now quick, and their memory
pretty tenacious, there cannot be a more favourable
time for this very purpose. As soon as they are ca¬
pable of a distinct articulation, and seem to possess any
power of attention, we may with the greatest propriety
begin to teach them the alphabet. The most artful,
alluring methods may be adopted to render the horn¬
book agreeable j or we may use the voice of authority,
and command attention for a few minutes *, hut no
harshness, no severity, and scarce any restraint. At
the same time, it will be proper to allow the little crea¬
tures to run much about in the open air, to exercise
their limbs, and to cultivate those social dispositions
which already begin to appear, by playing with their
eqSuch are the thoughts which have suggested them¬
selves to us concerning the management of children in
mere infancy. What an amiable little creature would the
hoy or girl he, who were brought up in a manner not
inconsistent with the spirit of these few hints • "®‘10
him healthy and vigorous, mild, sprightly, and cll^r'
E D U C
Jfiiion. : ,s submissive and docile, yet not dull or timid j
X—< lie appears capable of love, of pity, and of gratitude.
His mind is lu'therto, bow’ever, almost wholly unin¬
formed : he is acquainted hut with a few of the objects
around him ; and knows but little of the language,
manners, and institutions of men : but he feels the im¬
pulse of an ardent curiosity, and all the powers of his
mind are alive and active.
II. On the Management of Children between the Age
of five or six and the Age of Puberty.
•se
tiii
lit I
U'Ot
K.
At this period it may be proper, not only to exact
obedience, and to call the child’s attention for a few
minutes now and then to those things of which the
knowledge is likely to be afterwards useful to him :
but we may now venture to require of him a regular
steady application, during a certain portion of his
time, to such things as we wish him to learn. Before
this time it would have been wrong to confine his at¬
tention to any particular task. The attempt could
have produced no other effect than to destroy his na¬
tural gaiety and cheerfulness, to blunt the natural quick¬
ness of his powers of apprehension, and to render hate¬
ful that which you wished him to acquire. Now,
however, the case is somewhat different : The child is
not yet sensible of the advantages which he may derive
from learning to read, for instance; or even though
he were able to foresee all the advantages which he
will obtain by skill in the art of reading through the
course of life; yet is it the character of human nature,
at every stage of life, to be so much influenced by pre¬
sent objects in preference to future views, that the
sense of its utility alone would not be sufficient to in¬
duce him to apply to it. Even at the age of 12, of
20, of 50 ; nay, in extreme old age, when reason is be¬
come very perspicacious, and the passions are morti¬
fied ; still we are unable to regulate our conduct solely
by views of utility. Nothing could be more absurd,
therefore, than to permit the child to spend his time
in foolish tricks, or in idleness, till views of utility
should prompt him to spend it in a different manner.
No; let us begin early to habituate him to applica¬
tion and to the industrious exertion of his powers. By
endowing him with powers of activity and apprehen¬
sion, and rendering him capable of pursuing with a
steady eye those objects which attract his desires, na¬
ture plainly points out to us in what manner we ought
to cultivate his earlier years. Besides, we can com¬
mand his obedience, we can awaken his curiosity, we
can rouse his emulation, we can gain his affection, we
can call forth his natural disposition to imitation, and
we can influence bis mind by the hope of reward and
the fear ol punishment. When we have so many means
of establishing our authority over the mind of the boy
without tyranny or usurpation ; it cannot surely be dif¬
ficult, if we are capable of any moderation and pru¬
dence, to cultivate his powers, by making him begin
*t this period to give regular application to something
that may afterwards be useful.
And if the boy must now begin to dedicate some
portion of his time regularly to a certain task, what
task will be most suitable ? Even that to which children
are usually first required to apply ; continue teaching
him to read. Be not afraid that his abilities will suffer
A T I O N. 565
from an attention to books at so early an age. Say not Education,
that it is folly to teach him words before he have gain- —v—’
ed a knowledge of things. It is necessary, it is the de¬
sign of nature, that he should be employed in acquiring
a knowledge of things, and gaining an acquaintance with
the vocal and written signs by which we denote them,
at the same time. These are intimately connected;
the one leads to the other. When you view any ob¬
ject, you attempt to give it a name, or seek to learn
the name by which men have agreed to distinguish it :
in the same manner, when the names of substances or
of qualities are communicated to us, we are desirous of
knowing what they signify. At the same time, so
imperfect is the knowledge of nature which children
can acquire from their own unassisted observation, that
they must have frequent recourse to our assistance be¬
fore they can form any distinct notions of those objects
and scenes which they behold. Indeed language can¬
not be taught, without teaching that it is merely a
system of signs, and explaining what each particular
sign is designed to signify. If, therefore, language is
not only necessary for facilitating the mutual inter¬
course of men, but is even useful for enabling us to
obtain some knowledge of external nature, and if the
knowledge of language has a natural tendency to ad¬
vance our knowledge of things ; to acquaint ourselves
with it must therefore be regarded as an object of the
highest importance : it must also be regarded as one of
the first objects to which we ought to direct the atten¬
tion of children. But the very same reasons which
prove the propriety of making children acquainted with
those artificial vocal signs which we use to express our
ideas of things, prove also the propriety of teaching
them those other signs by which we express these ia
writing. It is possible indeed, nay it frequently hap¬
pens, that we attempt to instruct children in language
in so improper a manner as to confound their notions
of things, and to prevent their intellectual powers
from making that improvement of which they are na¬
turally capable ; but it is also possible to initiate them
in the art of reading, and in the knowledge of lan¬
guage, with better auspices and happier effects. The
knowledge of language may be considered as the key
by which we obtain access to all the stores of natural
and moral knowledge.
I hough we now agree to confine our pupil to a eer- Confiiie.
tain task, and have determined that his first task shall be mem, how
to learn to read ; yet we do not mean to require thatfrtr P1,0?61''
he be confined to his task during the greatest part of
the day, or that his attention be seriously directed to no
other object. 1 0 subject him to too severe restraint
would produce the most unfavourable effects on his ge¬
nius, his temper, and his dispositions. It is in conse¬
quence of the injudicious management of children, while
they are sometimes sufl’ered to run riot, and at other
times cruelly confined like prisoners or slaves ; it is in
consequence of this, that we behold so many instances
of peevishness, caprice, and invincible aversion to all
serious application at this period of life. But were a
due medium observed, were restraint duly tempered
with liberty and indulgence, nothing would be more
easy than to dispose children to cheerful obedience,
and to communicate to them instruction at this age.
That part of their time which they are left to enjoy
at liberty, they naturally dedicate to their little sports.,
The
S66
EDUCATION.
Education. The favourite sports of boys are generally active *, those
'x1 of girls, sedentary. Of each we may take advantage,
to prepare them for the future employments of life.
However, neither are the amusements of boys invari¬
ably active, nor those of girls always sedentary *, lor
as vet, the manners and dispositions of the two sexes
are distinguished rather by habit or accident than by
nature. The disposition to activity which characte-
rizes children, is no less favourable to health than to
their improvement in knowledge and prudence ", their
active sports have a tendency to promote their growth,
and add new vigour to their limbs. Perhaps, even at
this time, children might be enticed to learn the ele¬
ments of natural philosophy and natural histcry amid
their amusements and sports. Birds, butterflies, dogs,
and other animals, are now favourite objects o! theii
care ; their curiosity is powerfully roused by the ap¬
pearance of any strange object j and many ol the sim¬
plest experiments of natural philosophy are so pleasing,
that they cannot fail to attract the attention even ol
those who are least under the influence ot curiosity.
Yet it would be improper to insist on their attention
to these things as a task : if we can make them regard
them as amusements, it will be well 5 if not,, we must
defer them to some happier season. They might also,
by proper management, be led to acquire some skill.in
the arts. They build mimic houses, and fill them with
suitable furniture *, they construct little boats, and sail
them ; they will fence-in little gardens, and cultivate
them j and we even see them imitate all the labouis
of the husbandman. Such is the pleasure which man
naturally feels in exerting his powers, and in acting
with design. Let us encourage this disposition. Ihese
are the most suitable amusements in which they can
engage.
What books As the boy’s attention to literary objects is still sup-
most pro- posed to be continued, he will soon be able to read
Per- with some correctness and facility. It becomes an ob¬
ject of importance, and ot no small difficulty, to deter¬
mine what books are to be put into his hands, and in
what manner his literary education is to be conducted.
After the child is made acquainted with the names
and powers of the letters, with their combination into
syllables, and w'ith the combination of these again into
words, so that he can read with tolerable facility ; it
will be proper that the pieces of reading which are put
into his hands be such as are descriptive of the ac¬
tions of men, of the scenes of external nature, and ol
the forms and characters of animals. W ith these he
is already in some degree acquainted j these are the ob¬
jects of his daily attention ; beyond them the range
of his ideas does not yet extend ; and therefore other
subjects will be likely to render his task disagreeable to
him. Besides, our present object is to teach him
words : in order to teach him words, we must let him
know their signification 5 but till he have acquired a
very considerable knowledge of language, till he have
gained a rich fund of simple ideas, it will be impossible
for him to read or to hear with understanding on any
other subject but these. And let us not as yet be par¬
ticularly anxious to communicate to him religious or
moral instruction, otherwise than by our example, and
by causing him to act in such a manner as we think
most proper. Our great business at present is, to
make him acquainted with our language, and to teach
3
him in what manner we use it to express our ideas. EduCft jj
By his own observation, and by our instruction, he'—y,,
will soon become capable of comprehending all that
we wish to communicate : But let us not be too hasty:
the boy cannot long view the actions of mankind, and
observe the economy ot the animal and the vegeta¬
ble world, without becoming capable of receiving both
religious and moral instruction when judiciously com¬
municated. # Jj
As soon as the pupil can read and spell with tolera-writiL,i,
Lie facility, and has acquired sufficient strength of
arm and fingers to hold a pen, it may be proper to
initiate him in the art of writing. If this art is not j,
made disagreeable by the manner in which his appli¬
cation to it is required, he will learn it without diffi¬
culty. Children’s natural disposition to imitate, parti¬
cularly whatever depends on manual operation, renders
this art peculiarly easy and pleasing to them, when they
are not harshly forced to apply to it, nor suffered to
get into a habit of performing their task with haste
and negligence. _ 55!
It requires indeed the most cautious prudence, theReitrai
nicest delicacy, and the most artful address, to prevail
with children to give a cheerful and attentive appli¬
cation to any appointed task. It you are too stern and
rigid in enforcing application, you may seemingly ob¬
tain your object: the child sits motionless, and fixes
his eye on his book or copy j hut his attention you
cannot command j his mind is beyond your reach, and
can elude vour tyranny j it wanders from the present
objects, and flies with pleasure to those scenes and ob¬
jects in which it has found delight. Ihus you are dis¬
appointed of your purpose ; and, besides, inspire the
child with such aversion both to you and to those objects
to which you wish him to apply, that perhaps at no
future period will he view learning otherwise than
with disgust. ...
Again, gentleness, and the arts of insinuation, will Gentiei,
not always be successful. If you permit the child to
apply just when he pleases ; if you listen readily to all
his pretences and excuses j in short, if you seem to
consider learning as a matter not of the highest im¬
portance, and treat him with kindness while he pays
but little attention and makes but slow progress j the
consequences of your behaving to him in this manner
will be scarce less unfavourable than those which at¬
tend imprudent and unreasonable severity. It is, how¬
ever, scarce possible to give particular directions howto
treat children so as to allure them to learning, and at
the same time to command their serious attention.
But the prudent and affectionate parent and the judi¬
cious tutor will not always be unsuccessful j since there
are so many circumstances in the condition of children,
and so many principles in their nature, which subject
them to our will. - Pi
The principles of arithmetic ought to make a partArithir
in the boy’s education as soon as his reasoning powerst‘c-
appear to have attained such strength and quickness
that he will be able to comprehend them. Arithme¬
tic affords more exercise to the reasoning powers of the
mind than any other of those branches of learning
to which we apply in our earlier years: and if the child s
attention be directed to it at a proper period, if he be
allowed to proceed slowly, and if care be taken to make
him comprehend fully the principles upon which each
particular
cion
rai ;.'ai
at ua.
w.
E B U C
particular operation proceeds, it will contribute much
^ to increase the strength and the acuteness of the powers
of his understanding.
Where the learned languages are regarded as an ob¬
ject worthy of attention, the boy is generally initiated
in them about this time, or perhaps earlier. We have
reserved to a separate head the arguments which occur
to us for and against the practice of instructing chil¬
dren in the dead languages; and shall therefore only
observe in this place, that the study of them ought not
to engross the learner’s attention so entirely as to ex¬
clude other parts of education.
From arithmetic our pupil may proceed to the prac¬
tical branches of the mathematics : And in all of these,
as well as in every other branch of learning, what you
teach him will be best remembered and most thorough¬
ly understood, if you afford him a few opportunities of
applying his lessons to real use in life. Geometry and
geography are two most important branches of educa¬
tion ; but are often taught in such a manner, that no
real benefit is derived from the knowledge of th em. The
means which Rousseau proposes for initiating young
people in these and in several other of the arts and
sciences are excellent j and if judiciously applied, could
hardly fail of success.
While boys are engaged in these and in the lan¬
guages, they may also attend to and cultivate the bo¬
dily exercises ; such as dancing, fencing, and horse¬
manship. Each of these exercises is almost absolutely
necessary for one who is designed to have intercourse
with the world j and besides, they have a tendency to
render the powers of the body active and vigorous,
and even to add new courage and firmness to the
mind.
When our pupil has acquired some knowledge of
his own and of the learned languages, has gained
some skill in the principles of arithmetic and of prac¬
tical mathematics, and has received some instruction
in the principles of morality and religion, or even be¬
fore this time, it will be proper to begin him to the
practice of composition. Themes, versions, and let¬
ters, the first exercises in composition which the boy is
usually required to perform, none of them seems hap¬
pily calculated for leading him to increase Ins know¬
ledge, or to acquire the power of expressing himself
with ease and elegance. Without enlarging on the
impropriety or absurdity of these exercises, we will
venture to propose something different, which we can¬
not help thinking would conduce more effectually to
the end in view. It has been already observed, that
the curiosity of children is amazingly eager and active,
and that every new object powerfully attracts their re¬
gard : but they cannot view any object without tak¬
ing notice of'its most obvious qualities j any animal,
for instance, without taking notice of its shape, its
colour, its seeming mildness or ferocity; and they are
generally pretty ready to gave an account of any thing
extraordinary which they have observed. How easy
then would it be to require them to write down an ac¬
count of any new object exposed to their observa¬
tion ? The task would not be difficult j and every
new piece of composition which they presented to us
would add so much to their knowledge of nature. We
might even require such specimens of their accuracy of
observation and skill in language, at times when they
A T I O N. 567
enjoyed no opportunities of beholding new or surpris- Education
mg objects : a tree, a flower, a field, a house, an ani-   v 
, any ot.lier simple object, should be the subject of
their, exercise. After some time, we might require
t lem to describe something more various and complex.
Hiey might give an account of several objects placed
in a relative situation ; as, a stream, and the vale
through which it flows j or, a bird, and the manner
in which it constructs its nest; or, of one object suc¬
cessively assuming various appearances, as the bud, the
flower, the apple. Human actions are daily exposed
to their observation, and powerfully attract their at¬
tention.^ Ry and by, therefore, their task should be
to describe some action which had lately passed in their
presence. We need not pursue this hint farther; but,
it we mistake not, by these means young people might
sooner, and much more certainly, be taught to express
themselves with ease and correctness in writing, than
by any of the exercises which they are at present
caused to perform with a view to that. Besides, they
would at the same time acquire much more real know¬
ledge. 1 he study of words would then be rendered
truly subservient to their acquiring a knowledge of
'things.
We cannot descend to every particular of that series
of education in which we wish the boy to be engaged
from that period when he first becomes capable of se¬
rious application till he reach the age of puberty. It
is not necessary that we should, after having given ab¬
stracts of what has been offered to the world by so
many respectable writers on the subject.
T-he few hints which we have thrown out will be suf¬
ficient to show, in general, in what manner we wish the
youth’s education to be conducted during this period.
Let the parent and the tutor bear in mind, that much
depends on their example, with regard to the disposi¬
tion and manners of the youth ; and let them careful¬
ly strive to form him to gentleness, to firmness, to pa¬
tient industry, and to vigorous courage ; let them, if
possible, keep him at a distance from that contagion
with which the evil example of worthless servants and
playfellows will be likely to infect him. Now is the
time for sowing the seeds of piety and virtue : if care¬
fully sown now, they will scarce fail to grow up, and
hear fruit in future .life.
III. From Fliberty to Manhood.
This age is every way a very important period in
human life. Whether we consider the change which
now takes place in the bodily constitution, or the
passion which now first begins to agitate the breast,
still we must regard this as a critical season to the
youth. The business of those to whose care he is
still intrusted, is to watch over him so as to prevent
the passion for the sex from hurrying him to shameful
and vicious indulgence, and from seducing him to ha¬
bits of frivolity and indolence ; to prevent him from
becoming either the shameless rake, or the trifling
coxcomb. Though so furious is the impulse of that
appetite which now fires the bosom and shoots through
the veins of the youth, that to restrain him from the
excesses to which it leads can be no easy task ; yet if
his education has been hitherto conducted with pru¬
dence, if he is fond of manly exercises, active, sober.
* and
568
Education.
E D U C
nnd temperate, and still influenced by modesty and
the sense of shame j even this may through the hies-
eioa of heaven be accomplished. It is impossible to
„ive better directions than those of Rousseau for this
purpose. Let the young man know his situation*, set
before him in a striking light the virtue which he may
practise by restraining appetite, and the fnghttul ta-
tal vices into which he may be hurried. But trust not
to precept, nor to any views which you can lay betore
him, either of the disgracefulness and the pernicious
consequences of vice, or of the dignity and the hap¬
py fruits of virtue. Something more must be done.
Watch over him with the attention of an Argus *, en¬
gage him in the most active and fatiguing sports.
Carefully keep him at a distance from all such compa¬
ny, and such books, as may suggest to his mmd ideas
of love, and of the gratification at which it aims. Lut
utill all your precautions will not counteract the designs
of nature *, nor do you wish to oppose her designs. Ihe
youth under your care must feel the impulse ot desire,
and become susceptible of love. Let him then fix his
affections on some virtuous young woman. His attach¬
ment to her will raise him above debauchery, and teach
him to despise brutal pleasures : it will operate as a mo¬
tive to dispose him to apply to such arts, and to pursue
such branches of knowledge, as may be necessary tor his
future establishment in the world. The good sense ot
Rousseau on this head renders it less necessary tor us
to enlarge on it *, especially as we are to treat of some
articles separately which regard the management ot
youth at this period.
A T I O N.
IV. Religion and Morals.
6a
At what
age the
principles
af religion
maj be
taught.
IK pointing out the general plan of education which
appears to us the most proper to be pursued in order
to form a virtuous and respectable member of society,
we took hut slight notice of the important objects ot
religion and morals. At what period and in what
manner, ought the principles of religion and morality
to he instilled into the youthful mind ? It has been
before observed, that children are capable of reason¬
ing and of moral distinctions even at a very early age.
But they cannot then comprehend our reasonings, nor
enter into our moral distinctions j because they are
strangers to our language, and to the artificial manner
in which we arrange our ideas when we express them
in conversation or in writing. It follows, then, that as
soon as they are sufficiently acquainted with our lan¬
guage, it must be proper to communicate to them the
principles and precepts of morality and religion. Long
before this time, they are diligent and accurate obser¬
vers of human actions. For a short period it is merely
the external act which they attend to and observe.;
soon, however, they penetrate farther ; conscious them¬
selves of reflection and volition, they regard us also as
thinking beings*, conscious of benevolent and ot un¬
friendly dispositions, they regard us as acting with de-
giern, and as influenced by passion; naturally imitative
animals, they are disposed in their conduct to follow
the example which we set before them. By our ex¬
ample we may teach them piety and virtue long be¬
fore it can be proper to offer them religious or moral
instruction in a formal manner.
We cannot presume to determine at what particular
period children ought to he first informed of their
lations to God and to society, and of the duties incum- w>yJ
bent on them in consequence of those relations. That
period will he different to different children, according
to the pains which have been taken, and the means
which have been employed, in cultivating their natural
powers. Perhaps even where the most judicious maxims
of education have been adopted, and have been pursued
with the happiest effects, it cannot be sooner than the
age of eight or nine. But even before this period
much may he done. Show the child your reverenoe
for religion and virtue; talk in his presence, and in
the plainest, simplest terms, though not directly to
him, of the existence of God the creator, the preserver
and the governor ot the world} speak ot the constant
dependence of every creature on the gracious care of
that Being} mention with ardour the gratitude and
obedience which we owe to him as our great parent and
best benefactor } next, speak of the mutual relations
of society *, of the duties of children and parents, of
masters and servants, of man to man. At length, when
his mind is prepared by such discourses which have pas¬
sed in his presence without being addressed to him,
you may begin to explain to him in a direct manner
the leading doctrines of religion. He will now he able
to comprehend you, when you address him on that im¬
portant subject : the truths which you communicaU
will make a powerful impression on his mind ; an im¬
pression which neither the corruption and dissipation of
the world, nor the force of appetite and passion, will
ever be able to efface. ^
Some writers on this subject have asserted, thatllabiu
youth are incapable of any just ideas of religion till
they attain a much more advanced age ; and have in¬
sisted, that, for this reason, no attempts should be
made to communicate to them the articles of our creed
in their earlier years. This doctrine, both from its
novelty and from its pernicious tendency, has provoked
the keenest opposition. It has, however, been oppo¬
sed rather with keenness than with acuteness or skill.
Its opponents seem to have generally allowed that
children are incapable of reasoning and of moral di¬
stinctions ; but they have ascribed wonderful effects to
habit. Enrich the memories of children, say they,
with the maxims of morality, and with the doctrines
of religion; teach them prayers, and call them to en¬
gage in all the ordinances of religion. What though
they comprehend not the meaning of what they learn .
What though they understand not for what purpose
vou bid them repeat their prayers, nor why you con¬
fine them on the Lord’s day from their ordmart
amusements ? Their powers will at length ripen and
they will then see in what they have been employed,
and derive the highest advantage from the irksoms
tasks to which you confined them. You have formed
them to habits which they will not be able to lay aside.
After this they cannot but be religious at some period
of life, even though you have inspired them with a
disgust for the exercises of religion. lliose goo
people have also talked of the principle ef ^f associa¬
tion of ideas. As no man stands alone in societ y, say
they; so no one idea exists in the mind single an
unconnected with others : as you are connected wim
your parents, your children, your friends, your co
trymen ; so the idea of a tree, for instance, is connec -
1
Dr iiest
*y’i!pi-
lio on-
E D U C
.itiou. vvitli that of the field ill which it grows, of the
r 1 ' fruit which it bears, and of contiguous, dissimilar, and
resembling objects. When any one set of related
ideas have been often presented to the mind in con¬
nexion with one another, the mind at length comes to
view them as so intimately united, that any particular
one among them never fails to introduce the rest.
Revisit the scenes in which you spent your earliest
years j the sports and companions of your youth na¬
turally arise to your recollection. Have you applied
to the study of the classics with reluctance and con¬
straint, and suflered much from the severity of parents
and tutors for your indifference to Greek and Latin ;
you will, perhaps, never through the course of life see
a grammar school, without recollecting your sufferings,
nor look on a \ irgil or Homer without remembering
the stripes and confinement which they once occasion^
ed to you. In the same manner, when religious prin¬
ciples are impressed on the mind in infancy in a proper
manner, a happy association is formed which cannot
fail to give them a powerful influence on the sentiments
and conduct in a future life. But if we have advanced
to manhood before being informed of the existence of
a Deity, and of our relation to him, the principles of
religion, when communicated, no longer produce the
same happy effects: the heart and the understanding
are no longer in the same state; nor will the same as¬
sociations be formed.
Ibis doctrine of t/ie association of ideas has been ad¬
duced by an ingenious writer, distinguished for his
discoveries in natural philosophy, and for his labours
■on 0fIn controversial divinity, as an argument in behalf of
the propriety of instructing youth in the principles of
religion even in their earliest years. We admire, we
esteem, ths spirit which has prompted him to discover
so much concern for the interests of the rising genera¬
tion ; but at the same time, we will not conceal our
opinion, that even this argument ought to be urged
with caution. Many of the phenomena of human na¬
ture may indeed be explained, if we have recourse to
the principle of association. The influence of any
principle, religious or moral, depends in a great mea¬
sure on the ideas and images which, in considering it,
we have been accustomed to associate with it in our
minds. But what are the ideas or images most likely
to be associated by children with the doctrines and du¬
ties of religion, if we call them to listen to the one
and perform the other at too early a period ? Will
they be such as may assist the influence of religion on
their sentiments and conduct in the future part of
life ? Observe the world : Are those who, in infancy,
have been most rigidly compelled to get their cate¬
chisms by rote, either the most pious or the best in¬
formed in religious matters ? Indeed, when we consi¬
der what has been said of the influence of habit, and
of the association of ideas, we cannot help thinking,
that any. arguments which on the present occasion
may be adduced from either of these, tend directly to
piove, not that we ought to pour in religious instruc¬
tion into the minds of children, without considering
whether they be qualified to receive it; but, on the
contrary, that we ought cautiously to wait for and
catch the proper season;—that season when the youth¬
ful mind, no longer a stranger to our language, our
sentiments, our views of nature, or our manner of rea-
Vol. VII. Part II. t
A T I O N. ,s6p
soning, will be able to go along with us, when we talk Education.
to him ol a supreme Being, or our condition as depen¬
dant and accountable creatures, of truth, benevolence,
and justice.
We flatter ourselves, then, that our readers will rea¬
dily agree with us, ist, That the moral and reasoning
poweis of children begin to display themselves at a
very early age, even in infancy. 2dly, That as soon as
they have made themselves acquainted with the most
obvious appearances of nature, and have gained a to¬
lerable knowledge of our language and our manner of
arranging our ideas in reasoning, we may with the
greatest propriety begin to instruct them in the prin¬
ciples of religion. 3dly, That the most careful and
judicious observation is necessary to enable us to di¬
stinguish the period at which children become capable
of receiving religious instruction ; because, if we either
attempt to communicate to them these important truths
too early, or defer them till towards manhood, we
may fail of accomplishing the great end which we have
in view.
If we can be so fortunate as to choose the happiest
season for sowing the first seeds of piety in the infant
mind, our next care will be to sow them in a proper
manner. We must anxiously endeavour to communi¬
cate the principles of religion and morality, so as they
may be easiest comprehended by the understanding of
the learner, and may make the deepest impression on
his heart. It would be a matter of the greatest diffi¬
culty to give particular directions on this head. The
discretion of the parent or tutor must here be his
guide. Me are afraid that some of the catechisms
commonly taught are not very happily calculated to
serve the purpose for which they are intended. Yet
we do not wish that they should be neglected while
nothing more proper is introduced in their room. In
instructing children in the first principles of religion,
we must beware of arraying piety in the gloomy garb,
or painting her with the forbidding features, in ivhich
she has been represented by anchorites, monks, and pu¬
ritans. No; let her assume a pleasing form, a cheer¬
ful dress, and an inviting manner. Describe the Deity
as the affectionate parent, the benefactor, and though
the impartial yet tne merciful judge of mankind.
Exhibit to them Jesus Christ, the generous friend and
Saviour of the posterity of Adam, who with sucii en¬
chanting benevolence hath said, “ Suffer little children
to come unto me.” Represent to them his yoke as
easy, and his burden as light. Insist not on their say¬
ing long prayers or hearing tedious sermons. If pos¬
sible, make the doctrines of religion to appear to them
as glad tidings, and its duties as the most delightful of
tasks.
«3
Catechisms.
V. The Languages.
Is the time usually spent in learning the languages
usefully occupied ? What advantages can our Bri¬
tish youth derive from an acquaintance with the
languages and the learning of Greece and Rome ?
Would we listen to many of the fathers, the mothers,
and the polite tutors of the present age, they will
persuade us, that the time which is dedicated to
grammar-schools, and to Virgil, Cicero, Homer, and
Demosthenes, is foolishly thrown away; and that no
4 C advantages
57°
Education,
64
Prejudices
against
classical
education.
EDUCATION.
tions, in words.
65
Prejudices
for it.
advantages can be gained from the study of classical
learning. They wish their children and pupils to be
not merely scholars : they wish them to acquire what
may he useful and ornamental when they come to
mingle with the world j and for this purpose, they think
it much better to teach their young people to smatter
out French, to dance, to fence, to appear in company
with invincible assurance, and to dress in such a man¬
ner as may attract the attention of the ladies. Besides,
the tenderness and humanity of those people are ama¬
zing. They are shocked at the idea of the sufferings
which boys undergo in the course of a classical educa¬
tion. The confinement, the stripes, the harsh language,
the burdens laid on the memory, and the pain occasion¬
ed to the eyes, during the dreary period spent in ac-
quiring a knowledge of Greek and Latin, affect them
with horror when they think of them as inflicted on
children. They therefore give the preference to a plan
of education in which less intense application is required
and less severity employed.
But, again, there are others who are no less warm
in their eulogiums on a classical education, and no less
industrious in recommending the study of Greek and
Latin, than those are eager in their endeavours to
draw neglect on the polished languages of antiquity.
With this second class, if an adept in Greek and Latin,
you are a great and learned man ; but without those
languages, contemptible for ignorance. They think it
impossible to inspire the youthful mind with generous
or virtuous sentiments, to teach the boy wisdom, or to
animate him with courage, without the assistance of the
ancient philosophers, historians, and poets. Indeed
their superstitious reverence for the ancient languages,
and for those writers whose compositions have rendered
Greece and Rome so illustrious, leads them to ascribe
many other still more wonderful virtues to a classical
education. . , „ . . , , „
With which of these parties shall we join? or shall
we mediate between them ? Is it improper to call youth
to the study of the languages ? Is it impossible to com¬
municate any useful knowledge without them ? Or are
they, though highly useful, yet not always indispensably
cessary ?
We have formerly taken notice of one circumstance
in favour of a classical education, to which it may be
proper to recal the attention of our readers. We ob¬
served, that the cultivation of classical learning has a
favourable influence on the living languages. It has
a tendency to preserve their purity from being debas¬
ed, and their analogy from becoming irregular. In
studying the dead languages, we find it necessary to
pay more attention to the principles of grammar than
in acquiring our mother tongue. We learn our native
language without attending much to its analogy and
structure. Of the numbers who speak English through
the British dominions, but few are skilled in the in¬
flection of its nouns and verbs, or able to distinguish
between adverbs and conjunctions. Desirous only of
making their meaning understood, they are not anxi¬
ous about purity or correctness of speech. re‘
ject not an expression which occurs to them, because
it is barbarous or ungrammatical. As they grew up
they learned to speak from their mothers, their nurses
and others about them ; they were soon able to make
known their wants, their wishes, and their obseiva-
3
65 necessary
Utility of
classical
learning to¬
wards the
improve¬
ment of
our mother
tongue.
lluua, ...   Satisfied with this, or called at aEducati
very early period to a life of humble industry, theyv-.
have continued to express themselves in their mother
tongue without acquiring any accurate knowledge of
its general principles. If these people find occasion
to express themselves in writing, they are scarce more
studious of correctness and elegance in writing than in
speaking 5 or, though they may aspire after those
properties, yet they can never attain them. But such
writers or speakers can never refine any language,
or reduce it to a regular analogy. Neither can they
be expected to distinguish themselves as the guardians
of the purity and regularity of their native tongue, if
it should before have attained a high degree of per¬
fection. But they who, in learning a language dif¬
ferent from their native tongue, have found it neces¬
sary to pay particular attention to the principles of
grammar, afterwards apply the knowledge of grammar
which they have thus acquired in using their mother
tongue*, and by that means become better acquainted
with its structure, and learn to write and speak it with
more correctness and propriety. Besides, the lan¬
guages of Greece and Rome are so highly distinguish¬
ed for their copiousness, their regular analogy, and
for various other excellencies, which render them su¬
perior to even the chief of modern languages, that the
study of them has a natural tendency to improve and
enrich modern languages. If we look backwards to
the 15th century, when learning began to revive in
Europe, and that species of learning which began first
to be cultivated was classical literature, we find that
almost all the languages then spoken in Europe were
wretchedly poor and barbarous. Knowledge could not
be communicated, nor business transacted, without
calling in the aid of Latin. Classical learning, how¬
ever, soon came to be cultivated by all ranks with en¬
thusiastic eagerness. Not only those designed to pur¬
sue a learned profession, and men of fortune whose ob¬
ject was a liberal education without a view to any par¬
ticular profession *, but even the lower ranks, and the
female sex, keenly studied the languages and the wis¬
dom of Greece and Rome. This avidity for classical
learning was followed by many happy eflects. But its
influence was chiefly remarkable in producing an ama¬
zing change on the form of the living languages. Ihese
soon became more copious and regular; and many 0
them have consequently attained such perfection, that
the poet, the historian, and the philosopher, can clothe (
their thoughts in them to the greatest advantage.
Could we derive no new advantage from the study ot
the ancient languages, yet would they be worthy ol
our care, as having contributed so much to raise the
modern languages to their present improved state. Uu
they can also conduce to the preservation and suppoit
of those noble structures which have been reared by
their assistance. The intercourse of nations, the attec-
tation of writers, the gradual introduction of provin¬
cial barbarisms, and various other causes, have a ten¬
dency to corrupt and debase even the noblest languages.
Bv sucb means were the languages of Greece and
Rome gradually corrupted, till the language used by a
Horace, a Livy, a Xenophon, and a Menander was
lost in a jargon unfit for the purposes of composition.
But if we would not disdain to take advantage
them, ,the classical works in those languages
EDUCATION.
k ntion. prevent that which we use flom experiencing such a
t* v-"-' decline. He who knows and admires the excellencies
of the ancient languages, and the beauties of those
writers who have rendered them so celebrated, will be
the firm enemy of barbarism, affectation, and negli¬
gence, whenever they attempt to debase his mother
tongue. We venture therefore to assert, that when
the polished languages of antiquity cease to be studied
among us, our native tongue will then lose its purity,
regularity, and other excellencies, and gradually de¬
cline till it be no longer known for the language of
Pope and of Addison ; and we adduce it as an argu¬
ment in behalf of classical learning, that it has contri¬
buted so much to the improvement of the living lan¬
guages, and is almost the only means that can prevent
I them from being corrupted and debased,
reputing In those plans of education of which the study of
:o ilustry. the dead languages does not make a part, proper
means are seldom adopted for impressing the youthful
mind with habits of industry: nor do the judgment,
the memory, and the other powers of the mind, receive
equal improvement, as they pass not through the same
exercises as in a classical education. Let us enter those
academies where the way to a complete education leads
not through the thorny and rugged paths of classical
literature j let us attend to the exercises which the
polite teachers cause their pupils to perform. Do
they insist on laborious industry or intense application ?
No j they can communicate knowledge without re¬
quiring laborious study. They profess to allow their
pupils to enjoy the sweets of idleness, and yet render
them prodigies of learning. But are their magnificent
promises ever fulfilled ? Do they indeed cultivate the
understandings of the young people intrusted to their
care P They do not: their care is never once directed
to this important object. To adorn them with showy
and superficial qualities, is all that those gentlemen aim
at. Hence, when their pupils come to enter the world
and engage in the duties of active life, they appear de¬
stitute of every manly qualification. Though they have
attained the age, and grown up to the size of man¬
hood, their understandings are still childish and feeble :
they are capricious, unsteady, incapable of industry
or fortitude, and unable to pursue any particular ob¬
ject with keen, unremitting perseverance. That long
series of study and regular application, which is requi¬
site in order to attain skill in the ancient languages,
produces much happier effects on the youthful mind.
The power of habit is universally felt and acknow¬
ledged. As he who is permitted to trifle away the
earliest part of his life in idleness or in frivolous oc¬
cupations, can scarce be expected to display any man¬
ly or vigorous qualities when he reaches a more ma¬
ture age ; so, on the contrary, he whose earlier days
have been employed in exercising his memory and fur¬
nishing it with valuable treasures, in cultivating bis
judgment and reasoning powers by calling the one to
make frequent distinctions between various objects,
and the other to deduce many inferences from the
comparison of the various objects presented to the un¬
derstanding, and also in strengthening and improving
the acuteness of his moral powers by attending to hu¬
man actions and characters, and distinguishing between
them, as virtuous or vicious, as mean or glorious : he
who has thus cultivated his powers, maybe naturally
expected to distinguish himself when he comes to per-Education,
form his part in active life, by prudence, activity, ^
firmness, perseverance, and most of the other noble
qualities which can adorn a human character. But in
the course of a classical education, the powers of the
mind receive this cultivation ; and therefore these happv
effects may be expected to follow from it. The repe¬
titions which are required afford improving exercise
to the memory, and store it with the most valuable
treasures 5 the powers of the understanding are em¬
ployed in observing the distinctions between words $
in tracing words to the substances and qualities in na¬
ture which they are used to represent; in comparing
the words and idioms of different languages, and in
tracing the laws of their analogy and construction ;
while our moral faculties are at the same time improv¬
ed by attending to the characters which are describ¬
ed, and the events and actions which are related, in
those books which we are directed to peruse in order
to acquire the ancient languages. We assert there*
fore that the study of the ancient languages is par¬
ticularly useful for improving and strengthening all the
powers of the mind j and by that means, for prepar¬
ing us to act our part in life in a becoming manner :
and this our readers will readily agree with us in con¬
sidering as a weighty argument in behalf of that plan
of education.
But if, after all, classical learning is still to be given Fund oF
up, where shall we find the same treasures of moral useful and
wisdom, of elegance, and of useful historical knowledge eIeSant
which the celebrated writers of Greece and Borne af- C
ford ? W?ill you content yourself with the modern wri-cient au-"
ters of Italy, France, and England ? Or will you deign thors af-
to survey the beauties of Homer and Virgil throughford-
the medium of a translation ? No surely ; let us pene¬
trate to those sources from which the modern writers
have derived most of the excellencies which recommend
them to our notice j let us disdain to be imposed upon
by the whims or the ignorance of a translator.
Juval mtegros accedcre fontes.
Farther, classical learning has long been cultivated
among us j and both by the stores of knowledge which
it has conveyed to the mind, and the habits which it
has impressed, has contributed in no small degree to
form many illustrious characters. In reviewing the
annals of our country, we will scarce find an eminent
politician, patriot, general, or philosopher, during the
two last centuries, who did not spend his earlier years
in the study of the classics.
Yet though we have mentioned these things in fa¬
vour of classical literature, and were we to descend
to minute particulars might enumerate many more
facts and circumstances to recommend it ; we mean
not to argue that it is absolutely impossible to be a
wise, a great, or a good man, unless you are skilled
in Greek and Latin. Means may, no doubt, be a-
dopted to inspire the young mind with virtuous dis¬
positions, to cal! forth the powers of the youthful un*
derstanding, and to impress habits of industry and vi¬
gorous perseverance, without having recourse to the dis¬
cipline of a grammar school. But we cannot help
thinking, for the reasons which we have stated to our
readers, that a classical education is the most likelv to
produce these happy effects.
As
5/2
Jsdueation.
EDUCATION.
69
Duties of
people of
rank.
70
How to
form tlie
temper of
a young
man of for¬
tune.
As we are afterwards to take particular notice of
the course of education most suitable for those who
are to occupy the humble stations in society, we shall
not here inquire whether it be proper to introduce them
to an acquaintance with the Greek and Latin classes.
VI. On the Education of People of Rank and Fortune.
Those whom the kindness of providence has placed
in an elevated station, and in affluent circumstances,
so that they seem to he born rather to the enjoyment
of wealth and honours than to act in any particular
profession or employment, have notwithstanding a cer¬
tain part assigned them to perform, and many impor¬
tant duties to fulfil. They are members of society,
and enjoy the protection of the civil institutions ot
that society to which they belong ; they must there¬
fore contribute what they can to the support of those
institutions. The labours of the industrious poor are
necessary to supply them with the luxuries of life ;
and they must know' how to distribute their wealth
with prudence and generosity among the poor. They
enjoy much leisure } and they ought to know how to
employ their leisure hours in an innocent and agreeable
manner. Besides, as their circumstances enable them
to attract the regard and respect of those who are pla¬
ced in inferior stations, and as the poor are ever ready
to imitate the conduct of their superiors j it is necessary
that they endeavour to adorn their wealth and honours
by the most eminent virtues, in order that their example
may have a happy influence on the manners of the com¬
munity.
Their education ought therefore to be conducted
with a view to those ends. After what we have urged
in favour of a classical education, our readers will na¬
turally presume that we regard it as highly proper for
a man of fortune. The youth who is destined to the
enjoyment of wealth and honours, cannot spend his
earlier years more advantageously than in gaining an
acquaintance with the elegant remains of antiquity.
The benefits to be derived from classical learning are
particularly necessary to him. Care must be taken to
preserve him from acquiring a haughty, fierce, imperi¬
ous temper. The attention usually paid to the children
of people of fortune, and the foolish fondness with which
they are too often treated, have a direct tendency to in¬
spire them with high notions of their own importance,
and to render them passionate, overbearing, and con¬
ceited. But if their temper acquire that bias even in
childhood, what may be expected when they advance
towards manhood, when their attention is likely to be
oftener turned to the dignity and importance of that
rank which they occupy, and to the pitiful humility of
those beneath them ? Why, they are likely to be so
proud, insolent, resentful, and revengeful, as to render
themselves disagreeable and hateful to all who know
them : and besides, to be incapable of those delight¬
ful feelings which attend humane, benevolent, and mild
dispositions. Let the man of fortune, therefore, as he
is concerned for the future happiness and dignity ol
his child, be no less careful to prevent him from being
treated in such a manner as to be inspired with
haughtiness, caprice, and insolence, than to pre¬
vent his mind from being soured by harsh and tyranni¬
cal usage.
The manly exercises, as they are favourable to the £,j ,
health, the strength, and even the morals ; so they are —-v4
highly worthy of engaging the attention of the young
gentleman. Dancing, fencing, running, horseman¬
ship, the management of the musket, and the motions
of military discipline, are none of them unworthy of
occupying his time at proper seasons. It is unne¬
cessary to point out the advantages which he may de¬
rive from dancing j these seem to he pretty generally
understood. Perhaps our men of fortune would be
ashamed to make use of their legs for running *, but
occasions may occur, on which even this humble ac¬
complishment may be useful. Though we wish not to
see the young man of fortune become a jockey ; yet
to be able to make a graceful appearance on horse*
back, and to manage his horse with dexterity, will not
be unworthy of his station and character. If times
of public danger should arise, and the state should call
for the services of her subjects against any hostile at¬
tack, they whose rank and fortune place them in the
most eminent stations will be first expected to stand
forth $ but if unacquainted with those exercises which
are connected with the military art, what a pitiful
figure must they make in the camp, or on the field of
battle ? I
As the man of fortune may perhaps enjoy by he- £aw_
reditary right, or may be called by the voice of his
fellow citizens, to a seat among the legislative body of
his country ; he ought in his youth to be carefully in¬
structed in the principles of her political constitution,
and of those laws by which his own rights and the
rishts of his fellow citizens are determined and se-
O
cured.
Natural philosophy, as being both highly useful andphilosop
entertaining, is well worthy of the attention of all
who can afford to appropriate any part of their time
to scientific pursuits j to the man of fortune a taste for
natural philosophy might often procure the most de¬
lightful entertainment. To trace the wonders of the
planetary systems, to mark the process of vegetation,
to examine all the properties of that fine element which
we breathe, to trace the laws by which all the different
elements are confined to their proper functions, and
above all to apply the principles of natural philosophy
in the cultivation of the ground, are amusements which
might agreeably and innocently occupy many of the
leisure hours of the man who enjoys a splendid and in¬
dependent fortune. _ y;
Neither do we suppose civil history and the prin-History
ciples of morals to he overlooked. Without being ac-“l0,llls.
quainted with these, how could any just or accurate
knowledge of the laws and political constitution of his
country be acquired by the young gentleman ? History
exposes to our observation the fortune and the actions of
other human beings, and thus supplies in some measure
the place of experience 5 it teaches prudence, and
affords exercise to the moral sense. When history con¬
descends to take notice of individuals, they are almost
always such as have been eminent for virtue, for abili¬
ties, or for the rank which they held in Jife ; to the
rich and great it ought to speak with peculiar efficacy,
and they ought to be carefully invited to listen to its
voice.
Such then is the manner in which we wish the edu¬
cation of young men of rank and fortune to be con¬
ducted,
at;0n. ducted, In order that they may be prepared for en-
v 'joying their opulence and honours with becoming dig¬
nity. Jjet them be early inured to habits of vigorous
industry and persevering firmness-, by passing through a
regular course of classical learning in a free school; let
them play and converse with their equals, and not be
permitted to form high ideas of their own importance,
nor to domineer over servants or inferiors: Let them
be carefully instructed in the principles of morality and
religion : Let them he taught the manly exercises : Let
them be carefully informed of the nature of the political
constitution of their country, and of the extent of those
civil and political rights which it secures to them and
their fellow citizens: Let them be called to trace the
annals of mankind through the records of history) to
mark the appearances and operations of nature, and to
amuse themselves by pursuing these to their general
causes. We say nothing of causing the young man of
fortune to learn some mechanical art : We think skill
in a mechanical art might now and then afford him an
innocent and pleasing amusement; but we do not con¬
sider it as absolutely necessary, and therefore do not in¬
sist on his acquiring it. With those accomplishments
we hope he might become an useful member of society,
might adorn the rank and fortune to which he is born,
and might find wealth and high station a blessing, not
a curse. It is peculiarly unfortunate for our age and
country, that people of rank and fortune are not so stu¬
dious that their children acquire these as the more su¬
perficial accomplishments.
VII. On the Education of People designed for a Mercan¬
tile Employment, and for the humbler Occupations
in Life not particularly connected with Literature.
Were modern literature in a less flourishing state ;
were the English and French languages adorned with
fewer eminent poetical, historical, and philosophical
compositions; we might perhaps insist on it as ne¬
cessary to give the boy, who is designed for a mercan¬
tile employment, a classical education. At present
^ this does not appear absolutely necessary ; yet we do
mli.not presume to forbid it as improper. Even the
e, merchant will scarce find reason to repent his hav¬
ing been introduced to the acquaintance of Plato
and Cicero. But still, if the circumstances of the
parent, or any other just reason, should render it
inconvenient, to send the young man who is intend¬
ed for trade to a free school to study the ancient
languages, means may be easily adopted tu make up
for his loss. Confine him not to writing and accounts
alone. These, though particularly useful to the mer¬
chant, have no great power to restrain the force of
evil passions, or to inspire the mind with generous and
virtuous sentiments. Though you burden him not
with Latin and Greek, yet strive to inspire him with
'a taste for useful knowledge and for elegant literature.
Some of the purest and most elegant of our poets, the
excellent periodical works which have appeared in our
language, such as the Spectator, the Adventurer, the
Mirror, and the compositions of our British historians,
together with some of the best translations of the clas¬
sics which we possess; these you may with great pro¬
priety put into his hands. They will teach him how
EDUCATION. 573
to think and reason justly, and to express himself in Education.
conversation or in writing with correctness and ele¬
gance : they will refine and polish his mind, and raise
him above low and gross pleasures. And as no man,
who has any occasion to speak or write, ought to be
entirely ignorant of the principles of grammar, you will
therefore be careful to instruct the young man who is
designed for a mercantile occupation in the grammar of
his mother tongue. ^ .
A sacred regard to his engagements, and an honesty Integrity,
which may prevent him from taking undue advantages
or exacting unreasonable profits, are the virtues which
a merchant is most frequently called to exercise : punc¬
tuality and integrity are the duties most particularly
incumbent on the mercantile profession. Temptations
will now and then arise to seduce the merchant to the
violation of these. But if superior to every such temp¬
tation, he is one of the most illustrious characters, and
is likely to be one of the most successful merchants.
Irom his earliest years, then, labour to inspire the
child whom you intend for trade with a sacred regard
for truth and justice : let him be taught to view deceit
and fraud, and the violation of a promise, with abhor¬
rence and disdain. Frugality is a virtue which, in the
present age, seems to be antiquated or proscribed. Even
the merchant often appears better skilled in the arts of
profusion than in those of parsimony. The miser, a
character at no time viewed as amiable, is at present be¬
held with double detestation and contempt. Yet, not¬
withstanding these unfavourable circumstances, fear not
to impress upon the young merchant habits of frugality.
Let him know the folly of beginning to spend a for¬
tune before he have acquired it. Let him be taught to
regard a regular attention to confine his expences with¬
in due bounds, as one of the first virtues which can
adorn his character. -5
Frugality and industry are so closely connected, thatladusuyi
when we recommend the one of them to the merchant,
we will be naturally understood to recommend the other
also. It is easy to see, that without industrious appli¬
cation, no man can reasonably expect to meet with suc¬
cess in the occupation in which he engages ; and if the
merchant thinks proper to leave his business to the ma¬
nagement of clerks and shop-keepers, it is not very pro¬
bable that he will quickly accumulate a fortune. It is,
therefore, no less necessary, that he who is intended for
trade be early accustomed to habits of sober application,.
tyid be carefully restrained from volatility and levity,
than that he be instructed in writing, arithmetic, and
keeping of accounts.
With these virtues and qualifications the merchant is
likely to be respectable, and not unsuccessful, while he
continues to prosecute his trade: and if, by the blessing
of Providence, he be at length enabled to accumulate a
moderate fortune, his acquaintance with elegant litera¬
ture, and the various habits which he has acquired,
will enable him to enjoy it with taste and dignity. In¬
deed, all the advantages which a man without taste, or
knowledge, or virtue, can derive from the possession of
even the most splendid fortune, are so inconsiderable,
that they can be no adequate reward for the toil which
he undergoes, and the mean arts which he practises ia
acquiring it. At the head of a great fortune a fool can
only make himself more ridiculous, and a man of %
wicked
57^ education.
Education, wicked and vicious character more generally abhorred,
„v—... tjjan if fortune had kindly concealed their crimes and
follies by placing them in a more obscure station.
A considerable part of the members of society are
VIII. On ike Education of the Female Sex.
Educutt
The abstracts which we have given of some of the
most celebrated and original treatises on education, as
in the low- them "to* iVceWe the ad vantages of a liberal education. well as our own observations on this subject have been
est ranks. ^ ic an(1 t,)e hllsbaSndman, who earn a subsist- hitherto either relative to the education of both sexes,
a ne media I  . ^ _ or directed chiefly to the education of the male sex.
Education ^»    r  - ... •Ur
of peisons placed in such circumstances, that it is impossible tor
in the low- .... c  1 -J ‘t"-.
ence by their daily labour, can seldom afford, whatever
parental fondness may suggest, to favour their children
with many opportunities of literary instruction. Con¬
tent if they can provide them with food and raiment
till such time as they acquire sufficient strength to la¬
bour for their own support, parents in those humble
circumstances seldom think it necessary that they should
concern themselves about giving their children learning.
Happily it is not requisite that those who are destined
to spend their days in this low sphere should be furnish¬
ed with much literary or scientific knowledge. They
may be taught to read their mother tongue, to write,
and to perform some of the most common and the most
generally useful operations of arithmetic : for without
an acquaintance with the art of reading, it will scarce
be possible for them to acquire any rational knowledge
of the doctrines and precepts of religion, or of the du¬
ties of morality ; the invaluable volume of the sacred
Scriptures would be sealed to them: we may allow
them to write, in order that they may he enabled to
enjoy the sweet satisfaction of communicating accounts
of their welfare to their absent friends 5 and, besides,
both writing and arithmetic are necessary for the ac¬
complishment of those little transactions which pass
among them. It would be hard, if even the lowest and
poorest were denied these simple and easily acquired
branches of education j and happily that degree of skill
in them which is necessary for the labourer and the me¬
chanic may be attained without greater expence than
mav he afforded by parents in the meanest circumstan¬
ces*. Let the youth who is horn to pass his days in
this humble station, be carefully taught to consider ho¬
nest patient industry as one of the first of virtues : let
him be taught to regard the sluggard as one of the most
contemptible of characters : teach him contentment
with his lot, by letting him know that wealth and ho¬
nour seldom confer superior happiness : Yet scruple not
to inform him, that if he can raise himself above the
humble condition to which he was born, by honest arts,
by abilities virtuously exerted, he may find some com¬
fort in affluent circumstances, and may find reason to
rejoice that he has been virtuous, industrious,and active.
In teaching him the principles of religion, be careful
to show him religion as intimately connected with mo¬
rality : teach him none of those mysterious doctrines,
whose sole tendency is to foster that enthusiasm which
naturally prevails among the vulgar, and to persuade
them that they may be pious without being virtuous.
Labour to inspire him with an invincible abhorrence
for lying, fraud, and theft. Inspire him with a high
esteem for chastity, and with an awful regard to the
duties of a son, a husband, and a father. Ihus may he
become respectable and happy, even in his humble sta¬
tion and indigent circumstances*, a character infinitely
superior, in the eyes of both God and man, to the rich
and great man who misemploys his wealth and leisure
hi shameful and vicious pursuits.
But as there is a natural difference between the charac¬
ters of the two sexes, and as there are certain duties pe¬
culiar to each of them ; it is easy to see that the educa¬
tion of the boy and that of the girl cannot, ought not,
to be conducted precisely in the same manner. And
since the duties of the female sex are so important to
society, and they form so considerable a part of our
species, their education, therefore, merits the highest
attention. .... 7S
In infancy, the instincts, the dispositions, and tliesimiiarj
faculties of boys and girls seem to be nearly the same.of theci
They discover the same curiosity, and the same dispo-^‘e««
sition to activity. lor a while they aie lond of tliejn^j.,
same sports and amusements. But by and by, when wepetj0(] 0.
begin to make a distinction in their dress j when the life,
girl begins to be more confined to a sedentary life un¬
der her mother’s eye, while the boys are permitted to
ramble about without doors*, the distinction between
their characters begins to be foimed, and their taste
and manners begin to become different. The boy now
imitates the arts and the active amusements of his fa¬
ther 5 digs and plants a little garden, builds a house in
miniature, shoots his bow, or draws his little cart; while
the giid» with no less emulation, imitates her mother,
knits, sews, and dresses her doll. They are no longer
merely children; the one is now a girl, the other a
boy. This taste for female arts, which the girl so easily
and naturally acquires, has been judiciously taken no¬
tice of by Rousseau, as affording a happy opportunity
for instructing her in a very considerable part of those
arts which it is proper to teach her. While the girl
is busied in adorning her doll, she insensibly becomes
expert at needle work, and learns how to adjust het
own dress in a becoming manner. And therefore, n
she be kindly treated, it will not be a matter of difficulty
to prevail with her to apply to these branches of female
education. Her mother or governess, if capable of
managing her with mildness and prudence, may teach
her to read with great facility. For being already
more disposed to sedentary application than the boy of
the same age, the confinement to which she must sub¬
mit in order to learn to read will be less irksome to
her. Some have pretended that the reasoning powers
of girls begin to exert themselves -sooner than those of
boys. But, as we have already declared our opinion,
that the reasoning powers of children of both sexes
begin to display themselves at a very early period; so we
do^not believe that those of the one sex begin to ap¬
pear or attain maturity, sooner than those of the other.
But the different occupations and amusements in winch
we cause them to engage from their earliest years, na¬
turally call forth their powers in different manners, and
perhaps cause the one to imitate our modes of speaking
and behaviour sooner than the other. However, as
we wish both boys and girls to learn the art of reading
at a very early age, even as soon as they are capa
ution
;uon,
ir be-
ti; in
i-
l*.s.
E D U C
any serious application j so we wish girls to be taught
■ the art of writing, arithmetic, and the principles of re¬
ligion and morals, in the same order in which these are
inculated on boys.
We need not point out the reasons which induce us
to regard these as accomplishments proper for the fe¬
male sex : they seem to be generally considered as not
only suitable, but necessary. It is our most important
privilege, as beings placed in a situation different from
that of the inferior animals, that we are capable of re¬
ligious sentiments and religious knowledge ; it there¬
fore becomes us to communicate religious instruction
with no less assiduity and care to the youth of the fe¬
male sex, than to those of our own. Besides, as the care
of children during their earlier years belongs in a par¬
ticular manner to the mother; she, therefore, whom na¬
ture has destined to the important duties of a mother,
ought to be carefully prepared for the proper discharge
of those duties, by being accurately instructed, in her
youth, in such things as it will be afterwards requisite
for her to teach her children.
Ladies have sometimes distinguished themselves as
prodigies of learning. Many of the most eminent ge¬
niuses of the French nation have been of the female sex.
Several of our countrywomen have also made a respect¬
able figure in the republic of letters. Yet we cannot
approve of giving girls a learned education. To ac¬
quire the accomplishments which are more proper for
their sex, will afford sufficient employment for their
earlier years. If they be instructed in the grammar of
their mother tongue, and taught to read and speak it
with propriety ; be taught to write a fair hand, and
to perform with readiness the most useful operations of
arithmetic : if they be instructed in the nature of the
duties which they owe to God, to themselves, and to
society ; this will be almost all the literary instruction
necessary for them. Yet we do not mean to forbid
them an acquaintance with the literature of their coun¬
try. The periodical writers, who have taught all the
duties of morality, the decencies of life, and the prin¬
ciples of taste, in so elegant and pleasing a manner,
may with great propriety be put into the hands of our
female pupil. Neither will we deny her the historians,
the most popular voyages and travels, and such of our
British poets as may be put into her hands without cor¬
rupting her heart or inflaming her passions. But could
our opinion or advice have so much influence, we would
endeavour to persuade our countrymen and country¬
women to banish from among them the novelists, those
panders of vice, with no less determined severity than
that with which Plato excludes the poets from his re¬
public, or that with which the converts to Christianity,
mentioned in the Acts, condemned their magical vo¬
lumes to the flames. Unhappily, novels and plays are
almost the only species of reading in which the young
people of the present age take delight j and nothing
has contributed more effectually to bring on that disso¬
luteness of manners which prevails among all ranks.
But we will not discover so much austerity as to ex¬
press a wish that the education of the female sex should
be confined solely to such things as are plain and use¬
ful. We forbid not those accomplishments which are
merely ornamental, and the design of which is to ren¬
der them amiable in the eyes of the other sex. When
we consider the duties for which they are destined by
A T t O N. 575
natuie, we find that the art of pleasing constitutes no Education
inconsiderable part of these j and it would be wrong, *
therefore, to deny them those arts, the end of which
is to enable them to please. Let them endeavour to
acquire taste in dress: to dress in a neat graceful man¬
ner, to suit colours to her complexion, and the figure of
her clothes to her shape, is no small accomplishment for
a young woman. She who is rigged out by the taste
and dexterity ot her maid and her milliner, is nothing
better than a doll sent abroad to public places as a gj
sample of their handy work. Dancing is a favourite Dancing,
exercise : nay, we might almost call it the favourite
study ot the fair sex : So many pleasing images are as¬
sociated with the idea of dancing ; dress, attendance,
balls, elegance and grace of motion irresistible, admira¬
tion, and courtship: and these are so early inculcated
on the young by mothers and maids, that we need not
be surprised if little Miss consider her lesson of dancing
as a matter of much more importance than either her
book or sampler. And indeed, though the public in
general seem at present to place too high a value on
dancing ; and though the undue estimation which is
paid to it seems owing to that taste for dissipation, and
that rage tor public amusements, which naturally pre¬
vail amid such refinement and opulence ; yet still dan¬
cing is an accomplishment which both sexes may cul¬
tivate with considerable advantage. It has a happy
effect on the figure, the air, and the carriage ; and we
know not if it be not favourable even to dignity of
mind : Yet as to be even a first-rate poet or painter,
and to value himself on bis genius in these arts, would
be no real ornament in the character of a great mo¬
narch ; so any very superior skill in dancing must serve
rather to disgrace than to adorn the lady or the gen¬
tleman. There are some arts in which, though a mo¬
derate degree of skill may be useful or ornamental, yet
superior taste and knowledge are rather hurtful, as they
have a tendency to seduce us from the more important
duties which we owe to ourselves and to society. Of
those, dancing seems to be one : It is said of a certain
Roman lady, by an eloquent historian, “ that she was
more skilled in dancing than became a modest and vir¬
tuous woman.” ^
Music, also, is an art in which the youth of the fe-Music,
male sex are pretty generally instructed j and if their
voice and ear be such as to enable them to attain any
excellence in vocal music, it may conduce greatly to
increase their influence over our sex, and may afford a
pleasing and elegant amusement to their leisure hours.
The harpsichord and the spinet are instruments often
touched by female hands j nor do we presume to for¬
bid the ladies to exercise their delicate fingers in call¬
ing forth the enchanting sounds of these instruments.
But still, if your daughter have no voice or ear for mu¬
sic, compel her not to apply to it. 8
Drawing is another accomplishment which general-Drawing,
ly enters into the plan of female education. Girls are
usually taught to aim at some scratches with a pencil :
but when they grow up, they either lay it totally aside,
or else apply to it with so much assiduity as to neglect
their more important duties. We do not consider skill
in drawing, any more than skill in poetry, as an ac¬
complishment very necessary for the ladies j yet we agree
with Rousseau, that as far as it can contribute to im¬
prove their taste in dress, it may not be improper for
them
57<J
iviuen lion
E D U C A T I O N.
They may very properly be taught
them to pursue it, v
to sketch and colour flowers ; but we do not wish them
to forget or lay aside this as soon as the drawing-master
is dismissed ; let them retain it to be useful through Jife.
Though pride can never he lovely, even in the fairest
female form *, yet ought the young woman to be care¬
ful! v impressed with a due respect for herself. This
will join with her native modesty to he the guardian of
her virtue, and to preserve her from levity and impro¬
priety of conduct.
Such are the hints which have occurred to us on the
education proper for the female sex, as far as it ought
to be conducted in a manner different from that of the
male.
IX. Public and Private Education.
s4
Arguments
for private
education.
One question usually discussed by the writers on this
subject has not hitherto engaged our attention. It is,
Whether it he most proper to educate a young man pri¬
vately, or send him to receive his education at a public
school ? This question has been so often agitated, and
by people enjoying opportunities of receiving all the
information which experience can furnish on the sub¬
ject, that we cannot he expected to advance any new
argument of importance on either side. Yet we may
state what has been urged both on the one and the
other.
They who have considered children as receiving their
education in the house and under the eye ol their parents,
and as secluded in a great measure from the society of
other children, have been sometimes led to consider this
situation as particularly favourable for their acquiring
useful knowledge, and being formed to virtuous habits.
Though we reap many advantages from mingling in
social life, yet in society we are also tainted with many
vices to which he who passes his life in solitary retire¬
ment is a stranger. At whatever period of life we be¬
gin to mix with the world, we still find that we have
not yet acquired sufficient strength to resist those temp¬
tations to vice with which we are there assailed. But
if we are thus ready to he infected with the contagion
of vice, even at any age, no other argument can he ne¬
cessary to shew the propriety of confining children from
those dangerous scenes in which this infection is so ea¬
sily caught. And whoever surveys the state of morals
in a public school with careful and candid attention,
even though it be under the management of the most
virtuous, judicious, and assiduous teachers, will find
reason to acknowledge, that the empire of vice is esta¬
blished there not less fully than in the great world.
Nothing, therefore, can he more negligent or inhu¬
man, than for parents to expose their children to those
seductions which a great school presents, at a time when
they are strongly disposed to imitate any example set
before them, and have not yet learned to distinguish
between such examples as are worthy of imitation, and
those which ought to be beheld with abhorrence. Even
when under the parent’s eye, from intercourse with
servants and visitors their native innocence is likely to
suffer considerably. Yet the parent’s care will be much
more likely to preserve the manners of his child un¬
corrupted in his own house, than any assiduity and
watchfulness of his teachers in a school. .
The morals and dispositions of a child ought to be
the first objects of our concern in conducting his edu* Ejucal;
cation : hut to initiate him in the principles of useful v _
knowledge is also an important object j and it will he
happy, if in a private education virtue be not only
better secured, but knowledge also more readily ac¬
quired, than in a public. But this actually happens.
When one or two boys are committed to the care of a
judicious tutor, he can watch the most favourable sea¬
sons of communicating instruction ; he can awake cu¬
riosity and command attention by the gentle arts of in¬
sinuation : though he strive not to inflame their breasts
with emulation, which leads often to envy and invete¬
rate hatred $ yet he will succeed in rendering learning
pleasing, by other means less likely to produce unfa¬
vourable effects on the temper and dispositions of his
pupils. As his attention is not divided among a num¬
ber, he can pay more regard to the particular disposi¬
tions and turn of mind of each of his pupils : he can
encourage him who is modest and slow, and repress
the quickness and volatility of the other; and he can
call forth and improve their powers, by leading them
at one time to view the scenes of nature and the changes
which she successively undergoes through the varying
seasons : at another, to attend to some of the most en¬
tertaining experiments of natural philosophy ; and again
alluring them artfully to their literary exercises. With
these he may mix some active games ; and he may as¬
sume so much of the fondness of the parent, as to join
in them with his little pupils. These are certainly cir¬
cumstances favourable both to the happiness and to the
literary improvement of youth ; but they are peculiar
to a private education. Besides, in a private educa¬
tion, as children spend more of their time with grown¬
up people than in public ; those, therefore, who re¬
ceive a domestic education, sooner acquire our manner
of thinking, of expressing ourselves, and of behaving
in our ordinary intercourse with one another. For the
very same reason for which girls are often observed to
be capable of prudence and propriety of behaviour at
an earlier age than hoys, those boys who receive a fa¬
mily education will begin sooner to think and act like
men, than those who pass their earlier days in a public
seminary. And though you educate your son at home,
there is no reason why he should he more accustomed
to domineer over his inferiors, or to indulge a capri¬
cious or inhumane disposition, than if he were brought
up among fifty hoys, all of the same age, size, and rank,
with himself. He may also, in a private education,
exercise his limbs with the same activity as in a public
one. He cannot indeed engage in those sports lor
which a party of companions is necessary ; but still
there are a thousand objects which will call forth his
activity : if in the country, he will be disposed to
fish, to climb for bird nests, to imitate all that he sees
performed by labourers and mechanics: in short, he
will run, leap, throw and carry stones, and keenly exert
himself in a variety of exercises, which will produce
the most favourable effects on the powers both of his
mind and body. It may indeed be possible for you to
oppose the designs of nature so effectually, if you take
pains for that purpose, as to repress the natural activity
of your child or pupil, and cause him to pine away his
time in listless indolence ; but you will thus do violence
to his dispositions, as well as to those instincts wine i
nature has for wise purposes implanted in his breast.
E D U C
ltjon And the bad consequences which may result from this
management are not to be considered as the natural
effects of a domestic education, but as the effects of an
education carelessly or imprudently conducted.
But there is another consideration which will per¬
haps be still more likely than any of those which we
have hitherto urged, to prevail with the fond parent
to give his child a private education. As the infant
who is abandoned by its mother to the care of an hire¬
ling nurse, naturally transfers its affection from the
unnatural parent to the person who supplies her room
and performs the duties incumbent upon her; so the
boy who is banished from a parent’s house at a time
when he has scarce begun to know the relation in which
he stands to his father and mother, brothers or sisters,
soon ceases to regard them with that fondness which
he had contracted for them from living in their com¬
pany and receiving their good offices. His respect,
his affection, and his kindness, are bestowed on new
objects, perhaps on his master or his companions ; or
else his heart becomes selfish and destitute of every ten¬
der and generous feeling j and when the gentle and
amiable affections of filial and fraternal love are thus,
as it were torn up by the roots, every evil passion
springs up, with a rapid growth, to supply their place.
The boy returns afterwards to his father’s house : but
he returns as a stranger ; he is no longer capable of
regarding his parents and relations with the same ten¬
derness ol affection. He is now a stranger to that fi¬
lial love which springs up in the breast of the child
who is constantly sensible of the tender care of his pa¬
rents, and spends his earlier years under their roof, in
such a manner as to appear the effect of instinct rather
than of habit. Selfish views are now the only bond
which attaches him to his parents and relations j and
by coming under their influence at so early a period of
life, he is rendered for ever incapable of all the most
amiable virtues which can adorn human nature. Let
the parent, therefore, who loves his child, and wishes
to obtain from him a mutual return of affection, be¬
ware of excluding him from his house, and devolving
the sole charge of him upon another, in his child¬
hood.
These views represent a private education as the most
favourable to virtue, to knowledge, and to the mutual
aftection which ought always to unite the parent and
his child. But let us now listen to the arguments
which are usually urged in behalf of a public educa¬
tion.
;nts In the first place, it has been asserted, that a public
c education is much more favourable than a private to
n. the pupil’s improvement in knowledge, and much
more likely to inspire him with an ardour for learning.
In a private education, with whatever assiduity and
tenderness you labour to render learning agreeable to
your pupil, still it will be but an irksome task. You
may confine him to his books but for a very short space
in the course of the dav, and allow him an alternation
of study and recreation. Still, however, you will ne¬
ver be able to render his books the favourite objects of
his attention. He will apply to them with reluctance
and careless indifference ; even while he seems enga¬
ged on his lesson, his mind will be otherwise occupied j
it will wander to the scenes where he pursues his diver¬
sions, nd to those objects which have attracted his de-
VoL. VII. Part II. f
A T I O N.
sires. If the period during which you require his ap¬
plication be extremely short; during the first part of
it, he will still be thinking of the amusements from
which you have called him, and regretting his con¬
finement $ during the last, he will fondly anticipate
the moment when he is to be set at liberty, and think
of new amusements. Again, if you confine him du¬
ring a longer period, still more unfavourable effects
will follow. Peevishness, dulness, and a determined
aversion to all that bears the name of literature, will
be naturally impressed on his mind by such treatment.
How can it be otherwise ? Books possess so few of
those qualities which recommend any object to the at¬
tention of children, that they cannot be naturally a-
greeable. They have nothing to attract and detain
the eye, the ear, or any of the senses; they present
things with which children are unacquainted, and of
which they know not the value : children cannot look
beyond the letters and words, to the things which these
represent; and even though they could, yet it is much
more pleasing to view scenes and objects as they exist
originally in nature, than to trace their images in a
faint and imperfect representation. It is vain, there¬
fore, to hope that children will be prevailed with to pay
attention to books by means of any allurements which
books can of themselves present. Other means must
be used ; but those in a private education you cannot
command. In a public seminary, the situation of
masters with respect to their pupils is widely different.
When a number of boys meet together in the same
school, each of them soon begins to feel the impulse
of a principle which enables the master to command
their attention without difficulty, and prompts them
to apply with cheerful ardour to tasks which would
otherwise be extremely irksome. This principle is a
generous emulation, which animates the breast with
the desire of superior excellence, without inspiring en¬
vy or hatred of a competitor. When children are pru¬
dently managed in a great school, it is impossible for
them not to feel its impulse. It renders their tasks
scarce less agreeable than their amusements, and directs
their activity and curiosity to proper objects. View
the scholar at a public school, composing his theme,
or turning over his dictionary ; bow alert ! how cheer¬
ful ! how indefatigable ! He applies with all the eager¬
ness, and all the perseverance, of a candidate for one
of the most honourable places in the temple of fame.
Again, behold and pity that poor youth who is con¬
fined to his chamber with no companion but his tutor;
none whose superiority can provoke his emulation, or
whose inferiority might flatter him with thoughts of
his own excellence, and thus move him to preserve by
industrious application the advantages which he has
already gained. His book is' before him ; but how
languid, how listless his posture ! how heavy and dull
his eye ! Nothing is expressed in his countenance but
dejection or indignation. Examine him concerning
his lesson ; he replies with confusion and hesitation. Af¬
ter a few minutes observation, you cannot fail to be
convinced that be has spent his time without making
any progress in learning; that his spirits are now broken,
his natural cheerfulness destroyed ; and his breast arm¬
ed with invincible prejudices against all application in
the pursuit of literary knowledge. Besides, in a school
there is something more than emulation to render learn-
4 0 i°S
577
Education.
573
E D U C
Education, ing less disagreeable than It naturally is to children.
' The slightest observation of life, or attention to our
own conduct in various circumstances, will be sufficient
to convince us, that whenever mankind are placed in
circumstances of distress, or subjected to any disagree¬
able restraint, that which a single person bears with
impatience or dejection will make a much less impres¬
sion on his mind if a number of companions be joined
with him in his suffering or restraint. It is esteemed
a piece of much greater severity to confine a prisoner
in a solitary cell, than where he is permitted to mix
with others in the same uncomfortable situation. A
journey appears much less tedious to a party of travel¬
lers, than to him who beats the path alone. In the
same manner, when a number of boys in a great school
are all busied on the same or on similar^ tasks, a spirit
of industry and perseverance is communicated from one
to another over the whole circle j each of them insen¬
sibly acquires new ardour and vigour •, even though he
feel not the spur of emulation, yet, while all are busy
around him, he cannot remain idle. These are facts
obvious to the most careless observer.
Neither are public schools so unfavourable to the
virtue of their members as they have been represented
to be. If the masters are men of virtue and prudence,
careful to set a good example before their pupils, at¬
tentive to the particular character and behaviour of
each individual among them, firm to punish obstinate
and incorrigible depravity, and even to expel those who
are more likelv to injure the morals of others than to
be reclaimed themselves, and at the same time eager
to applaud and to encourage amiable and virtuous dis¬
positions wherever they appear $ under the government
of such masters, a public school will not fail to be a
school of virtue. There will no doubt be particular
individuals among the pupils of such a seminary,
whose morals may be corrupt and their dispositions
vicious 5 but this, in all probability, will arise from
the manner in which they were managed before en¬
tering the school, or from some other circumstances,
rather than from their being sent for their education
to a public school. Again, at a public school, young
people enjoy much greater advantages for preparing
them to enter the world, than they can possibly be fa¬
voured with if brought up in a private and solitary
manner. A great school is a miniature representation
of the world at large. The objects which engage the
attention of boys at a school are different from those
which occupy their parents j the views of the boys
are less extensive, and they are not yet capable of pro¬
secuting them by so many base aad mean arts : but, in
other respects, the two scenes, and the actors upon
them, nearly resemble each other j on both you behold
contending passions, opposite interests, weakness, cun¬
ning, folly, and vice. He therefore who has perform¬
ed his part on the miniature scene, has rehearsed as it
were for the greater ^ if he has acquitted himself well
on the one, he may be also expected to distinguish him¬
self on the other ; and even he who has not distinguished
himself at school, at least enters the world with supe¬
rior advantages when viewed in comparison with him
who has spent his earlier days in the ignorance and so¬
litude of a private and domestic education. Besides,
when a number of boys meet at a public seminary of
A T I O N.
education, separated from their parents and relations jEdnca
nearly of the same age, engaged in the same studies,
and fond of the same amusements •, they naturally con¬
tract friendships with one another which are more cor¬
dial and sincere than any that take place between
persons farther advanced in life. A friendship is often
formed between two boys at school which continues
through life, and is productive of the happiest conse¬
quences to each of them. While at school, they mu
tually assist and encourage each other in their learning;
and their mutual affection renders their tasks less bur¬
densome than they might otherwise find them. As
they advance in life, their friendship still continues to
produce happy effects on their sentiments and conduct i
perhaps they are mutually useful to each other by in¬
terest or by personal assistance in making their way in
the world ; or when they are engaged in the cares
and bustle of life, their intercourse and correspondence
with each other may contribute much to console them
amid the vexations and fatigues to which they may be
exposed.
Such are the chief arguments usually adduced in fa¬
vour of a public education. When we compare
them with those which have been urged to recommend
a private education, we shall perhaps find that each has
its peculiar advantages. A public education is the
more favourable to the acquisition of knowledge, to
vigour of mind, and to the formation of habits of in¬
dustry and fortitude. A private education, when ju¬
diciously conducted, will not fail to be peculiarly fa¬
vourable to innocence and to mildness of disposition;
and notwithstanding what has sometimes been advan¬
ced by the advocates lor a public education, it is surely
better to keep youth at a distance from the seduc¬
tions of vice till they be sufficiently armed against
them, than to expose them to them at an age when
they know not to what dangers they lead, and are
wholly unable to resist them. Were we to give impli-
cit credit to the specious talk of the two parties, eitherj1^
a private ora public education would form characters
more like to angels than to those men whom we or¬
dinarily meet in'the world: but they speak with the
ardour of enthusiasts ; and therefore we must listen
Avith caution both to the facts which they adduce, and
to the inferences which they draw. Could we, with¬
out exposing children to the contagion of a great town,
procure for them the advantages of both a public and a
private education at the same time, avc \vould by tins
means probably succeed best in rendering them both
respectable scholars and good men. If Ave may pre¬
sume to give our opinion freely, we would advise pa¬
rents never, except Avhen some unavoidable necessity of ,
circumstances obliges them, to expel their children froin
under their orvn ^oof till they he advanced beyond
their boyish years : let the mother nurse her own child ;
let her and the father join in superintending its edu¬
cation : they may then expect to he rewarded, if they
have acted their parts aright, by commanding the gra¬
titude, the affection, and the respect of their child,
Avhile he and they continue to live together. Let mat¬
ters be so ordered, that the boy may reside in Ins la¬
ther’s house, and at the same time attend a public
school: but let the girl be educated wholly under ier
mother’s eye. Qn
EDUCATION.
tion.
579
X. On Travel.
icon
It in-
d.
Another question which has been often discus¬
sed comes here under our review. The philosophers
of ancient Greece travelled in search of knowledge.
Books were then scarce, and those few which were
to be obtained were no very rich treasuries of use¬
ful information. The rhapsodies of a poet, the rude
legends of some ill-informed and fabulous historian,
or the theories of fanciful philosophers, were all that
they could afford. Thales, Lycurgus, Solon, Plato, tra¬
velled, seeking that knowledge among mere civilized
nations which they could not find in their native coun¬
try. In the course of their travels, they heard the lec¬
tures of celebrated philosophers j consulted the priests,
who were the guardians of the traditions of antiquity,
concerning the nature and origin of those traditions j
and observed the institutions of those nations which
were most renowned for the wisdom of their legisla¬
ture. When they set out to visit foreign countries,
they seemed to have proposed to themselves a certain
end; and by keeping that end steadily in view during
the course of their travels, they gained such improve¬
ment as to be able on their return to command the
veneration of their countrymen by means of the know¬
ledge which they were enabled to communicate. Many
besides the philosophers of ancient Greece have tra¬
velled for improvement, and have succeeded in their
views. But ancient history does not relate to us, that
travelling was considered by the Greeks or Homans as
necessary to finish the education of their young men
of fortune before they entered the scenes of active life.
It is true, after Greece became a province of the Ro¬
man empire, and the Romans began to admire the
science and elegance of Greece, and to cultivate Gre¬
cian literature, the young noblemen of Rome often
repaired to Rhodes and Athens to complete their stu¬
dies under the masters of philosophy and eloquence
who taught in those cities. But they went thither
with the same views with which our youth in modern
times are sent to free schools and universities, not to
acquire knowledge by the observation of nature, of the
institutions, manners, and customs of nations ; but mere¬
ly to hear lectures, read books, and perform exercises.
In modern times, a few men of reflection and expe¬
rience have now and then travelled for improvement:
but the greatest part of our travellers, for a long time,
were enthusiastic devotees who went in pilgrimage to
visit the shrine or relics of some favourite saint; sol¬
diers, who wandered over the earth to destroy its in¬
habitants ; or merchants, whose business as factors be¬
tween widely distant countries and nations, led them to
brave every danger in traversing from one corner of the
globe to another. But since the nations of modern
Europe have begun to emerge from rudeness, igno¬
rance, and servile depression, they have formed one
great commonwealth, the members of which are scarce
less intimately connected with each other than were
the states of ancient Greece. The consequence of
this mutual connexion and dependence is, that almost
all the nations of Europe have frequent intercourse with
one another ; and as some of them are, and have long
been, more enlightened and refined than others, those na¬
tions who have attained the highest degree of civiliza¬
tion and refinement have naturally attracted the admlra- Educati
tion and homage of the rest. Their language has been   
studied, their manners and arts have been adopted, and
even their dress has been imitated. Other nations have
t ironged to pay the homage due to their superior
merit, and to study under them as masters. Hence
ms arisen the practice which at present prevails amono-
us of sending our youth to complete their education
by travelling, before we introduce them to active life,
or require them to engage in business. Formerly young
men were not sent to travel till after they had proceed¬
ed through die forms of a regular education, and had
at least attained such an age that they were no longer
to be considered as mere boys. But the progress of
luxury, the desire of parents to introduce their child¬
ren into the world at an early age, that they may
early attain to wealth and honours, and various other
causes, have gradually introduced the practice of
sending mere boys to foreign countries, under pretence
of affording ttiem opportunities of shaking oft prejudices,
of storing their minds with truly useful knowledge, and
of acquiring those graceful manners and that manly ad¬
dress which will enable them to acquit themselves in a
becoming manner when they are called to the duties of
active life. How much travelling at such an early age
contributes to fulfil the views of parents, a slight sur¬
vey ol the senate-house, the gambling-houses, the race¬
course, and the cockpit, will convince the sagacious ob¬
server.
But we wish to foster no prejudices against neigh¬
bouring nations; we entertain no such prejudices in
favour of Britain, as to wish to confine our country¬
men within the sea-girt isle. Let us inquire what ad¬
vantages may be gained by travelling, and at what age
it may be most proper to set out in pursuit of those ad¬
vantages. 8g
After all that bookish men have urged, and not-Travel ne-
Withstanding all that they may continue vehemently tocessary
urge, in behalf of the knowledge to be derived fromtl!e at<lul*i
then beloved books; it must still be acknowledged, that j4UOWie([,re
books can teach us little more than merely "the lan- ^
guage of men. Or, if we should grant that books are
of higher importance, and that language is the least
valuable part of the knowledge which they teach, yet
still we need to beware that they lead us not astray ;
it is better to examine nature with the naked eye, than
to view her through the spectacles of books. Neither
the theories nor experiments of philosophers, nor the
narratives of travellers, nor the relations of historians,
though supported by a numerous train of authorities,
are worthy of implicit credit. You retire from the
world, confine yourself for years to your closet, and
read volume after volume, historians, philosophers, and
poets ; at last you fancy that you have gained an im¬
mense store of knowledge: But leave your retirement,
return into the world, compare the knowledge which
you have treasured up with the appearances of nature ;
you will find that you have laboured in vain, that it is
only the semblance of knowledge which you have ac¬
quired, and will not serve for a faithful guide in life,
nor even enable you to distinguish yourself for literary
merit. Compare the relations of travellers with one
another ; how seldom do they agree when they describe
the same scenes and the same people ! Turn your at¬
tention to the most respectable historians, compare
4-^2 their
580
Education.
EDUCATION,
their accounts of the same events j what disagreement.
what contrariety ! Where shall truth be found ? Listen
to the cool, the candid philosophers $ what contradictory
theories do they build on the same system of facts !
We agree, then, that it is better to seek knowledge
by actual observation and experiment, than to receive
it at second hand from the information of others. He
who would gain an acquaintance with the beauties of
external nature, must view them with his own eyes ;
he who ivould know the operations of the human under¬
standing, must reflect upon what passes in his own mind 5
he who would know the customs, opinions, and manners
of any people, must mingle with them, must observe
their conduct, and listen to their conversation. I he
arts are acquired by actual practice j the sciences by
actual observation in your own person, and by deducing
inferences from your observations.
If therefore to extend our knowledge can contri¬
bute in any degree to render us happier, wiser, 01
better 5 travelling, as being more favourable to know¬
ledge than the study of books, must be highly advan¬
tageous. Get well acquainted with your own coun¬
try 5 with the manners, the customs, the laws, and the
political situation of your countrymen : Get also a
knowledge of books j for books would not be altoge¬
ther useless, though they could serve no other purpose
but to teach us the language in which mankind ex¬
press themselves : And then, if your judgment have at¬
tained maturity if curiosity prompt you ; if your con¬
stitution be robust and vigorous, and your spirits live¬
ly j you may imitate the Solons, Homers, and 1 latos,
of old, and visit foreign countries in search of know¬
ledge, and with a view to bring home something which
may be of real utility to yourself and your country.
You will, by this time, be so much master of the lan¬
guage of your own country, that you will not lose it
while you are learning the languages of foreign nations }
your principles of taste and of right and wrong will
be so formed and fixed, that you will not despise any
institution or custom or opinion merely because it pre¬
vails not in your own country $ nor yet will you be
ready to admire and adopt any thing, merely because
it prevails among a foreign nation who are distinguish¬
ed for profound and extensive knowledge, or for ele¬
gance of taste and manners. No j you will divest
yourself of every prejudice, and judge only by the
fixed unalterable principles which determine the di¬
stinction between right and wrong, between truth and
falsehood, between ^ beauty and deformity, sublimity
and meanness. Your object will not be to learn exotic
vices, to mingle in frivolous amusements, or to form
a catalogue of inns. Your views, your inquiries, will
have a very different direction, ^ou will attend to
the state of the arts, of the sciences, of morals, man¬
ners, and government ; you will also contemplate with
eager delight, the grand or beautiful scenes of nature,
and examine the vegetable productions of the various
regions through which you pass, as well as the different
tribes of animals which inhabit them ; you will observe
what blessings the beneficence of nature has conferred
on the inhabitants of each particular division of the
globe, and how far the ingenuity and industry ot man
have taken advantage of tire kindness ol nature. Thus
surveying the face of the earth, and considering how
advantages and disadvantages are balanced with each
3
other, through every various region and climate, from E,lucal,;
one extremity of the globe to another 5 you will admire u—yj,!
and revere that impartiality with which the Author of
nature has distributed his benefits to the whole human
race. When from the chilly climes and stubborn soil
of the north, you turn your eyes to the fertile genial
regions of the south, where every tree is loaded with
exquisite fruits, and every vegetable is nourishing and
delicious •, you will be pleased to find, that the inha¬
bitants of the north, by their superior ingenuity and
vigour, are able to raise themselves to circumstances
no less comfortable and respectable than those which
the nations inhabiting between the tropics enjoy : when
you behold the French shaking off the yoke of des¬
potism, and aspiring to the sweets of liberty as well as
their British neighbours j you will be pleased to see,
that the natural gaiety and cheerfulness of the former
nation render them not incapable of the energy of the
latter. You will be pleased to view the remains of an¬
tiquity, and the noble monuments of art j but you will
think it below you to trifle away your time in gazing at
palaces and churches, and collecting rusty medals and
fragments of marble ; you will seek the society of emi¬
nent men, and eagerly cultivate an acquaintance with
the most distinguished artists and men of science who
adorn the nations among whom you may happen to
sojourn. Knowing that the knowledge which is to be
acquired in great towns, is by no means an adequate
compensation for the vicious habits which you are liable
to contract in them j and besides, that the luxuries, the
arts, the manners, the virtues, and the vices of all great
towns are nearly the same, so that when you have seen
one, you have seen all others ; you will avoid taking
up your residence for any considerable time in any
of the great towns through which you have occasion
to pass in the course of your travels. The traveller
who has attained the previous accomplishments which
we have mentioned as necessary, who sets out with the
views which we have supposed him to entertain, and
who conducts his travels in this manner, cannot fail to
return home enriched with much useful knowledge j he
cannot but derive more real improvement from travel¬
ling, than he could have gained by spending the same
period of time in solitary study : when he returns to his
native country, he will appear among his country¬
men as more than a philosopher ^ a sage, and a be¬
nefactor. His knowledge is so extensive and accurate,
his views are so liberal and enlarged, and he is so
superior to prejudices, without being the enemy of
any useful establishments, that he will be enabled to
command universal esteem, by performing his part in
life with becoming dignity and propriety, and perhaps
to render his name illustrious, and his memory dear
to future times, by some important services to the com¬
munity to which he belongs, or even to mankind in
general. _ s9
But though we have thus far, and we hope for ob-Circum-
vious and solid reasons, decided in favour of travelling,
as being more likely than a solitary application t0traTCiii,
books, to furnish the mind with useful and orna-U])proijt!
mental knowledge j yet we do not see that our British to the y<
youth either take care to furnish themselves with t"e®^tieag j
previous knowledge which w'e consider as indispen-sc
sably necessary in order to prepare them for travelling
with advantage, or set out with proper views, or pro-
0 secute
EDUCATION.
(ion. secute their travels in a prudent judicious manner.
' After receiving a very imperfect education, in which
religious and moral instruction are almost wholly ne¬
glected, and no means are used to inspire the youth¬
ful mind with solid, virtuous, manly qualities 5 but
every art is tried to make the young man appear learn¬
ed, while his mind is destitute of all useful information,
and to teach him to assume the confidence of manhood
before he has attained even to a moderate degree of
sense and prudence 5—after an education conducted
in this manner, and with these views, the stripling is
sent abroad to view' the world, and is expected to re¬
turn home a finished character, an ornament and a
comfort to his parents and all his connexions. He is
hitherto unacquainted, perhaps, even with the simple
events of the history of his native country j and either
totally ignorant of classical literature, or but very su¬
perficially instructed in it. He has not yet viewed
with a discerning eye the manners and customs pre¬
vailing among his countrymen ; he knows not the na¬
ture of the government under which he lives, nor the
spirit of those laws by which his civil conduct must be
regulated. He has no fixed principles j no clear, di¬
stinct views. But to supply all his wants of this na¬
ture, he is put into the hands of a travelling governor,
who is to be entirely submissive to his will, and yet to
serve him both for eyes and intellect. This governor
is generally either some macaroni officer, who is consi¬
dered as well bred, and thought to know the world j
or else, perhaps, some cringing son of literature, who,
having spent much time among his books, without
acquiring such strength or dignity of mind as to raise
him above frivolity of manners and conversation or
pitiful fawning arts, is therefore regarded as happily
qualified for this important charge. This respectable
personage and his pupil are shipped off for France,
that land of elegant dissipation, frivolity, and fashion.
They travel on with eager impatience, till they reach
the capital. There the young man is industriously
introduced to all the gay scenes which Paris can dis¬
play. He is, at first, confounded $ by and by his
senses are fascinated j new desires are awaked in his
breast 5 all around him he sees the sons of dissipation
wallowing in debauchery, or the children of vanity
fluttering about like so many gaudy insects. The
poor youth has no fixed principles : he has not been
taught to regard vanity as ridiculous, or to turn from
vice with abhorrence. No attempt is made to allure
him to these objects, an attention to which can alone
render travelling truly beneficial. Hitherto his mind
had been left almost wholly uncultivated $ and now
the seeds of vice are plentifully sown in it. From one
great town he is conveyed to another, till he visit al¬
most every place in Europe where profligacy of man¬
ners has attained to any uncommon height. In this
happy course of education he probably continues to
pursue improvement till he is well acquainted with
most of the post roads, the principal inns, and the great
towns at least in France and Italy 5 and perhaps till
he has worn out his constitution, and rendered his
mind totally incapable of any generous sentiments or
sober reflection. He then revisits his native country,
to the inexpressible happiness of his parents, who now
eagerly long to embrace their all-accomplished child.
But how miserably are the poor folks disappointed,
581
when they find his constitution wasted, his understand-Education.
ing uninformed, his heart destitute of every manly or 1    v~~
generous sentiment: and perceive him to possess no
accomplishment, but such as are merely superficial ?
Perhaps, however, his parents are prevented by their
partiality both for their child and for the means
which they have adopted in conducting his education,
from viewing his character and qualifications in a
true light. Perhaps they overlook all his defects, or
consider them as ornaments, and regard their dear son
as the mirror of perfection. But, unfortunately,
though they be blind to the hideous deformity of the
monster which they have formed, they cannot hinder
it from being conspicuous to others ; though they may
view their son’s character as amiable and respectable,
they cannot render it useful, they cannot prevent it
from being hurtful to society. Let this youth whose
education has been thus wisely conducted, let him be
placed at the head of an opulent fortune, advanced to
a seat in the legislative body of his country, or called
to act in any public character 5 how will he distinguish
himself? As the virtuous patriot, the honest yet able
statesman, the skilful general, or the learned upright
judge? How will he enjoy his fortune ? Will he be x
the friend of the poor, the steady supporter of the laws
and constitution under whose protection he lives? Will
he show himself capable of enjoying otium cum digni¬
tatem If we reason by the usual laws of probability,
we cannot expect that he should : and if we observe the
manners and principles of our men of wealth and high
birth who have been brought up in this manner, we find
our reasonings confirmed.
Such are the opinions which candid observation leads
us to entertain with regard to the advantages which may
be gained by travelling.
He whose mind has been judiciously cultivated, and
who has attained to maturity of judgment, if he set out
on his travels with a view to obtain real improvements,
and persist invariably in the prosecution of that view,
cannot but derive very great advantages from travel-
iing.
But again, those young men whose minds have not
been previously cultivated by a judicious education, who
set out without a view to the acquisition of real know¬
ledge, and who wander among foreign nations, without
attention to any thing but their luxuries, their follies,
and their vices, those poor young men cannot gain any
real improvement from their travels.
Our countrymen, who travel for improvement, do
not appear to derive so much advantage from their
travels as were to be wished, because they generally
receive too superficial an education, set out at too early
a period of life, and direct not their views to objects of
real utility and importance.
XI. On Knowledge of the World, and Entrance into
Life.
Much has been said concerning the utility of a Unhappy
knowledge of the world, and the advantage of acqui-effects of
ring it at an early period of life. But those who have.to° ear,y
the most earnestly recommended this knowledge of the,lUroi?uc*
world, have generally explained themselves in so inac-tjle
curate a matter concerning it, that it is difficult to
understand what ideas they affix to it. They seem to
wish.
EDUCATION.
582
Education, wish, that, in oriler to acquire it, young people may
■ ■ — t-i. ' ]jf> early made acquainted with all the vices and lollies
of the world, introduced into polite company, carried
to public places, and not confined even from the ga¬
ming table and the stews. Some knowledge of the
world may, no doubt, be gained by these means. But
it is surely dearly purchased ; nor are the advantages
which can be derived from it so considerable, as to
tempt the judicious and affectionate parent to expose
his child to the infection of vanity, folly, and vice, for
their sake. Carry a boy or girl into public life at the
age of fourteen or fifteen j show them all the scenes of
splendid vanity and dissipation which adorn London or
Paris j tell them of the importance of dress, and of
the ceremonies of good breeding and the forms of in¬
tercourse $ teach them that fashionable indiflerence and
assurance which give the ton to the manners of our fine
gentlemen and fine ladies of the present age. What
efiects can you expect the scenes into which you intro¬
duce them, and the mysteries which you now teach
them, to produce on the minds of the children ? i hey
have a direct tendency to inspire them with a taste for
vanity, frivolity, and dissipation. If you wish them to
be like the foelish, the dissipated, and the gay, you
are likely to obtain your purpose j hut if, on the con¬
trary, your views are to prepare them for discharging
the duties of life, you could not adopt more improper
means } for though they be well acquainted with all
those things on which you place so much value, yet
they have not thereby gained any accession of useful
knowledge. They are not now more able that before
to estimate the real value ol objects $ nay, their judg¬
ment is now more liable than before to be misled in
estimating the value ol the objects around them. Lux¬
ury, vanity, and fashion, have stamped on many things
an ideal value. By mingling at an early age in those
scenes of the world where luxury, vanity, and fashion,
reign with arbitrary away, young people are naturally
impressed with all those prejudices which these have
a tendency to inspire. Instead of acquiring an useful Educat
knowledge of the world, they are rendered incapable —V'iif'
of ever viewing the world with an unprejudiced and
discerning eye. If possible, therefore, we should ra¬
ther labour to confine young people from mingling in
the scenes of gay and dissipated life till after they have
attained maturity of age and judgment. They will
then view them in a proper light, and perhaps be
happy enough to escape the infectious contagion of
vice.
But there is another and a more valuable knowledgetvhat
of the world, which we ought industriously to com-knowlc,;
municate to them as soon as they are capable of recei-°f the
ving it. As soon as they are made thoroughly acquaint-^ors1adf^
ed with the distinctions between right and wrong, be-commeU].
tween virtue and vice, between piety and impiety, andcatedt.
have become capable of entering into our reasonings;young pe
we ought then to inform them concerning the variousP16-
establishments and institutions which exist in society j
concerning the customs, opinions, and manners of man¬
kind j and concerning the various degrees of strength
or weakness of mind, of ingenuity or dulness, of virtu¬
ous or vicious qualities, which discriminate those cha¬
racters which appear in society.
When at length the period arrives at which they
must be emancipated from subjection, and committed
to the guidance of their own conscience and reason, and
of those principles which we have laboured to inculcate
on their minds j let us warn them of the dangers to
which they are about to be exposed ; tell them of the
glory and the happiness to which they may attain ; in¬
spire them, if possible, with disdain for folly, vanity, and
vice, whatever dazzling or enchanting forms they may
assume ; and then dismiss them to enrich their minds
with new stores of knowledge by visiting foreign na¬
tions ; or, if that should be inconvenient, to enter im¬
mediately on the duties of some useful employment in
active life. See Education, Supplement.
E D U
Edulcora- EDULCORATION, properly signifies the render-
tion. ing substances more mild. Chemical edulcoration con-
* ‘ gists almost always in taking aAvay acids and other sa¬
line substances ; and this is effected by washing the bo¬
dies to which they adhere in a large quantity of water.
The washing of diaphoretic antimony, powder of alga-
roth, &c. till the water comes off quite pure and insi¬
pid, are instances of chemical edulcoration.—In phar¬
macy, juleps, potions, and other medicines, are said to
be edulcorated, by adding sugar or syrup.
EDWARD, the name of several kings of England.
See {History of) ENGLAND.
EDWARDS, George, fellow of the royal and an¬
tiquarian societies, was born at Stratiord, a hamlet be¬
longing to Westham in Essex, on the 3d of April 1694.
After having spent some time at school, he was put ap¬
prentice to a tradesman in Fenchurch street. His
master, who was eminent both for his.piety and skill in
the languages, treated him with great kindness ; but
about the middle of his apprenticeship, an accident
happened which totally put a stop to the hopes of
E D W
young Edwards’s advancing himself in the way of trade. Edwan
Dr Nicolas, a person of eminence in the physical world,v r
and a relation of his master’s, happened to die. The
Doctor’s books were removed to an apartment occu¬
pied by Edwards, who eagerly employed all his leisure
hours, both in the day and great part of the night, in
perusing those which treated of natural history, sculp¬
ture, painting, astronomy, and antiquities. The reading
of these books entirely deprived him of any inclination
for mercantile business he might have formerly had, and
he resolved to travel into foreign countries. In 1716, he
visited most of the principal towns in Holland, and in
about a month returned to England. Two years after,
he took a voyage to Norway, at the invitation of a
gentleman who was disposed to be his friend, and who
was nephew to the master of the ship in which he em¬
barked. At this time Charles XII. was besieging Fre-
derickshall} by which means our young naturalist was
hindered from making such excursions into the coun¬
try as otherwise he could have done, for the Swedes
were very careful to confine such strangers as could not
E D W [583
s. give a good account of themselves. But notwithstand- ne
ing all his precaution, he was confined by the Danish
guard, who supposed him to be a spy employed by the
enemy to get intelligence of their designs. However,
by obtaining testimonials of his innocence, a release was
granted. In 1718 he returned to England, and next
year visited Paris by the way of Dieppe. During his
stay in this country he made two journeys of 100 miles
each ; the first to Chalons in Champagne, in May 1720 ;
the second on foot, to Orleans and Bloisj but an edict
happening at that time to be issued for securing va¬
grants, in order to transport them to America, as the
banks of the Mississippi wanted population ; our au¬
thor narrowly escaped a western voyage. On his ar¬
rival in England, Mr Edwards closely pursued his fa¬
vourite study of natural history, applying himself to
drawing and colouring such animals as fell under his
notice. A strict attention to natural, more than pic¬
turesque beauty, claimed his earliest care : birds first
engaged his particular attention; and having pur¬
chased some of the best pictures of these subjects, he
was induced to make a few drawings of his own $ which
were admired by the curious, who encouraged our
young naturalist to proceed, by paying a good price
for his early labours. Among his first patrons and bene¬
factors may be mentioned James Theobalds, Esq. of
Lambeth ; a gentleman zealous for the promotion of
science. Our artist, thus unexpectedly encouraged, in¬
creased in skill and assiduity 5 and procured, by his ap¬
plication to his favourite pursuit, a decent subsistence
and a large acquaintance. However, he remitted his in¬
dustry in 1731 5 when, in company with two of his re¬
lations, he made an excursion to Holland and Brabant,
where he collected several scarce books and prints, and
had an opportunity of examining the original pictures of
several great masters at Antwerp, Brussels, Utrecht, and
other cities. In December 1733, by the recommenda¬
tion of the great Sir Hans Sloane, Bart, president of the
College of Physicians, he was chosen librarian, and had
apartments in the college. Th is office was peculiarly a-
greeable to his taste and inclination, as he had the oppor¬
tunity of a constant recourse to a valuable library, fill¬
ed with scarce and curious books on the subject of na¬
tural history, which he so assiduously studied. By de¬
grees he became one of the most eminent ornithologists
in this or any other country. His merit is so well
known in this respect, as to render any eulogium on his
performances unnecessary : but it may be observed, that
he never trusted to others what he could perform him-
self •, and often found it so difficult to give satisfaction
to his own mind, that he frequently made three or four
drawings to delineate the object in its most lively cha¬
racter, attitude, and representation. In 1743, the first
volume of the History of Birds was published in quarto.
His subcribers exceeding even his most sanguine expec¬
tations, a second volume appeared in 1747. The third
volume was published in 1750. In 1751, the fourth
volume came from the press. This volume being the last
he intended to publish at that time, he seems to have
considered it as the most perfect of his productions in
natural history j and therefore devoutly offered it up to
the great God of nature, in humble gratitude for all
the good things he had received from him in this world.
Hur author, in 1758, continued his labours under a
] ' E D Y
new title, viz. Gleanings of Natural History. A se- Edwards,
cond volume of the Gleanings was published in 1760. Edystone.
The third part, which made the seventh and last volume —v——^
of his works, appeared in 1764. Thus our author, af¬
ter along series of years, the most studious application,
and the most extensive correspondence to every quarter
of the world, concluded a work which contains engra¬
vings and descriptions of more than 600 subjects in na¬
tural history, not before described or delineated. He
likewise added a general index in French and English 5
which was afterwards perfected, with the Linnsean names,
by that great naturalist Linnaeus himself, who frequent¬
ly honoured him with his friendship and correspondence.
Some time after Mr Edwards had been appointed
library keeper to the Royal College of Physicians, he
was, on St Andrew’s day, in the year 1750, presented
with an honorary compliment by the president and
council of the Royal Society, with the gold medal, the
donation of Sir Godfrey Copley, Bart, annually given
on that day to the author of any new discovery in art
or nature, in consideration of his natural history just
then completed. A copy of this medal he had after¬
wards engraved, and placed under the title in the first
volume of his history. He was a few years afterwards
elected fellow of the Royal Society, and of the Society
of Antiquaries, London ; and also a member of many
of the academies of sciences and learning in different
parts of Europe. In compliment to those honorary
distinctions from such learned bodies, he presented ele¬
gant coloured copies of all his works to the Royal Col¬
lege^ of Physicians, the Royal Society, and Society of
Antiquarians, and to the British museum: also to the'
Royal Academy of Sciences at Paris, from whom he re¬
ceived the most polite and obliging letter of thanks by
their then secretary Monsieur Defoucby. His collec¬
tion of drawings, which amounted to upwards of 900,
were purchased by the earl of Bute. They contain a
great number of British as well as foreign birds, and
other animals hitherto not accurately delineated or de¬
scribed. After the publication of the last work, being
arrived at his 70th near, he found bis sight begin to fail,
and his hand lost its wonted steadiness. Pie retired from
public employment to a little bouse which be purchas¬
ed at Plaistow ; previous to which, be disposed of all
the copies, as well as plates of his works. The conver¬
sation of a few select friends, and the perusal of a few
select books, were the amusement of the evening of his
life; and now and then he made an excursion to some
of the principal cities in England, particularly to Bri¬
stol, Bath, Exeter, and Norwich. Some years before
his death, the alarming depredation of a cancer, which
baffled all the efforts of medical skill, deprived him of
the sight of one of his eyes : he also suffered much
from the stone, to which at different periods of his life
he had been subject. But in the severest paroxysms of
pain, he was scarcely known to utter a single complaint.
Having completed his 80th year, emaciated with age
and sickness, he died, deservedly lamented, on the 23d
of July 1772.
EDYSTONE, a lighthouse in the British channel,
built on rocks of the same name, which are supposed to
have got this appellation from the great variety of con¬
trary sets of the current among them, both upon the tide
of flood and the tide of ebb. They are situated nearly
south-
E D Y
[ 584 ]
E D Y
Edyvtonc. south-south-west from the middle of Plymouth sound, ac-
v- mJ cording to the true meridian ; and the distance, as near¬
ly as can he collected, is 12 miles and a half; and from
the same point in the Sound to the Jetty Head, called
the Barbican, in the port of Plymouth, is a mile and a
half more, which makes the distance of the Edystone
from the port of Plymouth to be nearly 14 miles.
“ The promontory called Ram Head is the nearest
point of land to the Edystone, which bears from thence
south scarcely one point west, distant about ten miles,
and consequently by the compass is nearly south-west by
south.—Those rocks are nearly in a line, but somewhat
within that line which joins the Stai't and the Lizard
Points ; and as they lie nearly in the direction ol ves¬
sels coasting up and down the channel, they must, be¬
fore a lighthouse was established thereon, have been
very dangerous, and often fatal to ships under such cir¬
cumstances : and many rich ships and other vessels have,
in former times, been actually lost upon those rocks,
particularly such as were homeward-bound from foreign
parts ; it being even now a common thing, in foggy
and thick hazy weather, for homewTard-bound ships
from long foreign voyages to make the Edystone light¬
house as the first point of land of Great Britain ; so
that in the night, and nearly at high water, when the
whole range of these rocks is covered, the most careful
mariner might run his ship upon them, if nothing was
placed there by way of warning.
“ The many fatal accidents which so frequently hap¬
pened, made it a thing very desirable to have a light¬
house built thereon, and that for many years before
any competent undertaker appeared. At length, how¬
ever, we learn, that in the year 1696 Mr Henry Win-
stanley, of Littlebury in the county of Essex, Gent,
was not only hardy enough to undertake it, but was
furnished with the necessary powers to put it in execu¬
tion. This, it is supposed, was done in virtue of the
o-eneral powers lodged in the master, wardens, and as¬
sistants of the Trinity-house at Deptford Strond to erect
sea marks, &c. by a statute of Queen Elizabeth, where¬
by they are impowered ‘ to erect and set up beacons,
marks, and signs for the sea, needful for avoiding the
dangers; and to renew, continue, and maintain the
same.’ Rut whether Mr Winstanley was a proprietor
or sharer of the undertaking under the Trinity-house, or
only the directing engineer employed in the execution,
does not now appear.
This gentleman had distinguished himself in a cer¬
tain branch of mechanics, the tendency of which is to
raise wonder and surprise. He had at his house at Lit¬
tlebury a set of contrivances, such as the following:—
Being taken into one particular room of his house, and
there0 observing an old slipper carelessly lying on the
middle of the floor,—if, as was natural, you gave it a
kick with vour foot, up started a ghost before you : If
you sat down in a certain chair, a couple of arms would
immediately clasp you in, so as to render it impossible
to disentangle yourself till your attendant set you at li¬
berty : And if vou sat down in a certain arbour by the
side of a canal, you was forthwith sent out afloat to the
middle of the canal, from whence it was impossible for
you to escape till the manager returned you to your
former place.—Whether those things were shewn to
strangers at his house for money, or were done by way
of amusement to those that came to visit the place, is
uncertain ; as Mr Winstanley is said to have been a
man of some property : but it is at least certain, that
he established a place of public exhibition at Hyde
park corner, called Winstanley's water-works; which
■were shewn at stated times at one shilling each person.
The particulars of those water-works are not now
known ; but, according to the taste of the times, we
must naturally suppose a great variety of Jets d'eau,
&c. (a).
“ The lighthouse Mr Winstanley built was begun in
the year 1696, and was more than four years in buibi-
ing; not (says the architect) for the greatness of
the work, but for the difficulty and danger in getting
backwards and forwards to the place. Ihe difficulties
were many, and the dangers not less. At length, in the
third year, all the work was raised, which to the vane
wTas eighty feet. Being all finished, with the lantern,
and all the rooms that were in it, they ventured to
lodge there soon after midsummer, for the greater dis¬
patch of the work. But the first night the weather
came bad, and so continued, that it was eleven days be¬
fore any boats could come near them again, and not
being acquainted with the height of the sea rising, they
were°almost all the time drowned with wet, and their
provisions in as bad a condition, though they worked
night and day to make shelter for themselves. In this
storm they lost some of their materials, although they did
what they could to save them ; but the boat then return¬
ing, they all left the house to be refreshed on shore ; and
as soon as the weather permitted, they returned again
and finished all, and put up the light on the 14th of
November 1698 ; which being so late in the year, it
was three days before Christmas before they had relief
to get on shore again, and were almost at the last extre¬
mity for want of provisions; but by good providence,
then two boats came with provisions, and the family that
was to take care of the light.
“ The fourth year, finding in the winter the effects
the sea had upon the house, and burying the lantern at
times, although more than 60 feet high ; Mr W instanley
early in the spring encompassed the building w-ith a new
work of four feet thickness from the foundation, making
all solid near 20 feet high ; and taking down the upper
part of the first building, and enlarging every partin its
proportion, he raised it forty feet higher than it was at
first ; and yet the sea, in time of storms, flew up in ap¬
pearance 100 feet (b) above the vane ; and at times
covered half the side of the house and the lantern as it
they were under water. ... ..
“ On the finishing thisbuilding, it was generally sau,
that in the time of hard weather, such was the height
ot
;
(a) It appears that the exhibition of these water-works continued some years
ley, as they were existing in the month of September I709> being mentioned in
(b) Mr Smeaton says this is short of its real height 50 feet.
after the death of Mr Winstan-
the Taller of that date.
E D Y [ 585
of the seas, that it was very possible for a six-oared boat
to be lifted up upon a wave, and driven through the
open gallery of the lighthouse.
“ In November 1703, the fabric wanted some repairs,
and Mr Winstariley went down to Plymouth to super¬
intend the performance of them. The opinion of the
common people was, that the building would not be of
long duration. Mr Winstanley, however, held different
sentiments. Being amongst his friends previous to his
going off with his workmen on account of those repara¬
tions, the danger was intimated to him ; and it was said,
] E D Y
mencing from the day that a light should be exhi- Edy.tone.
10 enable him to fulfil his undertaking, Captain
.Lovett engaged Mr John Rudyerd to be his engineer
or architect ; and his choice, though Mr Rudyerd does
not appear to have been bred to any mechanical busi¬
ness or scientifical profession, was not ill made. He at
that time kept a linen-draper’s shop upon Ludgate-hilh
His want of experience, however, was in a degree assist¬
ed by Mr Smith and Mr Notcutt, both ship-wrights
-    > oxiip-
lhat one day or other the lighthouse ^uircirt'abfy'be h^I.e^hl^l^tlvashnildit.’ thenZtoui ',Ut
r ‘-,1° I "J'btr,Ulur’ % TJX We 1 ”?.ra . “ 11 “ -ttUl in wliat wav ,L .entli
of the strength of his building, he should only wish to
be there in the greatest storm that ever blew under the
face of the heavens, that he might see what effect it
would have upon the structure.”
“ In this wish he was soon gratified ; for while he
was there with his workmen and light-keepers, that
dreadful storm began which raged the most violently
upon the 26th November 1703, in the night; and of
all the accounts ot the kind which history furnishes us
with, we have none that has exceeded this in Great
Britain, or was more injurious or extensive in its deva¬
station.
“ The next morning, when the storm was abated,
nothing of the lighthouse was to be seen. The follow¬
ing account of its destruction was printed at the time,
by Daniel Defoe, in a book entitled T/ie Storm” ’
“ The loss of the lighthouse called the Edystone, at
Plymouth, is another article of which we never heard
any particulars, other than this, that at night it was
standing, and in the morning all the upper part of the
gallery was blown down, and all the people in it perish¬
ed, and, by a particular misfortune, Mr Winstanley the
contriver of it; a person whose loss is very much re¬
gretted by such as knew him, as a very useful man to
his country. The loss of that lighthouse is also a con¬
siderable damage, as it is very doubtful whether it will
ever be attempted again ; and it was a great security to
the sailors, many a good ship having been lost there
in former times.
“It was very remarkable, that, as we are informed
at the same time the lighthouse aforesaid was blown
down, the model of it in Mr Winstanley’s house at
Littlebury in Essex, above 200 miles from the light¬
house,$fell down and was broken to pieces.!
“ At Plymouth they felt a full proportion of the
storm in its utmost fury. The Edystone has been al¬
ready mentioned ; but it was a double loss, in that the
lighthouse had not been long down when the Winchel-
Mti, a homeward-bound Virginia-man, was split upon
the rock where that building stood, and most of her
men drowned.”
“ The great utility of Mr Winstanley’s 1 ighthouse had
been sufficiently evident to those for whose use it was
erected; and the loss of the W^nchelsea Virginia-man,
before mentioned, proved a powerful incentive to such
as were interested, to exert themselves in order for its
restoration. It was not, however, begun so soon as
might have been expected. In spring of the year 1706,
an act of parliament passed enabling the Trinity house to
rebuild, but it was no earlier than July that it was be¬
gun. The undertaker was a Captain Lovell or Lovett,
who took it for the term of ninety-nine years, com-
Vol. VII. Part II. j
. ^   — way this gentleman
became qualified for the execution of the work : it is
sufficient that he directed the performance thereof in a
masterly manner, and so as perfectly to answer the end
for which it was intended. He saw the errors in the
formei building, and avoided them : instead of a poly¬
gon, he chose a circle for the outline of his building,
and carried up the elevation in that form. His princi¬
pal aim appears to have been use and simplicity; and
indeed, in a building so situated, the former could
hardly be acquired in its full extent without the latter.
He seems to have adopted ideas the very reverse of his
predecessor ; for all the unwieldy ornaments at top, the
open gallery, the projecting cranes, and other contri¬
vances, more for ornament and pleasure than use, Mr
Rudyerd laid totally aside : he saw, that how beautiful
soever ornaments might be in themselves, yet when they
are improperly applied, and out of place, they shew a
bad taste, and betray ignorance of its first principle,
judgment.
“ The building was begun in July 1706, a light
was put up in it the 28th July 1708, and it was
completely finished in 1709. The quantity of ma¬
terials expended in the construction, was 500 tons of
stone, 1200 tons of timber, 80 tons of iron, and 33
tons of lead; of trenails, screws, and rack-bolts 2500
each.
“Louis XIV. being at war with England during
the proceeding with this building, a French privateer
took the men at work upon it, together with their
tools, and carried them to France; and the captain
was in expectation of a reward for the achievement.
While the captives lay in prison, the transaction reached
the ears of that monarch. He immediately ordered
them to be released, and the captors to be put in their
place ; declaring, that though he was at war with
England, he was not at war with mankind ; he there¬
fore directed the men to be sent back to their work
with presents ; observing, that the Edystone lighthouse
was so situated, as to be of equal service to all nations
having occasion to navigate the channel that divides
France from England.”
In the year 1713, Captain Lovett being dead, his
property in the Edystone lighthouse was sold before a
master in chancery to Robert Weston, Esq. Noyes,
Esq. of Gray’s Inn ; and   Cheetham, Esq. an al¬
derman of Dublin, who divided the same into eight
shares. After a few years some repairs were found
wanting ; and in 1723, Mr Rudyerd being, we suppose
then dead, Mr John Holland, foreman ship-wright in
the dock-yard at Plymouth, became overseer and di¬
rector of the necessary reparations ; which office he
again executed in 1734.
4 E « The
Fdystone.
E D Y [ 586 ] E D Y
“ The catastrophe of this light-house took place on the
2d December 1755, when the light-keeper upon watch,
about two o’clock in the morning, went into the lantern
as usual to snuff the candles j he found the whole in a
smoke; and upon opening the door of the lantern into
the balcony, a flame instantly burst from the inside of
the cupola: he immediately endeavoured to alarm his
companions j but they being in bed, and asleep, were
not so ready in coming to his assistance as the occasion
required. As there were always some leather buckets
kept in the house, and a tub of water in the lantern,
he attempted to extinguish, the fire by throwing water
from the balcony upon the outside cover of lead. By
this time his companions arriving, he encouraged them
to fetch up water with the buckets from the sea ; but
the height of the place, added to the consternation which
must attend such an unexpected event, rendered their
efforts fruitless. The flames gathered strength every
moment j the poor man with every exertion, having the
water to throw four yards higher than himself, found
himself unable to stop the progress of the conflagration,
and was obliged to desist.
“ As he was looking upward with the utmost attention
to see the effect of the water thrown, a position which,
physiognomists tell us, occasions the mouth naturally to
be a little open, a quantity of lead dissolved by the heat
of the flames suddenly rushed like a torrent from the
roof, and fell upon his head, face, and shoulders, and
burnt him in a dreadful manner : from this moment he
had a violent internal sensation, and imagined that a
quantity of this lead had passed his throat, and got into
his body. Under this violence of pain and anxiety, as
every attempt had proved ineffectual, and the rage of
the flames was increasing, it is not to be wondered that
the terror and dismay of the three men increased in pro¬
portion ; so that they all found themselves intimidated,
and glad to make their retreat from the immediate
scene of horror into one of the rooms below. They
therefore descended as the fire approached, with no
other prospect than that of securing their immediate
safety, with scarcely any hopes of being saved from
destruction.
“ How soon the flames were seen on the shore is
uncertain •, but early in the morning they were per¬
ceived by some of the Cawsand fishermen, and intelli¬
gence thereof given to Mr Edwards, of Rame, in that
neighbourhood, a gentleman of some fortune, and more
humanity, who immediately sent out a fishing-boat
and men to the relief of the distressed objects in the
light-house (c).
“ The boat and men got thither about ten o’clock,
after the fire had been burning full eight hours j in which
time the three light-keepers were not only driven from
all the rooms and the staircase, but, to avoid the falling
of the timber and red-hot bolts, &c. upon them, they
were found sitting in the hole or cave on the east side of
the rock under the iron ladder, almost in a state of stu¬
pefaction * it being then low water.
“ With much difficulty they were taken off '7 when
finding it impossible to do any further service, they
hastened to Plymouth. No sooner were they set on
shore, than one of the men ran away, and was never Edysions '
afterwards heard of. This circumstance, though it *
might lead to suspicions unfavourable to the man, Mr
Smeaton is of opinion ought not to weigh any thing
against him, as he supposes it to have arisen from
a panic which sometimes seizes weak minds, and
prevents their acting agreeable to the dictates of right
reason. > .
“ It was not long before the dreadful news arrived at
Plymouth. Alderman Tolcher and his son immediate¬
ly went to sea, but found it impossible to do any thing
with effect. Admiral West also, who then lay in Ply¬
mouth sound, sent a sloop properly armed, with a boat
and an engine therein, which also carried out Mr Jes-
sop the surveyor. This vessel arrived early in the day.
Many attempts were made to play the engine, but the
agitation of the sea prevented it from being employed
with success. On the succeeding days the fire still
continued, and about the 7th the destruction of the
whole was completed.
“ The man who has been mentioned already was
named Henry Hall, of Stonehouse, near Plymouth, and
though aged 94 years, being of a good constitution, was
remarkably active, considering his time of life. He
invariably told the surgeon who attended him, Mr Spry
(now Dr Spry) of Plymouth, that if he would do any
thing effectual to his recovery, he must relieve his sto¬
mach from the lead which he was sure was within him j
and this he not only told Dr Spry, but all those about
him, though in a very hoarse voice, and the same asser¬
tion he made to Mr Jessop.—The reality of the asser¬
tion seemed, however, then incredible to Dr Spry, who
could scarcely suppose it possible than any human being
could exist after receiving melted lead into the stomachy
much less that he should afterwards be able to bear
towing through the sea from the rock, and also the fa¬
tigue and inconvenience from the length of time he was
in getting on shore before any remedies could be applied.
The man, however, did not shew any symptons of be¬
ing much worse or better until the sixth day after the
accident, when he was thought to mend: he constant¬
ly took his medicines, and swallowed many things
both liquid and solid, till the tenth or eleventh day 5 af¬
ter which he suddenly grew worse *, and on the twelfth,
being seized with cold sweats and spasms, he soon af¬
ter expired.
“ His body was opened by Dr Spry, and in the sto¬
mach was found a solid piece of lead of a flat oval form,
which weighed 7 ounces and § drachms. So extraor¬
dinary a circumstance appearing to deserve the notice
of the philosophical world, an account of it was sent to
the Royal Society, and printed in the 49th volume of
their Transactions, p. 477.
“ The light-house being thus demolished, the proprie¬
tors immediately turned their thoughts to the rebuild¬
ing of it. They had in it a term of near half a cen¬
tury, but some shares being settled by the marriage ar¬
ticles of one of the parties, some impediments arose which
could not be overcome without the aid of parliament,
which was soon obtained. To one of the partners, Ro¬
bert Weston, Esq. the management of the business was
committed,
(c) This benevolent gentleman caught a cold on this occasion which cost him his life.
E tone
E D Y .. [ 587 ] ED
ccmmitted, and he thought it cequislte to apply to the immediately began his operations.
earl of Macclesfield, then president of the Royal So¬
ciety, to recommend a proper person to superintend the
work. On communicating the object of his visit, Lord
Macclesfield told him, that there was one of the Royal
Society whom he would venture to recommend to the
business j yet that the most material part of what he
knew of him was, his having within the compass of the
last seven years recommended himself to the Society by
the communication of several mechanical inventions and
improvements j and though he had at first made it his
business to execute things in the instrument way (with¬
out having been bred to the trade), yet on account of
the merit of his performances, he had been chosen a
member of the Society, and that for about three years
past, having found the business of a philosophical instru¬
ment-maker not likely to afford an adequate recom¬
pense, he had wholly applied himself to such branches
of mechanics as were wanted by the proprietors ; that
he was then somewhere in the north of England, exe¬
cuting a work : and that as he had always satisfied his
employers, he would not be likely to undertake what he
could not perform.
“ The person thus described was Mr Smeaton, who
was written to by Mr Benjamin Wilson the painter,
laconically informing him, that he was the person fixed
upon to rebnild the Edystone lighthouse. But this in¬
timation conveying to his mind no more than a mere
notice that he might, in common with others, deliver
in proposals to repair it, not knowing then that it was
entirely destroyed, it afforded but little satisfaction,
and he returned only a cool answer. Mr Wilson’s re¬
ply was still more laconic: That the demolition was
total, and that as Nathan said unto David, ‘ Thou art
the man.’
“ Mr Smeaton immediately divested himself of his
engagements in the north, and arrived in London the
23d of February 1756, and had an interview next day
with the principal proprietor. The mode of rebuilding
then became the subject of their deliberations, which
at length ended in a determination to rebuild it with
stone.
“ On the jth of April Mr Smeaton first set his foot
on the Edystone rock. He immediately began to take
his measures for proceeding on the work. He made all
the necessary inquiries on the spot, and in the neigh¬
bourhood. He considered the nature and quality of the
stone proper to be used, and from whence it might be
obtained at the best and cheapest rates. He visited the
quarries at Beare in Devonshire, and the isle of Port¬
land, and from the latter of these places he at length
determined to be supplied with his materials.
“ Having proceeded thus far, he returned to London,
and had a meeting with the proprietors, who, for rea¬
sons highly honourable to them, confirmed their deter¬
mination to rebuild with stone. He accordingly pre¬
pared his models and designs, which were approved
by his employers, and directed to he exhibited to the
lords of the Admiralty, and the masters of the Tri¬
nity house. To the former they were shewn ; but the
latter having fixed their time for viewing them at so
distant a day as to hazard the progress of the work, he
determined to set off for Plymouth without their in¬
spection.
“ He arrived at Plymouth the 23d of July 1756, and
. *  appointed his Edystone.
assistants, hired his men, settled their wages, and drew 1—T
up rules for their conduct. He also hired a piece of
ground for a work-yard. On the 3d of August they
went off to the rock, and continued to work as long as
the weather would permit. The next winter Mr
Smeaton determined to continue at Plymouth, to go
through a course of experiments on cements. On the
3d ol June 1737, {be works were resumed, and on the
J2th the first stone was fixed. From this time the
erection proceeded with regularity and dispatch, and
with no other interruptions than what might be expect¬
ed from the nature of the work, until the 9th of Octo¬
ber 1759, when, after innumerable difficulties and dan¬
gers, a happy period was put to the undertaking, with¬
out the loss of life or limb to any one concerned in it,
or accident by which the work could be said to be ma¬
terially retarded.
“ It now remained only to wait for a storm to try
the durability of the building. J he hard weather
I759> I7^°* and 1761, appeared to make no im¬
pression. The year 1762 was ushered in by a tempest
of the first magnitude, the rage of which was so great,
that one of those who had been used to predict its
downfal was heard to say, ‘ If the Edystone lighthouse
is no w standing, it will stand to the day of judgment j’
and in reality, from this time its existence has been so
entirely laid out of men’s minds, that whatever storms
have happened since, no inquiry has ever been made
concerning it. So confident was a very intelligent
friend of Mr Smeaton’s of its durability, that he wrote
to him, that he might for ever rid himself of any uneasy
thought of the house as to its danger from wind and
sea.
“ The lighthouse is attended by three men, who re¬
ceive 25I. a-year each, with an occasional absence in
summer. Formerly there were only two, who watched
alternately four hours and four hours $ but one being
taken ill, and dying, the necessity of an additional hand
became apparent. In this dilemma, the living man
found himself in an awkward situation. Being appre¬
hensive if he tumbled the dead body into the sea, which
was the only way in his power to dispose of it, he might
be charged with murdex-, he was induced for some time
to let the dead body lie, in hopes that the boat might
be able to land, and relieve him from the distress he
was in. By degrees the body became so offensive,
that it was not in his power to get quit of it without
help ; for it was near a month before the attending
boat could effect a landing j and then it was not with¬
out the greatest difficulty that it could be done, when
they did land. To such a degree was the whole build¬
ing filled with the stench of the corpse, that it was all
they could do to get the dead body disposed of and
thrown into the sea, and it was some time after that be¬
fore the rooms could be freed from the noisome stench
that was left.
“ It is said, that while two light-keepers only were
employed, on some disgust they forbore to speak to
each other. A person observing to one of them how
happy they might live in their state of retirement,
‘ Yes,’ says the man, ‘ very comfortably, if we could
have the use of our tongues j but it is now a full month
since my partner and I have spoke to each other.’
“ To these anecdotes we shall add one more, and con-
4 E 2 elude.
E F F
[ 588 ]
E F F
Ed y stone
tl
Effendi.
elude. A shoemaker was carrying out to the light¬
house in order to be light-keeper. In their way, says
r the skipper to him, ‘ How happens it, friend Jacob,
that vou should choose to go out to be a light-keeper,
when you can on shore fas I am told) earn half-a-ciown
and three shillings a-day in making leathern hose
(leathern pipes so called) ; whereas the light-keeper’s
salary is but 25I. a-year, which is scarce ten shillings a-
week.’ Says the shoemaker, ‘ I go to be a light-
keeper, because I don’t like confinement.1 After this
answer had produced its share of merriment, he at last
explained himself by saying, that he did not like to be
confined to work.
“ The whole time between the first stroke upon the
rock and leaving the lighthouse complete, was three
years nine weeks and three days 5 from the 5th °f De¬
cember 1755, to exhibiting the light October 1759*
was three years ten months and sixteen days; and
the whole time of working on the rock m days 10
hours (D).”
EEL. See Murjena, Ichthyology Index.
EEL-Fishing. See Bobbing and Sniggling.
The silver eel may be catched with several sorts of
baits, as powdered beef, garden worms, minnows, hens
guts, fish garbage, &c. The most proper time for tak¬
ing them is in the night, fastening your line to the bank
sides, with your laying hook in the water : or a line
may be thrown with good store of hooks, baited and
plumbed, with a float to discover where the line lies,
that they may be taken up in the morning.
Microscopic Eels. See Animalcule, N° 8.
Eels in vinegar, are similar to those in sour paste.
The taste of vinegar was formerly thought to be occa¬
sioned by the biting of these little animals, but that
opinion has been long justly exploded. Mentzelius
says, he has observed the actual transformation of these
little creatures into flies.
Eel Spear, a forked instrument with three or four
jagged teeth, used for catching eels : that with the four
teeth is best, which they strike into the mud at the bot¬
tom of the river, and if it strike against any eels it never
fails to bring them up.
EEEAl;tE,, or Effraye', in Heraldry, a term ap¬
plied to a beast rearing on its hind legs, as if it were
frighted or provoked.
EFFECT, in a general sense, is that which results
from, or is produced by, any cause. See Cause.
EFFEMINATE, womanish, unmanly, voluptuous.
Effeminate {eff'eminati'), according to the vulgate,
are mentioned in several placescof scripture. The word
is there used to signify such as were consecrated to some
profane god, and prostituted themselves in honour of
him. The Hebrew word hadesh, translated effeminatus,
properly signifies consecrated, and hence was attributed
to those of either sex, who publicly prostituted them¬
selves in honour of Baal and Astarte. Moses expressly
forbids these irregularities among the Israelites ; but the
bistory of the Jews shows, that they were notwithstand¬
ing frequently practised. Levit. xxiii. 18.
EFFENDI, in the Turkish language, signifies ma¬
ster : and accordingly is a title very extensively applied $ £(j-CB
as to the mufti and emirs, to the priests of mosques, to |]
men of learning, and of the law. The grand chancellor
of the empire is called rets effendi. , ii|U'lltl"
EFFERVESCENCE, an intestine motion excited
betwixt the parts of two bodies of different natures,
when they reciprocally dissolve each other. Efferves¬
cences are commonly attended with bubbles, vapours,
small jets of the liquid, and a hissing noise •, and these
phenomena are occasioned by the air which at that time
disengages itself. Sometimes also they are accompanied
with a great degree of heat, from the decomposition of
some substances and the formation of new compounds.
Formerly the word fei'mentaiion was also applied to
effervescences ; but now that word is confined to the
motion naturally excited in animal and vegetable mat¬
ters, and from which new combinations among their
principles take place.
EFFIGY, the portrait, figure, or exact representa¬
tion of a person.
Effigy, is also used for the print or impression of a
coin, representing the prince’s head who struck it.
Effigy, to execute or degrade in, denotes the execu¬
tion or degradation of a condemned contumacious cri¬
minal, who cannot be apprehended or seized. In
France, they hang a picture on a gallows or gibbet,
wherein is represented the criminal, with the quality or
manner of the punishment : at the bottom is written
the sentence of condemnation. Such persons as are sen¬
tenced to death are executed in effigy.
EFFLORESCENCE, among physicians, the same
with exanthema. See Exanthema.
Efflorescence, in Chemistry, denotes the formation
of a kind of mealy powder on the surface of certain
bodies. Efflorescence is occasioned either by decompo¬
sition or drying. The efflorescence which happens to
cobalt and martial pyrites is of the first ; and that ob¬
served on the crystals of soda, Glauber’s salt, &c. of the
latter kind. An efflorescence is sometimes also a species
of crystallization ; such as the beautiful vegetations
which shoot up from different saline substances. See
Crystallization.
EFFLORESCENTIA, in Botany, (from effioresco
to bloom) ; the precise time of the year and month in
which every plant shows its first flowers.
Some plants flower twice a-year, as is common be¬
tween the tropics ; others oftener, as the monthly rose.
The former are called by botanists biferce ; the latter,
multferce.
The time of flowering is determined by the degree ot
heat which each species requires. Mezereon and snow¬
drop produce their flowers in February 5 primrose, in
the beginning of March •, the greater number of plants,
during the month of May; corn, and other grain, 111
the beginning of June ; the vine, in the middle of the
same month ; several compound flowers, in the months
of July and August 5 lastly, meadow-saffron flowers in
the month of October, and announces the speedy ap¬
proach of winter.
Grass of Parnassus always flowers about the time ot
cutting
(d) This account is extracted from a Narrative of the Building, and a Description of the Construction of the
Edystone Lighthouse with stone. By John Smeaton, Civil Engineer, 1. R. S.
E G E
lijros-
:)lia
i.ena.
cutting down the hay ; and in Sweden, the different
species of thistle, mountain lettuce, succory, and bal¬
sam, seldom flower till after the summer solstice: the
countrymen even know, as by a kalendar, that the sol¬
stice is past when these plants begin to produce their
flowers.
The temperature of the seasons has a great influ¬
ence both in accelerating and retarding the flowering
of plants. All plants are earlier in warm countries:
hence such as are cultivated out of their native soil,
never flower till the heat of the climate, or situation in¬
to which they are removed, is equal to that under the
influence of which they produced florvers in their own
country. For this reason, all exotics from warm cli¬
mates are later in this country than many plants which
it naturally produces.
In general, we may observe, that the plants of the
coldest countries, and those produced on the mountains
in all climates, being of equal temperature, flower
about the same time, viz. during our spring in Eu¬
rope.
Plants that grow betwixt the tropics, and those of
temperate climates, flow’er during our summer.
Plants of temperate climates, situated under the same
parallel of latitude with certain parts of Europe, but
removed much farther to the west, such as Canada, Vir¬
ginia, and Mississippi, do not produce flowers till au¬
tumn.
Plants of temperate climates in the opposite hemi¬
sphere to Europe, flower during our winter, which is
the summer of these regions.
Linnaeus and Adanson have given a sketch of the
different times in which plants flower at Upsal and
Paris.
EFFLUVIUM, in Physiology, a term much used by
philosophers and physicians, to express the minute par¬
ticles which exhale from most, if not all, terrestrial bo¬
dies, in form of sensible vapours.
EFFRONTES, in church history, a sect of here¬
tics, in 1534* w^° scraped their forehead with a knife
till it bled, and then poured oil into the wound. This
ceremony served them instead of baptism. They are
likewise said to have denied the divinity of the Holy
Spirit.
.EFFUSION, the pouring out of any liquid thing
with some degree of force. In the ancient heathen sa¬
crifices there were divers effusions of wine and other li¬
quors, called libations.
Effusion, or Fusion, in Astronomy, denotes that
part of the sign Aquarius, represented on celestial
globes and planispheres, by the water issuing out of the
urn of the water-bearer.
EFT, or Water Lizard. See Lacerta, Erpe-
tology Index.
EGERIA, or ALGERIA, a nymph held in great
veneration by the Romans. She was courted by Nu-
ma Pompilius; and according to Ovid, she became his
wjfp. This prince frequently visited her j and that he
C 589 ]
EGG
might introduce his laws and new regulations into the
state, he solemnly declared before the Roman people,
that they were previously sanctified and approved by
the nymph Egeria. Ovid says, that Egeria was so dis¬
consolate at the death of Numa, that she melted into
tears, and was changed into a fountain by Diana. Sire
is reckoned by many as a goddess who presided over the
pregnancy of women $ and some maintain that she is
the same as Lucina.
EGG, in Physiology, a body formed in certain fe¬
males, in which is contained an embrvo or foetus of
the same species, under a cortical surface or shell. The
exterior part of an egg is a shell; which in a hen, for
instance, is a white, thin, and friable cortex, including
all the other parts. The shell becomes more brittle by
eing exposed to a dry heat. It is lined everywhere
with a very thin but a pretty tough membrane, which
dividing at, or very near the obtuse end of the egg,
forms a small bag, where only air is contained. In new
laid eggs this follicle appears very little, but becomes
larger when the egg is kept.
Within this are contained the albumen or white, and
the vitellus or yolk j each of which have their different
virtues.
The albumen is a cold, viscous, white liquor in the
egg, different in consistence in its different parts. It is
observed, that there are two distinct albumens, each
of which is enclosed in its proper membrane. Of these
one is very thin and liquid: the other is more dense
and viscous, and of a somewhat whiter colour j but,
in old and stale eggs, after some days incubation, in¬
clining to a yellow. As this second albumen covers
the yolk on all sides, so it is itself surrounded by the
other external liquid. The albumen of a fecundated
egg is as sweet and free from corruption, during all
the time of incubation, as it is in new laid eggs ; as is
alao the vitellus. As the eggs of hens consist of
two liquors separated one from another, and distin¬
guished by two branches of umbilical veins, one of
which goes to the vitellus, and the other to the albu¬
men ; so it is very probable that they are of different
natures, and consequently appointed for different pur¬
poses.
When the vitellus grows warm with incubation, it
becomes more humid, and like melting wax or fat 5
whence it takes up more space. For as the foetus increas¬
es, the albumen insensibly wastes away and condenses:
the vitellus, on the contrary, seems to Jose little or no¬
thing of its bulk when the foetus is perfected, and only
appears more liquid and humid when the abdomen of
the foetus begins to be formed.
I he chick in the egg is first nourished by the albu¬
men : and when this is consumed, by the vitellus, as
with milk. If we compare the chalazse to the extre¬
mities of an axis passing through the vitellus, which is
of a spherical form, this sphere will be composed of
two unequal portions, its axis not passing through its
centre ; consequently, since it is heavier than the white,
its smaller portion must always be uppermost in all po¬
sitions of the egg.
The yellowish white round spot, called eicatricula,
is placed on the middle of the smaller portion of the
yolk 5 and therefore, from what has been said in the
last paragraph, must always appear on the superior part
of the vitellus.
Not long before the exclusion of the chick, the
whole yolk is taken into its abdomen j and the shell,
at the obtuse end of the egg, frequently appears crack¬
ed some time before the exclusion of the chick. The
chick is sometimes observed to perforate the shell with
its
Egg*-
EGG [59°
its beak. After exclusion, the yolk is gradually wasted,
1 being conveyed into the small guts by a small duct.
Eggs differ very much according to the birds that
lay them, as to their colour, form, bigness, age, and
the different way of dressing them: those most used
in food are hens eggs; of which, such as are new laid
are best. # . . ,
As to the preservation of eggs, it is observed that
the egg is always quite full when it is first laid by the
hen ; but from that time it gradually becomes less and
less so, to its decay: and however compact and close
its shell may appear, it is nevertheless perforated with
a multitude of small holes, though too minute for the
discernment of our eyes, the effect of which is a daily
decrease of matter within the egg, from the time of its
being laid ; and the perspiration is much quicker in hot
weather than in cold.
To preserve the egg fresh, there needs no more than
to preserve it full, and stop its transpiration , the me¬
thod of doing which is, by stopping up those pores with
matter which is not soluble in watery fluids: and on
this principle it is, that all kinds of varnish, prepared
with spirit of wine, will preserve eggs fresh for a long
time, if they are carefully rubbed all over the shell:
tallow, or mutton fat, is also good for this purpose.
Artificial Method oj Hatching Eggs. See Hatch¬
ing.
]
E G B
EGINA. See ^Egina.
EGINHART, secretary to the emperor Charles the
Great, was a German. He is the most ancient histo-,
rian of that nation, and wrote very eloquently for a
man of the 9th century. It is said, that he insinuated
himself so well into the favour of Imma, daughter to
Charles the Great, that he obtained from her whatever
he desired. Charles the Great, having found out the
intrigue, did not do as Augustus, who is thought to
have banished Ovid, because he believed him to be too
much favoured by Julia •, for he married the two lovers
together, and gave them a fine estate in land.
EGLANTINE. See Rosa, Botany Index.
EGLON, a king of the Moabites, who oppressed
the Israelites for 18 years (Judges iii. 12—14.). Cab¬
inet confounds this servitude of the Hebrews with that
under Chusan-rishathaim, making it to subsist only eight
years, from the year of the world 2591 to 2599 *,
whereas this servitude under Eglon lasted 18 years,
and commenced in the year of the world 2661,. and 62
years after they had been delivered by Othniel from
the subjection of Chusan-rishathaim.
EGRA, a town of Bohemia subject to the house of
Austria. E. Long. 12. 3°- 5°'
EGRET, in Ornithology, a species of ardea. See
Ardea, Ornithology Index.
EGYPT.
E<m>t T7GYPT, an extensive country of Africa, lying be-
1 > XL tween 30° and 330 of east longitude, and between
21° and 310 of north latitude. It is bounded by the
Mediterranean on the north $ by the Red sea and
isthmus of Suez, which divide it from Arabia, on the
east; by Abyssinia or Ethiopia, on the south ; and by
the desert? of Barca and Nubia on the west; being 600
miles in length from north to south, and about 150 in
extreme breadth from east to west. ....
Different. As a nation, the Egyptians may with justice lay
names. claim to as high antiquity as any in the world, l ie
country was most probably peopled by Mizraim the
son of Ham and grandson of Noah. By its ancient
inhabitants it was called Chemia, and is still called
Chemi in the language of the Copts or native Egyp¬
tians •, and this name it is supposed to have received
from Ham the son of Noah. In scripture, we find it
most generally named Misraim ; though in the Psalms
it is styled the land of Ham.—To us it is best known
by the name Egypt, the etymology of which is more
uncertain.—Some derive it from JEgyptus, a supposed
king of the country ; others say it signifies no more
than “ the land of the Copts Aia in Greek signify¬
ing a country, and JEcoptos being easily softened into
JEoyptus.— The most probable opinion, however, seems
to be that it received its name from the blackness of
its soil, and the dark colour both of its river and inha¬
bitants : for such a blackish colour is by the Greeks
called (rgyptios, from gyps, and eegyps, “ a vulture;
and by the Latins subvultunus. ior the same reason,
other names of a similar import have been given to tins
country by the Greeks j such as Aeria and Melambo-
lus: the river itself was called Melo or Melas; by the
Hebrews, Shihor; and by the Ethiopians, Sins; all Egypt,
of which signify “ black.” _ v—iT
Ancient Egypt is by some divided into two parts,
the Upper and Lower Egypt: by others into three,
the Upper Egypt, properly so called, or Thebais; the
Middle Egypt, or Heptanomes ; and the Lower Egypt,
the best part of which was the delta, or that space en¬
compassed by the branches of the Nile. See Thebais,
&c.
The Egyptians, like the Chinese, pretend to an ex¬
cessive antiquity, pretending to have records for ten,
twenty, or even fifty thousand years. Thus their hi¬
story is so much involved in obscurity and fable, that
for many ages it must be passed over in silence.—The
first mortal king whom the Egyptians own to have
reigned in that country, was Menes or Menas. At
what time he reigned, it would be to very little pur¬
pose to inquire. He had been preceded, however, by
a set of immortals, who it seems left him the kingdom
in a very bad situation : for the whole country, except
Thebais, was a morass j the people also were entirely
destitute of religion, and every kind of knowle ge
which could render their life comfortable and happy.
Menes diverted the course of the Nile, which before
that time had washed the foot of a sandy mountain
near the borders of Libya, built the city of Memphis,
instructed his subjects, and did other things of a similar
kind which are usually attributed to the founders 0
k From the time of Menes, the Egyptian chronology invade'
is filled with a list of 330 kings, who reigned 14°°^
years, but did nothing worthy of notice. ’Ihe _
distinct piece of history we find concerning Egyp
EGYPT.
j!pt( the irruption of the Shepherds, by whom the country
was subdued 5 but whether this revolution happened
during the vast interval of indolence above mentioned,
or before or after, cannot be known. The affair is
thus related by Manetho. It happened, in the reign
of Timaus king of Egypt, that God being displeased
with the Egyptians, they suffered a great revolution j
for a multitude of men, ignoble in their race, took
courage, and, pouring from the east into Egypt, made
war with the inhabitants; who submitted to them with¬
out resistance. The shepherds, however, behaved with
the greatest cruelty *, burnt the cities, threw down the
temples of the gods j and put to death the inhabitants,
carrying the women and children into captivity, This
people came from Arabia, and were called Hycsos, or
king-shepherds. They held Egypt in subjection for 259
years*, at the end of which period, they were obliged
by a king of Upper Egypt, named Amosis, or Theth-
mosis, to leave the country. This prince’s father had,
it seems, gained great advantages over them, and shut
them up in a place called Aborts, or Avaris, contain¬
ing 10,000 acres of land. Here they were closely be¬
sieged by Amosis, with an army of 400,000 men ; but
at last the king, finding himself unable to reduce them
by force, proposed an agreement, which was readily
accepted. Inconsequence of this agreement, the shep¬
herds withdrew from Egypt with their families, to the
number of 240,000 $ and, taking the way of the de¬
sert, entered Syria : but fearing the Assyrians, who were
then very powerful, and masters of Asia, they enter¬
ed the laud of Judaea j and built there a city capable
of holding so great a multitude, and called it Jeru¬
salem.
According to Mr Bruce, the shepherds who invaded
Egypt were no other than the inhabitants of Barabra.
They’were, he says, cartders to the Cushites, who lived
farther to the south. The latter had built the many
stately temples in Thebes and other cities of Egypt j
though, according to him, they had no dwelling places
but holes or caves in the rocks. Being a commercial
people, they remained at home collecting and prepa¬
ring their articles, which were dispersed by tbe Bara-
bers or shepherds already mentioned. These, from the
nature of their emplayment, lived in moveable habi¬
tations, as the Tartars do at this day. By the He¬
brews, he tells us, they were called phut, but shepherds
by every other people j and from the name baraber, the
word Barabra is derived. By their employment, which
was the dispersing the Arabian and African goods all
over the continent, they had become a great and
powerful people; and from their opposite dispositions
and manners, became very frequently enemies to the
Egyptians. To one Salatis our author ascribes the
destruction of Thebes in Upper Egypt, so much cele¬
brated by Homer for its magnificence. But this cer¬
tainly cannot be the case $ for Homer wrote long af¬
ter the time of Joseph: and we find that even then
the Egyptians had tbe shepherds in abhorrence, in all
probability because they had been grievously oppressed
by them. Mr Bruce counts three invasions of these
people ; the first that of Salatis already mentioned, who
overthrew the first dynasty of Egyptian kings from Me-
nes, and destroyed Thebes: the second was that of
Sabacco or Sb; for according to him this was not
the name of a single prince, but of a people, and signi¬
fies shepherd; and the third, after the building of Mem-
phis, where 240,000 of them were besieged as above -v~-
mentioned. But accounts of this kind are evidently
inconsistent in the highest degree $ for how is it pos¬
sible that the third invasion, antecedent to the building
of Jerusalem, could be posterior to the second, if the
latter happened only in the days of Hezekiah ?
. I*1 ^ese early ages, however, it would seem that the
kingdom of Egypt had been very powerful and its do¬
minion very widely extended j since we find it said, that
the Bactrians revolted from Osymandyas, another E-
gyptian king of very high antiquity, and of whose
wealth the most marvellous accounts are given.v
After an unknown interval of time from this mo¬
narch, reigned Sesostris. He was the first great war¬
rior whose conquests are recorded with any degree of
distinctness. In what age of the world he lived, is
uncertain. Some chronologers, among whom is Sir
Isaac Newton, are of opinion, that he is the Sesac
or Shishak, who took Jerusalem in the reign of Re-
hoboam the son of Solomon. Others, however, place
him much earlier; and Mr Whiston will have him
to be the Pharaoh who refused to part with the Is¬
raelites, and was at last drowned in the Red sea. Mr
Bryant endeavours to prove that no such person ever
existed ; but that in his history, as well as that of many
ancient heroes, we have an abridgement of that of the
Cushites or Babylonians, who spread themselves over
great part of the then known world, and everywhere
brought the people in subjection to them. His reign
is reckoned the most extraordinary part of the Egyp¬
tian history ; and the following seems to be the least
fabulous account that can be got of it. The father of
Sesostris was told in a dream, by the god Vulcan, that
his son, who was then newly born, or perhaps still
unborn, should be lord of the whole earth. His fa¬
ther, upon the credit of this vision, got together all
the males in the land of Egypt that were born on the
same day with Sesostris ; appointed nurses and pro¬
per persons to take care of them, and had them treat¬
ed like his own child; being persuaded that they who
had been the constant companions of his youth would
prove the most faithful ministers and soldiers. As
they grew up, they were inured to laborious exercises;
and, in particular, were never permitted to taste any
food till they had performed a course of 180 furlongs*
upwards of 22 of our miles. When the old king ima¬
gined they were sufficiently educated in the martial
way he designed them to follow, they were sent by way
of trial of their abilities against the Arabians. In this
expedition Sesostris proved successful, and in the end
subdued that people who had never before been con¬
quered. He was sent to the Avestward, and conquered
the greatest part of Africa; nor could he be stopped
in his career till he arrived at the Atlantic ocean.
Whilst he was on this expedition, his father died;
and then Sesostris resolved to fulfil the prediction of
Vulcan, by actually conquering the whole world. As
he knew that this must take up a long time, he pre¬
pared for his journey in the best manner possible. The
kingdom he divided into 36 provinces, and endeavour¬
ed to secure the affections of the people by gifts both
of money and land. Be forgave all who bad been
guilty of offences, and discharged the debts of all
his soldiers. He then constituted his brother Armaisr
the
592
E G Y
the supreme regent j hut forbade him to use the diadem,
and commanded him to offer no Injury to the queen or
her children, and to abstain from the royal concubines.
His army consisted ot 600,000 loot, 24,000 horse, an
27 000 chariots. Besides these land forces, he had at
sea two mighty fleets •, one, according to Diodorus, ot
400 sail. Of these fleets, one was designed to make
conquests in the west, and the other in the east j and
therefore the one was built on the Mediterranean, and
the other on the Red sea. The first of these conquered
Cyprus, the coast of Phoenicia, and several ot the
islands called Cyclades; the other conquered all the
coasts of the Red sea •, but its progress was stopped by
shoals and difficult places which the navigators could
not pass, so that he seems not to have made many con¬
quests by sea. . , . . ,
With the land forces Sesostns marched against the
Ethiopians and Troglodites ; whom he overcame, and
obliged them to pay him a tribute of gold, ebony, and
ivory. From thence he proceeded as far as the pro¬
montory of Dira, which lay near the straits of Babel-
mandel, where he set up a pillar with an inscription in
sacred characters. He then marched on to the coun¬
try where cinnamon grows, or at least to some country
where cinnamon at that time was brought, probably
some place in India j and here he in like manner set
up pillars, which were to be seen for many ages alter.
As to his farther conquests, it is agreed by almost all
authors of antiquity, that he overran and pillaged the
whole continent of Asia, and some part ol Europe.
He crossed the Ganges, and erected pillars on its
banks; and from thence he is said to have marched
eastward to the very extremity ot the Asiatic conti¬
nent. Returning from thence, he invaded the Scy¬
thians and Thracians; but all authors do not agree
that he conquered them. Some even affirm, that he
was overthrown by them with great slaughter, and ob¬
liged to abandon a great part of his booty and military
stores. But whether he had good or bad success in
these parts, it is a common opinion that he settled a
colony in Colchis. Herodotus, however, who gives
the most particular account of the conquests ol this
monarch, does not say whether the colony was design¬
edly planted by Sesostris : or whether part of his ar¬
my loitered behind the rest, and took up their resi¬
dence in that region. From his own knowledge, he as¬
serts, that the inhabitants of that country were undoubt¬
edly of Egyptian descent. This was evident from the
personal resemblance they bore to the Egyptians, who
were swarthy complexioned and frizzle haired ; but
more especially from the conformity of their customs,
particularly circumcision.
The utmost boundary of this mighty monarch’s con¬
quests, however, was in the country of Thrace ; for
beyond this country his pillars were nowhere to be
seen. These pillars he was accustomed to set up in
every country which he conquered, with the following
inscription, or one to the same purpose : “ Sesostris,
king of kings, and lord of lords, subdued this countiy
by the power ol his arms.” Besides these, he left also
statues of himself ; two of which, according to Hero¬
dotus, were to be seen in his time ; the one on the
road between Ephesus and Phocaea, and the other be¬
tween Smyrna and Sardis : they were armed, after the
Ethiopian and Egyptian manner; holding a javelin in
4
P T.
one hand and a bow in the other. Across the breast £
they had a line drawn from one shoulder to the other, ^
with the following inscription : “ This region I obtain¬
ed bv these my shoulders.” They were mistaken for
images of Memnon. . _ . _ . j
The reasons given by Sesostris for his returning into Retun, j
Egypt from Thrace, and thus leaving the conquest of Egypt. I
the world unfinished, were the want of provisions for
his army, and the difficulty of the passes. Most pro¬
bably, however, his return was hastened by the intelli¬
gence he received from the high priest of Egypt, con¬
cerning the rebellious proceedings of his brother ; who,
encouraged by his long absence, had assumed the dia¬
dem, violated the queen, and also the royal concu¬
bines. On receiving this news, Sesostris hastened from
Thrace ; and at the end of nine years came to Pelu-
sium in Egypt, attended by an innumerable multitude
of captives taken from many different nations, and
loaded with the spoils of Asia. The treacherous bro¬
ther met him at this city ; and it is said, with very
little probability, that Sesostris accepted of an invita¬
tion to an entertainment from him. At this he drank
freely, together with the queen and the rest of the
royal family. During the continuance of the enter¬
tainment, Armais caused a great quantity of dried
reeds to be laid round the apartment where they were
to sleep ; and as soon as they were retired to rest set
fire to the reeds. Sesostris perceiving the danger he was
in, and that his guards, overcharged with liquor, were
incapable of assisting him, rushed through the flames,
and was followed by his wife and children. In thanks¬
giving for this wonderful deliverance, he made several
donations to the gods, particularly to Vulcan the god
of fire. He then took vengeance on his brother Armais,
said to be the Danaus of the Greeks, who, being
on this occasion driven out of Egypt, withdrew into
Greece. _ 4
Sesostris now laid aside all thoughts of war, and ap-Hiigrq
plied himself wholly to such works as might tend to works,
the public good, and his own future reputation. In or¬
der to prevent the incursions of the Syrians and Ara¬
bians, he fortified the east side of Egypt with a wall
which ran from Pelusium through the desert to Helio¬
polis, for 187!^ miles. He raised also an incredible
number of vast and lofty mounts of earth/ to which he
removed such towns as had before been situated too
low, in order to secure them from the inundations of
the Nile. All the way from Memphis to the sea he
dug canals which branched out from the Nile 5 and not
only made an easier communication between different
places, but rendered the country in a great measure im¬
passable to an enemy. He erected a temple in every
city in Egypt, and dedicated it to the supreme deity
of the place ; but in the course of such a great under¬
taking as this necessarily must have been, he took care
not to employ any of his Egyptian subjects. Thus he
secured their affection, and employed the vast multi¬
tude of captives he had brought along with him ; and
to perpetuate the memory of a transaction so remark¬
able, he caused to be inscribed on all these temples,
“ No one native laboured hereon.” In the city of
Memphis, before the temple of Vulcan, he raised six
gigantic statues, each of one stone. Two of them were
30 cubits high, representing himself and his wife; the
other four were 20 cubits each, and represented his
four
;ypt-
E G Y
four sons. These he dedicated to Vulcan in memory of
his above-mentioned deliverance. He raised also two
obelisks of marble 120 cubits high, and charged them
with inscriptions, denoting the greatness of his power,
his revenues, &c.
The captives taken by Sesostris are said to have been
treated with the greatest barbarity; so that at last they
resolved at all events to deliver themselves from a ser¬
vitude so intolerable. The Babylonians particularly
were concerned in this revolt, and laid waste the coun¬
try to some extent; but being offered a pardon and a
place to dwell in, they were pacified, and built for them¬
selves a city, which they called Babylon. Towards the
conquered princes who waited on him with their tri¬
bute the Egyptian monarch behaved with unparalleled
insolence. On certain occasions he is said to have un-
harnassed his horses, and, yoking kings together, made
them draw his chariot. One day, however, observing
one of the kings who drew his chariot to look back
upon the wheels with great earnestness, he asked what
made him look so attentively at them ? The unhappy
prince replied, “ O king, the going round of the wheel
puts me in mind of the vicissitudes of fortune : for as
every part of the wheel is uppermost and lowermost by
turns, so it is with men ; who one day sit upon a throne,
and on the next are reduced to the vilest degree of
slavery.” This answer brought the insulting conqueror
to his senses ; so that he gave over the practice, and
5 thenceforth treated his captives with great humanity,
leath. At length this mighty monarch lost his sight, and laid
violent hands on himself.
After the death of Sesostris, we meet with another
chasm of an indeterminate length in the Egyptian
history. It concludes with the reign of Amasis or Am-
mosis ; who being a tyrant, his subjects joined Acti-
sanes the king of Ethiopia to drive him out.—Thus
Actisanes became master of the kingdom ; and after
his death follows another chasm in the history, during
which the empire is said to have been in a state of
anarchy for five generations.—This period brings us
down to the times of the Trojan war. The reigning
prince in Egypt was at that time called Cetes; by the
Greeks, Brotens. The priests reported that he was a
nof magician; and that he could assume any shape he
p ^eofpleased, even that of fire. This fable, as told by the
Greeks, drew its origin from a custom among the E-
gyptians, perhaps introduced by Proteus. They were
used to adorn and distinguish the heads of their kings
with the representations of animals or vegetables, or
even with burning incense, in order to strike the be-
p alof holders with the greater awe. Whilst Proteus reigned,
am* Paris or Alexander, the son of Priam king of Troy,
was driven by a storm on the coast of Egypt, with
Helen, whom he was carrying off from her husband.
But when the Egyptian monarch heard of the breach
of hospitality committed by Paris, he seized him, his
mistress, and companions, with all the riches he had
brought away with him from Greece. He detained
Helen, with all the effects belonging to Menelaus her
husband, promising to restore them to the injured party
whenever they were demanded ; but commanded Paris
and his companions to depart out of his dominions in
three days, on pain of being treated as enemies. In
what manner Paris afterwards prevailed upon Proteus
to restore his mistress, we are not told j neither do we
Vol. VII. Part II. f
P T.
E
pm
593
know any thing further of the transactions of this Egypt.
prince’s reign nor of his successors, except what has '   '
entirely the air of fable, till the days of Sabbaco the 3
Ethiopian, who again conquered this kingdom. -Heqaered ^ ~
began his reign with an act of great cruelty, causing the Sabhaco.
conquered prince to be burnt alive ; nevertheless, he
no sooner saw himself firmly established on the throne
of Egypt, than lie became a new man ; so that he is
highly extolled for his mercy, clemency, and wisdom.
He is thought to have been the So mentioned in Scrip¬
ture,. and w'ho entered into a league with Hoshea king
of Israel against Shalmaneser king of Assyria. He is
said to have been excited to the invasion of Egypt by
a dream or vision, in which he was assured that he
should hold that kingdom for fifty years. Accordingly,
he conquered Egypt, as had been foretold ; and at the
expiration of the time above mentioned, he had another
dream, in which the tutelar god of Thebes acquainted
him, that he could no longer hold the kingdom of
Egypt with safety and happiness, unless he massacred
the priests as he passed through them with his guards.
Being haunted with this vision, and at the same time
abhorring to hold the kingdom on such terms, he sent
for the priests, and acquainted them with what seemed
to be the will of the gods. Upon this it was concluded,
that it was the pleasure of the Deity that Sabbaco
should remain no longer in Egypt; and therefore he
immediately quitted that kingdom, and returned to
Ethiopia.
Of Anysias, who was Sabbaco’s immediate successor,
we have no particulars worth notice. After him reign- ^
ed one Sethon, who was both king and priest of Vul- Reniaik-
can. He gave himself up to religious contemplation ; able story
and not only neglected the military class, but deprived of S61*1011-
them of their lands. At this they were so much incen¬
sed, that they entered into an agreement not to bear
arms under him ; and in this state of affairs Sennache¬
rib king of Assyria arrived before Pelusium with a
mighty army. Sethon now applied to his soldiers, but
in vain : they unanimously persisted in refusing to march
under his banner. Being therefore destitute of all hu¬
man aid, he applied to the god Vulcan, and requested
him to deliver him from his enemies. Whilst he was
yet in the temple of that god, it is said he fell into a
deep sleep ; during which he saw \ ulcan standing at
his side, and exhorting him to take courage. He pro¬
mised, that if Sethon would but go out against the
Assyrians, be should obtain a complete victory over
them. Encouraged by this assurance, the king assem¬
bled a body of artificers, shop-keepers, and labourers ;
and, with this undisciplined rabble, marched towards
Pelusium. He had no occasion, however, to fight; for
the very night after his arrivaJ at Pelusium, an innu¬
merable multitude of field rats entering the enemies
camp, gnawed to pieces the quivers, bowstrings, and
shield straps* Next morning, when Sethon found the
enemy disarmed, and on that account beginning to fly,
he pursued them to a great distance, making a terrible
slaughter. In memory of this extraordinary event, a
statue of Sethon was erected in the temple of Vulcan,
holding in one hand a rat, and delivering these words:
“ Whosoever beholdeth me, let him be pious.”
Soon after the death of Sethon, the form of govern¬
ment in Egypt was totally changed. The kingdom
was divided into twelve parts, over which as many of
4 F the
10
Heign of
Psaminitir
elms.
E G Y
the chief nobility presided. This division, however,
subsisted but for a short time. Psamnntichus, one ot
the twelve, dethroned all the rest, 15 years after the
division had been made. The history now begins to
he divested of table-, and from this time may be ao
counted equally certain with that of any other nation.
The vast conquests of Sesostris, were now no longer
known ; for Psammitichus possessed no more than the
country of Egypt itself. It appears, indeed, that none
of the successors of Sesostris, or even that monarch him¬
self, had made use of any means to keep in subjection
the countries he had once conquered. Perhaps, indeed,
his design originally was rather to pillage than to con¬
quer ; and therefore, on his return, his vast empire va¬
nished at once. Psammitichus, however, endeavoured
to extend his dominions by making war on his neigh¬
bours ; but by putting more confidence in foreign auxi¬
liaries than in his own subjects, the latter were so
much offended, that upwards of 200,000 fighting men
emigrated in a body, and took up their residence in
Ethiopia. To repair this loss, Psammitichus earnestly
applied himself to the advancement of commerce and
opened his ports to all strangers, whom he greatly ca¬
ressed, contrary to the cruel maxims of his predeces¬
sors, who refused to admit them into the country. He
also laid siege to the city of Azotus in Syria which
held out for 29 years against the whole strength ot the
kingdom -, from which we may gather, that, as a war¬
rior, Psammitichus was by no means remarkable. He
is reported to have been the first king of Egypt t lat
drank wine. He also sent to discover the springs ot
the Nile -, and is said to have attempted to discover the
most ancient nation in the world by the following me¬
thod. Having procured two newly born children, he
caused them to be brought up in such a manner that
they never heard a human voice. He imagined that
these children would naturally speak the original lan¬
guage of mankind : therefore, when, at two years ot
age, they pronounced the Phrygian word becos (or some
sound resembling it), which signifies bread, he con¬
cluded that the Phrygians were the most ancient people
in the world. .
Succeeded Nechus, the son and successor of Psammitichus, is
by Neclws. tjie pharao/i-Necho of Scripture, and was a prince of an
enternrising and warlike genius. In the beginning of
his reign, he attempted to cut through the isthmus ot
Suez, between the Red sea and the Mediterranean j
but, through the invincible obstacles which nature has
thrown in the way of such undertakings, he was obli¬
ged to abandon the enterprize, after having lost 120,000
men in the attempt. After this he sent a ship, manned
with some expert Phoenician mariners, on a voyage to
explore the coast of Africa. Accordingly, they per¬
formed the voyage -, sailed round the continent ot A-
frica j and after three years returned to Egypt, where
their relation was deemed incredible.
Hi. wars The most remarkable wars in which this king was
with Josiah engaged are recorded in the sacred writings. He went
and Nebu- out against the king of Assyria, by the divine c^'
ehadnez- » 1 ** -_ir • Knt E p i n o* nnnoscQ bv
P T.
II
Succeeded
zar,
mand, as he himself told Josiah ; but being opposed by
the king of Judea, he defeated and killed him at Me-
giddo j after which he set up, in that country, Iving
Jehoiakim, and imposed on him an annual tribute ot 100
talents of silver and one talent ot gold. He then pro¬
ceeded against the king of Assyria j and weakened lum
3
so much, that the empire was soon after dissolved.
Thus he became master of Syria and 1 hcenicia } but
in a short time, Nebuchadnezzar king of Babylon came
against him with a mighty army. The Egyptian mo¬
narch, not daunted by the formidable appearance of
his antagonist, boldly ventured a battle j but'was over¬
thrown with prodigious slaughter, and Nebuchadnez¬
zar became master of all the country to the very gates
of Pelusium. y TT 7 re • !3
The reign of Apries, the P/ioraoh Hophrci ot i^crip-Apr;es a
ture presents us with a new revolution in the Egyp-martial
tian'affairs. He is represented as a martial pnnee,^
and in the beginning of his reign very successful. He1*
took by storm the rich city of Sidon and having over¬
come the Cypriots and Phoenicians in a sea-fight, re¬
turned to Egypt laden with spoil. This success pro¬
bably incited Zedekiah king of Judea to enter into an
alliance with him against Nebuchadnezzar king of
Babylon. The bad success of this alliance was lore-
told by the prophet Jeremiah -, and accordingly it hap¬
pened. For Nebuchadnezzar having sat down with
his army before Jerusalem, Apries marched from E-
gypt with a design to relieve the city -, but no sooner
did he perceive the Babylonians approaching him, than
he retreated as fast as he could, leaving the Jews ex¬
posed to the rage of their merciless enemies 5 who were
thereupon treated as Jeremiah had foretold j and by
this step Apries brought upon himself the vengeance I4
denounced by the same prophet. The manner jn winch W-
these predictions were fulfilled is as follows . The Cy*^
reneans, a colony of Greeks, being greatly strength-
ened by a numerous supply of their countrymen under^
their third king Battus styled the Happy, and encou¬
raged by the Pythian oracle, began to drive out their
Libyan neighbours, and shared their possessions among
themselves. Hereupon Andica king of Libya sent
a submissive embassy to Apries, and implored his pro¬
tection against the Cyreneans. Apries complied with
his request, and sent a powerful army to his relief.
The Egyptians were defeated with great slaughter •, and
those who returned complained that the army had been
sent off by Apries in order to be destroyed, and that
he mi'dit tyrannize without controul over the remain- ^
der of his subjects. This thought catching the atten-HisSutji,
tion of the giddy multitude, an almost universal defec-revolt.
tion ensued. Apries sent one Amasis, a particular
friend, in whom he thought he could confide, to bring
back bis people to a sense of their duty. But by this
friend he was betrayed •, for Amasis, taking the op¬
portunity of the present ferment, caused himself to be
proclaimed king. Apries then despatched one 1 atar-
bemis, with orders to take Amasis, and bring him a.ive
before him. This he found impossible, and theretore
returned without his prisoner j at which the king was
so enraged, that he commanded Patarbe.ms’s nose and
ears to be cut off. This piece of cruelty completed h.s
ruin -, for when the rest of the Egyptians who con¬
tinued faithful to Apries beheld the inhuman mutila¬
tion of so worthy and noble a person as Patarbemis
was, they to a man deserted Apries, and went over 0
Amasis. ,
Both parties now prepared for war, the usuiper 1
ing under his command the whole body of native
gyptians *, and Apries only those lonians, Canans, anc
other mercenaries whom he could engage m his sei
Ylwc.
iT!’1'
16
A ies de¬
ft ;d and
ti :n pri-
1 rby
A ids.
17
! pt in-
r d by
b uchad-
arar.
[8
l) py ad.
stra-
t of
sis.
9
ids
iifyses
kl(of
E G
vice. The army of Apries amounted only to 30,000 ;
but, though greatly inferior in number to the troops
of his rival, as he well knew that the Greeks were
much superior ;n valour, he did not doubt of victory.
Nay, so far was Apries puffed up with this notion, that
he did not believe it was in the power even of any
god to deprive him of his kingdom. The two armies
soon met, and drew up in order of battle near Memphis.
A bloody engagement ensued ; in which, though the
army of Apries behaved with the greatest resolution,
they were at last overpowered with numbers, and ut¬
terly defeated, the king himself being taken prisoner.
Amasis now took possession of the throne without oppo¬
sition. He confined Apries in one of his palaces, but
treated him with great care and respect. The people,
however, were implacable, and could not be satisfied
while he enjoyed his life. Amasis, therefore, at last
found himself obliged to deliver him into their hands.
Thus the prediction received its final completion :
Apries was delivered up to those who sought his life;
and who no sooner had him in their power, than they
strangled him, and laid his body in the sepulchre of his
ancestors.
During these intestine broils, which must have great¬
ly weakened the kingdom, it is probable that Nebu¬
chadnezzar invaded Egypt. He had been lor 13 years
before this employed in besieging Tyre, and at last had
nothing but an empty city for his pains. To make
himself some amends, therefore, he entered Egypt, mi¬
serably harassed the country, killed and carried away
great numbers of the inhabitants, so that the country
did not recover from the effects of this incursion for a
long time after. In this expedition, however, he seems
not to have aimed at any permanent conquest, but to
have been induced to it merely by the love of plunder,
and of this he carried with him an immense quantity to
Babylon.
During the reign of Amasis, Egypt is said to have
been perfectly happy, and to have contained 20,000
populous cities. That good order might be kept
among such vast numbers of people, Amasis enacted a
law, by which every Egyptian was bound once a-year
to inform the governor of his province by what means
he gained his livelihood } and if he failed of this, to
put him to death. The same punishment he decreed to
those who could not give a satisfactory account of
themselves.
This monarch was a great favourer of the Greeks,
and married a woman of Grecian extract. To many
Greek cities, as well as particular persons, he made
considerable presents. Besides these, he gave leave to
the Greeks in general to come into Egypt, and settle
either in the city of Naucratis, or carry on their trade
upon the sea coasts ; granting them also temples, and
places where they might erect temples to their own
deities. He received also a visit from Solon the cele¬
brated Athenian lawgiver, and reduced the island of
Cyprus under his subjection.
This great prosperity, however, ended with the death
of Amasis, or indeed before it. The Egyptian mo¬
narch had some how or other incensed Cambyses king
of Persia. The cause of the quarrel is uncertain j but
whatever it was, the Persian monarch vowed the de¬
struction of Amasis. In the mean time Phones of Ha¬
licarnassus, commander of the Grecian auxiliaries in the
Y P T.
pay of Amasis, took some private disgust j and leaving
Egypt, embarked for Persia. He was a wise and able
general, perfectly well acquainted with every thing that
related to Egypt; and had great credit with the Greeks
in that country. Amasis was immediately sensible how
great the loss of this man would be to him, and there¬
fore sent after him a trusty eunuch with a swift galley.
Phanes was accordingly overtaken in Lycia, but not
brought back j for making his guard drunk, he conti¬
nued his journey to Persia, and presented himself before
Cambyses, as he was meditating the destruction of the
Egyptian monarchy. j0
At this dangerous crisis also, the Egyptian monarch And Poly-
imprudently made Polycrates the tyrant of Samos hiscrates t7”
enemy. This man had been the most remarkable Per"s^„,0°
haps of any recorded in history, for an uninterrupted
course of success, without the intervention of one single
unfortunate event. Amasis, who was at this time in
strict alliance with Polycrates, wrote him a letter, in
which, after congratulating him on his prosperity, he
told him that he was afraid lest his successes were too
many, and he might be suddenly thrown down into
the greatest misery. For this reason he advised him
voluntarily to take away something from his own hap¬
piness ; and to cast away that which would grieve him
most if he was accidentally to lose it. Polycrates fol¬
lowed his advice, and threw into the sea a signet of
inestimable value. This, however, did not answer the
intended purpose. The signet happened to be swal¬
lowed by a fish, which was taken a few days after¬
wards, and thus was restored to Polycrates. Of this
Amasis was no sooner informed, than, considei'ing Po¬
lycrates as really unhappy, and already on the brink of
destruction, he resolved to put an end to the friendship
which subsisted between them. For this purpose he
despatched a herald to Samos, commanding him to
acquaint Polycrates, that he renounced his alliance,
and all the obligations between them ; that he might
not mourn his misfortunes with the sorrow of a friend.
Thus Amasis left Polycrates at liberty to act against
him, if he chose to do so 5 and accordingly he offered
to assist Cambyses with a fleet of ships in his Egyptian
expedition.
Amasis had not, however) the misfortune to see the
calamities of his country. He died about 525 years
before Christ, after a reign of 44 years ; and left the
kingdom to his son Psammenitus, just as Cambyses was Egypt in-
approaching the frontiers of the kingdom. The newTxa^e<^^
prince was scarce seated on the throne, when the per.
sians appeared. Psammenitus drew together what forces
he could, in order to prevent them from entering the
kingdom. Cambyses, however, immediately laid siege
to Pelusium, and made himself master of it by the fol¬
lowing stratagem : he placed in the front of his army
a great number of cats, dogs, and other animals that
were deemed sacred by the Egyptians. He then at¬
tacked the city, and took it without opposition ; the
garrison, which consisted entirely of Egyptians, not
daring to throw a dart or shoot an arrow against
their enemies, lest they should kill some of the holy
animals. 22
Cambyses had scarce taken possession of the city, Cruelty and
when Psammenitus advanced against him with a nume-defeat of
rous army. But before the engagement, the Greeks^ ESyP-
who served under Psammenitus, to show their indig-tIans‘
4 F 2 nation
5 95
Egypt.
E G Y
23
Their
dreadful
nation against their treacherous countryman Phanes,
brought his children into the camp, killed them in the
presence of their father and the two armies, and
then drank their blood. The Persians enraged at so
cruel a sight, fell upon the Egyptians with the utmost
fury, put them to flight, and cut the greatest part ot
of them in pieces. Those who escaped fled to Memphis,
where they were soon after guilty of a horrid outrage.
Cambyses sent a herald to them in a ship from Mity-
lene: but no sooner did they see her come into the
portj than they flocked down to the shore, destioyei
the ship, and tore to pieces the herald and all the crew,
afterwards carrying their mangled limbs into the city,
in a kind of barbarous triumph. Not long alter, they
were obliged to surrender: and thus Psammenitus tell
into the hands of his inveterate enemy, who was now
enraged beyond measure at the cruelties exercised upon
the children of Phanes, the herald, and the Mitylenean
sailors. . . . . .
The rapid success of the Persians struck with such
terror the Libyans, Cyreneans, Barcaeans, and other
punishment d dents or aU;es 0f the Egyptian monarch, that
by dmjj- immetliate]y submitted. Nothing now remained
but to dispose of the captive king, and revenge on him
and his subjects the cruelties which they had commit¬
ted. This the merciless victor executed in the severest
manner. On the 10th day after Memphis had been
taken, Psammenitus and the chief ol the Egyptian no¬
bility were iguominiously sent into one ot the suburbs
of that city. ° The king being there seated in a pro¬
per place, saw his daughter coming along in the habit
of a poor slave with a pitcher to fetch water from the
river, and followed by the daughters of the greatest
families in Egypt, all in the same miserable garb, with
pitchers in their hands, drowned in tears, and lovu y
bemoaning their miserable situation. When the latheis
saw their daughters in this distress, they hurst into tears,
all but Psammenitus, who only cast his eyes on the
ground and kept them fixed there. After the young
women, came the son of Poammenitus, with 2000 ot
the young nobility, all of them with bits in their mouths
and halters round their necks, led to execution. This
was done to expiate the murder of the Persian herald
and the Mitylenean sailors j for Cambyses caused ten
Egyptians of the first rank to be publicly executed for
every one of those that had been slain. Psammenitus,
however, observed the same conduct as before, keep¬
ing his eyes stedfastly fixed on the ground, though all
the Egyptians around him made the loudest lamenta¬
tions. ’A little after this he saw an intimate friend and
companion, now advanced in years, who having been
plundered of all he had, was begging his bread from
door to door in the suburbs. As soon as he saw this
man, Psammenitus wept bitterly j and calling out to
him by his name, struck himself on the head as if he
had been frantic. Of this the spies who had been set
over him to observe his behaviour, gave immediate no¬
tice to Cambyses, who thereupon sent a messenger to
inquire the cause of such immoderate grief. Psamme¬
nitus answered, That the calamities of his own family
confounded him, and were too great to be lamented by
any outward signs of grief', hut the extreme distress
of a bosom friend gave more room for reflection, and
therefore extorted tears from him. With this answer
Cambyses was so affected, that he sent Orders to pre-
P T*
vent the execution of the king’s son *, but these came jjoyj
too late, for the young prince had been put to death' y-
before any of the’ rest. Psammenitus himself was then
sent for into the city, and restored to his liberty : and
had he not showed a desire of revenge, might perhaps
have been trusted with the government of Egypt r but
beimr discovered hatching schemes against the govern¬
ment, he was seized, and condemned to drink hull s
blood. , 24
The Egyptians were now reduced to the lowest de-Egypt
gree of slavery. Their country became a province of'™^
the Persian empire: the body of Amasis their late kingj^™
was taken out of his grave*, and alter being mangledan^a|tf
in a shocking manner was finally burnt. But what wards
seemed more grievous than all the rest, their god Apis the Grec
was slain, and his priests ignominiously scourged ; and^P™
this inspired the whole nation with such a hatred to
the Persians, that they could never afterwards be re¬
conciled to them. As long as the Persian empire sub¬
sisted, the Egyptians could never shake oil their yoke.
TheyVrequently revolted indeed, but were always over¬
thrown with prodigious loss. At last they submitted,
without opposition, to Alexander the Great: after
his death, Egypt again became a powerful kingdom,
though since the conquest of it by Cambyses to the
present time it hath never been governed but by lor
reign princes, agreeable to the prophecy of Ezekul.
“ there shall be no more a prince of the land ot E-
g50*n the death of Alexander the Great, Egypt, to-Assignei
gether with Libya, and that part of Arabia which PUW
borders on Egypt, were assigned to Ptolemy Lagus as
governor under Alexander’s son by Roxana, who wastitlecf
but newly born. Nothing was farther from the inten-yng.
tion of this governor, than to keep the provinces in
trust for another. He did not, however,, assume the
title of king, till he perceived his authority so firmly
established that it could not be shaken 4 and this did
^iot happen till 19 years after the death ot Alexander,
when Antigonus and Demetrius had unsuccessfully at¬
tempted the conquest of Egypt.
From the time of his first establishment on tne turgne,
Ptolemy, who had assumed the title of Soter, reigned
20 years ; which added to the former 19, make up the
qo vears which historians commonly allow him to have
reigned alone.—In the 39th year of his reign, he marie
one of his sons, named Philadelphus, partner to the em¬
pire ; declaring him his successor, to the prejudice ot his
eldest son named Ceraunus; being excited thereto by
his violent love for Berenice Pbiladelphus s mother.
When the succession was thus settled, Ceraunus imme¬
diately quitted the court; and fled at last into Syria,
where he was received with open arms by Seleucus 1 1*
cator, whom he afterwards murdered.
The most remarkable transaction of this reign
the embellishing of the city of Alexandria,, which 1 to*
lemy made the capital of his new kingdom, and ol whicli
an account is given under the article ALEXANDRIA.
About 284 years before Christ, died Ptolemy 0 er,
in the 41st year of his reign, and 84th of his age. ®
was the best prince of his race j and left behint
an example of prudence, justice, and clemency w ic
few of his successors chose to follow. Besides t e pr
vinces originally assigned to him, he added 0
empire those of Coelo-Syria, Ethiopia,
EGYPT.
597
W'
! :i6
Si teeded
2 fhila-
(] Uuu.
Lycia, Caria, ami some of the Cyclatles. His succes-
' sor, Ptolemy Philadelphus, added nothing to the ex¬
tent of the empire ; nor did he perform any thing wor¬
thy of notice except embellishing further the city of
Alexandria, and entering into an alliance with the Ho¬
mans. In his time, one Magas the governor of Libya
and Cyrene, revolted *, and held these provinces as an
independent prince, notwithstanding the utmost efforts
of Ptolemy to reduce him. At last an accommodation
took place ■, and a marriage was proposed between Be¬
renice, the only daughter of Magas, and Ptolemy’s
eldest son. The young princess was to receive all her
father’s dominions by way of dowry, and thus they
would again be brought under the dominion of Ptole¬
my’s family. But before this treaty could be put in
execution, Magas died } and then Apamea, the prin¬
cess’s mother, did all she could to prevent the match.
This, however, she was not able to do *, though her ef¬
forts for that purpose produced a destructive war of four
years continuance with Antiochus Theus king of Sy¬
ria, and the acting of a cruel tragedy in the family of
the latter. See Syria.
About 246 years before Christ, Ptolemy Philadel-
phus died j and was succeeded by his eldest son Ptole-
■my, who had been married to Berenice the daughter of
Magas, as above related. In the beginning ol his
reign, he found himself engaged in a war with Antio-
chus Theus king of Syria. From this he returned vic¬
torious, and brought with him 2500 statues and pictures,
among which were many of the ancient Egyptian
idols, which had been carried away by Cambyses into
Persia. These were restored by Ptolemy to their an¬
cient temples j in memory of which favour, the Egyp¬
tians gave him the surname of Euergetes, or the Bene¬
ficent. In this expedition he greatly enlarged his do¬
minions, making himself master of all the countries
that lie between Mount Taurus and the confines of In¬
dia. An account of these conquests was given by him¬
self, inscribed on a monument, to the following effect.
“ Ptolemy Euergetes, having received from his father
the sovereignty of Egypt, Libya, Syria, Phcenice,
Cyprus, Lycia, Caria, and the other Cyclades, assem¬
bled a mighty army of Imrse and foot, with a great fleet,
and elephants, out of Trogloditia and Ethiopia j some
of which had been taken by his father, and the rest by
himself, and brought from thence, and trained up for
war: with this great force he sailed into Asia j and
having conquered all the provinces which lie on this
side the Euphrates, Cilicia, Pamphylia, Ionia, the Hel¬
lespont, and Thrace, he crossed the river with all the
forces of the conquered countries, and the kings of
those nations, and reduced Mesopotamia, Babylonia,
Susiana, Persia, Media, and all the country as far as
Bactria.”
On the king’s return from this expedition, he passed
through Jerusalem, where he offered many sacrifices
to the God of Israel, and ever afterwards expressed a
great favour for the Jewish nation. At this time, the
Jews were tributaries to the Egyptian monarchs, and
paid them annually 20 talents of silver. This tribute,
however, Onias, who was then high priest, being of a
very covetous disposition, had for a long time neglected
to pay, so that the arrears amounted to a very large
sum. Soon after his return, therefore, Ptolemy sent
one of his courtiers named Athenian to demand the
money, and desired him to acquaint the Jews that he Egypt,
would make war upon them in case of a relual. A i~—~v r"-J
young man, however, named Joseph, nephew to O-
nias, not only found means to avert the king’s anger,
but even got himself chosen his receiver-general, and
by his faithful discharge of that important trust, con¬
tinued in high favour with Ptolemy as long as he
lived.
Ptolemy Euergetes having at last concluded a peace
with Seleucus the successor of Antiochus Theus king
of Syria, attempted the enlargement of his dominions
on the south side. In this he was attended with such
success, that he made himself master of all the coasts of
the Red sea, both on the Arabian and Ethiopian sides,
quite down to the straits of Babelmandel. On his re¬
turn he was met by ambassadors from the Acbaeans, im¬
ploring his assistance against the Etolians and Lacedae¬
monians. This the king readily promised them: but
they having in the mean time engaged Antigonus king
of Macedon to support them, Ptolemy was so much of¬
fended, that he sent powerful succours to Cleomenes
king of Sparta ; hoping, by that means, to humble
both the Achaeans and their new ally Antigonus. In 28
this, however, he was disappointed j for Cleomenes, af- Cleomeues
ter having gained very considerable advantages over^inS oi
the enemy, was at last entirely defeated in the battle of l;^s 1C_
Sellasia, and obliged to take refuge in Ptolemy’s do mi- fUge in
nions. He was received by the Egyptian monarch Egypt,
with the greatest demonstrations of kindness ; a yearly
pension of 24 talents was assigned him, with a promise
of restoring him to the Spartan throne j but before this
could be accomplished, the king of Egypt died, in the
27th year of his reign, and was succeeded by his son
Ptolemy Piiilopater.
Thus we have seen the Egyptian empire brought to
a very great height of power $ and had the succeeding
monarchs been careful to preserve that strength of em¬
pire transmitted to them by Euergetes, it is very pro¬
bable that Egypt might have been capable of holding
the balance against Rome, and after the destruction of
Carthage prevented that haughty city from becoming
mistress of the world. But after the death of Ptolemy
Euergetes, the Egyptian empire being governed only
by weak or vicious monarchs, quickly declined, and
from that time makes no conspicuous figure in history.
Ptolemy Philopater began his reign with the murder pt0|eJ^y
of his brother ; after which, giving himself up to all philopater
manner of licentiousness, the kingdom fell into a kind a cruel ly-
of anarchy. Cleomenes the Spartan king still residedrant’
at court j and being now unable to bear the dissolute
manners which prevailed there, he pressed Philopater
to give him the assistance he had promised for restoring
him to the throne of Sparta. This he the rather in¬
sisted upon, because he had received advice that Anti¬
gonus king of Macedon was dead, that the Achaeans
were engaged in a war with the Etolians, and that the
Lacedaemonians had joined the latter against the Achae¬
ans and Macedonians. Ptolemy, when afraid of his
brother Magas, had indeed promised to assist the king
of Sparta with a powerful fleet, hoping by this means
to attach him to his own interest y but now when Magas
was out of the way, it was determined by the king, or
rather his ministers, that Cleomenes should not be as¬
sisted, nor even allowed to leave the kingdom j and
this extravagant resolution produced the desperate at¬
tempt, V
/
59«
i-sypt-
EGYPT.
3°
1'xtraordi-
jiaiy story
concerning
the Jews.
* Lib. iii. 2
.3, 4» S-
tempt of Cleomenes, of which an account is given in
the history of Sparta.
Of the disorders which now ensued in the govern¬
ment, Antiochus king of Syria, surnamed the Great,
took the advantage, and attempted to wrest from Pto¬
lemy the provinces of Ccelo-Syria and Palestine. But
in this he wras finally disappointed j and might easily
have been totally driven out of Syria, had not Ptolemy
been too much taken up with his debaucheries to think
of carrying on the war. The discontent occasioned by
this piece of negligence soon produced a civil war in
his dominions, and the whole kingdom continued in
the utmost confusion till his death, which happened in
the 17th year of his reign and 37th of his age.
During the reign of Philopater happened a very ex¬
traordinary event with regard to the Jews, which is
mentioned in the Maccabees *. The king of Egypt,
while on his Syrian expedition, had attempted to en¬
ter the temple of Jerusalem : but being hindered by
the Jews, he was filled with the utmost rage against
the whole nation. On his return to Alexandria, he
resolved to make those who dwelt in that city feel the
first effects of his vengeance. He began with publish¬
ing a decree, which he caused to be engraved on a pillar
erected for that purpose at the gate ot his palace, ex¬
cluding all those who did not sacrifice to the gods wor¬
shipped by the king. By this means the Jews were
debarred from suing to him for justice, or obtaining
his protection when they happened to stand in need of
it. By the favour of Alexander the Great, Ptolemy
Soter, and Euergetes, the Jews enjoyed at Alexandria
the same privileges with the Macedonians. In.that
metropolis the inhabitants were divided into three
ranks or classes. In the first were the Macedonians,
the original founders of the city, and along with them
were enrolled the Jews j in the second were the mer¬
cenaries who had served under Alexander j and in
the third the native Egyptians. Ptolemy now, to
be revenged of the Jews, ordered, by another decree,
that they should be degraded from the first rank, and
enrolled among the native Egyptians. By the same
decree it was enacted, that all ot that nation should ap¬
pear at an appointed time before the proper officers, in
order to be enrolled among the common people j that
at the time of their enrollment they should have the
mark of an ivy leaf, the badge of Bacchus, impressed
with a hot iron on their faces j that all who were thus
marked should be made slaves •, and, lastly, that il any
one should stand out against this decree, he should be
immediately put to death. That he might not, how¬
ever, seem an enemy to the whole nation, he declared,
that those who sacrificed to their gods should enjoy their
former privileges, and remain in the same class. Yet,
notwithstanding this tempting offer, 300 only out of
many thousand Jews who lived in Alexandria could be
prevailed upon to abandon their religion in order to
save themselves from slavery.
The apostates were immediately excommunicated by
their brethren : and this their enemies construed as
done in opposition to the king’s order ; which threw
the tyrant into such a rage, that he resolved to extir¬
pate the whole nation, beginning with the Jews who
lived in Alexandria and other cities of Egypt, and
proceeding from thence to Judea and Jerusalem itself.
In consequence of this-cruel resolution, he commanded
all the Jews that lived in any part of Egypt to be E.ypt
brought in chains to Alexandria, and there to be shut
up in the ITippodrome, which was a very spacious
place without the city, where the people used to as¬
semble to see horse races and other public diversions.
He then sent for Herman master of the elephants*,
and commanded him to have 500 of these animals ready
against the next day, to let loose upon the Jews in the
Hippodrome. But When the elephants were prepared
for the execution, and the people were assembled in
great crowds to see it, they were for that day disap¬
pointed by the king’s absence. For, having been late
up the night before with some of his debauched com¬
panions, he did not awake till the time for the show
was over, and the spectators returned home. He
therefore ordered one of his servants to call him early
on the following day, that the people might not meet
with a second disappointment. But when the person
awaked him according to his order, the king was not
yet returned to his senses j having withdrawn, exceed¬
ingly drunk, only a short time before. As he did not
remember the order, he therefore fell into a violent
passion, and threatened with death the servant who had
awaked him ; and this caused the show to be put off
till the third day. At last the king came to the Hip¬
podrome attended with a vast multitude of spectators *,
but when the elephants were let loose, instead of fall¬
ing upon the Jews, they turned their rage against the
spectators and soldiers, and destroyed great numbers
of them. At the same time, some frightful appearances
which were seen in the air so terrified the king, that he
commanded the Jews to be immediately set at liberty,
and restored them to their former privileges. No sooner
were they delivered from this danger than they de¬
manded leave to put to death such of their nation as
had abandoned their religion ; and this being granted,
they despatched the apostates without excepting a single
man. 31
Philopater was succeeded by Ptolemy Epiphanes; Ptolemy
and he, after a reign of 24 years, by Ptolemy Philo-
metor. In the beginning of his reign, a war com- ^
menced with the king of Syria, who had seized on the
provinces of Coslo-Syria and Palestine in the preceding
reign. In the course of this war, Philometor was ei¬
ther voluntarily delivered up to Antiochus, or taken
prisoner. But however this was, the Alexandrians de¬
spairing of his ever being able to recover his liberty,
raised to the throne his brother Ptolemy, who took the 3,
name of Euergetes II. but was afterwards called Physcon and Ph
or “the great-bellied,” on account of the prominent con nu
belly which by his gluttony and luxury he had acquir-
ed. He was scarce seated on the throne, however,
when Antiochus Epiphanes, returning into Egypt,
drove out Phvscon, and restored the whole kingdom
except Pelusium, to Philometor. His design was to
kindle a war betwixt the two brothers, so that he might
have an opportunity of seizing the kingdom for him¬
self. For this reason he kept to himself the city of
Pelusium $ which being the key of Egypt, he might at
his pleasure re-enter the country. But Philometer, ap¬
prised of his design, invited his brother Physcon to an
accommodation *, which was happily effected by their
sister Cleopatra. In virtue of this agreement, the bro¬
thers were to reign jointly, and to oppose to the utmost
of their power Antiochus, whom they considered as a
common
'/P1*
•]!3
Di jMence
je J«n
ih |wo
ir tiers
killed by
:h iJoman
Kite.
4
lil il of
Ojp ad-
juc d to
PL.on,
Pb netor
refits to
Mf y.
lion
Hm
Pbj- on.
E G Y
consmon enemy. On this the king of Syria invaded
Egypt with a mighty army, but was prevented by the
Romans from conquering it.
The two brothers were no sooner freed from the ap¬
prehensions of a foreign enemy than they began to
quarrel with each other. Their differences soon came
to such a height, that the Roman senate interposed.
But before the ambassadors employed to inquire into
the merits of the cause could arrive in Egypt, Physcon
had driven Philometor from the throne, and obliged
him to quit the kingdom. On this the dethroned
prince fled to Rome, where he appeared meanly dress¬
ed, and without attendants. He was very kindly re¬
ceived by the senate •, who were so well satisfled of the
injustice done him, that they immediately decreed his
restoration. He was reconducted accordingly j and
on the arrival of the ambassadors in Egypt, an accom¬
modation between the two brothers was negotiated.
By this agreement, Physcon was put in possession of
Libya and Cyrene, and Philometor of all Egypt and
the island of Cyprus j each of them being declared in¬
dependent of the other in the dominion allotted to
them. The treaty, as usual, was confirmed with oaths
and sacrifices, and was broken almost as soon as made.
Phy scon was dissatisfied with his share of the dominions j
and therefore sent ambassadors to Rome, desiring that
the island of Cyprus might be added to his other pos¬
sessions. This could not be obtained by the ambassa¬
dors ; and therefore Physcon went to Rome in person.
His demand was evidently unjust*, but the Romans,
considering that it was their interest to weaken the
power of Egypt as much as possible, without further
ceremony adjudged the island to him.
Physcon set out from Rome with two ambassadors;
and arriving in Greece on his way to Cyprus, he raised
there a great number of mercenaries, with a design to
sail immediately to that island and conquer it. But
the Roman ambassadors telling him, that they were
commanded to put him in possession of it by fair means
and not by force, he dismissed his army, and returned
to Libya, while one of the ambassadors proceeded to
Alexandria. Their design was to bring the two bro¬
thers to an interview on the frontiers of their domi¬
nions, and there to settle matters in an amicable man¬
ner. But the ambassador who went to Alexandria,
found Philometor very averse from compliance with the
decree of the senate. He put off the ambassador so
long, that Physcon sent the other also to Alexandria,
hoping that the joint persuasions of the two would in¬
duce Philometor to comply. But the king, after en¬
tertaining them at an immense charge for 40 days, at
last plainly refused to submit, and told the ambassadors
that he was resolved to adhere to the first treaty. With
this answer the Roman ambassadors departed, and were
followed by others from the two brothers. The senate,
however, not only confirmed their decree in favour of
Physcon, but renounced their alliance with Philome¬
tor, and commanded his ambassador to leave the city in
five days.
In the mean time, the inhabitants of Cyi’ene having
heard unfavourable accounts of Physcon’s behaviour
during the short time he feigned in Alexandria, con¬
ceived so strong an aversion against him, that they re¬
solved to keep him out of their country by force of
arms. On receiving intelligence ef this resolution,
P T. 599
Physcon dropped all thoughts of Cyprus for the pre- Egypt.
sent $ and hastened with all his forces to Cyrene, where ——v  
he soon got the better of his rebellious subjects, and
established himself in the kingdom. His vicious and
tyrannical conduct, however, soon estranged from him
the minds of his subjects, in such a manner, that some
of them entering into a conspiracy against him, fell
upon him one night as he was returning to his palace,
wounded him in several places, and left him for dead
on the spot. This he laid to the charge of his bro¬
ther Philometor j and as soon as he was recovered, took
another voyage to Rome. Here he made his com¬
plaints to the senate, and showed them the scars of his
wounds, accusing his brother of having employed the
assassins from whom he received them. Though Phi¬
lometor was known to be a man of a most humane and
mild disposition, and therefore very unlikely to have
been concerned in so black an attempt j yet the senate,
being ofl’ended at his refusing to submit to their decree
concerning the island of Cyprus, hearkened to this false
accusation j and carried their prejudices so far, that they
not only refused to hear what his ambassadors had to
say, but ordered them immediately to depart from the
city. At the same time, they appointed five commis¬
sioners to conduct Physcon to Cyprus, and put him in
possession of that island, enjoining all their allies in
those parts to supply him with forces for that purpose.
Physcon having by this means got together an army
which seemed to him to be sufficient for the accom¬
plishment of his design, landed in Cyprus 5 but being
there encountered by Philometor in person, he was
entirely defeated, and obliged to shelter himself in a
city called Lapitho. Here he was closely besieged, and
at last obliged to surrender. Every one now expected He is de-
that Physcon would have been treated as he deserved 5 feated and
but his brother, instead of punishing, restored him tota*len Pll“
the government of Libya and Cyrene, adding some philctne-
other territories instead of the island of Cyprus, and tor.
promising him his daughter in marriage. Thus an
end w'as put to the war between the two brothers j for
the Romans were ashamed any longer to oppose a prince
who had given such a signal instance of his justice and
clemency.
On his return to Alexandria, Philometor appointed
one Archias governor of Cyprus. But he, soon after
the king’s departure, agreed with Demetrius king of
Syria, to betray the island to him for 500 talents.
The treachery was discovered before it took effect j and
the traitor, to avoid the punishment due to his crime,
laid violent hands on himself. Ptolemy being oflended
with Demetrius for this attempt on Cyprus, joined At¬
tains king of Pergamus, and Ariarathes king of Cap¬
padocia, in setting up a pretender to the crown of Sy¬
ria. This was Alexander Balas j to whom he even gave
his daughter Cleopatra in marriage, after he had placed
him on the throne of Syria. But he, notwithstanding
these and many other favours, being suspected of having
entered into a plot against his benefactor, Ptolemy be¬
came his greatest enemy *, and marching against him,
routed his army in the neighbourhood of Antioch. 38
He did not, however, long enjoy his victory j forheOeatljof
died in a few days after the engagement, of the wounds Hblcme-
he had received.
On the death of Philometor, Cleopatra the queen
designed to secure the throne for her son. But some
of.
E G
39
Monstrous
wickedness
of Physcon.
40
He is driv
en out.
41
Murders
his son.
of the principal nobility declaring for Physcon, a civil
war was about to ensue, when matters were compro¬
mised on condition that Physcon should marry Cleo¬
patra, that he should reign jointly with her during his
life, and declare her son by Philometor heir to the
crown. These terms were no sooner agreed upon than
Physcon married Cleopatra, and, on the very day of
the nuptials, murdered her son in her arms. I his was
only a prelude to the cruelties which he afterwards
practised on his subjects. He was no sooner seated on
the throne, than he put to death all those who _ had
shown any concern for the murder of the young prince.
He then wreaked his fury on the Jews, whom he treat¬
ed more like slaves than subjects, on account of their
having favoured the cause of Cleopatra. His own peop e
were treated with little more ceremony. Numbers of
them were every day put to death for the smallest fau ts,
and often for no fault at all, but merely to gratify his
inhuman temper. His cruelty towards the Alexandri¬
ans is particularly mentioned under the article iVLEX-
ANDRIA. In a short time, being wearied of his queen,
who was also his sister, he divorced her j and married
her daughter, who was also called Cleopatra, and whom
he had previously ravished. In short, his behaviour was
so exceedingly wicked, that it soon became quite into¬
lerable to his subjects ; and he was obliged to fly to the
island of Cyprus with his new queen, and Memphitis, a
son he had by her mother.
On the flight of the king, the divorced queen was
placed on the throne by the Alexandrians ; but Physcon,
fearing lest a son whom he had left behind should be ap¬
pointed king, sent for him into Cyprus, and caused him
to be assassinated as soon as he landed. I his provoket
the people against him to such a degree, that they pulled
down and dashed to pieces all the statues which had been
erected to him at Alexandria. This the tyrant supposed
to have been done at the instigation of the queen, and
therefore resolved to revenge it on her by killing his
own son whom he had by her. He therefore, without
the least remorse, caused the young prince’s throat to be
cut ; and having put his mangled limbs into a box, sent
them as a present to his mother Cleopatra. The mes¬
senger with whom this box was sent, was one of his
puards. Pie was ordered to wait till the queen’s birth¬
day, which approached, and was to be celebrated with
extraordinary pomp ; and in the midst of the geneial
rejoicing, he was to deliver the present.
The horror and detestation occasioned by this un¬
exampled piece of cruelty cannot be expressed. An
army was soon raised, and the command of it given to
one'Marsijas, whom the queen had appointed general,
and enjoined to take all the necessary steps for the de¬
fence of the country. On the other hand, Physcon
having hired a numerous body of mercenaries, sent
them,°under the command of one Hegelochus, against
the Egyptians. The two armies met on the frontiers
of Egypt, on which a bloody battle ensued » Pu(: at'
last the Egyptians were entirely defeated, and Marsyas
was taken prisoner. Every one expected that the cap-
Egypt.
Y P T.
by this overthrow, demanded assistance from Deme¬
trius king of Syria, who had married her eldest daugh- ^
ter by Philometor, promising him the crown of Egypt
for his reward. Demetrius accepted the proposal
without hesitation, marched with all his foices into E-
gypt, and there laid siege to Pelusium. But he being
no less hated in Syria than Physcon was in Egypt, the
people of Antioch, taking advantage of his absence,
revolted against him, and were joined by most of the
other cities in Syria. Thus Demetrius was obliged to
return •, and Cleopatra, being now in no condition to
oppose Physcon, fled to Ptolemais, where her daughter 42
the queen of Syria at that time resided. Physcon was^nn
then restored to the throne of Egypt, which he enjoy¬
ed without further molestation till his death; which
happened at Alexandria, in the 29th year of his reign
and 67th of his age.
To Physcon succeeded Ptolemy Lathyrus, about 122
years before Christ; but he had not reigned long, be¬
fore his mother, finding that he would not be entirely
governed by her, by false surmises stirred up the Alex¬
andrians, who drove him from the throne, and placed ^
on it his youngest brother Alexander. Lathyrus after Ptolemy
this was obliged to content himself with the govern-Eadiyim
tins was oougeu eu L,um.cu«. &v . d i '
ment of Cyprus, which he was permitted to enjoying®-
• i 11 — A in tlip mpnn timp. nn(lin£f__j t
quiet. Ptolemy Alexander, m the mean time, hnfbngandetget
he was to have only the shadow of sovereignty, and thatUp.
his mother Cleopatra was to have all the power, stole
away privately from Alexandria. The queen used every
artifice to bring him back, as well knowing that the
Alexandrians would never suffer her to reign alone.
At last her son yielded to her entreaties ; but soon after,
understanding that she had hired assassins to despatch
him, he caused her to be murdered. 44
The death of the queen was no sobner known to the Lathyrus
Alexandrians, than, disdaining to be commanded by’*80"'
a parricide, they drove out Alexander, and recalled La-
thyrus.—The deposed prince for some time led a ram¬
bling life in the island of Cos ; but having got together
some ships, he, the next year, attempted to return into
Egypt. But being met by Tyrrhus, Lathyrus’s admi¬
ral, he was defeated, and obliged to fly to Myra m
Lycia. From Myra he steered his course towards
Cyprus, hoping that the inhabitants would place him
on the throne, instead of his brother. But Choreas,
another of Lathyrus’s admirals, coming up with him
while he was ready to land, an engagement ensued, m
which Alexander’s fleet was dispersed, and he himself
hilled ^
" During these disturbances,^/^ king of Cyrenai_ca,Cyreua,«
the son of Ptolemy Physcon by a concubine,_ having
maintained peace and tranquillity in his dominions du- n|
ring a reign of 21 years, died, and by his wiU left
his kingdom to the Romans } and thus the Egyp
tian empire was considerably reduced and circum- ^
scribed. . city of
Lathyrus being now delivered from all competitors. ^
turned bis arms against the city of Thebes, which had^.^
revolted from him. The king marched in person
tz.tr?.
verest torments ; but Physcon, perceiving that his cru¬
elties only exasperated the people, resolved to try whe¬
ther he could regain their affections by lenity •, and
therefore pardoned Marsyas, and set him at liberty.—
Cleopatra, in the mean time, being greatly distressed
pitched battle, laid close siege to their city. t>ie in'
habitants defended themselves with great resolution tor
three years. At last, however, they were obliged to
submit, and the city was given up to be plundered y
the soldiery. They left everywhere the most melan-
EGYPT.
601
ypt. choly monuments of their avarice and cruelty j so that
w»y '«"•<* Thebes, which till that time had been one of the most
wealthy cities of Egypt, was now reduced so low that
,7 it never afterwards made any figure.
A Binder About 76 years before Christ, Ptolemy Lathyrus
il cceedswas succeeded by Alexander II. lie was the son of
^ rruSl the Ptolemy Alexander, for whom Lathyrus had been
driven out; and had met with many adventures. He
was first sent by Cleopatra into the island of Cos, with
a great sum of money, and all her jewels j as thinking
that woul ! be the safest place where they could be kept.
When Mithridates king of Pontus made himself master
of that island, the inhabitants delivered up to him the
young Egyptian prince, together with all the trea-
sures.. Mithridates gave him an education suitable to
his birth •, but he, not thinking himself safe with a
prince who had shed the blood of his own children,
fled to the camp of Sylla the Roman dictator, who
was then making war in Asia. From that time he li¬
ved in the family of the Roman general, till news was
brought to Rome ol the death of Lathyrus. Sylla then
sent him to Egypt to take possession of the throne.
But, before his arrival, the Alexandrians had chosen
Cleopatra for the sovereign. To compromise matters,
J_? however, it was agreed, that Ptolemy should marry her,
Era and tal5e lier for Ilis Partner in the throne. This was
arnur-’ accordingly done; and 19 days after marriage, the
deuer. unhappy queen was murdered by her husband, who for
15 years afterwards showed himself such a monster of
wickedness, that a general insurrection at last ensued
among his subjects, and he was obliged to fly to Pom-
pey the Great, who was then carrying on the war
against Mithridates king of Pontus. But Pompey
refusing to concern himself in the matter, he retired
to the city of Pyre, where he died some months
after.
When he was forced to shut himself up in the city
9 °f Tyre, Alexander had sent ambassadors to Rome, in
;sliis order to influence the senate in his favour. But, dy-
Tlto- ^ t*ie negotiation was finished, he made over
by his last will,all his rights to the Roman people, de¬
claring them heirs to his kingdom : not out of any af¬
fection to the republic ; but with a view to raise dis¬
putes between the Romans and his rival Auletes, whom
the Egyptians had placed on the throne. The will
was brought to Rome, where it occasioned warm de¬
bates. Some ivere for taking immediate possession of
the kingdom. Others thought that no notice should
be taken of such a will, because Alexander had no
right to dispose of his dominions in prejudice of his suc¬
cessor, and to exclude from the crown those who were
of the royal family of Egypt. Cicero represented, that
such a notorious imposition would debase the majesty of
the Roman people, and involve them in endless wars
and disputes; that the fruitful fields of Egypt would
be a strong temptation to the avarice of the people,
who would insist on their being divided among them ;
and lastly, that by this means the bloody quarrels about
the Agrarian laws would be revived. These reasons
had some weight with the senate ; but what chiefly pre¬
vented them from seizing on Egypt at this time was,
that they had lately taken possession of the kingdom of
Bithynia in virtue of the will of Nicomedes, and of
Cyrene and Libya by the will of Apion. They thought,
therefore, that it they should, on the like pretence,
VOL. VII. Part II. f
take possession of the kingdom of Egypt, this might Egypt.
too much expose their design of setting up a kind of v~—.
universal monarchy, and occasion a formidable combi¬
nation against them.
Auletes, who was now raised to the throne by the Chnracter
Egyptians, is said to have surpassed all the kings that0* Auletes
went before him in the effeminacy of his manners. The^,"ew
name Auletes, which signifies VheJlute-player, was given
him because he piqued himself on his skill in perform-
ing upon that instrument, and was not ashamed even to
contend for the prize in the public games. He took
great pleasure in imitating the manners of the Baccha¬
nals ; dancing in a female dress, and in the same mea¬
sures that they used during the solemnities of their god
Bacchus; and hence he had the surname of the New
Dionysius or Bacchus. As his title to the crown was
disputable (he being only the son of a concubine),
the first care of Auletes was to get himself acknow¬
ledged by the Romans, and declared their ally. This
was obtained by applying to Julius Caesar, who was at Is ackaow-
this time consul, and immensely in debt. Caesar beingle(*Sec* by
glad of such an opportunity of raising money, made1'16 ^°"
the king of Egypt pay pretty dear for his alliance.manS‘
Six thousand talents, a sum equal to 1,162,500!. ster¬
ling, were paid partly to Caesar himself, and partly
to Pompey, whose interest was necessary for obtaining
the consent of the people. Though the revenues
of Egypt amounted to twice this sum, yet Aulc-tes
found it impossible for him to raise it without severely
taxing his subjects. This occasioned a general dis¬
content ; and while the people were almost ready to
take up arms, a most unjust decree passed at Rome for
seizing the island of Cyprus. When the Alexandrians
heard of the intentions of the republic, they pressed
Auletes to demand that island as an ancient appendage
of Egypt ; and, in case of a refusal, to declare war
against that haughty and imperious people, who, they
now saw, though too late, aimed at nothing less than
the sovereignty of the world. With this request the
king refused to comply ; upon which his subjects, al- 51
ready provoked beyond measure at the taxes with which Is driven
they were loaded, flew to arms, and surrounded the pa-flom the
lace. The king had the good luck to escape their fu-^””®’ and
ry, and immediately leaving Alexandria, set sail for Rome.
Rome.
In his way to that city, he landed on the island of
Rhodes, where the famous Cato at that time was, be¬
ing on his way to Cyprus, to put the unjust decree of
the senate into exeention. Auletes, desirous to confer
with a man of his prudence, immediately sent to ac¬
quaint him with his arrival. He imagined, that, up¬
on this notice, Cato would immediately come and wait
upon him ; hut the proud Roman told the messenger,
that if the king of Egypt had any thing to say to Ca¬
to, he might, if he thought proper, come to his house.
Accordingly the king went to pay him a visit; hut was
received with very little ceremony by Cato, who did
not even vouchsafe to rise out of bis seat when he came 53
into his presence. When Auletes had laid his affairs 9,ato’5 ac*"
before this haughty republican, he was blamed by him^j®®10
for leaving Egypt, the richest kingdom in the world,
in order to expose himself, as he said, ?o the indigni¬
ties he would meet with at Rome. There Cato told
him, that nothing was in request hut wealth and gran¬
deur. All the riches of Egypt, he said, would not he
4 G sufficient
E G Y P T.
S4
Infamous
■sufficient to satisfy the avarice of the leading men in
Home. He therefore advised him to return to Egypt;
and strive, by a more equitable conduct, to regain the
affections of his people. He even offered to reconduct
him thither, and employ his good offices in his behalf.
But though Ptolemy was sensible of the propriety
of this advice, the friends he had with him dissuaded
him from following it, and accordingly he set out for
Home. _
On his arrival in this metropolis, the king found, to
j riiziiiiijua v_y 11 iitvj €.«.***»**» *  / c-.- ' #
conduct of hjg great concern, that Caesar, in whom he placed his
AuleteS. • ' C i      T-Tti»>oa
55
F^erenice
greatest confidence, was then in Gaul. He was receiv¬
ed, however, by Pompey with great kindness. He
assigned him an apartment in his own house, and omitted
nothing that lay in his power to serve him. But, not¬
withstanding the protection of so powerful a man, Au-
letes was forced to go from house to house like a pri¬
vate person, soliciting the votes of the senators. Af¬
ter he had spent immense treasures in procuring a strong
party in the city, he was at last permitted to lay his
complaints belore the senate j and at the same time
there arrived an embassy from the Alexandi lans, con¬
sisting of too citizens, to acquaint the senate with the
reason of their revolt.
When Auletes first set out for Rome, the Alexan-
by the venal judges, who had all been bribed by Pto¬
lemy. In a short time, the senate passed a decree, by
which it was enacted, that the king of Egypt should £5
be restored by force of arms. All the great men in|™r^to™
Rome were ambitious of this commission-, which, they
well knew, would be attended with immense profit.senatet
Their contests on this occasion took up a considerable
time ; and at last a prophecy of the Sybil was found
out, which forbade the assisting an Egyptian monarch
with an army. Ptolemy, therefore, wearied out with so
long a delay, retired from Rome, where he had made
himself generally odious, to the temple of Diana at
Ephesus, there to wait the decision of his fate. Here
he remained a considerable time : but as he saw that the
senate came to no resolution, though he had solicited
them by letters so to do ; at last, by Pompey’s advice, he
applied to Gabinius the proconsul of Syria. rl his Gabi-
nius was a man of a most infamous character, and ready
to undertake any thing for money. Therefore, though
it was contrary to an express law for any governor to
go out of his province without positive orders from the
senate and people of Rome, yet Gabinius ventured to
transgress this law, upon condition of being well paid
for his pains. As a recompense for his trouble, bow-Gabinjl|J
  #  ' . . . ,
raised to the drians, not knowing what was become or him, placed
throne of
Egypt.
and imir
ders him
on the throne his daughter Berenice j and sent an em¬
bassy into Syria to Antiochus Asiaticus, inviting him
into Egypt to marry the queen, and reign in partner¬
ship with her. Antiochus was dead belore the arrival
56 of the ambassadors ; upon which the same proposal was
She marries made to his brother Seleucus, who readily accepted it.
SfleuciH, 'pj1;s Seleucus is described by Strabo as monstrously de¬
formed in body, and still more so in mind. The E-
gyptians nicknamed him Cybiosactes, or the Scullion: a
name which seemed more fit lor him than any other.
He was scarce settled on the throne, when he gave a
signal instance of his sordid and avaricious temper.
Ptolemy the first had caused the body of Alexander the
Great to he deposited in a coffin of massy gold. This
the king seized upon and by that means provoked lus
wife Berenice to such a degree, that she caused hirn to
be murdered. She then married one Archelaus, high
priest of Comana in Pontus, who pretended to be the
son of Mithridates the Great 5 but was, in fact, enly
the son of that monarch’s general.
Auletes was not a little alarmed on hearing of these
transactions, especially when the ambassadors arrived,
which lie feared would overturn all the schemes he had
laboured so much to bring about. The embassy was
beaded by one Dion, a celebrated Academic philosopher
who had many powerful friends at Rome. But Ptolemy
57
Marries
ArcUelaus.
jv^i. uio   - ' viauumia
ever, he demanded 10,000 talents ; that is, 1,937,500b undeiukei
sterling. Ptolemy, glad to be restored on any terms, to restore
agreed to pay the above-mentioned sum ; but Gahiniusbimfor^
would not stir til! lie had received one half of it. 'llusfe
obliged the king to borrow it from a Roman knight
named Cuius Rabirius Posthumius; Pompey interpo¬
sing his credit and authority for the payment of the
capital and interest.
Gabinius now set out for Egypt, attended by the
famous Mark Antony, who at this time served in the
army under him. He was met by Archelaus, who
since the departure of Auletes had reigned in Egypt
jointly with Berenice, at the head of a numerous army.
The Egyptians were utterly defeated, ami Archelau*
taken prisoner in the first engagement. Thus Gabi¬
nius might have put an end to the war at once : but •
his avarice prompted him to dismiss Archelaus on his
paying a considerable ransom ; after which, pretending
that he had made his escape, fresh sums were demanded
from Ptolemy for defraying the expences of the war.
For these sums Ptolemy was again obliged to apply to
Rabirius, who lent him what money he wanted at a 61
very high interest. At last, however, Archelaus wasArclielai
defeated and killed, and thus Ptolemy again became
master of all Egypt. 61
Auletes
nutcics WHO HHU lUHIlJ p’vJVVCiiui utiuuo nu Lvixtjv.. ^«v
imuderstlie j-oun(j means to get both him and most of his followers
Egyptian
ambassa-
d or*.
assassinated -, and this intimidated the rest to such a
degree, that they durst not execute their commission,
or, for some time, even demand justice for the murder
of their colleagues.
The report of so many murders, however, at last
spread a general alarm. Auletes, sure ol the pi elec¬
tion of Pompey, did not scruple to own himself the
perpetrator of them. Nay, though an action was
commenced against one Ascitius, an assassin, who had
stabbed Dion the chief of the embassy above mentioned,
and the crime was fully proved j yet lie was acquitted
No sooner was Auletes firmly settled on the throne, 3e,.e„j(
than he put to death his daughter Berenice, and op-put to
pressed his people with the most cruel exactions, in or-dea
der to procure the money he had been obliged to hor- ^r£SSe|
row while in a state of exile. These oppressions and
exactions the cowardly Egyptians bore with great pa¬
tience, being intimidated by the garrison which Gabi¬
nius had left in Alexandria. But neither the fear of
the Romans, nor the authority of Ptolemy, could make
them put up an affront offered to their religion. A
Roman soldier happened to kill a cat, which was an
animal held sacred and even worshipped by the EgyP*
tians } and no sooner was this supposed sacrilege known,
than the Alexandrians made a general insurrection,
and gathering together in crowds, made their way
D 00 through
j through the Roman guards, dragged the soldier out of
his house, and, in spite of all opposition, tore him in
pieces.
Notwithstanding the heavy taxes, however, which
Ptolemy laid on his people, it doth not appear that
he had any design of paying his debts. Rabirius, who,
as we have already observed, had lent him immense
gums, finding that the king affected delays, took a
voyage to Egypt, in order to expostulate with him in
!n ititude person. Ptolemy paid very little regard to his expostu-
oipletes. lations 5 but excused himself on account of the bad
state of his finances. For this reason he offered to
make Rabirius collector general of his revenues, that
he might in that employment pay himself. The unfor¬
tunate creditor accepted the employment for fear of
losing his debt. But Ptolemy soon after, upon some
frivolous pretence or other, caused him and all his ser¬
vants to be closely confined. This base conduct exas¬
perated Pompey as much as Rabirius; for the former
had been in a manner security for the debt, as the money
had been lent at his request, and the business transact¬
ed at a country house of his near Alba. However, as
Rabirius had reason to fear the worst, he took the first
opportunity of making his escape, glad to get off’ with
life from his cruel and faithless debtor. To complete
his misfortunes, he was prosecuted at Rome as soon as
he returned, I. For having enabled Ptolemy to corrupt
the senate with sums lent him for that purpose. 2. For
having debased and dishonoured the character of a
Roman knight, by farming the revenues, and becoming
the servant of a foreign prince. 3. For having been
an accomplice with Gabinius, and sharing with him the
10,000 talents which that proconsul had received for his
Egyptian expedition. By the eloquence of Cicero
he was acquitted 5 and one of the best orations to be
found in the writings of that author was composed on
this occasion. Gabinius was also prosecuted ; and, as
Cicero spoke against him, he very narrowly escaped
death. He was, however, condemned to perpetual
banishment, after having been stripped of all he was
worth. He lived in exile till the time of the civil wars,
when he was recalled by Ctesar, in whose service he lost
his life.
Auletes enjoyed the throne of Egypt about four
en years after his re-establishment; and at his death left
'je ot his children, a son and two daughters, under the tui¬
tion of the Roman people. The name of the son was
Ptolemy, those of the daughters were Cleopatra and
Ai ' si HOC. This was the Cleopatra who afterwards be¬
came so famous, and had so great a share in the civil
wars of Rome. As the transactions of the present
reign, however, are so closely connected with the
affairs of Rome, that they cannot be well understood
without knowing the situation of the Romans at. that
time, we refer for an account of them to the History
of Bomb.
N<ofE ^ Cleopatra ended the family of Ptolemy Lagus,
5)1 ill its^e ft)lin^er Grecian empire in Egypt, after it
»!:.gtkyhad held that country in subjection for the space of
^ iph 294 years. From this time Egypt became a province
“rwan.ol the Roman empire, and continued subject to the
emperors of Rome or Constantinople. In the year
642, it was conquered by the Arabs under Amru Elm
al As, one of the generals of the caliph Omar. In the
year 889, an independent government was set up in
66
les his
EGYPT.
this kingdom by Ahmed Ebn Tolun, who rebelled
against Al Mokhadi caliph of Bagdad. It continued
to be governed by him and bis successors for 27 years,
when it was again reduced by Al Moctasi caliph of
Bagdad. In about 30 years after, we find it again an
independent state, being joined with Syria under Ma¬
homet Ebn Taj, who had been appointed governor of
these provinces. This government, however, was also
but short-lived j for in the year 968 it was conquered
by Jawhar, one of the generals of Moez Ledinillah, the
! atemite caliph of Cairwan in Barbary. See Barbary,
N° 34-
No sooner was Moez informed of the success of his Moez takes
general, than he prepared with all expedition to go and Poss.ession
take possession of his new conquest. Accordingly heffllls, new
ordered all the vast quantities of gold which he and " ^ °U1
his predecessors had amassed, to be cast into ingots, of
the size and figure of the millstones used in hand-mills,
and cqnveyed on camels backs into Egypt. To shew
that he was fully determined to abandon his dominions
in Barbary, and to make Egypt the residence of him¬
self and his successors, he caused the remains of the
three former princes of his race to be removed from
Cairwan in Barbary, and to be deposited in a stately
mosque erected for that purpose in the city of Cairo in
Egypt. This was a most effectual method to induce
his successors to reside in Egypt also, as it was become
an established custom and duty among those princes
fl4q nently to pay their respectful visits to the tombs of
their ancestors. ^
To establish himself the more effectually in his new Will not
dominions, Moez suppressed the usual prayers made insuffer P,,a.v-
the mosques for the caliphs of Bagdad, and substituted Tw be,
his own name in their stead. Ibis was complied with caliph of
not only in Egypt and Syria, but even throughout all Baj-riad.
Arabia, the city of Mecca alone excepted. The con¬
sequence was, a schism in the Maliommedan faith,
which continued upwards of 200 years, and was at¬
tended with continual anathemas, and sometimes de¬
structive wars between the caliphs of Bagdad and of
Egypt.—Having fully established himself in his king¬
dom, he died in the 45th year of his age, three years
after he had left his dominions in Barbary; and was
succeeded by his son Abu Al Mansur Barar, surnamed
Aziz Billab.
The new caliph succeeded to the throne at the ageUnaicccss-
of 21 ; and committed the management of affairs en-ful txPedi-
tirely to the care of Jawhar, his father’s long-expe-tlon 1,Uu
rienced general and prime minister. In 978, he sentS)lid*
this famous warrior to drive out Al Aftekia, the emir
of Damascus. The Egyptian general accordingly
formed the siege of that place; but at the end of two
months was obliged to raise it, on the approach of an
army of Karmatians under the command of AlHakem.
As Jawhar was not strong enough to venture an en¬
gagement with these Karmatians, it was impossible for
him to hinder them from effecting a junction with the
forces of Al Aftekin. He therefore retreated, or ra¬
ther fled, towards Egypt with the utmost expedition ;
but being overtaken by the two confederate armies, he
was soon reduced to the last extremity. He was^ how¬
ever, permitted to resume his march, on condition that
he passed under Al Aftekin’s sword and Al Hakem’s
lance ; and to this disgraceful condition Jawhar found
himself obliged to submit. On his arrival in Egypt,
4 G 2 he
6o4
E G Y
Egypt.
69 ,
Aleppo uc-
sieged
without
success.
he immediately advised A1 A,t\z to undertake an expe¬
dition in person into the east, against the combined ar¬
my of Turks, Karmatians, and Damascenes, under the
command of A1 Aftekin and A1 Hakem. The caliph
followed his advice and advancing against his enemies,
overthrew them with great slaughter. A1 Aftekin
himself escaped out of the battle; but was afterwards
taken and brought to A1 Aziz, who made him his
chamberlain, and treated him with great kindness.
Jawhar, in the mean time, was disgraced on account of
his bad success : and in his disgrace he continued till
his death, which happened in the year of our Lord 990,
and of the Hegira 381. . , , . r i
This year A1 Aziz having received advice ot the
death of Saado’dawla prince of Aleppo, sent a formi¬
dable army under the command of a general named
Manjubekin, to reduce that place. Lulu, who had
been appointed guardian to Saado’dawla’s son, finding
himself pressed by the Egyptians, who carried on the
siege with great vigour, demanded assistance from the
Greek emperor. Accordingly, he ordered a body of
troops to advance to Lulu’s relief. Manjubekin, being
informed of their approach, immediately raised the
siege, and advanced to give them battle. An obsti¬
nate engagement ensued, in which the Greeks weie
at last overthrown with great slaughter. *113
victory, Manjubekin pushed on the siege of Aleppo
very briskly ; but finding the place capable of defend¬
ing itself much longer than he at first imagined, and
his provisions beginning to fail, he raised the siege.
The caliph upon this*sent him a very threatening letter,
and commanded him to return before Aleppo. He did
so j and continued the siege for 13 months*, during all
which time it was defended by Lulu with incredible
bravery. At last, the Egyptians hearing that a numer¬
ous army of Greeks was on their way to relieve the
city, they raised the siege, and fled with the utmost
precipitation. The Greeks then took and plundered
some of the cities which A1 Aziz possessed in Syria $
and Manjubekin made the best of his way to Damascus,
where he set up for himself. A1 Aziz being inform¬
ed of this revolt, marched in person against him with
a considerable army 5 but being taken ill by the way,
he expired, in the 2lst year of his reign and 42d of his
Egypt
age.
70
Strange
A1 Aziz was succeeded by his son Abu A1 Mansur,
surnamed A1 Hakem *, who, being only 11 years of age,
was put under the tuition of a eunuch of approved mte-
grity. , .
This reign is remarkable for nothing so much as tne
madness of madness with which the caliph was seized in the latter
the caliph t 0f This manifested itself first by his issuing
A1 Hakem. ^ prep0sterous edicts *, but at length grew to such
a height, that he fancied himself a god, and found no
fewer than 16,000 persons who owned him as such.
These were mostly the Dararians, a new sect sprung
up about this time, who were so called from their chief,
Mohammed Elm Ishmael, surnamed Darari. He is
supposed to have inspired the mad caliph with this im¬
pious notion y. and, as Darari set up for a second Mo¬
ses, he did not scruple to assert that A1 Hakem was the
great Creator of the universe. For this reason, a zea¬
lous Turk stabbed him in the caliph’s chariot. His
death was followed by a three days uproar in the city
of Cairo y during which, Darari’s house was pulled
P T.
down, and many of his followers massacred. The sect,
however, did not.ejcpire with its author. He left be- *■
hind him a disciple named Hamza, who, being encou¬
raged by the. mad caliph, spread it far and wide through
his dominions. This was quickly followed by an abro¬
gation of all the Mahommedan fasts, festivals, and pil¬
grimages, the grand one to Mecca in particular j so
that the zealous Mahometans were now greatly alarm¬
ed, as justly supposing that A1 Hakem designed entirely
to suppress the worship of the true God, and introduce
his own in its place. From this apprehension, however,
they were delivered by the death of the caliph who
was assassinated, by a contrivance of his own sister, in
the year 1020.
A1 Hakem was succeeded by his son A1 Thaher, who
reigned 15 years j and left the throne to a son under
seven years of age, named A1 Mostanser Billah.—In
the year 1041, a revolt happened in Syria y but Al
Mostanser having sent a powerful army into that coun¬
try, under the command of Aiiusiitckin^ he not only re¬
duced the rebels, but considerably enlarged the Egyp¬
tian dominions in Syria. . t (.
In 1054, a Turk named Al Bassasiri, having quar-.il Mostaj
relied with the vizir of Al Kayem caliph of Bagdad,s« at.
fled to Egypt, and put himself under the protection
Al Mostanser. The latter, imagining this would be a
favourable opportunity for enlarging his dominions, and
perhaps seizing on the city of Bagdad, supplied Bassa¬
siri with money and troops. By this assistance, he was
enabled to possess himself of Arabian Irak, and rava- j,
ged that province to the very gates of Bagdad. On Caliph ol
this, Al Kayem wrote to Togrol Beg, or Tangroli-Bagdad,
pix, the Turkish sultan, who possessed very extensively
dominions in the east, to come to his assistance. Tlie^g
sultan immediately complied with this request, and soon
arrived at Bagdad with a formidable army and 18 ele¬
phants. Of this Bassasiri gave notice to Al Mostan¬
ser, and entreated him to exert himself further for his
support against so powerful an enemy. This was ac¬
cordingly done, but nothing worthy of notice happen¬
ed till &the year 1058. At this time Bassasiri having
found means to excite Ibrahim the sultan’s brother to
a revolt, Togrol Beg was obliged to employ all his
force against him. This gave Bassasiri an opportunity
of seizing on the city of Bagdad itself y and tlie unfor-gag
tunate caliph, according to some, was taken prisoner,taken,
or, according to others, fled out of the city.. Bassasiii,
on his entry, caused Al Mostanser to be immediately
proclaimed caliph in all quarters of the city. Al Kay-
em’s vizir he causetl to he led on a camel through the
streets of Bagdad, dressed in a woollen gown, with a
high red bonnet, and leathern collar about his neck 5 a
man lashing him all the way behind. Then being sewed
up in a bull’s hide, with the horns placed over his
head, and hung upon hooks, he was beaten without
ceasing till he died. The imperial palace was plun¬
dered, and the caliph himself detained a close pri¬
soner # . rr TliP m!
This success was but short-lived y for, in I059» . restorec
grol Beg defeated his brother Ibrahim, took him pri¬
soner, and strangled him with a bow string. He then
marched to Bagdad, which Bassasiri thought proper to
abandon at his approach. Here the caliph Al Kayem
was delivered up by Mahras, the governor of a city
called Hadithay who had the charge of him. He
cahpn
'pt
)e *•.? of
he«yP-
!ac
E G
caliph was immediately restored to his dignity ; which
Bassasiri no sooner understood, than he again advanced
towards the city. Against him Togrol Beg sent a
part of his army under some of his generals, while he
himself followed with the rest. A battle ensued, in
which the army of Bassasiri was defeated, and he him¬
self killed. His head was brought to Togrol Beg,
who caused it to be brought on a pike through the
streets of Bagdad.
Thus the hopes of A1 Mostanser were entirely fru-
strated ; and from this period we may date the declen-
jumpire. gi011 of the Egyptian empire under the caliphs. They
had made themselves masters of almost all Syria ; but
no sooner was Bassasiri’s had success known, than the
younger part of the citizens of Aleppo revolted, and
set up Mahmud Azzo’dawla, who immediately laid
siege to the citadel. A1 Mostanser sent a powerful ar¬
my against him, which Azzo’dawla entirely defeated,
and took the general himself prisoner ; and soon after
this he made himself master both of the city and cita¬
del, with all their dependencies. In his new domi¬
nions he behaved with the greatest cruelty, destroying
every thing with lire and sword, and making frequent
incursions into the neighbouring provinces, which he
^ treated in the same manner.
Pl.r |efa_ This disaster was soon followed by others still more
ninAnd terrible. In 1066, a famine raged over all Egypt and
Syria, with such fury, that dogs and cats were sold for
four or five Egyptian dinars each, and other provisions
in proportion. Multitudes of people died in Cairo for
want of food. Nay, so great was the scarcity, that
the vizir had but one servant left who was able to attend
him to the caliph’s palace, and to whom he gave the
care of his horse when he alighted at the gate. But
at his return, he was surprised to find that the horse
had been carried olf, killed and eaten by the famished
people. Of this he complained to the caliph j who
caused three of them who had carried off the horse to
be hanged. Next day, however, he was still more sur¬
prised to hear, that all the flesh had been picked off the
bones of the three unhappy criminals, so that nothing
but the skeletons were left. And to such a degree of
misery were the inhabitants, not only in Cairo but
through all Egypt, reduced, that the carcases of those
who died were sold for food at a great price, instead of
being buried. All this time the caliph showed the
greatest kindness and beneficence towards his unhappy
subjects j insomuch that of 10,000 horses, mules, and
camels, which he had in his stables when the famine be¬
gan, he had only three, left when it was removed,
min ^a,,,*ne was followed by a plague j and this by
ie a» invasion of the Turks under Abu Ali Al Hasan
Naserod’dawla, the very general who had been sent a-
gainst the rebel Azzo’dawla and defeated by him.
He began with besieging the caliph in his own palace }
and the unhappy prince, being in no condition to make
resistance, was obliged to buy himself off at the ex¬
pence of every thing valuable that was left in his ex¬
hausted capital and treasury. This, however, did not
hinder those merciless plunderers from ravaging all
the Lower Egypt from Cairo to Alexandria, and com¬
mitting the most horrid cruelties through that whole
tract.—This happened in the years 1067 and 1068 ;
and in 1069 antl I07°> there happened two other re-
2
Y P T.
volts in Syria : so that tins country was now almost en¬
tirely lost.
In 1095 died the caliph Al Mostanser, having reign¬
ed 60 years ; and was succeeded by his son Abul Ka-
sem, surnamed Al Mostali. The most remarkable
transaction ol this prince’s reign, was his taking the city 7S
ol Jerusalem from the Turks in 1098 j but this success-Jerusalem
was only of short duration j for it was the same yeartahen-
taken by the crusaders.
From this time to the year 1164, the Egyptian hi¬
story affords little else than an account of the intestine
broils and contests between the vizirs or prime mini¬
sters, who were now become so powerful, that they
had in a great measure stripped the caliphs of their ci¬
vil power, and left them nothing but a shadow of spi¬
ritual dignity. These contests at last gave occasion to 79
a revolution, by which the race of Fatemite caliphs 4 Fevo,”_
was totally extinguished. This revolution was accom-flon *n ^
plished in the following manner. One S/iawer, having kingd°m*
overcome all Ins competitors, became vizir to Al A-
ded, the eleventh caliph of Egypt. Pie had not been
long in possession of this office, when Al Dargam, an
officer of rank, endeavoured to deprive him of it.
Botl) parties quickly had recourse to arms; and a battle
ensued, in which Shawer was defeated, and obliged
to fly to Nurodd/n prince of Syria, by whom he was
graciously received, and who promised to reinstate him
in his office of vizir. As an inducement to Nuroddin
to assist him more powerfully, Shavver told him that the
crusaders had landed in Egypt, and made a considerable
progress in the conquest ol it. He promised also that,
in case he was reinstated in his office, he would pay Nu¬
roddin annually the third part of the revenues of Egypt;
and would, besides, defray the whole expence of the ex¬
pedition.
.As Nuroddin bore an implacable hatred to the Chri¬
stians, he readily undertook an expedition against them,
for which he was to be so well paid. He therefore
sent an army into Egypt under the command of Shawer
and a general named Asadoddin. Dargam, in the mean
time, had cut off' so many generals whom he imagi¬
ned favourable to Shawer’s interest, that he thereby
weakened the military force of the kingdom, and in a
great measure deprived himself of the power of resist¬
ance. He was therefore easily overthrown by Asa¬
doddin, and Shawer reinstated in the office of vizir.
The faithless minister, however, no sooner saw himself
firmly established in his office, than he refused to fulfil
his engagements to Nuroddin by paying the Stipulated
sums. Upon this, Asadoddin seized Pelusium and some
other cities. Shawer then entered into an alliance with
the crusaders, and Asadoddin was besieged by theircom-
bined forces in Pelusium. Nuroddin, however, having
invaded the Christian dominions in Syria, and taken a.
strong fortress called Hare?n, Shawer and his confede¬
rates thought proper to hearken to some terms of ac¬
commodation, and Asadoddin was permitted to depart
for Syria.
In the mean time, Nuroddin, having subdued the
greatest part of Syria and Mesopotamia, resolved to
make Shawer feel the weight of his resentment on
account of his perfidious conduct. He therefore sent
back Asadoddin into Egypt with a sufficient force,,
to compel Shawer to fulfil his engagements: but this
th»
E G Y
the vizir took care to do before the arrival of Asadod-
and thus, for the present, avoided the danger.
P T.
ECT>t.
8a
Conquests
of the era.
sraders.
It was not long, however, before he gave Nurocldm
fresh occasion to send this general against him.
prince had now driven the crusaders almost entirely
out of Syria, but was greatly alarmed at their progress
in Egypt ; and consequently offended at the alliance
which Shawer had concluded with them, and which
he still persisted in observing. This treaty was also
thought to be contrived on purpose to prevent Shawer
from being able to fulfil his promise to Nuroddin, ot
sending him annually a third of the revenues of Egypt.
Nuroddin therefore again despatched Asadoddin into
Egypt, in the year 1166, with a sufficient force, and
attended by the famous Salahaddin, or Saladin, his
own nephew. They entered the kingdom without op¬
position, and totally defeated Shawer and the crusa¬
ders. They next made themselves masters of Alex¬
andria ; and, after that, overran all the Upper Egypt.
Saladin was left with a considerable garrison in Alex¬
andria j but Asadoddin was no sooner gone, than the
crusaders laid siege to that city. This at last obliged
Asadoddin to return to its relief. The great losses he
had sustained in this expedition probably occasioned
his agreeing to a treaty with Shawer, by which he en-^
gaged to retire out of Egypt, upon being paid a sum of
money.
Asadoddin was no sooner gone, than Shawer enter¬
ed into a fresh treaty with the Franks. By this new
alliance he was to attack Nuroddin in his own domi¬
nions, as he was at that time engaged in quelling some
revolters, which would effectually prevent his sending
any more forces into Egypt. This treaty so provoked
the Syrian prince, that he resolved to suspend his other
conquests for some time, and exert his whole strength
in the conquest of Egypt.
By this time the crusaders had reduced Pelusium,
and made a considerable progress in the kingdom, as
well as in some other countries, through the divisions
which reigned among the Mahometan princes. In
such places as they conquered, they put almost every
body to the sword ", Christians as well as Mahometans ;
selling their prisoners for slaves, and giving up the
towns to be plundered by the soldiers. From Pelu-
simn they marched to Cairo ; which was then in no
posture of defence, and in the utmost confusion, by
reason of the divisions which reigned in it. Shawer,
therefore, as soon as he heard of their approach, cau¬
sed the ancient quarter called Mesr to be set on fire,
and the inhabitants to retire into the other parts. He
also prevailed upon the caliph to solicit the assistance
of Nuroddin-, which the latter was indeed pretty much
inclined of himself to grant, as it gave him the fairest
opportunity he could have wished for, both of driving
the crusaders out of Egypt, and of seizing the king¬
dom to himself. For this purpose he had already raised
an army of 60,000 horse under his general Asadoddin j
and on the receipt of A1 Aded’s message, gave them
orders to set out immediately. The crusaders were
now arrived at Cairo; and had so closely besieged that
place, that neither Shawer nor the caliph knew any
thing of the approach of the Moslem army which was
hastening to their relief. The vizir, therefore, find¬
ing it impossible to hold out long against the enemy,
had recourse to his old subterfuge of treaties and high
4
promises. He sent the enemy I00,C00 dinars, and
promised them 900,000 more, if they would raise the' v—
siege j which they, dreading the approach of Asadod¬
din, very readily accepted. 8l
The army of Nuroddin now approached the capital They are
by hasty marches, and were everywhere received withr<-Pul«(i sj-
the greatest demonstrations of joy. Asadoddin, on his
arrival at Cairo, was invited by A1 Aded to the royal ^*lrod(lm
    . . j ‘prince of •
palace, where he was entertained in the most magnifi-Damascus
cent manner, and received several presents j nor were
Saladin and the other principal officers less magnifi¬
cently treated. Shawer also, conscious of his perfidious
conduct, was no les assiduous in attending punctually
upon him. But having invited the general and some
others to an entertainment, he had formed a scheme of
having them seized and murdered. The plot, however,
being discovered, Shawer himself had his head cut off,
and Asadoddin was made vizir in his stead. He did
not, however, long enjoy his new dignity ; for he died
two months and five days after his instalment, being
succeeded in his office of vizir by his nephew Sala-Saludinb;
din.
The new vizir was the youngest of all the. grandees
who aspired to that office, but had already given some
signal proofs of his valour and conduct. What deter¬
mined the caliph to prefer him to all the rest is not
known ; hut it is certain that some of them were highly
displeased with his promotion, and even publicly de¬
clared that they would not obey him. In order to gain
these to his interest, therefore, Saladin found it neces¬
sary to distribute among them part of the vast treasures
left by his uncle by which means he soon governed
Egypt without controul, as had been customary with
the vizirs for some time before. Soon after his being
installed into the office of vizir, he gave a total defeat
to the negroes who guarded the royal palace, and had
opposed his election by which means, and a strong
garrison he had placed in the castle of Cairo, his power
became firmly established. Though he had not the
least intention of continuing in his allegiance to Nu¬
roddin, he did not think it prudent at first to declare
himself. He sent for his father, however, and the rest
of his family, who were in Nuroddin’s dominions, in
order, as he" said, to make them partakers of his gran¬
deur and happiness. Nuroddin did not think proper
to deny this request though, being already jealous.of
the great power of Saladin, he insisted that his family
should consider him only as one of his generals in
Egypt.
A good understanding subsisted between Nuroddin
and Saladin for some time, which did not a little con¬
tribute to raise the credit of the latter with the Egyp¬
tians. In 1169, Nuroddin sent him orders to omit
the name of A1 Aded, the caliph ot Egypt, in the pu¬
blic prayers, and substitute that of the caliph of Bagdad
in its place. This was at any rate a dangerous at¬
tempt as it might very readily produce a revolt in fa¬
vour of A1 Adtd : or if it did not, it gave Saladin an
opportunity of engrossing even that small remnant of
power which was left to the caliph. A1 Aded, how¬
ever, was not sensible of his disgrace j for he was onSeu«
his deathbed, and past recovery, when Nuroddin’s or'
ders were executed. After his death, Saladin seized on
all his wealth and valuable effects j which consisted 0
jewels of prodigious size, sumptuous furniture, a library
J containing
S3
EGYPT.
containing 100,000 volumes, &c. His family lie caused
to be closely confined in the most private and retired
part of the palace ; and either manumitted his slaves,
or kept them for himself, or disposed of them to
others.
Saladin was now arrived at the highest pitch of
wealth, power, and grandeur. He was, however, ob¬
liged to behave with great circumspection with regard
to Nuroddin : who still continued to treat him as his
vassal, and would not suffer him to dispute the least of
his commands. He relied for advice chiefly on his fa¬
ther Ayub *, who was a consummate politician, and
ip iito very ambitious of seeing his son raised to the throne of
e pwn. Egypt. He therefore advised Saladin to continue sted-
fast in his resolutions; and, whilst he amused Nuroddin
with feigned submissions, to take every method in his
power to secure himself in the possession of so valuable
a kingdom. Nuroddin himself, however, was too great
a master in the art of dissimulation to be easily imposed
on by others ; and therefore, though he pretended to
be well pleased with Saladin’s conduct, he was all this
time raising a powerful army, with which he was fully
determined to invade Egypt the following year. But
while he meditated this expedition, he was seized with
a quinsy at the castle of Damascus, which put an end to
his life, in the year 1173.
Saladin, though now freed from the apprehensions
of such a formidable enemy, dared not venture to as¬
sume the title of Sovereign, while he saw the successor
of Nuroddin at the head of a very powerful army, and
no less desirous than able to dispossess him. For this
reason his first care was to secure to himself an asylum,
in case he should be obliged to leave Egypt altogether.
For this purpose he chose the kingdom of Nubia 5 but
having despatched his brother Malek Turanshah thi¬
ther, at the head of a considerable army, the latter
was so much struck with the sterility and desolate ap-
I pearance of the country, that he returned without at-
A-tempting any thing. Saladin then sent his brother into
■Mi.'lix.Arabia Felix, in order to subdue that country, which
had been for some time held by Abdalnabi an Arabian
prince. Malek entered the country without opposi¬
tion ; and having brought Abdalnabi to a general ac¬
tion, entirely defeated him, took him prisoner, and
threw him into irons. He then overran and reduced
under subjection to Saladin great part of the country,
taking no fewer than 80 castles or fortresses of consider-
i able strength.
ssui 1 After this good fortune, Saladin, now sure of a con-
■e t: of ven|ent place of refuge in case of any misfortune, as¬
sumed the title of Sultan or sovereign of Egypt •, and
was acknowledged as such by the greater part of the
states. The zeal of the Egyptians for the Fatemite
caliphs, however, soon produced a rebellion. One Al
Kan<z, or Kan%anaddowla, governor of a city in Upper
Egypt, assembled a great army of blacks, or rather
swarthy natives 5 and marching directly into the lower
country, was there joined by great numbers of other
Egyptians. Against them Saladin despatched his bro¬
ther Malek, who soon defeated and entirely dispersed
them. This, however, did not prevent another insur¬
rection under an impostor, who pretended to be David
the son of Al Aded the last Fatemite caliph, and had
collected a body of 100,000 men. But before these
had time to do any great damage, they were surprised
607
by the sultan’s forces, and entirely defeated. Above Egypt.
300 were publicly hanged, and a vast number perished v
in the field, insomuch that it was thought scarce a
fourth part of the whole body escaped.
About this time Saladin gained a considerable ad¬
vantage over the crusaders, commanded by William II.
king of Sicily. That prince had invaded Egypt with
a numerous fleet and army, with which he laid close
siege to Alexandria both by sea and land. Saladin,
however, marched to the relief of the city with such
surprising expedition, that the crusaders tvere seized
with a sudden panic, and fled with the utmost precipita¬
tion, leaving all their military engines, stores, and bag¬
gage behind.
In the year 1175, the inhabitants of Damascus beg-Saladin ^
ged of Saladin to accept the sovereignty of that city made sove*
and its dependencies; being jealous of the minister,rei»n01 ^a~
who had the tuition of the reigning prince, and whomastU*’
governed all with an absolute sway. The application
was no sooner made, than the sultan set out with the
utmost celerity to Damascus, at the head of a chosen
detachment of 700 horse. Having settled his affairs in
that city, he appointed his brother Saif Al Islam go¬
vernor of it; and set out for Hems, to which he imme¬
diately laid siege. Having made himself master of this
place, he then proceeded to Hamah. The city very
soon surrendered, but the citadel held out for some time.
Saladin pretended that he accepted the sovereignty of
Damascus and the other places he had conquered, only
as deputy to Al Malek Al Saleh, the successor of Nu¬
roddin, and who was then under age ; and that he was
desirous of sending Azzoddin, who commanded in the
citadel, with a letter to Aleppo, where the young prince
resided. This so pleased Azzoddin, that he took the
oath of fidelity to Saladin, and immediately set out
with the sultan’s letter. He had not, however, been,
long at Aleppo before he was by the minister’s orders
thrown into prison ; upon which his brother, who had
been appointed governor of the citadel of Hamah in hi»
absence, delivered it up to Saladin without further cere¬
mony. The sultan then marched to- Aleppo, with a
design to reduce it : but, being vigorously repulsed in
several attacks, he was at last obliged to abandon the.
enterprise. At the same time, Kamschlegin, Al Ma-
lek’s minister or vizir, hired the chief of the Batanists,
or Assassins *, to murder him. Several attempts were * see Anas-
made in consequence of this application ; but all oisin.
them, happily for Saladin, miscarried.
After raising the siege of Aleppo, Saladin returned
to Hems, which place the crusaders had invested. On
his approach, however, they thought proper to retire ;
after which, the sultan made himself master of the
strong castle belonging to that place, which before
he had not been able to reduce. This was soon fol¬
lowed by the reduction of Baalbec : and these rapid
conquests so alarmed the ministers of Al Malek, that,
entering into a combination with some of the neigh¬
bouring princes, they raised a formidable army, with
which they designed to ciush the sultan at once. Sa- ss
ladin, fearing the event of a war, offered to cede Hems ^efcals
and Hamah to Al Malek, and govern Damascus only
as his lieutenant: but these terms being rejected, a
battle ensued ; in which the allied army was utterly de¬
feated, and the shattered remains of it shut up in the
city of Aleppo. This produced a treaty, by which
Sal ad i a
terrible o
verthrow
from the
ciusriders
E. G Y
Saladin was left master of all Syria, excepting only the
city of Aleppo and the territory belonging to it. _
In 1176 Saladin returned from the conquest of Syria,
Receives a antj mat|' his triumphal entry into Cairo. Here, hav-
  ing rested himself and his troops for some time, he
began to encompass the city with a wall 29,000 cubits
in length, but which he did not live to finish. ISext
year he led a very numerous army into Palestine a-
gainst the crusaders. But here his usual good fortune
failed him. His army was entirely defeated. Forty
thousand of his men were left dead on the field ; and
the rest fled with so much precipitation, that, having
no towns in the neighbourhood where they could shel¬
ter themselves, they traversed the vast desert between
Palestine and Egypt, and scarce stopped till they
reached the capital itself. The greatest part ot the
army by this means perished ; and as no water was to
lie had in the desert above mentioned, almost all the
beasts died of thirst before the fugitives arrived on the
confines of Egypt. Saladin himself seemed to have
been greatly intimidated 5 for in a letter to his brother
A1 Malek, he told him, that “ he was more than once
in the most imminent danger j and that God, as he ap¬
prehended, had delivered him from thence, in order to
reserve him for the execution of some grand and im¬
portant design.”
In the year IiSthe sultcin set out on an expecii-
tion to Syria, with a formidable army, amidst the accla¬
mations and good wishes of the people. He was, how¬
ever, repulsed with loss both before Aleppo and A1
Mawsel, after having spent much time and labour in
besieging these two important places.
In the mean time, a most powerful fleet of Euio-
pean ships appeared on the Red sea, which threatened
the cities of Mecca and Medina with the utmost dan-
no sooner x-each-
P T.
%pt: i:
90
The Chri¬
stians re-
csive a
great defeat
at sea.
91
Saladiu’s
rapid con¬
quests.
aer. The news of this armament
ed Cairo, than Abu Beer, Saladin’s brother, who had
been left viceroy in the sultan’s absence, caused an¬
other to be fitted out with all speed under the com¬
mand of Lulu, a brave and experienced officer, who
quickly came up with them, and a dreadful engage¬
ment ensued. rl be Christians were defeated after an
obstinate resistance, and all the prisoners butchered in
cold blood. This proved such a terrible blow to the
Europeans, that they never more ventured on a like at¬
tempt. .
In 1183, Saladin continued to extend Ins conquests.
The city of Amida in Mesopotamia surrendered to him
in eight days ; after which, being provoked by some
violences committed by the prince of Aleppo, be re¬
solved at all events to make himself master of that
place. He was now attended with better success than
formerly; for as his army was very numerous, and be
pushed on the siege with the utmost vigour, Ama-
doddin the prince capitulated, upon condition cf being
allowed to possess certain cities in Mesopotamia which
had formerly belonged to him, and being ready to at¬
tend the sultan on whatever expedition he pleased. Af¬
ter the conquest of Aleppo, Saladin took three other
cities, and then marched against his old enemies the
crusaders. Having sent out a party to reconnoitre the
enemy, they fell in with a considerable detachment of
Christians ; whom they easily defeated, taking about
100 prisoners, with the loss of only a single man on
their side. The sultan, animated by this first instance
of success, drew up his forces in order of battle,
and advanced against the crusaders, who had aesem-1
hied their whole army at Sepphoris in Galilee. On
viewing the sultan’s troops, however, and perceiving
them to be greatly superior in strength to what they
had at first apprehended, they thought proper to de¬
cline an engagement, nor could Saladin with all his
skill force them to it. But though it was found im¬
possible to bring the crusaders to a decisive engage¬
ment, Saladin found means to harass them great¬
ly, and destroyed great numbers of their men. He
carried off also many prisoners, dismantled three of
their strongest cities, laid waste their territories, and
concluded the campaign with taking another strong
town. # . . nz
For three years Saladin continued to gain ground on Christian
the crusaders, yet without any decisive advantage; buttotallj
in 1x87, the fortune of war was remarkably unfavour-fwted.
able to them. The Christians now found themselves
obliged to venture a battle, by reason of the cruel
ravages committed in their territories by Saladin, and
by reason of the encroachments he daily made on
them. Both armies therefore being resolved to exert
their utmost efforts, a most fierce and bloody battle
ensued. Night prevented victory from declaring on
either side, and the fight was renewed with equal ob¬
stinacy next day. The victory was still left undecided;
but the third day the sultan’s men finding themselves
surrounded by the enemy on all sides but one, and
there also hemmed in by the river Jordan, so that there
was no room to fly, fought like men in despair, and
at last gained a most complete victory. Vast numbers
of the Christians perished on the field. A large body
found means to retire in safety to the top of a neigh¬
bouring hill covered with wood ; but being surrounded
by Saladin’s troops, who set fire to the wood, they
were all obliged to surrender at discretion. Some of
them were butchered by their enemies as soon as they
delivered themselves into their hands, and others thrown
into irons. Among the latter were the king of Jeru¬
salem himself, Arnold prince of A1 Shawbec and A1
Carac, the masters of the Templars and Hospitalers,
with almost the whole body of the latter. _ So great
was the consternation of the Christians on this occasion,
that one of* Saladin’s men is said to have taken 30 of
them prisoners,- and tied them together with the cord
of his tent, to prevent them from making their escape.
The masters of the Templars and Hospitalers, with the
knights acting under them, were no sooner brought
into Saladin’s presence, than he ordered them all to he
cut in pieces. Fie called them Assassins or Botanists;
and had been wont to pay 50 dinars for the head of
every Templar or Hospitaler that was brought him.
After the engagement, Saladin seated himself in a
magnificent tent, placing the king of Jerusalem on his
right hand, and Arnold prince of A1 Sliawbec and A1
Carac on his left. Then he drank to the former, who
was at that time ready to expire with thirst, and at
the same time oflered him a cup of snow water. This
was thankfully received ; and the king immediately
drank to the prince of A1 Carac, who sat near him.
But here Saladin interrupted him with some warmth :
“ I will not (says he) suffer this cursed rogue to drink;
as that, according to the laudable and generous custom
of the Arabs, would secure to him bis life.” Then,
turning
EGYPT. 609
L,pt turning towards the prin-ce, he reproached him with
1 r—' having undertaken the expedition while in alliance with
himself, with having intercepted an Egyptian caravan
in the time of profound peace, and massacring the
people of which it was composed, &c. Notwithstand¬
ing all thjs, he told him, he would grant him his life,
if he would embrace Mahometanism. This condition,
however, was refused ; and the sultan, with one stroke
of his scimitar, cut off the prince’s head. This great¬
ly terrified the ‘king of Jerusalem ; but Saladin assured
him he had nothing to fear, and that Arnold had
brought on himself a violent death by his want of com-
^ -mon honesty.
itirther The crusaders being thus totally defeated and dis-
iests. persed, Saladin next laid siege to Tiberias, which ca¬
pitulated in a short time. From thence he marched
towards Acca or Ptolemais, which likewise surrendered
after a short siege. Here he found 4000 Mahometan
prisoners in chains, whom he immediately released.
As the inhabitants enjoyed at present a very extensive
trade, the place being full of merchants, be found there
not only vast sums of money, but likewise a great va¬
riety of wares exceedingly valuable, all which he seized
and applied to his own house. About the same time
his brother A1 Malec attacked and took a very strong
fortress in the neighbourhood ; after which the sultan
divided his army into three bodies, that he might with
the greater facility overrun the territories of the
Christians. Thus, in very short time, he made him¬
self master of Neapolis, Caesarea, Sepphoris, and other
cities in the neighbourhood of Ptolemais, where his
soldiers found only women and children, the men hav¬
ing been all killed or taken prisoners. His next
conquest was Joppa, which was taken by storm after a
vigorous resistance. Every thing being then settled,
and a distribution made of the spoils and captives, Sa¬
lad in marched in person against Tebrien, a strong for¬
tress in the neighbourhood of Sidon ; which was taken
by assault, after it had sustained a siege of six days.
No sooner was he master of this place, than he ordered
the fortress to ‘be razed, and the garrison put to the
sword. From Tehrien the victorious sultan proceeded
to Sidon itself 5 which being deserted by its prince,
surrendered almost on the first summons. Berytus
was next, invested, and surrendered in seven days. A-
mong the prisoners Saladin found in this place the
prince of a territory called Hobeil, who by way of ran¬
som delivered up his dominions to him, and was of
consequence released. About the same time, a Chri¬
stian ship, in which was a nobleman of great courage
and experience in war, arrived at the harbour of Pto¬
lemais, not knowing that it w'as in the hands of* Sala¬
din. The governor might easily have secured the
vessel; hut neglecting the opportunity, she escaped
to Tyre, where the above-mentioned nobleman, toge¬
ther with the prince of Hobeil, contributed not a little
to retrieve the affairs of the Christians, and enable them
to make a standi for four years after.
Saladin in the mean time went on with his con¬
quests. Having made himself master of Ascalon after
a siege of 14 days, he next invested Jerusalem. The
garrison was numerous, and made an obstinate defence ;
but Saladin having at last made a breach in the walls
by sapping, the besieged desired to capitulate. This
was at first refused : upon which the Christian ambas-
Vol. VII. Part II. f
sador made the following speech : “ If that be the case, Egypt.
know,'0 sultan, that we who are extremely numerous, --y-—
and have been restrained from fighting like men in de¬
spair only by the hopes of an honourable capitulation,
will kill all our wives and children, commit all onr
wealth and valuable effects to the flames, massacre 5000
prisoners now in our hands, leave not a single beast of
burden or animal of any kind belonging to us alive,
and level with the ground the rock you esteem sacred,
together with the temple A1 Aksa. After this we will
sally out upon yon in a body ; and doubt not but we
shall either cut to pieces a much greater number of you
than we are, or force you to abandon the siege.” This
desperate speech had such an effect upon Saladin, that
he immediately called a council of war, at which all the
general officers declared, that it would be most proper
to allow the Christians to depart unmolested. The sul¬
tan therefore allowed them to march out freely and se¬
curely with their wives, children, and effects; after
which he received ten dinars from every man capable of
paying that sum, five from every woman, and two from
every young person under age. For the poor who were
not able to pay any thing, the rest of the inhabitants
raised the sum of 30,000 dinars.
Most of the inhabitants of Jerusalem were escorted
by a detachment of Saladin’s troops to Tyre ; and soon
after, he advanced with his army against that place.
As the port was blocked up by a squadron of five men
of war, Saladin imagined that he should easily become
master of it. But in this he found himself mistaken.
For, one morning by break of day, a Christian fleet fell
upon his squadron, and entirely defeated it; nor did a
single vessel escape their pursuit. A considerable num¬
ber of the Mahometans threw themselves into the sea
during the engagement ; most of whom were drowned,
though some few escaped. About the same time Sala¬
din himself was vigorously repulsed by land ; so that,
after calling a council of war, it was thought proper
to raise the siege.
In 1x88, Saladin though his conquests were not so
rapid and considerable as hitherto, continued still supe¬
rior to his enemies. He reduced the city of Laodicea
and some others, together with many strong castles ;
but met also with several repulses. At last he took the
road to Antioch; and having reduced all the fortresses
that.lay in his way, many of which had been deemed
impregnable, Bohemond prince of Antioch was so much
intimidated, that he desired a truce for seven or eight
months. This Saladin found himself obliged to com¬
ply with, on account of the prodigious fatigues his men
had sustained, and because his auxiliaries now demand¬
ed leave to return home. ^
All these heavy losses of the Christians, however, Crusaders
proved in some respects an advantage, as they were thusrel“eve
obliged to lay aside their animosities, which had origi-af"
nally proved the ruin of their affairs. Those who had
defended Jerusalem, and most of the other fortresses
taken by Saladin, having retreated to Tyre, formed
there a very numerous body. This proved the means
of preserving that city, and also of re-establishing their
affairs for the present. For, having received powerful
succours from Europe, they were enabled in 1189 to
take the field with 30,000 foot and 2000 horse. Their
first attempt was upon Alexandretta; from whence
they dislodged a strong party of Mahometans, and made
4 H themselves
6io
EGYPT.
Egypt.
96
Richard I.
arrives m
Asia.
themselves masters of the p ace mth^vy ^tle loss
They next laid siege to Ptolemais ; of which Salad a
had no sooner received intelligence, than he marched to
the relief of the place. After several skirmishes with
various success, a general engagement ensued, m which
Salad in was defeated with the loss of 10,000 men.
This enabled the Christians to carry on the siege ot
Ptolemais with greater vigour; which place, however,
they were not able to reduce for the space ot two
This year the sultan was greatly alarmed by an ac¬
count that the emperor of Germany was advancing to
Constantinople with an army of 260,000 men, in order
to assist the other crusaders. This prodigious arma¬
ment, however, came to nothing. The multitude was so
reduced with sickness, famine, and fatigue, that scarce
1000 of them reached the camp before I tolemais. I he
siege of that city was continued, though with bad suc¬
cess on the part of the Christians. They were repulsed
in all their attacks, their engines were burnt with
naphtha, and the besieged always received supplies ot
provisions in spite of the utmost ettorts of the be¬
siegers ; at the same time that a dreadful famine and
pestilence raged in the Christian camp, which some¬
times carried off 200 people a-day.
In 1 iqi, the Christians received powerlul succours
of England from Europe. Philip II. of France, and Il.chard A.
of England (from his great courage snrnamed Cccur de
Lion) arrived at the camp before Ptolemais. Ihe lat¬
ter was esteemed the bravest and most enterprising ot
all the generals the crusaders bad ; and the spirits ot
his soldiers were greatly elated by the thoughts of act¬
ing under such an experienced commander, boon al¬
ter his arrival, the English sunk a Mahometan ship of
vast size, having on board 650 soldiers a great quantity
of arms and provisions, going from Berytus to i tole-
mais. Of the soldiers and sailors who navigated this
vessel, only a single person escaped *, who being taken
prisoner by the English, was despatched to the sultan
with the news of the disaster. Ihe besieged still de¬
fended themselves with the greatest resolution and
the king of England happening to fall sick, the opera¬
tions of the besiegers were considerably delayed. Un
his recoverv, however, the attacks were renewed with
such fury, that the place was every moment in danger
of being*taken by assault. This induced them to send
a letter to Saladin, informing him, that if they did
not receive succours the very next day, they won d be
obliged to submit. As this town was the sultan s
principal magazine of arms, he was greatly affected
with the account of their distress, especially as he
found it impossible to relieve them. The inhabitants,
therefore, found themselves under a necessity of sur¬
rendering the place. One of the terms of the capitu¬
lation was, that the crusaders should receive a very
considerable sum of money froin Saladin, in conse¬
quence of their delivering up the Mahometan prisoners
they had in their hands. This article Saladin refused
to comply with ; and, in consequence of Ins refusal,
Richard caused 3000 of those unfortunate men to he
slaughtered at once. _ . r x.
After the reduction of Ptolemais, the king ol Eng¬
land, now made generalissimo of the crusaders, took the
road to Ascalon, in order to besiege that place; a ter
which, he intended to make an attempt upon Jerusalem
itself. Saladin proposed to intercept his passage, and Egypt
placed himself in the way with an army of 300,000 1 
men. On this occasion was fought one of the greatest f 97
1 ., 1 .. 9voto<lin was tntallv defpatprl. with!
men. un uus oceasiuu ... .....
battles of that age. Saladin was totally defeated, with Sakdiil
the loss of 40,000 men j and Ascalon soon fell into the
hands of the crusaders. Other sieges were afterwards
carried on with success, and Richard even approached
within sight of Jerusalem, when he found, that by rea¬
son of the weakened state of his army, and the divisions
which prevailed among the officers who commanded it,
he should be under the necessity of concluding a truce
with the sultan. This was accordingly done in the
year 1192 •, the term was, three years, three months,
three weeks, three days, and three hours } soon alter
which the king of England set out on his return to his
own dominions. >
In 1193 Saladin died, to the inexpressible grief of
all true Mahometans, who held him in the utmost ve¬
neration. His dominions in Syria and Palestine were
shared out among his children and relations into many
petty principalities. His son Othman succeeded to
the crown of Egypt: hut as none of his successors pos¬
sessed the enterprising genius ol Saladin, the history
from that time till the year 1250 affords nothing re- 55
markable. At this time the reigning sultan Malek AlMamloiiJ
Salek was dethroned and slain by the Mamelucs or Mam-
iouks, as they are called, a kind of mercenary soldiers
who served under him. In consequence of this revolu¬
tion, the Mamlouks became masters ol Egypt, and
chose a sultan from among themselves.—-These Mam-
louks are thought to have been young Turks or Tar¬
tars, sold to private persons by the merchants, froai
whom they were bought by the sultan, euucaled at his
expence, and employed to defend the maritime places
of the kingdom. Ihe reason ot tnis institution oiigi-
nally was, that the native Egyptians were become so
cowardly, treacherous, and efteminate, horn a long
course of slavery, that they were unfit for arms. The
Mamlouks, on the contrary, made most excellent sol¬
diers j for having no friends but amongst their own corps,
they turned all their thoughts to their own profession. ^
According to M. Volney, they came originally from Accovini
Mount Caucasus, and are distinguished by the flaxen thtra.
colour of their hair. Here they were found by the
crusaders, and were by them called Mamelucs, or more
correctly Mamlouks. The expedition of the lartars in
1227 proved indirectly the means of introducing them
into Egypt. These horrible conquerors, having slaugh¬
tered and massacred till they were weary, brought along
with them an immense number of slaves of both sexes,
with whom they filled all the markets in Asia. Ihe
Turks, taking advantage of the opportunity, purchased
about 12,000 young men, whom they bred up in the
profession of arms, in which they soon attained to great
perfection ; but becoming mutinous, like the Ixomun
oretorian bands, they turned their arms against their
masters, and in 1250 deposed and murdered the caliph,
as has been already related.
The Mamlouks having got possession of the govern¬
ment, and neither understanding nor putting a vamii
upon any thing besides the art of war, every species ot
learning decayed in Egypt, and a great degree ol ai-
barism was introduced. Neither was their empire 0
long duration, notwithstanding all their martial abilities.
The reason of this was, that they were originally only
EGYPT.
6z i
7pt’
DHu out
by p Bor-
|it
E;,t COU'
qui.l by
5c
,11
orrid
eru.y.
a small part of the sultan of Egypt’s standing forces.
As a numerous standing army was necessary in a coun¬
try where the fundamental maxim of government was,
that every native must be a slave, they were at first at
a loss how to act-, being justly suspicious of all the rest
of the army. At last they resolved to buy Christian
slaves, and educate them in the same way that they
themselves had formerly been. These were commonly
brought from Circassia, where the people, though they
professed Christianity, made no scruple of selling their
children. When they were completed in their military
education, these, soldiers were disposed of through all
the fortresses erected in the country to bridle the inha¬
bitants j and because in their language such a fort was
called Borge, the new militia obtained the name of
Borgites. By this expedient the Mamlouks imagined
they would be able to secure themselves in the sove¬
reignty. But in this they were mistaken. In process
of time, the old Mamlouks grew proud, insolent, and
lazy: and the Borgites, taking advantage of this,
rose upon their masters, deprived them of the govern¬
ment, and transferred it to themselves about the year
1382.
The Borgites, as well as the former, assumed the
name of Mamlouks ; and were famous for their valour
and ferocity of conduct. They were almost perpetu¬
ally engaged in wars either foreign or domestic; and
their dominion lasted till the year 1517, when they were
invaded by Selim the Turkish sultan. The Mamlouks
defended themselves with incredible valour ; notwith¬
standing which, being overpowered by numbers, they
were defeated in evei’y-engagement. The same year,
their capital, the city of Cairo, was taken, with a ter¬
rible slaughter of those who defended it. The sultan
was forced to fly ; and, having collected all his force,
ventured a decisive battle. The most romantic efforts
of valour, however, were insufficient to cope with the
innumerable multitude which composed the Turkish
army. Most of his men were cut in pieces, and the un¬
happy prince himself was at last obliged to take shelter
in a marsh. ‘He was dragged from his hiding-place,
where he had stood up to the shoulders in water, and
soon after put to death. With him ended the glory, and
almost the existence, of the Mamlouks, who were now
everywhere searched for and cut in pieces.
This was another great revolution in the Egyptian
affairs: a revolution very little to the advantage of the
natives, who may well doubt whether their ancient or
modern conquerors have behaved with the greater de¬
gree of barbarity. Selim gave a specimen of his go¬
vernment, the very day after his being put in full pos¬
session of it, by the death of Tuman Bey the unfortunate
sultan above mentioned. Having ordered a theatre to
be erected with a throne upon it on the banks of the
Nile, he caused all the prisoners, upwards of 30,000 in
number, to be beheaded in his presence, and their bodies
thrown into the river.
Notwithstanding this horrid cruelty of Selim, he did
not attempt the total extermination of the race of Mam- Egypt,
louks, though this would have been quite agreeable to v
the maxims of Turkish policy ; but in the present case
he seems to have recollected, that if he established a
pacha in Egypt with the same powers with which he
invested those of other parts, he would be under strong
temptations to revolt by reason of the distance from the 10^
capital* He therefore proposed a new form of govern-New form
ment, by which the power being distributed among the of govern-
different members of the state, should preserve an equi-^,en^'^tro*
librium, so that the dependence of the whole should be 5”^
upon himself. With this view, he chose from among
the Mamlouks who had escaped the general massacre
a divan, or council of regency, consisting of the pacha
and chiefs of the seven military corps. The former was
to notify to this council the orders of the Porte, to send
the tribute to Constantinople, and provide for the safety
of government both external and internal ; while, on
the other hand, the members of the council had a right
to reject the orders of the pacha, or even of deposing
him, provided they could assign sufficient reasons. All
civil and political ordinances must also be ratified by
them. Besides this, he formed the whole body into a
republic; for which purpose he issued an edict to the r04
following purpose : “Though, by the help of the Al-His edict
mighty, we have conquered the whole kingdom of E-f°r ^ re~
gypt with our invincible armies ; nevertheless our be-PU0^c*
nevolence is willing to grant to the 24 sangiacs (a) of
Egypt a republican government, with the following
conditions.
“ I. That our sovereignty shall be acknowledged by
the republic ; and in token of their obedience, our lieu¬
tenant shall be received as our representative : but to do
nothing against our will or the republic; but, on the
contrary, shall co-operate with it for its welfare on all
occasions. Or if he shall attempt to infringe any of its
privileges, the republic is at liberty to suspend him from
his authority, and to send to our Sublime Porte a com¬
plaint against him, &c.
“ II. In time of war, the republic shall provide
12,000 troops at its own expence, to be commanded by
a sangiac or sangiacs.
“ III. The republic shall raise annually and send to
our Sublime Porte the sum of 560,000 aslany (b), ac¬
companied by a sangiac, who shall have a satisfactory
receipt, &c.
“ IV. The same sum to be raised for the use of Me¬
dina, and Kiabe or Mecca.
“ V. No more troops of Janizaries shall be kept by
the republic in time of peace than 14,000 ; but in
time of war they may be increased to oppose our and the
republic’s enemies.
“ VI. The republic shall send annually to our gra¬
nary, out of the produce of the country, one million
of casiz (c) or measures of corn, viz. 600,000 of wheat
and 400,000 of barley.
“ VII. The republic, fulfilling these articles, shall
have a free government over all the inhabitants of
4 H 2 Egypt,
(a) These sangiacs are the governors of provinces.
(b) Each of these coins is in value about half-a-crown English ; and the tribute since that time has been aug¬
mented to 800,000 aslany, or about 100,000k sterling.
(c) Each casiz weighs 25 occa, and each occa is equal to two pounds ten ounces English avoirdupois weight.
E G Y
105
The Turk¬
ish power
now almost
entirely
lost.
106
Why the
children of
the Main-
louks and
Turks all
die in
Egypt.
Effynt, independent of our lieutenant, but shall execute
the laws of the country with the advice ot the mollali
or high priest under our authority and that ot our suc-
« VIII. The republic shall be in possession of the
mint as heretofore j hut with this condition, that it
shall be under the inspection of our lieutenant, that
the coin may not be adulterated.
“ IX. That the republic shall elect a skcik bellet out
of the number of beys, to be confirmed by our lieute¬
nant; and that the said sheik bellet shall be our repre¬
sentative, and shall be esteemed by all our lieutenants,
and all our officers both of high and low rank, as the
head of the republic 5 and if our lieutenant is guilty ot
oppression, or exceeds tlie bounds of his authority, the
said sheik bellet shall represent the grievances ot the
republic to our Sublime Porte: but in case any foreign
enemy or enemies disturb the peace of the republic, we
and our successors engage to protect it with our utmost
power until peace is re-established, without any cost or
expence to the republic.
“ Given and signed by our clemency to the republic
of Egypt.” . , .
Thus the power of the Mamlouks still continued in
a very considerable degree, and by degrees increased
so much as to threaten a total loss of dominion to the
Turks. During the last 50 years, the 1 orte having
relaxed from its vigilance, such a revolution has taken
place, that the Turkish power is now almost reduced
to nothing. But in order to understand this, we must
consider the way in which the race of Mamlouks is
continued or multiplied in Egypt. Ibis is not in the
ordinary way, by marriage : on the contrary, M. 0 -
ney assures us, that “ during 350 years in which there
have been Mamlouks in Egypt, not one of them has
left subsisting issue : all their children perish in the hrst
or second descent. Almost the same thing holds good
with regard to the Turks 5 and it is observed, that
they can only secure the continuance of their families
by marrying women who are natives, which the Mam¬
louks have always disdained. The means by which
they are perpetuated and multiplied are the same by
which they were first established, viz. by slaves brought
from their original country. From the time of the
Moguls this commerce has been continued on the
hanks of the Cuban and Pbasis in the same manner as
it is carried on in Africa, by the wars among the ho¬
stile tribes, and the misery or avarice of the inhabi¬
tants, who sell their children to strangers. The slaves
thus procured are first brought to Constantinople, and
afterwards dispersed through the empire, where they
are purchased by the wealthy. When the Turks sub¬
dued Egypt (says M. Volney), they should undoubtedly
have prohibited this dangerous traffic ; their omitting
which seems about to dispossess them of their conquest,
and which several political errors have long been pre-
Egypt.
P T.
the chiefs of the janizaries and azabs were left without
controul. The soldiers themselves, become citizens by -
the marriages they had contracted, were no longer the
creatures of Constantinople •, and a change introduced
into their discipline still more increased these disorders.
At first the seven military corps had one common trea¬
sury $ and though the society was rich, individuals,
not having any thing at their own disposal, could effect
nothing. The chiefs, finding their power diminished
by this regulation, had interest enough to get it abo¬
lished, and obtained permission to possess distinct pro¬
perty, lands, and villages. And as these lands and
villages depended on the Mamlouk governors, it was ne¬
cessary to conciliate them, to prevent their oppressions.
From that moment the beys acquired an ascendancy
over the soldiers, who till then had treated them with
disdain , and this could not hut continually increase,
since their governments procured them considerable
riches. These they employed in creating themselves
friends and creatures. They multiplied their slaves }
and after emancipating them, employed all their interest
to promote them to various employments, and advance
them in the army. These upstarts, retaining for their
patrons the same superstitious veneration common in the
East, formed factions implicitly devoted to their plea- ^
sure.” Thus, about the year 1746, Ibrahim, one of Authority
the kiayas (dJ of the janizaries, rendered himself inujugb,
107
reality master of Egypt j having managed matters so|bra
weTl*, that of the 24t'beys or sangiacs, eight were of bis aJ
household. His influence too was augmented by always
leaving vacancies in order to enjoy the emoluments him¬
self*, while the officers and soldiers of his corps were
attached to his interest: and his power was completed
by gaining over Rodoan, the most powerful of all the
colonels, to his interest. I bus the pacha became alto¬
gether unable to oppose him, and the orders of the sul¬
tan were less respected than those of Ibrahim. On Ins
death in 1757, his family, i. e. his enfranchised slaves,
continued to rule in a despotic manner. Waging war,
however, among each other, Rodoan, and several other
chiefs were killed*, until, in 1766, Ali Bey, who had
been a principal actor in the disturbances, overcame Ins
enemies, and for some time rendered himself absolute
master of Egypt. . t t', r 1 Hinton»
Of this man there are various accounts. Ihe l?1' ’
lowing is that given by M. Volney. He begins with
paring.
“ For a considerable time the Porte had neglected
the affairs of this province ; and in order to restrain the
pachas, had suffered the divan to extend its power till
observing, that the private history of the Mamlouks in
general must be subject to great uncertainty, by reason
of their being generally carried off from their parents at
a time of life when they can remember but little or no¬
thing of their parents ; and he remarks, that they are
likewise unwilling to communicate the little they may
happen to remember. It is most commonly supposed,
however, that Ali Bey was born among the Abazans,
a people of Mount Caucasus *, from whom, next to the
Circassians, the slaves most valued by the Turks, and
other nations who deal in that commodity, are to be ob-
• i tt  1   u4- f/-» o tviiKlir* lit. Cairo,
109
tained. Having been brought to a public sale at Cairo,*1*
  - 0 • . • t y . 1    -   .1 I c o o P
milieu. Aia * mg -- - !  bought
Ali Bey was bought by two Jew brothers named Isaacedu[ate
and Yousef, who" made a present of him to Ibrahim byibral
Kiaya.Kiaya.
(d) These were the commanding officers of the janizaries, azabs, &C. who after the first year laid dow
employments, and became veterans, with a voice in the divan.
EGYPT.
613
T i*
Kiaya. At this time he is supposed to have been about
13 or 14 years old, and was employed by his patron in
offices similar to those of the pages belonging toEuropean
princes. The usual education was also given him ; viz.
that of learning to manage a horse well 5 fire a carbine
and pistol ; throw the djerid, a kind of dart used in the
diversions of that country, and which will be afterwards
described. He was also taught the exercise of the
sabre, and a little reading and writing. In all the
feats of activity just mentioned, he discovered such im¬
petuosity, that he obtained the surname of Djendali, or
“ madman}” and as he grew up, discovered an ambi¬
tion proportionable to the activity displayed in his
youth. About the age of 18 or 20, his patron gave
him his freedom } the badge of which among the Turks
is the letting the beard grow, for among that people it
is thought proper only for women and slaves to want
a beard. By his kind patron also he was promoted to
the rank of kachef or governor of a district, and at last
elected one of the 24 beys. By the death of Ibrahim
in 1757, he had an opportunity of satisfying his ambi¬
tion ; and now engaged in every scheme for the promo¬
tion or disgrace of the chiefs, and had a principal share
in the ruin of Ilodoan Kiaya above mentioned. Rodo-
an’s place was quickly filled by another, who did not
long enjoy it; and in 1762 Ali Bey, then styled Sheik-
el-Beled, having got Abdelrahman, the possessor at that
time, exiled, procured himself to be elected in his room.
10 However, he soon shared the fate of the rest, being con-
demned to retire to Gaza. The place, being under the
•eti 5 and dominion of a Turkish pacha, was by no means agree-
:hr. :'off able, for which reason Ali having turned off to another
ihejmtish place, kept himself concealed for some time, until in
^ 1766 his friends at Cairo procured his recal. On this
he appeared suddenly in that city ; and in one night
killed four of the beys who were inimical to his designs,
banished the rest, and assumed the whole power to him¬
self. Still, however, his ambition was not satisfied ;
and he determined on nothing less than to throw off
his dependence on the Porte altogether, and become
sultan of Egypt. With this view he expelled the pacha,
refused to pay the accustomed tribute, and in the
year A 768 proceeded to coin money in his own name.
The Porte being at that time on the eve of a danger¬
ous war with Russia, had not leisure to attend to the
proceedings of Ali Bey j so that the latter had an op¬
portunity of going forward with his enterprises very
Ovt ames v^gorously* His first expedition was against an Ara-
ibian ^ian prince named Hantmam ; against whom he sent
his favourite Mohammed Bey, under pretence that
the former had concealed a treasure entrusted to him
2 by Ibrahim Kiaya, and that he afforded protection to
Pr4tgt0.rebels. Having destroyed this unfortunate prince, he
waixMec. next began to put in execution a plan proposed to him
ja^nn- by a y0Ung Venetian merchant, of rendering Jedda,
I ndian ffie port of Mecca, an emporium for all the commerce
ton :rce. °f India *, and even imagined he should be able to make
the Europeans abandon the passage to the Indies by
the Cape of Good Hope. With this view he fitted
out some vessels at Suez j and manning them with
Mamlouks, commanded the bey Hassan to sail with
them to Jedda, and seize upon it, while a bodv of
cavalry under Mohammed Bey advanced against the
town. Both these commissions were executed accord¬
ing to his wish, and Ali became quite intoxicated with
pm
his success. Nothing but ideas of conquest now occu- Egypt,
pied his mind, without considering the immense dis- -v*—J
proportion between his own force and that of the grand
signior. Circumstances, it must be owned, were at
that time very favourable to his schemes. The sheik
Halier was in rebellion against the Porte in Syria; and
the pacha of Damascus had so exasperated the people
by his extortions, that they were ready for a revolt. 113
Having therefore made the necessary preparations, Ali fxl>cch-
Bey despatched in 1770 about 500 Mamlouks to take^l”110
possession of Gaza, and thus secure an entrance into
Palestine. Osman, the pacha of Damascus, however,
no sooner heard of the invasion, than he prepared for war
with the utmost diligence, while the troops of Ali Bey
held themselves in readiness to fly on the first attack.
They were relieved from their embarrassment by §heik
Daher, who hastened to their assistance, while Osman
fled without even oflering to make the least resistance ;
thus leaving the enemy masters of all Palestine without
striking a stroke. About the end of February I771*
the grand army of Ali Bey arrived ; which, by the re¬
presentation made of it in Europe, was supposed to
consist of 60,000 men. M. Volney, however, informsyol”^,g
us, that this army was far from containing 60,000 S9l-acc0UIlt 0f
diers ; though he allows that there might be two-thirds his army.,
of that number, who were classed as follows : 1. Five
thousand Mamlouks, constituting the whole effective
part of the army. 2. Fifteen hundred Arabs from Bar¬
bary on foot, constituting the whole infantry of the
army. Besides these, the servants of the Mamlouks,
each of whom had two, would constitute a body of
10,000 men. A number of other servants would con¬
stitute a body of 2000 : and the rest of the number
would be made up by sutlers and other usual attendants
on armies. It was commanded by Mohammed Bey the
friend of Ali. “ But (says our author) as to order and
discipline, these must not be mentioned. The armies of
the Turks and Mamlouks are nothing but a confused
multitude of horsemen, without uniforms, on horses of
all colours and sizes, without either keeping their ranks
or observing any regular order.” This rabble took the
road to Acre, leaving wherever they passed sufficient
marks of their rapacity and want of discipline. At
Acre a junction was formed with the troops of Sheik
Daher, consisting of 1500 Safadians (the name of
Sheik Daher’s subjects, from Safad, a village of Gali¬
lee, originally under his jurisdiction). These were on
horseback, and accompanied by 1200 Motualis cavalry
under the command of Sheik Nasif, and about 1000
Mogrebian infantry. Thus they proceeded towards
Damascus, while Osman prepared to oppose themf by
another army equally numerous and ill regulated : and
M. Volney gives the following description of their ope- j,-
rations : “The reader must not here figure to himselfTheira!>-
a number of complicated and artificial movements : such*"r^nie-
as those which, within the last century, have reduced * ?
• r* 1 1 I * I v. cii i > 111 v*
war with us to a science 01 system and calculation. Iliewar'
Asiatics are unacquainted with the first elements of this
conduct. Their armies are mere mobs, their marches
ravages, their campaigns inroads, and their battles
bloody frays. The strongest or the most adventurous
party goes in quest of the other, which frequently flies
without making any resistance. If they stand their
ground, they engage pell-mell, discharge’their carabines,
break their spears, andhackeach other v/ith their sabres;
for
n6
Defection
E G Y
for they have seldom any cannon, and when they have
they are but of little service. A panic frequently dif¬
fuses itself without cause *, one party flies, the other
shouts victory ; the vanquished submit to the will ol the
conqueror, and the campaign often terminates without
a battle.
“ Such, in a great measure, were the military opera¬
tions in Syria in the year 1771. The combined army
of Ali Bey and Sheik Daher marched to Damascus.
The pachas waited lor them } they approached, and, on
the 6th of June, a decisive action took place: the Mam-
louks and Safadians rushed on the Turks with such fury,
that, terrified at their courage, they immediately took
to flight, and the pachas were not the last in endeavour¬
ing to make their escape. The allies became masters of
the country, and took possession of the city without op¬
position, there being neither walls nor soldiers to defend
it. The castle alone resisted. Its ruined fortifications
had not a single cannon, much less gunners 5 but it was
surrounded by a muddy ditch, and behind the ruins
were posted a few musketeers j and these alone were
sufficient to check this army of cavalry. As_ the be¬
sieged, however, were already conquered by their fears,
they capitulated the third day, and the place was to be
surrendered next morning, when, at day-break, a most
extraordinary revolution took place..
   This vvas no less than the defection of Mohammed
®f Ali BeT’sgey himself, whom Osman had gained over in a con-
general. ference during the night. At the moment, therefore,
that the signal of surrender was expected, this treache¬
rous general sounded a retreat, and turned towards.E-
gypt with all his cavalry, flying with as great precipi¬
tation as if he had been pursued by a superior army.
Mohammed continued his march with such celerity,
that the report of his arrival in Egypt reached Cairo
only six hours before him. Jims Ali Bey found him¬
self at once deprived of all his expectations ol con¬
quest ; and what was worse, found a traitor whom he
durst not punish at the head of his forces. A sudden
reverse of fortune now took place. Several vessels laden
with corn for Sheik Daher were taken by a Russian
privateer ; and Mohammed Bey, whom he designed to
have put to death, not only made his escape, but was so
well attended that he could not be attacked. His fol¬
lowers continuing daily to increase in number, Moham¬
med soon became sufficiently strong to march towards
Cairo; and, in the month 'of April 1772, having de¬
ny feated the troops of Ali in a rencounter, entered the
Ileis driven city sword in hand, while the latter had scaice time to
out of make his escape with 800 Mamlouks. With difficulty
Cairo, and ^ was enabled to get to Syria by the assistance of
with diffi- gjie|j, J)al,er, whom he immediately joined with the
troops he had with him. The Turks under Osman
were at that time besieging Sidon, but raised the siege
on the approach of the allied army, consisting of about
Defeats the^000 cavalry. Though the Turkish army was at least
Turks, and {hree t;mes their number, the allies did not hesitate to
ETffaTrs. attack them, and gained a complete victory. Their af¬
fairs now began to wear a more favourable aspect; but
the military operations were retarded by the siege of
Yafa, a place which had revolted; and which, though
defended only by a garden wall, without.any ditch, held
out for eight months. In the beginning of 1773 ^
capitulated, and Ali Bey began to think ot returning
to Cairo. For this purpose Sheik Daher had promised
. 4
P T.
to furnish him with succours ; and the Russians, with Egypt,
whom he had now contracted an alliance, made him a v—
promise of the like kind. Ali, however, ruined every
i . • j ii()
thing by his own impatience. Deceived by an astro-He is ruin; i
eulty gels
into Syria.
118
loger, who pretended that the auspicious moment whenedby his
he vvas highly favoured by the stars had just arrived, lie°v^mPs
would needs set out without waiting for the arrival of ‘e”C(:
his allies. He was also farther deceived by a stratagem
of Mohammed, who had by force extorted from the
friends of Ali Bey letters pressing his return to Cairo,
where the people were wearied of his ungrateful slave,
and wanted only his presence in order to expel him.
Confiding in these promises, Ali Bey imprudently set
out with his Mamlouks and 1500 Safadians given him
by Daher ; but had no sooner entered the desert which
separates Gaza from Egypt, than he was attacked by
a body of 1000 chosen"'Mamlouks who were lying in
wait for his arrival. They were commanded by a young
bey, named Mourad; who being enamoured of the
wife of Ali Bey, had obtained a promise of her from
Mohammed, in case he could bring him her husband’s
head. As soon as Mourad perceived the dust by which
the approach of All Bey’s army was announced, he
rushed upon him, attacked, and took prisoner Ali Bey
himself, after wounding him in the forehead with a sa¬
bre. Being conducted to Mohammed Bey, the latter
pretended tc> treat him with extraordinary respect, and
ordered a magnificent tent to be erected for him ; but
in three days he was found dead of his wounds, as vvas
given out ; though some affirm, perhaps with equal rea¬
son, that he was poisoned. 110 ,
After the death of Ali Bey, Mohammed Bey took1^*^
upon him the supreme dignity; but this change of*^ Bj
masters proved of very little service to the Egyptians.
At first he pretended to be only the defender of the
rights of the sultan, remitted the usual tribute to Con¬
stantinople, and took the customary oath of unlimited
obedience ; after which he solicited permission to make
war upon Sheik Daher, the ally ot Ali Bey. The
reason of this request vvas a mere personal pique ; and
as soon as it was granted, he made the most diligent
preparations for war. Having procured an extraordi¬
nary train of artillery, he provided foreign gunners, and
gave the command of them to an Englishman named
Robinson. He brought from Suez a cannon 16 feeing
long, which had for a considerable time remained use-sheiks
less; and at length, in the month of February 1776, Daher.
he appeared in Syria with an army equal in number to
that which he had formerly commanded when in the
service of Ali Bey. Daher’s forces, despairing of be¬
ing able to cope with such a formidable armament,
abandoned Gaza, which Mohammed immediately took
possession of, and then marched towards a fortified
town named Yafa. The history of this siege M. Vol-
ney gives as a specimen of the Asiatic manner of con- .
ducting operations of that kind. “Aafa (says
the ancient Joppa, is situated on a part of the coast, Yafa:
the general level of which is very little above the sea. Specjn]i >
The city is built on an eminence, in the form of a su-the Ad-
gar loaf, in height about 130 feet perpendicular. Ihen^*^
houses distributed on the declivity, appear rising above
each other, like the steps of an amphitheatre. On the
summit is a small citadel, which commands the town ;
the bottom of the hill is surrounded by a wall without
a rampart, of 12 or 14 feet high, and two or three in
r thickness.
EGYPT.
ot, thickness. The battlements on the top are the only
tokens by which it is distinguished from a common
garden wall. This wall, which has no ditch, is envi¬
roned by gardens, where lemons, oranges, and citrons,
grow in this light soil to a most prodigious size. The
city was defended by five or six hundred Safadians and
as many inhabitants, who, at the sight of the enemy,
armed themselves with their sabres and muskets 5 they
had likewise a few brass cannon, 24 pounders, without
carriages $ these they mounted as well as they could,
on timbers prepared in a hurry j and supplying the
place of experience by hatred and courage, they replied
to the summons of the enemy with menaces and cannon
shot.
“ Mohammed, finding he must have recourse to force,
formed his camp before the town ; but was so little ac¬
quainted with the business in which he was engaged,
that he advanced within half cannon shot. The bullets,
which showered upon the tents, apprizing him of his
error, he retreated ; and, by making a fresh experiment,
was convinced he was still too near. At length he dis¬
covered the proper distance, and set up his tent, in which
the most extravagant luxury was displayed : around it,
without any order, were pitched those of the Mamlouks,
while the Barbary Arabs formed huts with the trunks
and branches of the orange and lemon trees, and the fol¬
lowers of the army arranged themselves as tiiey could:
a few guards were distributed here and there j and
without making a single entrenchment, they called them¬
selves encamped.
“ Batteries were now to be erected ; and a spot of
rising ground was made choice of to the south-eastward
of the town, where, behind some garden walls, eight
pieces of cannon were pointed, at 200 paces from the
town ; and the firing began, notwithstanding the mus-
quetry of the enemy, who, from the tops of the terraces,
killed several of the gunners.
“ It is evident that a wall only three feet thick, and
without a rampart, must soon have a large breach in it ;
and the question was not how to mount, but how to
get through it ? The Mamlouks were for doing it on
horseback j but they were made to comprehend that
this was impossible ; and they consented, for the first
time, to march on foot. It must have been a curious
sight to see them, with their huge breeches of thick
Venetian cloth, embarrassed with their tucked-up
bemches, their crooked sabres in hand, and pistols
hanging at their sides, advancing and tumbling among
the ruins of the wall. They imagined that they had
conquered every difficulty when this obstacle was sur¬
mounted j but the besieged who formed a better
judgment, waited till they arrived at the empty space
between the city and wall j where they assailed them
from the terraces and windows of the houses with such
a shower of bullets, that the Mamlouks did not so much
I as think of setting them on fire, but retired under a per¬
suasion that the breach was utterly impracticable, since
it was impossible to enter it on horseback. Morad Bey
brought them several times back to the charge, but in
vain.
“ Six weeks passed in this manner; and Mohammed
was distracted with rage, anxiety, and despair. The
besieged, however, whose numbers were diminished by
the repeated attacks, became weary of defending alone
the cause of Daher. Some persons began to treat with
615
the enemy •, and it was proposed to abandon the place, Egypt,
on the Egyptians giving hostages. Conditions were -v-—<
agreed upon, and the treaty might be considered as
concluded, when, in the midst of the security occasion-,
ed by this belief, some Mamlouks entered the town ;
numbers ol others followed tfieir example, arid attempt- J2
ed to plunder, The inhabitants defended themselves, The town
and the attack recommenced: the whole army then taken and
rushed into the town, which suffered all the horrors of l^e
war j men, women, and children, young and old, were^^dmas"
all cut to pieces, and Mohammed, equally mean and
barbarous, caused a pyramid formed of the heads of
these unfortunate sufferers to be raised as a monument
of his victory.”
By this disaster the greatest terror and consternation
were everywhere diffused. Sheik Daher himself fled,
and Mohammed soon became master of Acre also.
Here he behaved with his usual cruelty, and abandoned
the city to be plundered by his soldiers. The French
merchants claimed an exemption, and it was procured
with the utmost difficulty : nor was even this likely to
be of any consequence ; for Mohammed, informed that
the treasures of Ibrahim kiava of Daher had been de¬
posited in that place, made an immediate demand of
them, threatening every one of the merchants with death
if the treasures were not instantly produced. A day Death of
was appointed for making the search ; but before thisMoliam-
came, the tyrant himself died of a malignant fever after mc^
two days illness. His death was no sooner known than
the army made a precipitate retreat, such as has been
already mentioned from Damascus. Sheik Daher con¬
tinued his rebellion for some time, but was at last en¬
tirely defeated, and his head sent to Constantinople by
H assan Pacha the Turkish high-admiral.
The death of Mohammed was no sooner known in History of
Egypt, than Morad Bey hastened to Cairo in order to ^tu'
dispute the sovereignty with Ibrahim Bey, who bad to ^ yCar
been intrusted with the government on his departure j736.
from that place for Syria. Preparations for war were
made on both sides *, but at last, both parties finding
that the contest must be attended with great difficulty,
as well as very uncertain in the event, thought pro¬
per to come to an accommodation, by which it was
agreed that Ibrahim should retain the title of Sheik El
Beled, and the power was to be divided between them.
But now the beys and others who had been promoted
by Ali Bey, perceiving their own importance totally
annihilated by this new faction, resolved to shake off
the yoke, and therefore united in a league under the
title of the house of Ali Bey. They conducted their mat¬
ters with so much silence and dexterity, that both Mo¬
rad and Ibrahim were obliged to abandon Cairo. In
a short time, however, they returned and defeated their
enemies though three times their number •, but not¬
withstanding this success, it was not in their power
totally to suppress the party. This indeed was owing
entirely to their unskilfulness in the art of war, and
their operations for some time were very trifling. At
last, a new combination having been formed among
the beys, five of them were sentenced to banishment
in the Delta. They pretended to comply with thi^
order, but took the road of the Desert of the Pyra¬
mids, through which they were pursued for three days
to no purpose. At last they arrived safe at Mimah,
a village situated on the Nile, 40 leagues above Cairo.
Here
6i6
E G Y
Egypt.
126
Account of
the coun¬
try.
Here they took up their residence, and being masters
of the river, soon reduced Cairo to distress by inter¬
cepting its provisions. Thus a new expedition became
necessary, and Ibrahim took the command ot it upon
himself/ In the month of October 1783 he set
out with an army of 3000 cavalry; the two armies
soon came in sight of each other, but Ibrahim thought
nrouer1 to terminate the affair by negociation. ibis
gave such offence to Morad, who suspected some plot
against himself, that he left Cairo. A war betwixt
the two rivals was now daily expected, and the armies
continued for 25 days in sight of each other, only sepa¬
rated by the river. Negociations took place ; and the
five exiled beys, finding themselves abandoned by Mo¬
rad, took to flight, but were pursued and brought
back to Cairo. Peace seemed now to be re-established;
but the jealousy of the two rivals producing new in-
triomes, 'Morad was once more obliged to leave Cairo
in ^784. Forming his camp, however, directly at the
gates of the city, he appeared so terrible to Ibrahim,
that the latter thought proper in his turn to retire to the
desert, where he remained till March 1785* new
treaty then took place; by which the rivals agreed to
share the power between them, though there was cer¬
tainly very little probability that such a treaty would be
long observed. Since that time we have no accounts ot
any remarkable transactions in Egypt; nor indeed can
we reasonably expect any thing of consequence in a
country where matters are managed, as M. Volney ex¬
presses himself, by a series of “ cabals, intrigues,
treachery, and murders.”
Of late Egypt has been visited by several travellers,
all of whom have published descriptions of the count^y>
its productions, inhabitants, &c. The Jatest are M.
Savary, M. Volney, the baron de Tott, and Mr Bruce;
and from the accounts published by those gentlemen
the following geographical description is principally
compiled. . . .
This country is still divided into two principal Parts,
called the Upper and Lower Egypt. According to M.
Savary, the former is only a long narrow valley begin¬
ning at Syene and terminating at Cairo. It is bound¬
ed by two chains of mountains running from north to
south, and taking their rise from the last.cataract of
the Nile. On reaching the latitude of Cairo they se¬
parate to the right and left; the one taking the di¬
rection of Mount Colzoum, the other terminating in
some sand banks near Alexandria; the former being
composed of high and steep rocks, the latter of samy
hillocks over a bed of calcareous stone. Beyond these
mountains are deserts bounded by the Red sea on the
east, and on the west by other parts of, Africa; having
in the middle that long plain which, even where widest,
is not more than nine leagues over. Here the Nile is
confined in its course betwixt these insuperable barriers,
and during the time of its inundation overflows the
country all the way to the foot of the mountains; and
Mr Bruce observes that there is a gradual slope from
the bed of the river to those mountains on both sides.
The baron de Tott says, that the mountains four leagues
from the Nile, and facing Cairo, “ are only a ridge of
rocks of about 40 or 50 feet high, which divide Egypt
from the plains of Libya ; which ritlge accompanies the
course of the river, at a greater or lesser distance, and
P T.
seems as if only intended to serve as a bank to the gene- Egypt
ral inundation.” ^ v--
Lower Egypt, according to M. Savary. compre¬
hends all the country between Cairo, the Mediterra¬
nean, the isthmus of Suez and Libya. “ Tins im-
mense plain (says he) presents on the borders of its
parching sands a strip of lands cultivated along the
canals of the river, and in the middle a triangular island
to which the Greeks gave the name of Delta ; at the
top of the angle of which the baron de lott informs
us the rocks of Libya and the coasts of Arabia open
and recede from each other towards the east and west,
parallel to the Mediterranean. Tins great extent of
country, from the kingdom of Barca to Gaza, is ei¬
ther overflowed by the river, or capable ol being so;
which thus fertilizes in a high degree a tract ot coun¬
try seemingly devoted to perpetual barrenness on
account of the want of rain and the heat of the ch-
"“According to the testimonies of loti, Mr Broce andC«Ml
M. Volney, the coast of Egypt is so extremely low, that^^
it cannot be discovered at sea till the manners conieloWi
within a few leagues of it. In ancient times the sai ors
pretended to know when they approached this country,
by a kind of black mud brought up by their sounding
line from the bottom of the sea ; but this notion, though
as old as the days of Herodotus, has been discovered to
be a mistake by Mr Bruce; who found the mud in
question to arise while the vessel was opposite to the de¬
serts of Barca. All along the coast of Egypt a strong
current sets to the eastward. . , - f
In former times Egypt ,va8 “‘bnarff.r.U«k ,
xn lumici niuv-c   , ,  tilitvof
fertility ; and there is great reason to believe, that were
denti
lertuuy ; auu mcr*. ^ „ .
the same pains bestowed upon the cultivation ot .Pemodern
ground, and the distribution of the waters o the NileEaTt.
in a proper manner, the same fertility would still be
found to remain. The cause.of decrease in the produce
of Egypt we shall describe m the words of M. bav y.
“ The canals,” says he, speaking of the Delta, which
used to convey fertility with their waters, are now tilled.
The earth no longer watered, and continually expose
to the burning ardour of the sun, is converted into a
barren sand. In those places where formerly were seen
rich fields and flourishing towns, on the Pelusiac, he
Tarictic, and the Mendesian branches, which all strike
out from the canal of Damietta, nothing is to be iound
at this day but a few miserable hamlets, surrounded y
date trees and by deserts. These once navigable canals
are now no more than a vain resemblance of what they
were : they have no communication with the lake Me
zall, but what is merely temporary, on the swelling 0
the Nile ; they are dry the remainder of the year. y
deepening them by removing the mud deposited J
river since the Turks have made themselves masters 0^
Egypt, the country they pass through would be again
fertilized, and the Delta recover a third of its great-
Concerning this island it has been .the opinion accouul
great many, even from very ancient times, that.it a theforil
produced by the mud brought, down by the xnunda-t^f
tions of the Nile : and this opinion we find adopted 1 Delta,
the strongest manner by M. Savary. His account ot
the supposed rise of the Delta, and indeed 0
lr . r T- . • tV>lln\vincr nurpose.
I29
greatest part of Egypt, is to the following purpose.
1
r
E G
t. In those early ages where history has not fixed any
epoch, a certain people descended from the mountains
near the cataracts into the valley overflowed by the
Nile, and which was then an uninhabitable morass
overgrown with reeds and canes. In what manner, or
from what motive, these people were induced to descend
from their ancient habitations to such a place, or how
they found means to penetrate into a morass which he
expressly tells us was impenetrable, we are not inform¬
ed, neither is it to our present purpose to inquire. At
that time, however, the sea bathed the feet of those
mountains where the pyramids are built, and advanced
far into Libya. It covered also part of the isthmus
-of Suez, and every part of what we now call the Delta
formed a great gulf. After many ages the Egyptians,
by what means is unknown, at least not specified by
our author (though they ought to have been so, as the
' country it seems was then overflowed not only by the
river but by the ocean), formed canals to carry off the
stagnant waters of the Nile ; opposed strong dykes to
its ravages j and, tired of dwelling in the caverns of
rocks, built towns and cities upon spots elevated either
by nature or art. Already the river was kept within
its bounds, the habitations of men were out of the reach
of its inundations, and experience had taught the peo¬
ple to foresee and announce them. One of the kings
of Egypt undertook to change the course of the river.
After running 250 leagues between the barriers already
mentioned, meeting with an unsurmountable obstacle
to the right, it turned suddenly to the left j and taking
its course to the southward of Memphis, it spread its
waters through the sands of Libya. The prince we
speak of caused a new bed to be dug for it to the east
of Memphis j and by means of a large dyke obliged it
to return between the mountains, and discharge itself
into the gulf that bathes the rock on which the castle of
Cairo is built. The ancient bed of the river was still
to be seen in the time of Herodotus, and may even be
traced at this day across the deserts, passing to the west¬
ward of the lakes of natrum. The Arabs still bestow
upon it the name of Tlahr Belama, “ or sea without wa¬
ter,” and it is now almost choked up. To the labours
of this monarch Egypt is indebted for the Delta. A
reflux of the sea was occasioned by the enormous weight
of the waters of the Nile, which precipitated themselves
into the bottom of the gulf. Thus the sands and
mud carried along with them were collected into heaps ;
and thus the Delta, at first very inconsiderable, rose
out of the sea, of which it repelled the limits. It was
a gift of the river, and it has since been defended from
the attacks of the ocean by raising dykes around it.
Five hundred years before the Trojan war, according
to Herodotus, the Delta was in its infancy ; eight cu¬
bits of water being then sufficient to overflow it. Strabo
tells us, that boats passed over it from one extremity to
the other $ and that its towns, built upon artificial emi¬
nences, resembled the islands of the Egean sea. At the
time that Herodotus visited this country, 15 cubits
were necessary to cover all the Lower Egypt $ but the
Nile then overflowed the country for the space of two
days journey to the right and left of the island. Un¬
der the Roman empire 16 cubits performed the same
effect. When the Arabs came to have the dominion,
17 cubits were requisite j and at this day 18 are ne¬
cessary to produce a plentiful crop j but the inundation
Vol. VII. Part II. f
if P T. 617
stops at Cairo and the neighbouring country, without Egypt,
being extended over the .Lower Egypt. Sometimes,—v •*
however, the Nile rises to 22 cubits; and the cause of
this phenomenon is the mud for so many years accu¬
mulated on the island. Here, in the space of 3284
years, we see the Delta elevated 14 cubits. Our author
wrote in 1777, and informs us that he twice made the
tour of the island during the time of the inundation.
“ The river (says he) flowed in full streams in the great
branches of Rosetta and Damietta, as well as in those
which pass through the interior part of the country j
but did not overflow the lands, except in the lower-
parts, where the dykes were pierced for the purpose of
watering the plantations of rice. We must not, how¬
ever, imagine, as several travellers pretend, that this
island will continue to rise, and that it will become un¬
fruitful. As it owes its increase to the annual settling
of the mud conveyed thither by the Nile, when it ceases
to be overflowed it will no longer increase in height,
for it is demonstrated that culture is not sufficient to
raise land.
“ It is natural to imagine that the Delta has in¬
creased in length as well as in height j and of this we
may look upon the following fact to be a remarkable
proof. Under the reign of Psammiticus, the Mile¬
sians, with 30 vessels, landed at the month of the Bol-
bitine branch of the Nile, now called that of Rosetta,
where they fortified themselves. There they built a
town called Metelis, the same as Faoiie, which, in the
Coptic vocabularies, has preserved the name of Messil.
This town, formerly a sea-port, is now nine leagues
distant from the sea } all which space the Delta has in¬
creased in length from the time of Psammiticus to the
present. Homer, in his Odyssey, puts the following
words in the mouth of Menelaus. ‘ In the stormy sea
which washes Egypt there is an island called Phat'os.
Its distance from the shore is such, that a vessel with
a fair wind may make the passage in a day.’ From the
way in which he speaks of this island in other places,
also, W'e may suppose that the island of Pharos, in bis
time, was not less than 20 leagues distant from the
Egyptian coast, though now it forms the port of Alex¬
andria ; and this sentiment is confirmed by the most
ancient writers.
“ What prodigious changes great rivers occasion on
the surface of the globe ! How they elevate, at their
mouths, islands which become at length large portions
of the continent! It is thus that the Nile has formed
almost all the Lower Egypt, and created out of the
waters the Delta, which is 90 leagues in circumfe¬
rence. It is thus that the Meander, constantly repel¬
ling the waves of the Mediterranean, and gradually fil¬
ling up the gulf into which it falls, has placed in the
middle of the land the town of Miletus, formerly a ce¬
lebrated harbour. It is thus that the Tigris and the
Euphrates, let loose from the Armenian hills, and
sweeping with them in their course the sands of Me¬
sopotamia, are imperceptibly filling up the Persian
gulf.” j^0
These are the reasons assigned by M. Savary fotMr Bruce’*
thinking that the Delta, as well as the greatest part of reasons for
the Lower Egypt, had been produced by the Nile ; t*1® con-
but this opinion is violently * contested by other opi*
travellers, particularly Mr Bruce, who has given anl0I!,
pretty long dissertation upon it, as well as many occa-
41 sional
slonal remarks through the course of his Avork. He
begins with observing, I. That the country ot Egypt
is entirely a valley bounded by rugged mountains 5
whence it might seem natural to imagine that the iNile,
overflowing a country of this kind, would be more
ready to wash away the soil than add to it. 2. is
observed by Dr Shaw, and the same is confirmed by
our author, that there is a gentle slope from the mid¬
dle of the valley to the foot of the mountains on each
side so that the middle, in which is the channel of
the Nile, is really higher than any other part ot the
valley. Large trenches are cut across the country from
the channel of the river, and at right angles with it, to
the foot of the mountains. 3. As the river swells, the
canals become filled with water, which naturally de¬
scending to the foot of the mountains, runs out at the
farther end, and overflows the adjacent level country.
4. When the water, having attained the lowest ground,
begins to stagnate, it does not acquire any motion by
reason of the canal’s being at right angles with the
channel of the Nile, unless in the case of excessive rains
in Ethiopia, when the water by its regurgitation again
joins the stream. In this case, the motion ot the cur¬
rent is communicated to the whole mass of waters, and
everv thing is swept away by them into the sea. 5’ *-
has been the opinion of several authors, that there was
a necessity for measuring the height of the inundation on
account of the quantity of mud brought down annually
by the waters, by which the landmarks were so covered
that the proprietors could not know their own grounds
after the river subsided. But whatever might be the
reason of this covering of the landmarks in ancient times,
it is certain that the mud left by the Nile could not be
so in the time of Herodotus, or during any period of
time assigned by that historian •, for he assigns only
ane foot of increase of soil throughout Egypt in an
hundred years from the mud left by the river; the in¬
crease during one year, therefore, being only the hun¬
dredth part of afoot, could not cover any landmark
whatever. Besides, the Egyptian lands are at this day
parted by huge blocks of granite, which frequently
have gigantic heads at the end of them : and these
could not, at the rate mentioned by Herodotus, be
covered in several thousand years. 6. The Nile does not
now bring down any great quantity of mud *, and it is
absurd to suppose, that it can at present bring down as
much as it did soon after the creation, or the ages imme¬
diately succeeding the deluge. Throughout Abyssinia,
according to the testimony of our author, the channel
of every torrent is now worn to the bare rock, and a.-
most every rivulet runs in a hard stony bed, all the loose
earth being long ago washed away; so that an annual
and equable increase of the earth from the sediment of
the waters is impossible. 7. Our author made a great
number of trials of the water of the Nile during the
time of its inundation in different places. At. Bas-
boch, when just coming down from the cultivated
parts of Abyssinia, and before it enters Sennaar, the
sediment is composed of fat earth and. sand, and its
quantity is exceedingly small. At the junction, ot the
Nile and Astahoras the quantity ot sediment is very
little augmented ; consisting still of the same materials,
but now mostly sand. At Syene the quantity of sedi¬
ment was almost nine times greater than before *, but
’»vas now composed almost entirely of sand, with a very
EGYPT.
small quantity of black earth. The conclusion of our
author’s experiments, however, is different from what
we should have been led to expect from those just men¬
tioned. “ The experiment at Rosetta (says he) was
not so often repeated as the others : but the result was,
that in the strength of the inundation the sediment con¬
sisted mostly of sand ; and, towards the end, was much
the greater part earth. I think these experiments con¬
clusive, as neither the Nile coming fresh from Abyssinia,
nor the Atbara, though joined by the Mareb, likewise
from the same country, brought any great quantity of
soil from thence.”
8. Our author goes on to observe, that had the Wile
brought down the quantities of mud which it has been
said to do, it ought to have been most charged with it
at Syene •, as there it contained the whole that was to
be conveyed by it into Egypt. Instead ol this, how¬
ever, the principal part ot the sediment at this place
was sand ; and this is very naturally accounted for from
the vast quantities of sand taken up by the winds in the
deserts between Gooz and Syene. Here our traveller
frequently saw vast pillars of this kind of sand, which
is so fine and light as to form an impalpable powder,
traversing the desert in various directions. Many of
these were driven upon the river \ and when it became
calm in the evening, fell down into it entirely ; thus
affording materials for many sandy islands to be met
with in the Nile.
9. Mr Bruce adopts the opinion of those who sup¬
pose that there has been a continual decrease of water
since the creation of the world. In this case, therefore,
if the land of Egypt had been continually increasing in
height while the°water that was to cover it decreased y
there must have been frequent famines on account of
the want of a sufficient inundation. But so far is this
from being the case, that, according to the testimony
of several Arabian MSS. there had not, when Mr
Bruce was in Egypt, been one scarce season from the
lowness of the inundation for 34 years; though during
the same space they had three times experienced fa¬
mine by too great an abundance of water, which carried
away the millet. > r 1 1 tt
10. If there had been such an increase ot land as He¬
rodotus and others suppose, it must now have been very
perceptible in some of the most ancient public monu¬
ments. This, however, is by no means the case.. I he
base of every obelisk in Upper Egypt is to this day
quite bare and visible. Near Thebes there are still ex¬
tant two colossal statues, plainly designed for mlometers,
and which ought by this time to have been almost co¬
vered with earth *, but notwithstanding the length of
time these have remained there, they are still bare to
the very base. ■ . _ .I^l
The strongest arguments which the advocates for theOpin^
increase of land in Egypt can make use of is, ^ttors J
the measures by which the quantity ot inundation l®en)jn{
determined are smaller now than in former times ; andrise 0f
these small measures are said to have been introduced Nile u
by the Saracens. On this Mr Bruce very justly ob-cien.
serves, that such an expedient could not have answer¬
ed any good purpose ; as no decrease of the measure
could have augmented the quantity of corn produce
by the ground. M. Savary observes, that, to render
his calculation concerning the growth of land in Egyp
absolutely exact, it would be necessary fa determine
IL Vjr I
the precise length of the Greek, Roman, and Arabian
cubit 5 and even to know the dift’erent alterations
which that measure had undergone among those people :
But this nicety he thinks needless, looking upon the
general fact to be fully established by what he had said
before. Mr Bruce, however, has treated the subject
with much greater accuracy. He observes, that from
the situation of Canopus, the distance betwixt Egypt
and Cyprus, and the extension of the land to the north¬
ward, it appears that no addition of any consequence
had been made to it for 3000 years past. The only
argument left for the increase of land therefore must be
taken from the nilometer. The use of this instrument
was to determine the quantity of inundation, that so it
might be known whether the crop would be sufficient
to enable the people to pay the taxes exacted of them
by the sovereign or not. The first step was to know
what space of ground was overflowed in a given number
of years ; and this being determined by mensuration, the
next thing was to ascertain the produce of the ground
upon an average. Thus becoming acquainted with the
greatest and least crops produced, together with the
exact extent of ground overflowed, they rvere furnish¬
ed with all the necessary principles for constructing a
nilometer ; and nothing now remained but to erect a
pillar in a proper place, and divide it exactly into cu¬
bits. This was accordingly done $ the pillar was first
divided into cubits, and these again were subdivided
into digits. The first division of this kind was un¬
doubtedly that mentioned in Scripture, and called the
cubit of a man; being the length of the arm from the
middle of the round bone in the elbow' to the point of
the middle finger; a measure still in use among all rude
nations. As no standard could be found by which this
measure might be exactly determined, authors have dif¬
fered very much concerning the true length of the cubit
when reduced to our feet and inches. Dr Arbuthnot
reckons two cubits mentioned in Scripture; one of them
containing one foot nine inches and T0V3- °f an inch i
the other one foot and 4^-575 °f a foot; but Mr Bruce
is of opinion that both of these are too large. He
found, by mensuration, the Egyptian cubit to be ex¬
actly one foot five inches and three-fifths of an inch ;
and Herodotus mentions, that in his time the cubit used
for determining the increase of the Nile was the Samian
cubit, about 18 of our inches. The latter also informs
as, that in the time of Moeris, the minimum of increase
was 8 cubits, at which time all Egypt below' the city
of Memphis was overflowed; but that in his time 16
or at least 15 cubits were necessary to produce the
same effect. But to this account Mr Bruce objects,
that Herodotus could have no certain information con¬
cerning the nilometer, because he himself says that the
priests, who alone had access to it, would tell him no¬
thing of the matter. Herodotus also informs us, that
in the time of Moeris, great lakes were dug to carry
off lhe waters of the inundation ; and this superfluous
quantity Mr Bruce supposes to have been conveyed in¬
to the desert for the use of the Arabs, and tha^ by
such a vast drain the rise of the water on the nilometer
would undoubtedly be diminished. But even granting
that there was such a difference between the rise of
the water in the time of Moeris and in that of Hero¬
dotus, it does not appear that any thing like it has
appeared ever since. Strabo, who travelled into Egypt
r 1.
400 years after the time of Herodotus, found that
eight cubits were then the minimum, as well as in
the time of Moeris. From some passages in Strabo,
however, it appears that it required a particular exer¬
tion of industry to cause this quantity of water pro¬
duce a plentiful crop ; but there is not the least reason
to suppose, that the very same industry was not ne¬
cessary in the time of Moeris; so that still there is not
any increase of land indicated by the nilometer. About
100 years afterwards, when the emperor Adrian visited
Egypt, we are informed from unquestionable authority,
that 16 cubits were the minimum when the people were
able to pay their tribute ; and in the fourth century,
under the emperor Julian, 15 cubits were the standard;
both which accounts correspond with that of Herodo¬
tus. Lastly, Procopius, who lived in the time of Jus¬
tinian, informs us, that 18 cubits were then requisite for
a minimum.
From these accounts, so various and discordant, it is
obvious that no certain conclusion can he drawn. It
is not indeed easy to determine the reason of this dif¬
ference in point of fact. The only conjecture we can
offer is, that as it appears that by proper care a smaller
quantity of water will answer the purpose of producing
a plentiful crop, so it is not unreasonable to suppose
that at different periods the industry of the people has
varied so much as to occasion the disagreement in ques¬
tion. This would undoubtedly depend very much upon
their governor; and indeed Strabo informs us that it
was by the care of the governor Petronius, that such a
small quantity of water was made to answer the pur¬
pose. The conclusion drawn by Mr Bruce from the
whole of the accounts above related, is, that from them
it is most probable that no increase of land has been in¬
dicated by the nilometer from the time of Moeris to
that of Justinian.
On the conquest of Egypt by the Saracens, their
barbarous and stupid caliph destroyed the nilometer,
causing another to be built in its stead, and afterwards
fixed the standard of paying tribute considerably below
what it had usually been. The Egyptians were thus
kept in continual terror, and constantly watched the
new nilometer to observe the gradual increase or de¬
crease of the water. On this he ordered the new nilo¬
meter to be destroyed, and another to be constructed,
and all access to it to be denied to the people. Which
prohibition is still continued to Christians ; though our
author found means to get over this obstacle, and has
given a figure of the instrument itself. That the people
might not, however, be supposed to remain in total ig¬
norance of their situation, he commanded a proclamation
to be daily made concerning the height of the water,
but in such an unintelligible manner that nobody was
made any wiser ; nor, according to our author, is the
proclamation understood at this day. From his own
observations, however, Mr Bruce concludes, that 15
cubits are now the minimum of inundation, and as this
coincides with the accounts of it in the times of Hero¬
dotus and Adrian, he supposes with great probability,
that the same quantity of water has been necessary to
overflow this country from the earliest accounts to the
present time.
It now remains only to take notice of wdiat is said
by M. Savary concerning the former distance of the
island of Pharos from the land to which it is now joined,
4 I 2 With
132
No increase
of land in
these age*
can real on-
ably be
supposed;
*33
nor in
more mo¬
dern times.
EGYPT.
■34
M. Sava-
ry’s opinion
concerning
the isle of
Pharos re¬
futed by M*
Yolney.
With regard to his other assertions concerning the city
of Metelis having been once a sea port, M. Volney proves
that he has quoted Strabo unfairly, and consequently no
stress is to be laid upon them. The principal, indeed
the only, evidence which therefore remains, is the passage
already quoted from Homer, viz. that “ the island ot
Pharos is as far distant from one of the mouths ot the
Nile as a vessel can sail in one day before the wind.”
“ But (says M. Volney) when Homer speaks of the
distance of this island, he does not mean its distance from
the shore opposite, as that traveller (M. Savary) has
translated him, hut from.the land of Egypt and the
river Nile. In the second place, by a day’s sail we must
not understand that indefinite space which the vessels,
or rather the boats of the ancient Greeks, could pass
through in a day j hut an accurate and determined
measure of 540 stadia. This measure is ascertained by
Herodotus, and is the precise distance between Pharos
and the Nile, allowing, with M. d’Anville, 27,000
toises to 540 stadia. It is therefore far from being
proved, that the increase of the Delta or of the continent
was so rapid as has been represented ; and, if we were
disposed to maintain it, we should still have to explain
how this shore, which has not gained half a league from
the days of Alexander, should have gained eleven in the
far shorter period from the time of Menelaus to that
conqueror. The utmost extent of the encroachment of
this land upon the sea, however, may be learned from the
words of Herodotus ; who informs us, that 4< the breadth
of Egypt, along the sea coast, from the gulf of Plm-
thine to the lake Serbonis near Mount Casius, is 3600
stadia ; and its length from the sea to Heliopolis 1500
stadia.” Allowing therefore the stadium of Herodotus
to be between 50 and 51 French toises, the 1500 stadia
just mentioned are equal to 76,000 toises •, which at the
rate of 57,000 to a degree, gives one degree and near 20
minutes and a half. But from the astronomical observa¬
tions of M. Niebuhr, who travelled for the king of Den¬
mark in 1761, the difference of latitude between Helio¬
polis, now called Matured, and the sea, being one degree
20 minutes at Damietta, and one degree 24 minutes at
Rosetta, there is a difference on one side of three minutes
and a half, or a league and a half encroachment; and
eight minutes and a half, or three leagues and a half, on
the other.” .
Thus the dispute concerning the augmentation ot the
land of Egypt by the Nile seems to be absolutely decid¬
ed ; and the encroachments of it on the sea so trifling,
that we may justly doubt whether they exist, or whether
we are not entirely to attribute the apparent differences
to those which certainly take place betwixt the ancient
and modern mensuration. M. Volney gives a very par¬
ticular description of the face of the country; but takes
notice of the inconveniences under which travellers la¬
bour in this country, by which it is rendered extremely
difficult to say any" thing certain with regard to the na¬
ture of the soil or mineral productions. These arise
from the barbarity and superstition of the people, who
imagine all the Europeans to be magicians and sorcerers,
who come by their magic art to discover the treasures
which the genii have concealed under the ruins. So
deep rooted is this opinion, that no person dares walk
alone in the fields, nor can he find any one willing to
accompany him ; by which means he is confined to the
banks of the river, and it is only by comparing the ac-
2
counts of various travellers that any satisfactory know- Egjp-
ledge can be acquired. t ^—v-v
According to this author, the entrance into Egypt ^35;
at Rosetta presents a most delightful prospect, by thej^
perpetual verdure of the palm trees on each side, the tin;
orchards watered by the river, with orange, lemon, and the cow
other fruit trees, which grow there in vast abundance
and the same beautiful appearance is continued all the
way to Cairo. As we proceed farther up the river, he
says, that nothing can more resemble the appearance of
the country than the marshes of the Lower Loiie, or
the plains of Flanders: instead, however, of the numer¬
ous trees and country houses of the latter, we must
imagine some thin woods of palms and sycamoies,. with
a few villages of mud-walled cottages built on artificial
mounds. All this part of Egypt is very low and flat,
the declivity of the river being so gentle, that its wa
ters do not flow at a greater rate than one league in an
hour. Throughout the country nothing is to be seen
but palm trees, single or in clumps, which become more
rare in proportion as you advance ; with wretched vil¬
lages composed of huts with mud walls, and a bound¬
less plain, which at different seasons is an ocean of fresh
water, a miry morass, a verdant field, or a dusty desert;
and on every side an extensive and foggy horizon, where
the eye is wearied and disgusted. At length, towards
the function of the two branches of the river, the moun¬
tains of Cairo are discovered on the east; and to the
south-west three detached masses appear, which from
their triangular form are known to be the pyiamids.
We now enter a valley which turns to the southward,
between two chains of parallel eminences. That to the
east, which extends to the Red sea, merits the name of
a mountain from its steepness and height, as well as that
of a desert from its naked and savage appearance. Its
name in the Arabic language is Mokattam, or the hewn
mountain. The western is nothing but a ridge of rock
covered with sand, which has been very properly term¬
ed a natural moundovcauseway. In short, that tne lead¬
er may at once form an idea of this country, let him
imagine on one side a narrow sea and rocks ; on the
other, immense plains of sand; and in the middle, a liver,
flowing through a valley of 150 leagues in length and
from three to seven wide, which at the distance of 30
leagues from the sea ' separates into two arms; the
branches of which wander over a soil almost free from
obstacles and void of declivity. _ .
From comparing his own observations with those of
other travellers, our author concludes, that the basis of
all Egypt from Asouan (the ancient Syene) to the Me¬
diterranean, is a continued bed of calcareous stone 0
whitish hue, and somewhat soft, containing the same
kind of shells met with in the adjacent seas, and which
forms the immense quarries extending from Saouadi to
Manfalout for the space of more than 25 leagues, ac¬
cording to the testimony of Father Sicard. .... 'i
As this country has been more recently visited oyReym
men of eminent abilities and profound research, who
appear to have examined every object that presented
itself with a philosopher’s eye, we beg leave to add to
the testimonies of the authors already mentioned, t e
substance of the French general Reynier’s account of
the face of the country. He informs us, that the bar¬
riers by which Egypt is inclosed must be strong, e
cause they have been planted by the hand of na*ur®’
E G
,ypt. Xt Is separated from Asia by deserts of considerable ex-
,(r—> tent; and should an hostile army attempt to approach
it on that side, it would have to take its route through
marshy grounds below its general level, and presenting
to the traveller little else than brackish water. Its
flat shore towards the Mediterranean, and the mouths
of the Nile gorged up with mounds ot sand, present to
an enemy very few places which will be found proper
for the debarkation of troops. Immense deserts consti¬
tute its natural boundaries on the west, on which ac¬
count it has nothing to dread but the incursions of the
Arabs from Barbary. A desert also separates Egypt
from the Red sea, which gives no flattering invitations
to an enemy to invade it from that quarter, the two
ports of that sea being destitute of resources, and Egypt
itself being the only country from which a hostile army
could procure provisions and camels, sufficient to enable
it to cross the desert.
In Upper Egypt, a chain of mountains present them¬
selves to the eye of the traveller on either side of the
Nile. The valley between these mountains, through
which the course of the river is directed, is nearly five
leagues broad, which the periodical inundations of the
river completely cover. This valley alone is inhabit¬
ed, and susceptible of cultivation. The eastern chain
of mountains, by which the Nile is separated from the
Red sea, surpasses that on the west in respect of height,
terminating by precipices towards the valley, assuming
in different places the appearance of an immense wall,
broken irregularly by narrow valleys, which have owed
their origin to the sudden and temporary torrents of
winter, and serve for passes over these stupendous
mountains. The western chain, by which the valley
of the Nile is separated from that of Ouasis, has in
general a gradual and gentle declivity, although it
becomes more abrupt towards Siout, and is steep from
the angle formed by the Nile towards Hennh, till it
reaches Syene, at which place the mountains have a
more considerable height, affording but a narrow pas¬
sage to the river.
The distance between these two chains of mountains
is increased as you approach Cairo, the eastern chain
i terminating near the extremity of the Red sea, without
the appearance of any junction with the Arabian moun¬
tains, which have a similar termination. The western
chain declines towards Fayoum, taking a north-west
direction near Grand Cairo, and forming the Mediter¬
ranean coast in a direction to the west. Lower Egypt
lies between these two great chains of mountains and
the sea, which has most probably been formed, at least
in a great measure, by the slime or mud which the ri¬
ver Nile deposits, as it is intersected by its branches,
and a vast number of canals.
The seven branches by which the Nile anciently
emptied itself into the Mediterranean, are at present
reduced to two, viz. those of Damietta and Rosetta:
There are now no vestiges of the other five, except a
canal or two, which are only navigable during a part
of the year. It is not improbable, that when all the
branches of the Nile were entire and distinct, each of
them contained about the same quantity of waters
The cutting of canals to effect the equilibrium of the
water, the channels of which were afterwards neglected,
would diminish the quantum of water in one branch
and increase it in another. The salt water mingling
621
with the fresh, would destroy the fecundity of the Egypt,
ground in some places, and thus induce the inhabitants '■■■——J 1
to search for habitations where they might find the
earth more fertile.
It has already been observed, that the principal part
of Lower Egypt owes its existence to the desposition of
mud or earth by the Nile, which also formed the banks
at the different mouths of that river. The mud of the
Nile would first cover the low ground nearest to its
bed or channel, and the increase of land from the de¬
position of mud would be more gradual in its progress
in distant parts, from which circumstance would arise
the formation of lakes. These in their turn would be
gradually filled up by the land growing out of the de¬
posited mud of the river, which of consequence would
increase the boundaries of Lower Egypt, by taking
from the sea; but as it is natural for the sea to resist
such encroachments, it is probable that the ground
formed by the deposited mud of the Nile will no longer
continue to increase in one direction without diminish¬
ing in another. The experience of centuries past has
fully evinced, that the sea has actually taken more
from the extent of Egypt than has been compensated
by the mud of the Nile. By the simple operation of
natural causes it may be safely concluded, that if nature
and art do not co-operate ; if the water is permitted to
increase, and the channels of the different branches are
allowed to be augmented, the sea will continue to snatch
new lands from the inhabitants, which appears to be
the inevitable doom of Egypt, while it continues in
the hands of a people who are ignorant and unculti¬
vated.
A large proportion of the land formerly watered by
the branches of the Nile, anciently denoted the Pelu-
siac, Tanitic, and Mendesian branches, is now the bed
of Lake Menzaleh. Lake Bourlos is not far from the
mouth of what was formerly called the Sebennitic
branch, and Lake Maadieh is near the mouth of the
ancient Canopic. Lake Mareotis was at too great a
distance from the Nile to be filled up with the mud
which it deposits, the waters of which were diverted
from the lake, by a canal which had been cut for the
conveyance of water to the city of Alexandria; and
having no communication with the sea, its waters of
consequence were gradually evaporated. It still, how¬
ever, contained a moving sand and a brackish mud,
which receiving the rain in winter, and a small portion
of the waters from the Nile by the canals of Bahireh,
it exhibits the appearance of a marsh during the greater
part of the year. There are also a few lakes which owe
their origin to the redundant waters of the Nile, diffu¬
sing themselves over hollow places in which they are
confined, and only disappear by the gradual process of
evaporation.
In addition to the branches and chief canals already
mentioned, there are numerous canals in Lower Egypt
by which it is intersected. These convey the waters
of the inundation, which dykes in different districts
serve to retain. By these waters the more elevated
grounds are fertilized, and other cantons in succession,
after which they are poured into the lakes, or are lost
in the sea. The, swelling of this remarkable river com¬
mences about the summer solstice, reaching its utmost
extent in the autumnal equinox; and after appearing
for a few days in all its native majesty, it gradually
begins
Y P T.
EGYPT.
begins to subside. In point of time there 1S a difference
1 of fifteen days, and sometimes twice that period, with
respect to the rise and fall of the Nile j but it may be
affirmed In general, that Lower Egypt cannot be sate-
ly passed during any more of the year than from the be-
ginning of February to the end of August. At this time
the great branches alone contain water, on which
passage boats are always to be met with.
Ir is obvious, from this succinct account of the general
face of the country, that no invading army could carry
on anv military operations in Lower Egypt during more
than seven months in the year. It may perhaps be ad¬
mitted with truth, that the confines of the desert might
be traversed during the five remaining months*, but the
villages in that direction are ill qualified to grant those
necessary supplies to an army which, after crossing the
desert, must be in want of every thing. No communi¬
cation could be kept open from the desert with the in¬
terior, from September to December inclusive. At
this period, therefore, an enemy could not carry on
any military operations in the interior but by water.
Nor would an army destined to defend Egypt find it¬
self free from very considerable embarrassment during
the continuance of the inundation *, for as a consider¬
able part of its movements would unavoidably be made
on that element, they would be from the nature of
things both tedious and difficult.
137 ^j[r Bruce has given us a particular account of the
Mr B«ce’ssources fr0m whence were derived the vast quantities
the0<1 everts of marble met with in the remains of ancient build-
marble ’ings in this country. These he discovered during
mountains, his journey from K.enne to Cosseir on the Ked sea,
before he took his expedition to Abyssinia. He
gives a most dismal idea of the deserts through which
he passed. What houses he met with were constructed
like those M. Volney mentions, of clay, being no more
than six feet in diameter, and about ten in height. The
mountains were the most dreary and barren that can be
imagined : and the heat of the sun so great, that two
sticks rubbed together only for half a minute vyould
take fire and flame, In these burning regions no living
creature was to be met with, even the poisonous ser¬
pents and scorpions not being able to find subsistence.
The first animal he saw was a species of ants in a plain
called Hamra from the purple colour of its sand •, and
it was remarkable that these insects were of the same
colour with the sand itself. No water was anywhere
to he met with on the surface *, though at a place call¬
ed Legcta there were some draw-wells, the water of
which was more bitter than soot itself. At Hamra the
porphyry mountains and quarries begin, the stone of
which is at first soft and brittle *, but the quantity is
immense, as a whole day was taken up in passing by
them. These porphyry,mountains begin in the latitude
of nearly 24 degrees, and continue along the coast of
the Red sea to about 22° 30', when they are succeeded
by the marble mountains *, these again by others of ala¬
baster, and these last by basaltic mountains. From the
marble mountains our author selected twelve kinds, of
different colours, which he brought along with him.
Some of the mountains appeared to he composed en¬
tirely of red and others of green marble, and by their
different colours afforded an extraordinary spectacle.
Not far from the porphyry mountains the cold was so
great, that his camels died on his return from Abys¬
sinia though the thermometer stood no lower than 42
degrees.
Near to Cosseir he discovered the quarries whence
the ancients obtained those immense quantities of mar¬
ble with which they constructed so many wonderful
works. The first place where the marks of their ope¬
rations were very perceptible, was a mountain much
higher than any they had yet passed, and where-the
stone was so hard that it did not even yield to the
blows of a hammer. In this quarry he observed that
some ducts or channels lor conveying water termina¬
ted •, which, according to him, shows that water was
one of the means by which these hard stones were cut.
Tn four days, during which our author travelled among
these mountains, he says, that he had “ passed more
granite, porphyry, marble, and jasper, than would build
Rome, Athens, Corinth, Syracuse, Memphis, Alex¬
andria, and half a dozen such cities.” It appeared to
him that the passages between the mountains, and
which he calls defiles, were not natural but artificial
openings ; where even whole mountains had been cut
out, in order to preserve a gentle slope towards the
river. This descent our author supposes not to be
above one foot in 50 j so that the carriages must have
gone very easily, and rather required something to re¬
tard their velocity than any force to pull them forward.
Concerning the mountains in general, he observes, that
the porphyry is very beautiful to the eye, and is disco¬
vered by a fine purple sand without any gloss. An
unvariegated marble of a green colour is generally met
with in the same mountain *, and where the two meet
the marble becomes soft for a few inches, hut the por¬
phyry retains its hardness. 1 he granite has a dirty
brown appearance, being covered with sand : but on
removing this, it appears of a gray colour with black
spots, with a reddish cast all over it. Ibe granite
mountains lie nearer to the Red sea, and seem to have
afforded the materials for Pompey’s pillar. The icd-
ness above mentioned seems to go off on exposure to the
air *, but re-appears on working or polishing the stone
farther. The red marble is next to the granite, though
not met with in the same mountain. Ihere is also a
red kind with white veins, and vast quantities of the
common green serpentine. Some samples of that beau¬
tiful marble named Isabella were likewise observed j one
of them of that yellowish cast called quaker colour,
other of the bluish kind named dove colour, jne
most valuable kind is that named verde antico, which is
found next to the Nile in the mountains of serpentine.
It is covered by a kind of blue flaky stone, somewhat
lighter than a slate, more beautiful than most kinds ot
marble, and when polished having the appearance ol a
volcanic lava. In these quarters the verde antico had
been uncovered in patches of about 20 feet squaie.
There were small pieces of African marble scattere a-
bout in several places, but no rocks or mountains of it j
so that our author conjectures it to lie in the heart 0
some other kind. The whole is situated on a ridge
with a descent to the east and west*, by which means it
might easily be conveyed either to the Nile, or Red sea,
while the hard gravel and level ground would read y
allow the heaviest carriages to be moved with very ht-
tic force#
Travellers have talked of an emerald mine in
deserts *, but from the researches of Mr Bruce, it < oe8min(.
iLii,
EGYPT.
: p1-
9
5to# of a
torss ap-
ItffiHiOC.
Sal kes,
UlOU'rif
Inot
Hv
not appear to have any existence. In the Red sea in¬
deed, in the latitude of 250 3', at a small distance from
the south-western coast, there is an island called the
Mountain of Emeralds ; but none of these precious
stones are to be met with there. Here, as well as on
the continent, there were found many pieces of a green
pellucid substance 5 but veined, and much softer than
rock crystal, though somewhat harder than glass. A
few yards up the mountain he found three pits, which
are supposed to have been the mines whence the ancients
obtained the emeralds 5 but though many pieces of the
green substance above mentioned were met with about
these pits, no signs of the true emerald could be per¬
ceived. This substance, however, he conjectures to
have been the smaragdus of the Romans. In the moun¬
tains of Cosseir, as well as in some places of the deserts
of Nubia, our author found some rocks exactly resem¬
bling petrified wood.
The only metal said by the ancients to be produced
in Egypt is copper. On the road to Suez are found
great numbers of those stones called Egyptian flints and
pebbles, though the bottom is a hard, calcareous, and
sonorous stone. Here also M. Volney tell.s us, that
the stones above mentioned, and which resemble pe¬
trified wood, are to be met with. These, he says, are
in the form of small logs cut slanting at the ends, and
might easily be taken for petrifactions, though he is
convinced that they are real minerals.
F. Sicard mentions two lakes, from the water of
which is produced annually a great quantity of salt
containing much mineral alkali: and M. Volney in¬
forms us, that the whole soil of this country is impreg¬
nated with salt; so that, upon digging to some depth
in the ground, we always meet with brackish water im¬
pregnated in some degree with the mineral alkali as
well as with common salt. The two lakes mentioned
by Sicard are situated in the desert to the west of the
Delta ; and are three or four leagues in length, and
about a quarter of a league in breadth, with a solid and
stony bottom. For nine months in the year they are
without water.; but in the winter time there oozes out
of the earth a reddish violet-coloured water, which fills
the lakes to the height of five or six feet. This being
evaporated by the return of the heat, there remains a
bed of salt two feet thick and very hard, which is bro¬
ken in pieces with iron bars ; and no less than 30,000
quintals are procured every year from these lakes. So
great is the propensity of the Egyptian soil to produce
salt, that even when the gardens are overflowed for the
sake of watering them, the surface of the ground, af¬
ter the evaporation and absorption of the water, ap¬
pears glazed over with salt. The water found in the
Wells contains mineral alkali, marine salt, and a little
nitre. M. Volney is of opinion, that the fertile mould
of Egypt, which is of a blackish colour, differs essen¬
tially from that of the other parts ; and is derived from
the internal parts of Ethiopia along with the waters of
the Nile. This seems to contradict what he had before
advanced against M. Savary concerning the increase
of the land of Egypt by means of the waters of this
river: but there is no reason at all to suppose this kind
of earth to be of a foreign origin ; it being always the
result of vegetation and cultivation. Even the most
barren and sandy spots in the world, if properly water¬
ed, and such vegetables planted in them as would grow
there, in time would be covered with this black earth
as well as others : and of this kind of artificial forma¬
tion of soil, travellers give us a remarkable instance in
the garden of the monks at Mount Sinai, where the
country is naturally as barren as in any place of the
world. “ The monks of Sinai (says Dr Shaw), in a
long process of time, have covered over with dung and
the sweepings of their convent near four acres of naked
rocks : which produce as good cabbage, roots, salad,
and all kinds of pot-herbs, as any soil and climate
whatsoever. They have likewise raised olive, plum,
almond, apple, and pear trees, not only in great num¬
bers, but of excellent kinds. The pears particularly
are in such esteem at Cairo, that there is a present of
them sent every year to the bashaw and persons of the
first quality. Neither are their grapes inferior in size
and flavour to any whatsoever : it being fully demon¬
strated, by what this little garden produces, how far an
indefatigable industry can prevail over nature ; and
that several places are capable of culture and improve¬
ment which were intended by nature to be barren, and
which the lazy and slothful have always suffered to be
so.” •
From this general account of the country, we may Natural
reasonably conclude, that the natural fertility of Egypt fertility of
is not diminished in modern times, provided the samen0*
pains were taken in the cultivation of it as formerly ; inliai8“e *
but this is not to be expected from the present degene¬
rate race of inhabitants. “ The Delta (says M. Savary)
is at present in the most favourable state for agriculture.
Washed on the east and west by two rivers formed by
the division of the Nile, each of which is as large and
more deep than the Loire, intersected by innumerable
rivulets; it presents to the eye an immense garden, all
the different compartments of which may be easily wa¬
tered. During the three months that the Thebais is
under water, the Delta possesses fields covered with
rice, barley, vegetables, and winter fruits. It is also
the only part of Egypt where the same field produces
two crops of grain within the year, the one of rice, the
other of barley.”
The only cause of all this fertility is the Nile, with¬
out which the whole country would soon become an un¬
inhabitable desert, as rain falls very seldom in this part
of the world. It flows with a very gentle stream through
the flat country, and its waters are very muddy, so that
they must have time to settle, or even require filtration
before they can be drunk. For purifying the water,Method of
the Egyptians, according to M. Volney, use bitter Pitying
almonds, with which they rub the vessel containing it, and^cool-
and then the water becomes light and good; but on
what principle this ingredient acts we cannot pretend Egypt,
to determine. Unglazed earthen vessels filled with wa¬
ter are kept in every apartment; which by a continual
evaporation through their porous substance, render the
contained fluid very cool even in the greatest heats.
The river continues muddy for six months: and during
the three which immediately precede the inundation,
the stream being reduced to an inconsiderable depth,
becomes heated, green, fetid, and full of worms. The
Egyptians in former times paid divine honours to the
Nile, and still hold it in great veneration. They believe
its waters to be very nourishing, and that they are supe¬
rior
E G Y
144
Of the in
rior to any in the tvorld i an opinion very excusable in
them, as they have no other, and large draughts of cold
water are among their highest luxuries. .
This river, swelled by the rains which fall in Abyssi-
Oftnein- inis nvei, ov»c..v,~ at_-, .
imdation of nJa begins to rise in Egypt about the month ot May ,
the Nile. tbe increase is inconsiderable till towards the end ot
145
Kilometer
described.
but tne increase 10    . ,
June when it is proclaimed by a public crier through
the streets of Cairo. About this time it has usually risen
five or six cubits j and when it has risen to l6, great
rejoicings are made, and the people cry out Waffa/i Al¬
lah, that is, that God has given them abundance. Ibis
commonly takes place about the latter end of July, or
at farthest before the 20th of August j and the sooner
it takes place, so much the greater are the hopes ot a
good crop. Sometimes, though rarely, the necessary in-
crease does not take place till later. In the year 1705,
it did not swell to 16 cubits till the 19th of September ,
the consequence of which was that the coyutry was de¬
populated by famine and pestilence.
We may easily imagine that the Nile cannot over¬
flow the whole country of itself is such a manner as to
render it fertile j for which reason there are innumer¬
able canals cut from it across the country, it has al¬
ready been observed, by which the water is convey¬
ed to distant places, and almost every town or village
has one of these canals. In those parts of the country
where the inundation does not reach, and where more
water is required than it can furnish, as for watering ot
gardens, they must have recourse to artificial means tor
raisino- it from the river. In former times they made
use of Archimedes’s screw but that is now disused,
and in place of it they have chosen the Persian wheel.
This is a large wheel turned by oxen, having a rope
hung with several buckets which fill as it goes round,
and'empty themselves into a cistern at the top. Where
the banks of the river are high, they frequently make
a bason in the side of them, near which they fix an up¬
right pole, and another with an axle across the top of
that, at one end of which they hang a great stone, and
at the other a leathern bucketa, this bucket being drawn
down into the river by two men, is raised by the descent
of the stone, and emptied into a cistern placed at a pro¬
per height. This kind of machine is used chiefly in the
upper parts of the country, where the raising of water
is more difficult than in places near the sea. When any
of the gardens or plantations want water, it is convey¬
ed from the cisterns into little trenches, and from
thence conducted all round the beds in various rills,
which the gardener easily stops by raising the mould
against them with his loot, and diverts the current
another way as he sees occasion.
The rise of the inundation is measured, as has alrea¬
dy been observed, by an instrument adapted for the
purpose, and called mikeas, which we translate nilometer.
Mr Bruce informs us, that this is placed between Geeza
and Cairo, on the point of an island named Rhoda
about the middle of the river, but somewhat nearer
to Geeza. It is a round tower with an apartment, in
the middle of which is a cistern neatly lined with mar¬
ble. The bottom of this cistern reaches to that of the
river, and there is a large opening by which the water
has free access to the inside. 1 he rise of the vvatei is
indicated by an octagonal column of blue and white
marble, on which are marked 20 peeks or cubits of 22
inches each. The two lowermost ol these have no sub-
P T.
divisions *, but each of the rest is divided into 24 parts Egypt
called digits; the whole height of the pillar being 36 '  —
feet 8 inches. , . . ^
When the river has attained its proper height, all the Of the W l
canals are opened, and the whole country laid under wa-nah by
ter. During the time of the inundation a certain vor-™!^
tical motion of the waters takes place: but notwith-CODVeye(J
standing this, the Nile is so easily managed, that many&c.
fields lower than the surface of its waters are preserved
from injury merely by a dam of moistened earth not
more than eight or ten inches in thickness. 1 his me¬
thod is made use of particularly in the Delta when it is
threatened with a flood. # ^
As the Nile does not always rise to a height suffi¬
cient for the purposes of agriculture, the former sove-
reigns of Egypt were at vast pains to cut proper ca¬
nals in order to supply the deficiency. Some of these
are still preserved, but great numbers are rendered use<
less through the indolence or barbarity of their succes¬
sors. Those which convey the water to Cairo, into the
province of Fayoom, and to Alexandria, are best taken
care of by government. The last is watched by an
officer appointed for that purpose, whose office it is to
hinder the Arabs of Bachria, who receive this super¬
fluous water, from turning it off before Alexandria be
provided for, or opening it before the proper time,
which would binder the increase of the river. In like
manner, that which conveys the water to Fayoom is
watched, and cannot be opened before that ot Cairo,
which is called the Canal of Trajan. A number of
other canals, only taken care of by those who derive
advantage from them, proceed from that arm of the
Nile which runs to Damietta, and fertilize the pro¬
vince of Sharkia *, which, making part of the isthmus
of Suez, is the most considerable of Egypt,
most capable of a great increase of cultivation. Ihe
plains of Gaza which lie beyond, and are possessed by
the Arabs, would be no less fertile, were it not for the
excessive inclination these people have to destroy, so
that they make war even with the spontaneous produc¬
tions of the earth. A number of other canals run
through the Delta j and the vestiges of those which
watered the provinces to the eastward and westward,
show that in former times these were the best cultiva ed
parts of Egypt. “ We may also presume (says the
baron de Tott), from the extent of the ruins of Alex¬
andria, the construction of the canal, and the natural
level of the lands which encompass the lake Mareotis,
and extend themselves westward to the kingdom 0
Barca, that this country, at present given up to the
Arabs, and almost desert, was once sufficiently rich 1
productions of every kind to furnish the city ot Alex¬
ander with its whole subsistence.” ‘4'
The air and climate of Egypt are extremely 10 > ljniate
Ik
nofonly from the height of the' sun, which in summer^6
not only irom me neigui  — - .
approaches to the zenith, but from the want of rain an
from the vicinity of those burning and sandy desert
which lie to the southward. In the months ol July am
August, according to M. Volney, Reaumur’s thermo¬
meter stands, even in the most temperate apartments,
1 1   mcr
at the height of 24 or 25 degrees above the Reezing
• . 1 • . 1. ie is aaid to rise Still
point; and in the southern parts it is said to rise
higher. Hence, he says, only two seasons should t>e
distinguished in Egypt, the cool and the hot, or spnng
and summer. The latter continues for the greatest pa^
E G
of the year, viz. from March to November or even
longer: for by tiie end of February the sun is intoler¬
able to a European at nine o’clock in the morning.
D uring the whole of this season the air seems to be
inflamed, the sky sparkles, and every one sweats pro¬
fusely, even without the least exercise, and when cover¬
ed with the lightest dress. This heat is tempered by
the inundation of the Nile, (he fall of the night dews,
and the subsequent evaporation 5 so that some of the
European merchants, as well as the natives, complain of
the cold in winter. The dew we speak of does not fall
regularly throughout the summer, as with us ; the
parched state of the country not affording a sufficient
quantity of vapour for this purpose. It is first observ¬
ed about St John’s day (June 24th), when the river has
begun to swell, and consequently a great quantity of
water is raised from it by the heat of the sun, which
being soon condensed by the cold of the night air, falls
down in copious dews.
It might naturally be imagined, that as for three
months in the year Egypt is in a wet and marshy
situation, the excessive evaporation and putrefaction of
the stagnating waters would render it very unhealthy.
But this is by no means the case. The great dryness
of the air makes it absorb vapours of all kinds with the
utmost avidity j and these rising to a great height, are
carried off by the winds either to the southward or
northward, without having time to communicate any
of their pernicious effects. This dryness is so remark¬
able in the internal parts of the country, that flesh meat
exposed to the open air does not putrefy even in sum¬
mer, but soon becomes hard and dry like wood. In the
deserts there are frequently dead carcases thus dried in
such a manner, and become so light, that one may ea¬
sily lift that of a camel wdh one hand. In the mari¬
time parts, however, this dryness of the air is not to be
expected. They discover the same degree of moisture
which usually attends such situations. At Rosetta and
Alexandria, iron cannot be exposed to the air for 24
hours without rusting. According to M. Volney, the
air of Egypt- is also strongly impregnated with salts :
for which opinion he gives the following reason : “ The
stones are corroded by natrum (mineral alkali or soda),
and in moist places long crystallizations of it are to be
found, which might be taken for saltpetre. The wall of
the Jesuits garden at Cairo, built with earth and bricks,
is everywhere covered with a crust of this natrum as
thick as a crown piece: and when this garden has been
overflowed by the waters of the kalidj (canal), the
ground, after they have drained oft', appears sparkling
on every side with crystals, which certainly were not
brought thither by the water, as it shows no sign of
salt either to the taste or by distillation.”—But what-
even’may be the quantity of salt contained in the earth,
it is certain that M. Volney’s opinion of its coming thi¬
ther from the air cannot be just. The salt in question
is excessively fixed, and cannot be dissipated into the air
without the violent heat of a glasshouse furnace; and
even after this has been done, it will not remain diffus¬
ed through the atmosphere, but quickly falls back again.
No experiments have ever shown that any salt was or
could be diffused in the air, except volatile alkali, and
this is now known to be formed by the union of two
permanently elastic fluids j and it is certain that a sa¬
line air would quickly prove fatal to the animals who
Vox.. VII. Part II. f
Y P T. 625
breathed it. The abundance of this kind of salt in E^ypt.
Egypt therefore only shows, that by some unknown l——y——v
operation the heat of the sun forms it from the two in¬
gredients of earth and water, though we do not yet un¬
derstand the manner, nor are able to imitate this natural
operation.
To this saline property of the earth M. Volney a-Why exotic
scribes the excessive quickness of vegetation in Egypt,plants wM
which is so great, that a species of gourd called Arora.110*1*11^6
will, in 24 hours, send forth shoots of four inches in
length ; but for the same reason, in all probability, it is
that no exotic plant will thrive in Egypt. The mer¬
chants are obliged annually to send to Malta for their
garden seeds; for though the plants thrive very well at
first, yet if the seed of them is preserved, and sown
a second year, they always come up too tall and
slender.
By reason of the great dryness of the air, Egypt is
exempted from the phenomena of rain, hail, snow,
thunder, and lightning. Earthquakes are also seldom
heard of in this country ; though sometimes they have
been very fatal and destructive, particularly one in the
year 1112. In the Delta it never rains in summer,
and very seldom at any other time. In 1761, however,
such a quantity of rain unexpectedly fell, that a great
number of houses, built with mud walls, tumbled entire¬
ly down by being soaked with the water, to which
they were unaccustomed. In the Higher Egypt the
rain is still less frequent; but the people, sensible of the
advantages which accrue from it, always rejoice when
any falls, however insufficient to answer the pur- 149
pose. This deficiency of rain is supplied by the in-^au*e ol .
undation and dews already mentioned. The latter
proceed, as has already been said, partly from the
waters of the inundation, and partly from the sea.
At Alexandria, after sunset, in the month of April,
the clothes exposed to the air on the terraces are
soaked with them as if it had rained. These dews
are more or less copious according to the direction of
the wind. They are produced in the greatest quantity
by the westerly or northerly winds, which blow from
the sea $ but the south and soutb-oast winds, blow¬
ing over the deserts of Africa and Arabia, produce
none. jjq
The periodical return of winds from a certain quar-Remark-
ter is a very remarkable phenomenon in this country.reSu-
When the sun approaches the tropic of Cancer, they ll‘“
shift from the east to the north j and, during the
month of June, they" always blow from the north or
north-west. They continue northerly all the month
of July, varying only sometimes towards the east, and
sometimes the contrary way. About the end of this
month, and during the whole of August and Sep¬
tember, they blow directly from the north, and are
but of a moderate strength, though somewhat weaker
in the night than in the day. Towards the end of
September they return to the east, though they do not
absolutely fix on that point, but blow more regularly
from it than any other except the north. As the sun
approaches the southern tropic, they become more va¬
riable and tempestuous, blowing most commonly from
the north, north-east, and west, which they continue to
do throughout the months of December, January, and
February 5 and, during that season, the vapours raised
from the Mediterranean condense into a mist, or even
4 K sometime
IS*
Rains in
Abyssinia
and in Ar¬
menia oc¬
casioned by
two oppo¬
site cur¬
rents of
air.
IS*
Of hot
winds.
- E G
sometimes into rain. Towards the end of February and
in the succeeding month, they more frequently b ow
from the south than from any other quarter. During
some part of the month of March and in that of April,
they blow from the south, south-east, and south-west ,
sometimes from the north and east, the latter becoming
most prevalent about the end of that month, and conti¬
nuing during the whole of May.
It is to the long continuance of the north winds,
formerly called the Etesian winds, that Egypt proba¬
bly owes its extreme dryness, as well as part of the in¬
undation by which it is fertilized. From the month
of April to July, there appear to be two immense cur¬
rents in the atmosphere, the under one blowing from
the north, and the upper from the south. By the for¬
mer the vapours are raised from the Med.terranean and
southern parts of Europe, where they are carried over
Abyssinia, dissolving there in immense deluges ot rain ,
while by the latter the superfluous vapours, or those
raised from the country of Abyssinm itself, are carried
northward toward the sources ot the Euphrates.
Here the clouds coming from the south, descending
into the lower part of the atmosphere, dissolve in like
manner into rain, and produce an inundation of the
Euphrates similar to that of the Nile, and immediately
succeeding it. Mr Bruce had an opportunity of ascer¬
taining this fact in the month of June 1768 •, for at that
time, while on a voyage from Sidon to Alexandria, he
observed great numbers of thin white clouds moving
rapidly from the south, and in direct opposition to the
Etesian winds.
Besides the ordinary winds here spoken ot, Ibgypt is
infested with the destructive blasts common to all warm
countries which have deserts in their neighbourhood.
These have been distinguished by various names, such
as poisonous winds, hot winds of the desert, Satmel, the
wind of Damascus, Kamsin, and Simoom. In Egypt they
are denominated “ winds of 50 days,” because they
most commonly prevail during the 50 days preced¬
ing and following the equinox', though, should they
blow constantly during one halt of that time, an uni¬
versal destruction would he the consequence. Of these
travellers have given various descriptions. M. Volney
says, that the violence of their heat may be compared
to that of a large oven at the moment of drawing out
the bread. They always blow from the south ", and are
undoubtedly owing to the motion of the atmosphere
over such vast tracts of hot sand, where it cannot be
supplied by a sufficient quantity of moistuie. . When
they begin to blow, the sky loses its usual serenity, and
assumes a dark, heavy, and alarming aspect, the sun
himself laying aside his usual splendour, and becoming of
a violet colour. This terrific appearance seems not
to be occasioned by any real haze or cloud in the atmo¬
sphere at that time, but solely to the vast quantity of
fine sand carried along by those winds, and which is so
excessively subtile that it penetrates everywhere. _ The
motion of this wind is always rapid, but its heat is not
intolerable till after it has continued for some time. Its
pernicious qualities are evidently occasioned by its ex¬
cessive avidity of moisture. Thus it dries and shrivels
up the skin •, and by doing the same to the lungs, will
in a short time produce suffocation and death. The dan¬
ger is greatest to those ot a plethoric habit of body, or
who have been exhausted by latigue j and putrefaction
Y P T.
soon takes place in the bodies of such as are destroyed
by it. Its extreme dryness is such, that water sprink- >—
led on the floor evaporates in a few minutes •, all the
plants are withered and stripped of their leaves-, and a
fever is instantly produced in the human species by the
suppression of perspiration. It usually lasts three days,
but is altogether insupportable if it continue beyond that
time. The danger is greatest when the wind blows in
squalls, and to travellers who happen to be exposed to
its fury without any shelter. J he best method in this
case is to stop the nose and mouth with an handkerchief.
Camels, by a natural instinct, bury their noses in the
sand, and keep them there till the squall is over. The
inhabitants, who have an opportunity of retiring to
their houses, instantly shut themselves up in them, or go
into pits made in the earth, till the destructive blast he
over*
The description of a blast of this kind which over¬
took Mr Bruce in the desert of Nubia is still more ter¬
rible than that just given from M. Volney. We have
already mentioned something of the pillars ol moving
sand raised by the winds in the desert. These were ob¬
served by our traveller on this occasion in all their ter¬
rific majesty. Sometimes they appeared to move slow¬
ly • at other times with incredible swiftness, so that
they could not have been avoided by the fleetest horse.
Sometimes they came so near, that they threatened de¬
struction to the whole company. Frequently the tops,
when arrived at an immense height, so that they
were lost in the clouds, suddenly separated from the
bodies, and dispersed themselves in the air-, and
sometimes the whole column broke off near the mid¬
dle as if it had received a cannon shot -, and their
size was such, that at the distance of about three
miles, they appeared ten feet in diameter. Next day
they appeared of a smaller size, but more numerous,
and sometimes approached within two miles ol the
company. The sun was now obscured by them, and
the transmission of his rays gave them a dreadful ap¬
pearance resembling pillars of fire. I Ins was pro¬
nounced by the guide to he a sign of the approaching
Simoom or hot wind 5 and he directed, that when it came,
the people should fall upon their faces and keep their
mouths on the sand, to avoid the drawing m tins per¬
nicious blast with their breath. On Ins calling out
that the Simoom was coming, Mr Bruce turned tor a
moment to the quarter from whence it came, which
was the south-east. It appeared like a haze or tog ot
a purple colour, but less bright than the purple part ot
the rainbow *, seemingly about 20 yards in breadth,
and about 12 feet high from the ground. It moved
with such rapidity, that before he could turn aoout and
fall upon his face, he felt the vehement heat ol its cur-
Egypt.
rent upon his face -, and even after it passed over,
which was very quickly, the air which followed was ot
such a heat as to threaten suffocation. Mr Bruce ha
unfortunately inspired some part of the pernicious
blast -, by which means he almost entirely lost his voice,
and became subject to an asthmatic complaint, from
which he did not get free for two years. The same pheno¬
menon occurred twice more on their journey throug
this desert. The second time, it came trom the souti a
little to the east : hut it now seemed to have a shade ot
blue along with the purple, and its edges were less per¬
fectly defined j resembling rather a thin smoke, am m
EGYPT. 627
* ypt v‘n£ a^ou^ a yard in the midtile tinged with blue and
—y—^ purple, 'i'lie third time, it was preceded by an appear¬
ance of sandy pillars more magnificent than any they
had yet observed ; the sun shining through them in
such a manner as to give those which were nearest a re¬
semblance of being spangled with stars of gold. The
simoom which followed had the same blue and purple
appearance as before, and was followed by a most suf¬
focating wind for two hours, which reduced our travel¬
lers to the lowest degree of weakness and despondency.
It was remarkable that this wind always came from the
south-east, while the sandy pillars, which prognostica¬
ted its approach, affected to keep to tire westward, and
to occupy the vast circular space inclosed by the Nile
to the west of their route, going round by Chagre to¬
wards Dongola. The heaps of sand left by them
when they fell, or raised by the whirlwinds which car¬
ried them up, were 12 or 13 feet high, exactly coni¬
cal, tapering to a fine point, and their bases well pro¬
portioned.
le^in r^ie Egypt may now be distinguished
itmts f°ur distinct races of people.
;i7pt. I. The Arabs, who may be subdivided into three
classes. 1. The posterity of those who settled here
immediately after the conquest of the country by
Amrou Elm A! As, the caliph Omar’s general. 2. The
Magrebians, or Western Arabs, who at different times
have migrated from the countries to the westward of
Egypt, and are descended from the Saracen con¬
querors of Mauritania. 3. The Bedouins, or Arabs
of the desert, known to the ancients by the name of
Scenites, or dwellers in tents. The first of these classes
are now found among the husbandmen and artizans ;
and are distinguished from the others by being of a
more robust habit of body, as well as of a larger sta¬
ture than the others. They are in general five feet
four inches high •, and many of them attain two or three
inches more, and are muscular without being fleshy.
Their countenances are almost black, but their features
are not disagreeable ; and as those of the country do not
ally themselves in marriage but with the people of their
own tribe, their faces have all a strong resemblance to
each other. This is not the case with such as live in
towns, by reason of their promiscuous marriages. The
second class are more numerous in the Said, where they
have villages and even distinct sovereigns of their own.
Like the former, they apply themselves to agriculture
and mechanical occupations. The Bedouins pass their
lives among the rocks, ruins, and sequestrated places
where they can find water; sometimes uniting in tribes
and living in low smoky tents, and shifting their ha¬
bitations from the desert to the banks of the river and
back again, as best suits their conveniency. Their
time of inhabiting the desert is the spring j but after
the inundation they take up their residence in Egypt, in
order to profit by the fertility of the country. Some
farm lands in the country, which they cultivate, but
change annually. In general, all these Bedouins are
robbers, and are a great terror to travellers as well as
to the husbandmen •, but though their number is esti¬
mated at not less than 30,000, they are dispersed in
*uch a manner that they cannot attempt any thing of
consequence.
II. The Copts are descendants of those inhabitants of
Egypt whom the Arabs subdued, and who were com¬
posed of original Egyptians, Persians and Greeks. M. Egypt.
Volney is of opinion that their name of Copts is only v——v—-
an abbreviation of the Greek word Aigouptios, an
Egyptian. They are principally to be met with in the
Said, though some also inhabit the Delta. They have
all a yellowish dusky complexion, puffed-up visage,
swoln eyes, flat noses, and thick lips ; and in fact the
exact countenance of a mulatto. M. Volney, from a
view of the sphynx, and finding its features to be such
as is just now described, concludes, that the ancient
Egyptians were real negroes ; which he thinks is like¬
wise confirmed by a passage in Herodotus, where he
concludes, that the inhabitants of Colchis were descend¬
ed from the Egyptians, “ on account of the blackness
of their skins and frizzled hair.” M. Volney also re¬
marks, that the countenance of the negroes is such as
exactly represents that state of contraction assumed
by our faces when strongly affected by heat. The
eye-brows are knit, the cheeks rise, the eye-lids are
contracted, and the mouth distorted } and this state
of contraction to which the features of the negroes
are perpetually exposed in the hot climates they in¬
habit, is become particularly characteristic. Exces¬
sive cold and snow produces the same effect j and hence
this kind of countenance is also common among the
Tartars ; while, in the temperate climates, the features
are proportionably lengthened, and the whole counte¬
nance expanded.
The Copts profess the Christian religion, but follow
the heresy of the Eutychians, whence they have been
persecuted by the Greeks ; but having at last got the
better of their adversaries, they are become the deposi¬
taries of the registers of the lands and tribes. At Cairo
they are called writers; and are the intendants, secre¬
taries, and collectors for government. The head of
their class is writer to the principal chief; but they are
all hated by the Turks, to whom they are slaves, as
well as by the peasants whom they oppress. Their
language bears a great resemblance to the Greek ; but
they have five letters in their alphabet, as well as a
number of words in their language, which may be con¬
sidered as the remains of the ancient Egyptian. These
are found to bear a near resemblance to the dialects of
some of the neighbouring nations, as the Arabic, Ethio¬
pian, Syriac, &c. and even of those who lived on the
banks of the Euphrates. The language of the Copts,
however, has fallen into disuse for upwards of 300 years.
On the conquest of the country by the Saracens, the
latter obliged the people to learn their language; and
about the Year 722 the use of the Greek tongue was
prohibited throughout the Yvhole of their empire : the
Arabic language then of-course became universal ; Yvhile
the others, being only met with in books, soon became
totally neglected. The true Coptic, therefore, though
there is a translation of the scriptures and many books
of devotion written in it, is understood by nobody, not
even the monks and priests.
III. The Turks, who have the title of being masters
of Eoypt, but are chiefly to be met with at Cairo, where
they possess the religious and military employments.
Formerly they possessed also the posts under govern¬
ment ; but these are now occupied by the fourth race
of inhabitants, viz.
IV. The Mamlouks. Of the origin of these Yve have
already given some account : we have only, there-
4 K 2 fore,
EGYPT.
154
Absurd
dress and
accoutre-
nients of
the Mara
Icraks.
fore to relate some of the most remarkable particular»
concerning their constitution and government, man¬
ners, &c. j
These people, as has already been mentioned are
the real masters of Egypt; and in order to secure them¬
selves in the possession of the country, they have taken
several precautions. One of the principal of these is
the degradation of the two military corps ot azabs
and janizaries, both of which were formerly very for¬
midable. They have been able to effect this only in
consequence of the corrupt and wretched government
of the Turks ; for before the revolt of Ibrahim Kiaya,
the Turkish troops, which ought to have consisted
of 40,00c, were reduced to less than hall that num¬
ber through the avarice and malversation of their
officers. Their degradation was completed by Ah Bey ;
who having first displaced all the officers who gave him
any umbrage, left their places vacant, and so reduced
the consequence of the whole, that the azabs and ja¬
nizaries are now only a rabble of vagabonds, who dread
the Mamlouks as much as the meanest of the populace.
The principal body of the Mamlouks reside at Cairo;
but many of them are dispersed through the country, in
order to' keep up their authority, collect the tribute,
and oppress the people : yet it should seem very easy
for the Porte to dispossess them of this usurped autho¬
rity, as their number is supposed not to exceed 8500,
including among these a great many youth undei 20
years of age.
The Mamlouks are all horsemen ; and as war is ac¬
counted the only honourable employment among them,
it is reckoned disgraceful to walk, on foot, none but
cavalry being accounted soldiers. I he other inha¬
bitants are allowed only the use of mules and asses ;
and the same mark of indignity is imposed upon Eu¬
ropeans ; though by proper management and liberal
presents, this may be got over. In the year 17?^
Lord Algernoun Percy, afterwards Lord Louvaine, and
the earl of Charlemount, obtained permission to ride up¬
on horseback. The Mamlouks, however, are not incited
to this continual appearance on horseback merely by
their supposed superiority to the rest of the inhabitants ;
it is rendered necessary by their dress, which is extreme¬
ly unwieldy and cumbersome. It consists of a wide
shirt of thin yellowish-coloured cotton ; over which is
a gown of Indian linen, or some of the light stuffs ot
Damascus or Aleppo. Over this is a second covering
of the same form and wideness, with sleeves reaching
down to the ends of the fingers. The former covering
is called antari, and the latter caftcm. I he caftan is
usually made of silk or some finer stuff than the un¬
der garments ; and both of them are fastened by a
long belt, which divides the whole dress into two
bundles. Over all these they have a third, named djw-
ho, consisting of cloth without lining, and made
nearly 81011101° to the others, but that the sleeves are
cut in the elbow. This coat is lined, sometimes even
in summer, with fur ; and as ii all this w'as not suffi¬
cient, they have an outer covering called the be me he,
which is the cloak or robe of ceremony ; and so com¬
pletely covers the body, that even the ends of the fingers
are not to be seen. Thus, when the beniche and other
i ccoutrements are on, the whole body appears like a
long sack, with a bare neck and bald head covered
with a turban thrust out of it. This turban is called
3
a ketouk i and is of a cylindrical form, yellow, and turn- Egypt,
ed up on the outside with a roll of muslin artificially v—
folded up. On their feet they have a sock of yellow
leather reaching up to the heels, slippers without any
quarters, which consequently are always ready to be
left behind in walking. Lastly, to complete this ex¬
traordinary dress, they have a kind of pantaloon or
trovvsers, long enough to reach up to the chin, and so
large that each of the legs is big enough to contain the
whole body ; but that they may walk more at their
ease under such a number of impediments, they tie all
the loose parts of their dress with a running sash.
“ Thus swaddled (says M. Volney), we may imagine
the Mamlouks are not very active walkers; and those
who are not acquainted by experience with the preju¬
dices of different countries, will find it scarcely possible
to believe that they look on this dress as exceedingly
commodious. In vain we may object that it hindeis
them from walking, and encumbers them unnecessarily
on horseback ; and that in battle a horseman once dis¬
mounted is a lost man. They reply, It is ihe custom^
and every objection is answered.”
In the accoutrements of their horses, the Mamlouks
are almost equally absurd. The saddle is a clumsy piece
of furniture, weighing with the saddle-cloths not less
than 25 pounds; while the weight of the stirrups is
never less than 9 or 10 pounds, nay, frequently ex¬
ceeds 13. On the back part of the saddle rises a trus-
sequin about eight inches in height, while a pummel
before projects four or five inches, in such a manner
as to endanger the breast of the horseman if he should
happen to stoop. Instead of a stuffed frame, they have
three thick woollen coverings below the saddle ; the
whole being fastened by a surcingle, which, instead of
a buckle, is tied with leather thongs in very compli¬
cated knots, and liable to slip. Instead of a crupper
they have a large martingale which throws them upon
the horses shoulders. The stirrups are made of copper,
longer and wider than the foot, having circular edges
an inch high in the middle, and gradually declining to¬
ward each end. The edges are sharp, and used instead
of spurs, by which means the poor animal’s sides are
much wounded. The weight of the furniture lias al¬
ready been mentioned; and is the more ridiculous as
the Egyptian horses are very small. The bridle is
equally ill contrived, and greatly injures the horse’s
mouth, especially by reason of the violent method they
have of managing the animal. rJ heir usual way is to
put the horse to a full gallop, and suddenly stop him
when at full speed. Thus checked by the bit, he bends
in his hind legs, stiffens the fore ones, and moves along
as if lie scarce had joints in his body : yet, notwithstand¬
ing all those disadvantages, our author acknowledges
that they are vigorous horsemen, having a martial ap-
pi arance which pleases even strangers
i55 I
In the choice of their arms they have shown Vrni*^1101
selves more judicious. Their principal weapon is an^^
English carbine about 30 inches long ; but so large in
the bore, that it can discharge XO or 12 balls at a time,
which can scarcely fail of doing great execution even
from the most unskilful hand. Besides two large pis¬
tols carried in the belt, they have sometimes a heavy
mace at the bow of the saddle for knocking down then
enemy ; and by the shoulder belt they suspend a crook¬
ed sabre measuring 24 inches in a straight line from t ie
hilt
EGYPT.
629
!rypt hilt to the point, but 30 at least in the curve. The
reason of the preference given to the crooked blade is,
that the effect of a straight one depends merely on the
force with which it falls, and is confined to a small
space, but that of a crooked one is continued longer
by the action of the arm in retiring. I lie Mamlouks
commonly procure their sabres from Constantinople,
or other parts of Europe ; but the beys rival each other
in those of Persia, and such as are fabricated of the an¬
cient steel of Damascus. For these they frequently
pay as high as 40I. or 50I. sterling ; but though it
must be allowed that the edge of these weapons is
exquisitely keen, yet they have the defect of being
almost as brittle as glass. The whole education and
employment of the Mamlouks consists in the exercise
of these weapons, or what is conducive to it; so that
we should imagine they might at last become altoge¬
ther irresistible. Every morning the greater part of
them exercise themselves in a plain near Cairo, by firing
their carbines and pistols in the most expeditious man¬
ner, having an earthen vessel for a mark to shoot at;
and the person who breaks it is highly applauded by
the beys who attend in order to encourage them. Here
also they exercise themselves in the use of the sabre, as
well as of the bow and arrows ; though they do not any
longer make use of these last in their engagements.
Their favourite diversion is throwing the djerid; a word
properly signifying a reed, but which is generally made
use of to signify any staff thrown by the hand after the
manner of the Roman pilum. In this exercise they
make use of the branches of the palm-tree fresh stripped.
These branches, which have the form of the stalk of an
artichoke, are about four feet long, and weigh five or
six pounds. With these the cavaliers enter the lists,
riding full speed, and throwing them afterwards at
each other from a considerable distance. As soon
as the assailant has thrown his weapon, he turns his
horse, and his antagonist pursues in his turn. The di¬
version, however, frequently turns out very serious, as
some are capable of throwing these weapons with force
sufficient to wound their antagonists mortally. Ali
Bey was particularly dexterous at this kind of sport,
and frequently killed those who opposed him. All
-6 these military exercises, however, are by no means suf-
A iot ficient to render the Mamlouks formidable in the field,
fo dable Jn their engagements they have neither order, disci-
eiu pline, nor even subordination ; so that their wars are
only scenes of robbery, plunder, and tumultuary en¬
counters, which begin very often suddenly in the streets
of Cairo without the least warning. If the contention
happens to be transferred to the country, it is still car¬
ried on in the same manner. The strongest or most
daring party pursues the other. If they are equal in
courage, they will perhaps appoint a field of battle,
and that without the least regard to the advantages of
situation, but fighting in platoons, with the boldest
champions at the head of each. After mutual defian¬
ces, the attack begins, and every one chooses out his
man. After discharging their fire-arms, if they have
an opportunity they attack with their sabres ; and
such as happen to be dismounted are helped up again
by their servants ; but if nobody happens to be near,
the servants will frequently kill them for the sake of the
money they carry about them. Of late, however,
the ordinary Mamlouks, who are all slaves to the rest,
seem convinced that their patrons are the persons prin- Egypt.
cipally interested ; for which reason they reasonably —-y- '
enough conclude that they ought to encounter the great¬
est dangers. Hence they generally leave them to carry
on the dispute by themselves; and being always sure of
finding a master who will employ them, they generally
return quietly to Cairo until some new revolution takes
Plarce*, . . . 157
The mode of living among the Mamlouks is exceed-The r ex-
ingly expensive, as may easily be conceived from what pensive way
has already been related. There is not one of themot *‘v*nS*
who does not cost above look sterling annually, and
many of them upwards of 2Dol. At every return
of the fast of Ramadan, their masters must give
them a new suit of French and Venetian clothes, with
stuff’s from India and Damascus. Frequently they re¬
quire new horses and harness : they must likewise have
pistols and sabres from Damascus, with gilt stirrups, and
saddles and bridles plated with silver. The chiefs are
distinguished from the vulgar by the trinkets and pre¬
cious stones they wear ; by riding Arabian horses of
200I. or 300I. value, wearing shawls of Cashmire in
value from 25I. to 50I. each, with a variety of pelisses,
the cheapest of which costs above 20I. Even the Eu¬
ropean merchants have given into this kind of extra¬
vagance ; so that not one of them looks upon his war¬
drobe to be decently furnished unless it be in value
500I. or 600I.
Anciently it was customary for the women to adorn
their heads with sequins ; but this is now rejected as
not sufficiently expensive. Instead of these, diamonds,
emeralds, and rubies, are now substituted ; and to these
they add French stuff’s and laces. In other respects
the character of the Mamlouks is almost the worst
that can be imagined. Without affection, tie, or ^5S
connection with each other or with the rest of man-
kind, they give themselves up without controul to the
most enormous vices; and, according to M. Volney,
they are at once ferocious, perfidious, seditious, base,
deceitful, and corrupted by every species of debauch¬
ery, not excepting even the unnatural vice; of which
he tells us not one is free, this being the very first
lesson each of them receives from his master, all being
originally slaves, as has already been mentioned.
As these are the present governors of Egypt, we liliserable
may easily judge that the condition of the common st“te t^1®
people cannot be very agreeable. The greater part*^Plians‘
of the lands indeed are in the hands of the Mamlouks,
beys, and professors of the law, the property of all
others being very precarious. Contributions are to be
paid, or damages repaired, every moment; and there
is neither right of succession nor inheritance for real
property, but every thing must be purchased from go¬
vernment. The peasants are allowed nothing but what
is barely sufficient to sustain life. They cultivate rice
and corn indeed, but are not at liberty to use either.
The only food allowed them is dora or Indian millet,
from which they make a kind of tasteless bread ; and
of this, with water and raw onions, consists all their
fare throughout the year. They esteem themselves
happy, therefore, if along with these they can sometimes
procure a little honey, cheese, sour milk, or a few
dates. They are very fond of flesh meat and fat ; nei¬
ther of which, however, they have an opportunity of
tasting except at extraordinary festivals. Their or¬
dinary.
63°
Egypt.
160
Diseases
])Fe'valent
in this
cou'.Kry.
EGYPT.
j- 1.... insists of a shirt of coarse blue linen, and By these precautions they certainly escape the general Eem,
!!ry ^ Hack oak T wkh a sort of black bonnet calamity, except by acculent; and .t no, long ago
"fS heads ; and over all they wear a long red baooencd that the d.sease was conveyed by a ca, ,nto
woollen handkerchief. Their arms, legs, and breasts,
are naked, and most of them do not even wear drawers.
They live in mud-walled huts ol the most miserable
construction, where they are exposed to the incon¬
veniences of smoke, heat, and unwholesome air ; to
all which are to be added the continual fears they live
In of being robbed by the Arabs, oppressed by the
Mamlouks, or some other grievous, calamity. the
only conversation is concerning the intestine troubles
and misery of the country, murders, bastinadoes, and
executions. Here sentence of death is executed without
the least delay or form of trial. 'I he officers who go
the rounds in the streets either by night or day, are
attended by executioners, who carry along with them
leathern bags for receiving the heads they cut ott m
these expeditions. Even the appearance ot guilt is
not ne^e^more^s^qmsite than the possession of A malady which seems in reality to be peculiar to
?vealth! or being supposed to possess it. In this case Egypt is blindness. This is so common at Cano, as
the unfortunate person is summoned before some bey ;
and when he makes his appearance, a sum ot money
is demanded of him. If he denies that he possesses it,
he is thrown on his back, and receives two or three
hundred blows on the soles of the feet,, nay perhaps, is
put to death without any ceremony. The only security
of those who possess any wealth in this country there¬
fore is, to preserve as great an appearance of poverty
as possible. . .
Though the climate of Egypt is far from being un¬
healthy, yet there are not a few diseases which seem to
be peculiar to it, and to have their origin either from
the constitution of the atmosphere, or the manner ot
livino- of the inhabitants. One ot these till lately has
been supposed to be the plague; which opinion we
happened that the disease was conveyed by a cat into
the dwellings of the French merchants in Cairo ; by
which two were infected, and one died. In this man¬
ner they were imprisoned for three or four months,
without any other amusement than walking on their
terraces in the evenings, cards, or conversation with
one another. There is a remarkable difleience betwixt
the plague at Constantinople and in Egypt. In the
former it is most violent in summer; and in the latter
in winter, ending there always in the month of June.
It is also remarkable, that the water-carriers of Egypt,
whose backs are constantly wet from the nature of
their occupation, never have the plague. It ap¬
pears in Egypt every fourth or fifth year, when it
makes such ravages as would depopulate the country,
were it not for the vast concourse of strangers which
arrive here every year from all parts of the I urkish
M. Volney informs us, that out of 100 people whom
he has met on the street, he might reckon 20 quite
blind; 10 without the sight of one eye; and 20
others with their eyes red, purulent, or blemished.
Almost every one, says he, wears a fillet, a token oi
an approaching or convalescent ophthalmy. In consi¬
dering the causes of this disorder, he reckons the sleep¬
ing upon terraces to be a principal one. The south
wind, he says, cannot be the cause ; otherwise the Be¬
douins would he equally subject to it with the Egyp¬
tians themselves : but what is with the greatest proba¬
bility to he assigned as the cause, according to our au¬
thor, is the very poor and little nutritive food which
the natives are obliged to use. “ Ihe cheese, sour-
milk, honey, confection of grapes, green fruits, and
finvTsupported by Dr Mead! who has endeavoured to raw ’vegetables (says he) which are the ordinary food
assign a natural Reason why it should take its origin m of the people, produce in the stomach ad .sou ei w
, . ° . , T>nt n'ow universally agreed, that physicians have observed to affect the sight , the raw
tM™?never originarinTe Llnl pa’rt, of LLa, especially, »Mch .he, devour rn great quan-
Egypt, hut always begins at Alexandria, passing sue- tities, have a peculiar heating quality, m ^
cessively from thence to Rosetta, Cairo, Damietta,
and the rest of the Delta. It is likewise observed, that
its appearance is always preceded by the arrival of some
vessel from Smyrna or Constantinople ; and that it the
plague has been very violent in either of these cities,
the danger of Egypt is the greater. On proper in¬
quiry, it is found to he really a native of Constantinople ;
from whence it is exported by the absurd negligence of
the Turks, who refuse to take any care to prevent the
spreading of the infection. As they sell even the
clothes of the dead without the least ceremony, and
of Syria made me remark on myself. Bodies thus
nourished, abound in corrupted humours, which are
constantly endeavouring a discharge. Diverted from the
ordinary channels, by habitual perspiration, these hu¬
mours fly to the exterior parts, and fix themselves where
they find the least resistance. They therefore naturally
attack the head, because the Egyptians, by shaving it
once a-week, and covering it with a prodigiously hot
head dress, principally attract to it the perspiration;
and if the head receives ever so slight an impression of
cold on being uncovered, this perspiration is suppress-
rlothes of the dead wnnoui uie iea»i ccicmuuj, ai.u    > r ■
Ill Oden Khh tills pernicious commodity ore sent to ed, and falls upon tl.c teeth, or st.ll more read,ly on
Alexandria, it is no Lnder that it should soon make the eyes a, being the tenderest part. It tv,II appear
its appearance there. As soon as it has reached Cairo,
the European merchants shut themselves up with then
families in their khans or lodgings, taking care to have
no further communication with the city. 1 heir pro¬
visions are now deposited at the gate of the khan, and
are taken up by the porter with iron tongs ; who
plunges them into a barrel of water provided for the
purpose. If they have occasion to speak to any per¬
son, they take care to keep at such a distance as to
avo’id touching or even breathing upon each other.
the more probable that the excessive perspiration ot the
head is a principal caiue, when we reflect that the an¬
cient Egyptians, who went bare-headed, are not men¬
tioned by physicians as being so much afflicted with
ophthalmies ; though we are informed by historians
that some of the Pharaohs died blind. J he Arabs of
the desert also, who cover the head hut little, espe¬
cially when young, are also very little subject to them.
In this country blindness is often the consequence o
the small-pox, a disorder very frequent and very fatal
among
E G Y
ypt, among Hie Egyptians; and no doubt the more dange¬
rous on account of their absurd method of treating it,
of which it is needless to enter into any discussion in this
place. They are not unacquainted with inoculation }
but seem not to be sensible of its advantages, as they
very seldom practise it.
To the same cause, viz. unwholesome food, M. Volney
ascribes the general deformity of the beggars, and the
miserable appearance of the children ; which he says are
nowhere so wretched. “ Their hollow eyes, pale and
puffed faces, swollen bellies, meagre extremities, and
yellow skins, make them always seem as if they had not
long to live. Their ignorant mothers pretend that this
is the effect of the evil eye of some envious person, who
Las bewitched them j and this ancient prejudice is still
general in Turkey : but the real cause is the badness of
their food. In spite of the talismans, therefore, an
incredible number of them perish ; nor is any city more
fatal to the population of the neighbouring country than
Grand Cairo.
The venereal disease, which, for reasons best known
to themselves, the inhabitants call the blessed evil, is so
general at Cairo, that one half of the inhabitants are
infected. It is extremely difficult to cure, though the
symptoms are comparatively very mild, insomuch that
people who are infected with it will frequently live to
the age of 80 ; but it is fatal to children born with the
infection, and exceedingly dangerous to such as emi¬
grate to a colder climate.
Besides these, there are two uncommon diseases met
with in Egypt, viz. a cutaneous eruption which returns
annually ; and a swelling of the testicles, which often
degenerates into an enormous hydrocele. The former
comes on towards the end of June or beginning of July,
making its appearance in red spots and pimples all over
the body, occasioning a very troublesome itching. The
cause of this distemper, in M. Volney’s opinion, is the
corruption of the waters of the Nile, which towards
the end of April become very putrid, as has already
been observed. After this has been drunk for some
time, the waters of the inundation, which are fresh and
wholesome, tend to introduce some change in the blood
and humours j when a cutaneous eruption is the natural
consequence.
The hydrocele most commonly attacks the Greeks
and Copts ; and is attributed to the quantity of oil
they make use of, as well as to their frequent hot-
bathing. Our author remarks, that “ in Syria as
well as in Egypt, constant experience has shown, that
brandy distilled from common figs, or from the fruit
of the sycamore tree, as well as from dates and the
fruit of the nopal, has a most immediate effect on
the testicles, which it renders hard and painful the
third or fourth day after it has been drunk j and if
the use of it be not discontinued, the disorder degene¬
rates into a confirmed hydrocele. Brandy distilled
from dried raisins has not the same effect : this is al¬
ways mixed with aniseeds j and is very strong, being
distilled three times. The Christians of Syria and
the Copts of Egypt make great use of it j the latter
especially drink whole bottles of it at their supper. I
imagined this an exaggeration ; but I have myself had
ocular proofs of its truth, thouglr nothing could equal
my astonishment that such excesses do not produce in-
P T. 631
stant death, or at least every symptom of the most in- Egypt,
sensible drunkenness.” '-—--v--.—*
In the spring season malignant fevers prevail in this
country; concerning which our author mentions no re¬
markable particular, but that eggs are a kind of poi¬
son, and that bleeding is very prejudicial. He re¬
commends a vegetable diet, and the bark in very large
quantity. _ #
Notwithstanding the oppression which the Egyptians Commerce
labour under, a very considerable trade is carried on of Cairo
from Cairo. This flourishing state of commerce in ^sider-
the midst of the most desperate barbarity and despotism
is owing to three causes. 1. That all the commodities
consumed in Egypt are collected within the walls of
that city. 2. That the Mamlouks and all the people
of property reside in that place, and there spend their
whole revenues. 3. By the situation of this city it is
a centre of circulation ; corresponding with Arabia
and India, by the Red sea ; with Abyssinia and the in¬
terior parts of Africa, by the Nile ; and with Europe
and the Turkish empire by means of the Mediterra¬
nean. A caravan comes here annually from Abyssinia,
bringing from 1000 to 1200 slaves, with gum, ivory,
gold dust, ostrich-feathers, parrots, and monkeys.—
Another, which sets out from the extreme parts of Mo¬
rocco, takes in pilgrims for Mecca from all that
country as far south as the mouth of the river Senegal.
It consists of no fewer than three or four thousand ca¬
mels ; and, passing along the coasts of the Mediterra¬
nean, collects likewise the pilgrims from Algiers, Tri¬
poli, and Tunis, arriving at last at Alexandria by the
way of the desert. Proceeding thence to Cairo, it joins
the Egyptian cavavan ; and then setting out both toge¬
ther, they take theii journey to Mecca, from whence they
return in one hundred days; but the Morocco pilgrims,
who have still 600 leagues to go, are upwards of a year
in returning. The commodities they bring along with
them are, India stuffs, shawls, gums, perfumes, pearls,
and principally coflee. Besides the profits of this mer¬
chandise, considerable sums arise from the duties paid
by pilgrims, and the sums expended by them.
The caravans above mentioned are not the only
means by which these commodities are brought to
Cairo. They arrive also at Suez, to which port the
southerly winds bring in the month of May six or eight
and twenty sail of vessels from Jedda. Small caravans
likewise arrive from time to time from Damascus with
silk and cotton stuffs, oils and dried fruits. During
the proper season there are also a number of vessels in
the road of Damietta, unloading hogsheads of tobacco
from Latakia, vast quantities of which are consumed
in this country. For this commodity rice is taken in
exchange ; while other vessels bring clothing, arms,
furs, passengers, and wrought silk from Constantinople.
There are other vessels which come from Marseilles,
Leghorn, and Venice, with cloths, cochineal, Lyons
stuffs and laces, grocery ware, paper, iron, lead, Ve¬
netian sequins, and German dahlers. These are con¬
veyed to Rosetta in barks called by M. Volney djerni,
but which seem to be the same mentioned by Mr Bruce
under the name of car jo, and which are particularly de-
scribed by him. He informs us, that there is a pecu- winch ua-
liarity in the form of this vessel which makes it useful vigate the
for navigating the river Nile ; and that is, that the N-‘le dt-
keel».ribed.
E G Y - P T.
keel U net Haight, but a portion of a parabola, tr.tose ^
curve is almost insensible to .be eye. Hence as sand- '1 camels. The country is at desert
and barren as possible, tritbout a single tree or the
of the canja will he aground while the extremities are
afloat, and thus by means of oars and other assistance,
it is always possible to get clear ; but were the keel
Egypt.
'
Of cutting
through the
ii>lliinus of
Suez.
11 IS aiWciys jaucc.c.c   / ,
straight, this would he altogether impossible, by reason
of the vast sails those vessels carry, which would urge
them on with too much force to be recovered, ihe
accommodation on board these vessels is much better
than what could be expected : but they are liable to
the depredations of robbers, who either swim under
water in the day-time, or upon goats skins during the
night: though these seldom attack any boats where
there are Europeans, whom they dread on account ot
their skill in fire arms. .
From so many sources we need not wonder that the
commerce of Cairo should be in a very flourishing state.
In 1783, according to the report of the commissioner-
general of the customs, it amounted to no less than
6,250,000k J hut notwithstanding this show ol wealth,
the trade carried on at Cairo contributes very little to
the enriching of the people. This will readily apprai,
when we consider, that great part of the coftee and
other merchandise brought from India is exported to
foreign countries, the value being paid in goods from
Turkey and other European countries ; while the coun¬
try consumption consists entirely, or mostly, in articles
of luxury already finished, and the produce given in re¬
turn is mostly in raw materials.
Schemes have frequently been projected of enlarging
the commerce of Egypt by cutting through the isth¬
mus of Suez, and thus joining the Mediterranean and
Red seas by a canal. This is looked upon by M.
Volney as impracticable. He owns, indeed, that no
objection can arise from the distance, which is not
more than 18 or 19 leagues j neither does any ob¬
stacle arise from mountains, or the inequality of levels,
the whole being a sandy barren plain. I he difficulty,
which he considers as insuperable, proceeds from the
nature of the corresponding coasts of the Mediterra¬
nean and Red seas; both of which are low and sandy,
where the waters form lakes, shoals, and morasses, so
that ships cannot come within a considerable distance
of either j and it would be scarce possible to cut a per¬
manent canal amidst these shifting sands : not to men¬
tion, that the shore is destitute ol harbours, which must
be entirely the work of art. The country, besides, has
not a drop of fresh water, which it would therefore be
necessary to bring as far as from the Nile. The best
method of effecting this junction, therefore, is by means
of the river itselfand for this the ground is perfectly
well calculated. This has been already done by several
Egyptian princes, particularly Sesostris j and the canal
is said to have been 170 feet wide, and deep enough for
Icirtr© v€Sc6is* After thf? Grecian corujucst it wus renevi-
ed by the Ptolemies, then by Trajan, and lastly by the
Arabs. Part of it still remains, running from Cairo
to the north-east of the Berket-el-Hadj, or Lake of the
Pilgrims, where it loses itself. At present the com¬
merce with Suez is only carried on by means ol cara¬
vans, which set out towards the end of April or begin¬
ning of May, or in the months of July and August*,
waiting the arrival of the vessels, and setting out on
164
and "barren as "possible, without a single tree or the
smallest spot of verdure *, so that every necessary for
those who accompany the caravan must be carried
on the backs of the camels, wood and water not ex-
CC The* custom-houses of Egypt are in the hands of the
Christians of Syria. Formerly they were managed by
Jews • but these were completely ruined by the extor¬
tions of Ali Bey in 1769. The Syrian Christians came
from Damascus somewhat more than 50 years ago j and
having by their economy and industry gained possession
of the most important branches of commerce, they were
at length enabled to farm the custom-houses, which is
an office of great consequence. There were at first on.y
three or four families of them ; but their number has
since increased to more than 500, and they are reckon¬
ed very opulent. . T ■
From what has already been sn.d concera.ng
state of the Egyptians, we may naturally conclude,
that the arts and all kinds of learning are at a very lowing>
ebb among them. Even the most simple of the mecha¬
nical professions are still in a state of infancy, i he
work of their cabinet-makers, gun smiths, and lock¬
smiths, is extremely clumsy. There are manufactures
of gunpowder and sugar j but the quality of both is
very indifferent. The only thing in which they can be
said to arrive at any degree of perfection is the manu¬
facture of silk stuffs; though even these are far less
highly finished than those of Europe, and likewise bear
a much higher price. One very extraordinary art in¬
deed is still extant among the Egyptians, and appears
to have existed in that country from the most remote
antiquity ; and that is, a power of enchanting the most
deadly serpents in such a manner, that they shall allow
themselves to be handled, nay even hurt in the severest
manner, without offering to bite the person who injures
them. Those who have this art are named Psylli ,
to which article we refer for an account of what has
been said on the subject by ancient and modern travel¬
lers r l^'}
The long and bloody war to which the revolution ofW.n.
France gave rise, induced the government of that coun-
try to leave no measure unattempted, by which the
grandeur, independence, and commerce of Great Bri¬
tain miMit be as much injured as possible, it not utter¬
ly destroyed. The conquest of Egypt was there ore
projected, as a preparatory steP towards the subjugation
of the East Indies, to be effected by reachmg the In¬
dian ocean through the isthmus of buez. Tins was
daring, a desperate undertaking ; and no military cha¬
racter of which France could boast, was considered as
eeiual to its successful execution but the hero ot Mart
go. He accordingly embarked at Toulon, as com¬
mander in chief of the, army of the east, which amount¬
ed to about 40,000 men, and having compelled Malta
to surrender in the course of his voyage, he steered ior ^
the coast of Egypt, and arriving at Alexandria on taken b
first of July 1798, he carried it by assault on the cven-the Fvc
ing of the 5th. , .
'it is well known that while Bonaparte continued in
Italy, he strictly prohibited his troops from committing
acts of rapine and plunder, of which, however, they
E G
iypt. were guilty at Alexandria, and consequently it is to be
Zy ■i.ii > presumed that the commander in chief could not then
prevent it. If he could, he was unquestionably blind to
his own interest not to do so, since nothing was more
unlikely to conciliate the affections of the Egyptians.
Cairo next surrendered to the victors on the 23d of the
same month. The French general attacked one of the
enemy’s posts at Lambabe on the 25th, when 300 of the
enemy were killed $ but this was only a prelude to the
memorable battle of the Pyramids, which was fought on
the following day, and seemed for the present to decide
the fate of Egypt. The Mamlouks lost 2000 men j
and 400 camels, together with their baggage and 50
pieces of cannon, fell into the hands of the conquerors.
Thus far Bonaparte appeared to be the favourite of for¬
tune, by whom he was never to be deserted ; hut he
soon found that the race is not always to the swift, or
the battle to the strong. He experienced a reverse of
an irreparable nature j and as it does not appear that
he entertained the smallest apprehension of it, it gave
a trait of ferocity to his subsequent conduct which he
^7 had never before exhibited.
Admiral Nelson appeared oft' the mouth of the Nile
on the 1st of August, with a naval force equal to that
of the French admiral j and although the fleet of the
latter was so stationed and defended as to render an at¬
tack extremely hazardous, the British hero was determin¬
ed to attempt it j and in this he succeeded to the utmost
of his wishes. He captured nine sail of the line belonging
to the enemy, L’Orient, the admiral’s flag ship of 120
guns, having blown up during the desperate and bloody
engagement. Ihe loss on the part of the French must
have been immense, since Gantheaume mentions 3100
made prisoners, whom the British commander returned:
of this number there were 800 wounded. The British
had about 202 killed, besides sixteen officers, and 678
wounded.
After Grand Cairo surrendered to the French, Bona¬
parte formed his victorious army into three divisions,
one of which was commanded by General Desaix,
whose destination was Upper Egypt, in pursuit of the
flying Mamlouks j the second division he left for the
defence of Cairo, and marched in person at the head
of the third in pursuit of Ibrahim Bey, who had taken
his route towards Syria with a rich caravan. To ren¬
der abortive, if possible, the designs of Bonaparte, Bri¬
tain formed an alliance with the Sublime Porte, and the
chief preparations for carrying the concerted plan into
effect, were made in Syria, under the care and direc¬
tion of the pacha Hjezzar. The frontiers of Egypt to¬
wards Syria were to be attacked by an army from Asia
Minor, the operations of which were to be favoured by
making a strong diversion towards the mouths of the
Nile, and by,various assaults in Upper Egypt with the
remains of Mourad Bey’s army. Sir Sidney Smith left
Portsmouth to superintend the execution of this exten¬
sive plan, and grant every assistance in his power by
the maritime force under his command.
In the mean time care was taken to block up the
harbour of Alexandria with four sail of the line and
five frigates, under the command of Commodore Hood,
as he had found it impracticable to burn or destroy the
Irench fleet of transports, without the assistance of a
land force sufficient to attack Alexandria. Of the light
vessels which had been sent him by the combined fleet
Vol. VII. Part II. +
Y p T- . 633
of Turks and Russians the commodore had made no use \ Egypt,
and he also found the report to be without foundation, v—
that the vessels in the old port belonging to the French,
were burnt. It was in order to destroy the preparations
of the pacha Hjezzar, and disconcert the plans of Sir
Sidney Smith, that General Bonaparte thought of leav¬
ing Egypt and marching into Syria. The result of this
expedition, as we have already hinted, was fatal to the
French interest, although Bonaparte perhaps never un¬
dertook an enterprise with more rational expectations
of ultimate success.
.The town of Jaffa, (anciently Joppa), was obstinate¬
ly defended, but at last surrendered to the superior tac¬
tics of European soldiers. From this place the French
general marched with his army in three divisions against jgg
St Jean d’Acre, which put an effectual period to his Acre de-
hitherto triumphant career. The pacha was powerful-fended byj
ly encouraged by Sir Sidney Smith to make an obsti-Sir.S^dney
nate resistance to the attack of Bonaparte j and to ani-
mate him still more with the hopes of being able to
hold out, and force the assailants in the issue to raise the
siege, he sent him a French engineer of distinguish¬
ed merit, by whose instrumentality Sir Sidney Smith
had been enabled to eftect his escape from prison.
Although the fortress was completely repaired by
Colonel I hilipeaux (the name of the engineer),
yet it is more than probable that it could not have
long held out against the skill and intrepidity of
Bonaparte, if his heavy artillery had not been inter¬
cepted by the British on their way from Hamietta and
Rosetta. After a desperate and bloody siege of about
61 days continuance, the Irench commander was ob¬
liged to abandon the hope of making Acre surrender.
In the course of his retreat back again to Egypt, Bona¬
parte’s army ravaged the whole country, burnt the har¬
vests, destroyed the defences of the different ports, the
magazines, and every resource of which the Turks
might have availed themselves in approaching the fron¬
tiers of Egypt. He reached Grand Cairo in 26 days
after raising the siege of Acre.
Sir Sidney Smith, with indefatigable zeal and activi¬
ty, continued to execute the remaining parts of the
plan of operations against Egypt, which was seconded
by the increasing zeal of the Turks in the prosecution
of the same design. The troops destined to make an
attack upon Alexandria were assembled in the different
ports in the island of Rhodes, by Seid Mustapha Pacha,
the enterprise being conducted by European officers.
The combined fleet of Turkey and Britain only waited
the arrival of a convoy, previous to their sailing for
Egypt, which the captain pacha, who then lay at an¬
chor in the Dardanelles, was to dispatch to Rhodes.
During the absence ofGeneral Bonaparte, no method had
been left unattempted, in order to ruin the interest of
the French, and kindle a spirit of rebellion in the minds
of the people. This plan succeeded to a certain extent,
but the presence of Bonaparte restored tranquillity.
His army no doubt suffered extremely in its march to
Syria ; but with such zeal and activity did he turn his
attention to the re-establishment of its organization
that it was in a condition to undertake active opera*
tions in the short period of three weeks, although, ac¬
cording to very high authority, it had been completely
buried in the burning sands of the desert.
While Bonaparte was in the vicinity of the pyra-
4 ^ mide,
EGYPT.
169
Bonaparte
returns to
France.
mids intended to pursue Mourad Bey in Ins retreat to
Fa you m, he received intelligence from Alexandria, that
a Turkish fleet of 100 sail had come to anchor hi the
hay of Aboukir, from which 3000 troops had landed
on the shore of the peninsula, and carried the toi t ot
Aboukir by assault. He accordingly gave direction
to his officers to march their forces towards the place
of landing, and the first rendezvous of the army was
appointed to he at Rhamameh, situated on the le
side of the Nile. The advanced guard under, the
command of General Murat, took the route to Gizeh
and General Menou’s moveable column together with
the park of artillery and the staff, formed a conjunction
It RlLanieh on L aotl, of July. After the French
armv quitted its post at the village of Birket, it as.
sembled at the wells between Alexandria and Aboukir,
and Bonaparte fixed his head quarters at the former
1)1 The Turkish army was about 15,000 strong, and
receiving daily reinforcements. When Bonaparte came
in sightof it, he instantly formed his columns to attack
it, and General d’Estaing carried the intrenched heig
of the enemy, by which their right was supported, at
the point of he bayonet. Their two wings were cut
off from retreating by General Murat who marcbed
up to the centre of the enemy with a body of cavalry*
By this manoeuvre 2000 men perished by water’
were killed by the fire of the republicans. As Bona¬
parte found that the chief strength of the Turkish ar¬
my was at the centre, he changed his position as the
nature of the ground rendered it necessary. By a variety
of experienced movements, in which the French lost
several brave officers, the Turks were at length thrown
into the utmost confusion, retreated in every ffirect on
and threw themselves into the sea. The majority of
them were at too great a distance from the vessel, to
be saved in this manner from a watery grave. Alte
this battle, the fort of Aboukir was summoned to sur¬
render, which was defended with the most desperate
fury, as the Turks had no idea of capitulating with
arms in their hands. General Menou conducted the
siege with great vigour and address, and after bombard¬
ing it for eight days, till it exhibited nothing but a
heap of ruins, the son of the pacha and 2000 men laid
down their arms, and were made prisoners of war. In
the fort the republicans found 1800 men killed, and
000 wounded. It is said that Sir Sidney Smith wit¬
nessed this melancholy reverse of fortune on the part ot
the Turks, without having it in his power, as at Acre, to
grant them relief, or to animate them by his courageous
The next day Bonaparte returned to Alexandria where
helearned the dismal situation of French affairson theeon-
tinent of Europe, particularly in Italy and on the Rhine,
and the violent commotions which were agitating the in¬
terior of France. This determined him to quit Egyp ,
and return to his own country, full of the .idea of vest¬
ing in his own person the sovereign authority, to which
he has at length attained, both in aame an;!
General Berthier alone was his confidential fnend, to
whom he communicated his future designs..
Gantheaume was ordered to get ready two f"Sates
the utmost expedition, without informing that oftcer
what was to be their destination, and brought with him
Generals Lasnes, Marmont, Murat, and Andreossl, to- Egypt,
nether with Monge and Berthollet of the institute •,'—v—
Bessieres and his guides received sealed notes, which
were not to be opened till a certain day, and certain
hour, and at a particular point of the sea-shore. Ihey
were found to contain orders for immediate embarkation J
and another packet which was to be opened on the day
after the sailing of the. frigates, contained the nomina¬
tion of General Kleher to the chief command, and De-
saix to that of Upper Egypt. , . ,.
By dispatches from General Kleber subsequent to_the
departure of Bonaparte, it appears that Mourad Bey
having dropt down the Nile to El-Ganayur, was repul¬
sed by a division of the army of Upper Egypt, under
the command of General Morand. Being overtaken
in his flight by this division, bis camp was surprised at
Samahout, a vast number of Mamlouks were entirely
cut off ; 200 camels with spoils, 100 horses an.d a pro¬
digious quantity of military implements, fell into the
hands of the republicans, and it was with the utmost
difficulty that the bey effected his escape. I bus sig¬
nally defeated, Mourad wandered through the inhospi¬
table deserts of Upper Egypt, in search of an asylum
and the means of subsistence. As this man was such
an indefatigable enemy to the French, Desaix resolved
to exterminate him if possible, and for this purpose two
columns of infantry mounted on dromedaries were im¬
mediately organized, the one commanded by .Desaix
in person, and the other by Adjutant-general Boyer
who came up with Mourad on the 19th of October 1
the desert ofSediman, after a forced march of three
davs. The Mamlouks fought with determined valour
anil intrepidity, animated with the hopes of gaming
possession of the dromedaries. 1 heir atta^ JaS ™
with such vigour on the part of the repubhcans that
the Mamlouks and Arabs were soon put to flight, an
pursued back to, the deserts by their intrepid conquer-
01 On the 24th of September, a Turkish fleet of 18
vessels came to anchor before Damietta,
rapidly increased by constant reinforcements, that it
amounted to 53 about the end of the ^°dnnteb:
The naval commander of this fleet was J
Smith on board the Tyger. On the 1st of November
4000 Turks effected a landing, who were attacked by
General Verdier at the head of 1000 men, and lost, in
this apparently unequal contest no fewer than 300
men killed, 800 prisoners, including Ismael Bey,
second in command, 32 stand of colours, and five Pieces
nf rannon. After a number of subsequent battle
inferior skirmishes which the republicans fought wit
various success, they seemed willing to evacuate Egyp
upon* certain conditions, which met with the approb -
tion of Sir Sidney Smith j but they were afterward re¬
ined by a species of policy for which ,t is difficult to
account^and fresh obstacles were thrown in the way
the proposed evacuation. This was an event much to
he desired by the republicans, according to the opi
« i the French denied that the nece^ty of
bilSV&nfe^i:crdKUer, .horded
EGYPT. 635
.. pt< Bonaparte in the chief command of the army of the East,
‘ was treacherously assassinated by a janissary, while
170 presenting the general with a memorial for his perusal,
taisiaa- on which the chief command devolved on Menou, but
ber no*: some other generals, and Reynier in particular,
had refused to accept of it. Suspicions fell heavily on
General Menou, who, it was supposed, had hired the as¬
sassin, as it was well known that a variance subsisted be¬
tween Kleber and Menou j but it is only doing justice
to the latter to declare, that the dying assertions of the
murderer sufficiently evinced the contrary. He was
most probably hired by the grand vizier himself; but
who advised the vizier to the adoption of such an in¬
famous, cowardly measure, we must leave to our readers
to find out. The assassin was impaled alive, his right
hand burnt off, and his body left to he devoured by
birds of prey. Three sheiks who were privy to his de¬
signs, hut did not divulge them, were beheaded.
Lieutenant Wright was dispatched to Cairo by Sir
Sidney Smith, with propositions respecting the evacua¬
tion of Egypt to General Menou, whose answer the
combined powers expected with anxiety, as the grand
vizier was determined to advance against the enemy at
the head of 30,000 men, should Menou evince himself
determined not to evacuate Egypt. He soon gave
them to understand that no overtures of accommodation
which they could make to him would he received.
He accordingly recommenced hostilities, and marched
against Syria with the principal part of his army; a mea¬
sure which proved abortive under the auspices of Bona¬
parte, by the prompt and gallant exertions of Sir Sidney
Smith. Menou strongly fortified Alexandiia, Dami-
mietta, and Rosetta, and not only finished the lines
which Colonel Bromley had begun at Aboukir, but
made to these several important additions, putting every
place into such a state of defence as seemed to bid de¬
fiance to any attack from the Turks.
In the mean time Britain was not idle, hut active in
the organization of an army destined to invade Egypt,
and compel the French troops to evacuate that country,
which was too- contiguous to her inestimable possessions
in the East Indies ; and the command of it was given to
that gallant and highly respectable officer, the lale ge¬
neral Sir Ralph Ahercromby, who appeared off Abou¬
kir in the beginning of March, 1801. The weather
proving unfavourable for some days, Sir Ralph did not
begin to land his troops till the 8th, at an early hour
j! in the morning. The French having marched from
^ British Alexandria, took their station on the heights of Abou-
"!*r kir, to prevent the landing of the British forces. An
crom- actJon soon commenced between the hostile armies,
dm which lasted for two hours, but the republicans were
kiiir. obliged to retreat, having only 4000 men to oppose to
three times that number. The loss of the French on
this occasion was estimated at 3000, and that of the
British about 1500 men, in killed, wounded, and pri¬
soners.
After this, few actions of importance occurred till Egypt,
the memorable 21st of March, on which day a battle'-—■v-—
was fought about four miles from Alexandria. A false
attack on the left of the British army wras the com¬
mencement of hostilities, but the French were still more
anxious to turn the right of their opponents, which they
attempted in vain. With the same success they made
an attack upon the central division. About 2CQ pri^
soners fell into the hands of the British ; but as their
cavalry was much inferior to that of the enemy, whose
retreat was also covered by cannon on the opposite
hills, they could not pursue their advantages. The loss
of the British at this time was very considerable, but
the most irreparable part of it was the loss of the com¬
mander in chief, who was mortally wounded on the
2lst, and died on the 28th of the same month. He
was succeeded by General Hutchinson, the second in
command, to whom was committed the completion of
the plans which his worthy predecessor had concerted.
He attacked the French on the the 19th of May, near
Rhamanieh, and forced them to retire towards Cairo.
He had 4000 British troops under his command, and
an equal number of Turks under the captain pacha.
He then directed his route towards Cairo, from which the
army of the grand vizier was distant only four leagues,
in a north-east direction. A reinforcement of 3000
British troops reached Aboukir about the 6th of May.
By the advice of Colonel Murray and some other
British officers then in the camp of the grand vizier,
his highness obtained a victory over 4600 French,
with 9000 chosen troops, not encumbered with the
women and useless attendants so commonly met with
in the camps of eastern generals. The whole of
Damietta soon fell into the hands of the allies, and the
successor of Mourad Bey declared in favour of the Bri¬
tish, joining Sir J. Hutchinson with 1500 cavalry, that
kind of force of which the British commander stood in
greatest need. In a short time after, the French eva¬
cuated Cairo, which was taken possession of by the
combined Turkish and British army. Alexandria
still held out, but Menou was at length, however,
obliged to surrender, and thus the whole of Egypt
was in possession of the allies. War having been
declared against Russia in 1807, a British force un¬
der General Fraser was dispatched from Sicily, and
took possession of Alexandria, after a very trifling re¬
sistance, on the 21st of March. Two attempts to take
Rosetta, however, having failed, with the loss of 1000
men, and a large Turkish force approaching Alexan¬
dria, the British commander thought it prudent to eva¬
cuate the place. The embarkation took place in Sep¬
tember the same year. Since that period the situation
of Egypt has been greatly improved by the vigorous
government of the Pacha Ali.
For a description of these stupendous monuments,
the pyramids, see the article Pyramids. See also the
article Egypt in the Supplement.
E H R
E tians, EGYPTIANS, or Gypsies. See Gypsies.
^ etia. EHRETIA, a genua of plants belonging to the pent-
rmmm> andria class. See Botany Index.
4
E H U
EHRHARTA, a genus of plants belonging to the Ehrharta,
hexandria class. See BOTANY Index. Ehud.
EHUD, the son of Gera, a Benjamite, a man left- ’
4 * handed,
E J E
[ 636 ]
E K R
Ehud handed, who delivered Israel from the oppression of
J| Eglon king of Moab, under whom they served for 18
Ejection, years. See Eglon. It being custpmary for the Is-
 ' raelites to send a present or tribute to the king of
Moat) $ in the year of the world 2579, being the last
year of their servitude, Ehud was appointed to carry
it, who having a design either to free his country from
this oppression, or perish in the attempt, had lot this
purpose provided himself with a dagger which had two
edges, and which he had concealed on his right side,
(Judges iii. 15. &c.). After he had delivered the pre¬
sent, pretending he had something of great importance
to communicate to the king, he obtained a private au¬
dience of him j when taking his opportunity, he stab¬
bed him with the poniard to the heart, and so shut¬
ting the door after him, had time to make his escape ,
for as the king was a very corpulent man, his atten¬
dants supposed that he was either reposing or easing
himself, and therefore forbore to enter his apartment
until Ehud was quite gone. As soon as he came to
Mount Ephraim, he gathered together the Israelites
that lay nearest him, acquainted them with what he had
done j and then securing the fords of Jordan that none
of them might escape, he fell upon the Moabites, and
subdued them.
EIA, or Ey, in our old writers, is used for an
island. Hence the names of places ending in ey, de¬
note them to be islands. Thus, Ramsey, the isle of
rams j Shepey, the isle of sheep, &c.
Eia is also sometimes used for water j and hence the
names of places near waters or lakes terminate in ey.
EJACULATOR, in Anatomy, a name applied to
two muscles of the penis, from their office in the ejec¬
tion of the seed. See Anatomy, Table oj the Muscles.
EICETiE, called also Heicetye and IliCETYE, here¬
tics of the seventh century, who made profession of the
monastic life.—From that passage in Exodus where
Moses and the children of Israel are said to have sung
a song in praise of the Lord, after they had passed the
Red sea, wherein their enemies had perished 5 the El¬
ectee concluded, that they must sing and dance to praise
God aright: and as Mary the prophetess, sister of
Moses and Aaron, took a drum in her hand, on the
same occasion, and all the women did the like, to
testify their joy, by playing, beating, and dancing j
the Eicetee, the better to imitate their conduct herein,
endeavoured to draw women to them to make profession
of the monastic life, and assist in their mirth.
EICK. See Bruges.
EIDER-duck. See Anas, Ornithology Index.
Eider*Doivji, the down of the eider-duck. I be
eider-duck plucks off the down from its breast for the
purpose of making its nest, which, after being robbed
by those who collect the down, is renewed by the bird
till its breast is quite bare.
EJECTA, a term used by lawyers for a woman de¬
flowered or cast from the virtuous.
EJECTION, in the animal economy, the evacua¬
tion, or discharging any thing through some of the
emunctories, as by stool, vomit, &c.
Ejection, in Scots Laiv, is the turning out the pos¬
sessor of any heritable subject by force j and is either
legal or illegal. Legal ejection is where a person ha¬
ving no title to possess, is turned out by the authority
of law. Illegal ejection is one person’s violently turn¬
ing another out of possession without lawful autho- Ejection
rity. [j
EJECTMENT, in English Law, a writ or action Ekron.
which lies for the lessee for years, on his being ejected * ~
or put out of his land, before the expiration of his term,
either by the lessor or a stranger. It may also be
brought by the lessor against the lessee, for rent in ar¬
rears, or holding over his term, &c. Ejectment of
late years is become an action in the place of many real
actions, as writs of right, formedons, &c. which are
very difficult, as well as tedious and expensive j and this
is now the common action for trial of titles, and reco¬
vering of lands, &c. illegally held from the right own¬
er j yet where entry is taken away by discents, fines,
recoveries, disseisins, &c. an ejectment shall not be
brought j whereby we find that all titles cannot be
tried by this action.
The method of proceeding in the action of ejectment
is to draw up a declaration, and feign therein a lease
for three, five, or seven years, to him that would try
the title j and also feign a casual ejector or defendant j
and then deliver the declaration to the ejector, who
serves a copy of it on the tenant in possession, and gives
notice at the bottom for him to appear and defend his
title *, or that he the feigned defendant will suffer
judgment by default, whereby the true tenant will be
turned out of possession : to this declaration the tenant
is to appear at the beginning of next term by his attor¬
ney, and consent to a rule to be made defendant, in¬
stead of the casual ejector, and take upon him the de¬
fence, in which he must confess lease, judgment, entry,
and anster, and at the trial stand upon the title only:
but in case the tenant in possession does not appear,
and enter into the said rule in time, after the declara¬
tion served, then, on affidavit being made of the service
of the declaration, with the notice to appear as afore¬
said, the court will order judgment to be entered against
the casual ejector by defaultand thereupon the te¬
nant in possession, by writ habere facias possessionem,
is turned out of his possession. On the trial in eject¬
ment, the plaintiff’s title is to be set forth from the
person last seised in fee of the lands in question, under
whom the lessor claims down to the plaintill, proving
the deeds, &c. and the plaintiff shall recover only ac¬
cording to the right which he has at the time of bring¬
ing his action. And here, another who hath title to
the land, upon a motion made for that purpose, may
be defendant in the action with the tenant in possession,,
to defend his title; for the possession of the lands is
primarily in question, and to be recovered, which con¬
cerns the tenant, and the title thereto is tried collate¬
rally, which may concern some other.
EKRON, a city and government of the Philistines.
It fell by lot to the tribe of Judah,, in the first division
made by Joshua (xv. 45.), but afterwards it was given
to the tribe of Dan (id. xix. 43•)• was situated very
near the Mediterranean, between Ashdod and Jamnia.
Ekron was a powerful city, and it does not appear by
history that the Jews were ever sole peaceable possessors
of it: the Ekronites were the first who said that it was
necessary to send back the ark of the God of Israel, in
order to be delivered from those calamities which the
presence of it brought upon their country, (1 Sam.
10.). The idol Baalzebub was principally adored at
Ekron (* Kings, i. 2. &c). ELffiACNUS,
agnus
E L A [637
ELiEAGNUS, Oleaster, or TFild Olive; a ge¬
nus of plants, belonging to the tetrandria class. See
Botany Index.
' ELiEOCARPUS, a genus of plants belonging to
the polyandria class. See Botany Index.
EL/EOTHESIUM, in antiquity, the anointing
room, or place where those who were to wrestle or had
bathed anointed themselves. See Gymnasium.
ELAIS, a genus of plants belonging to the natural
order of Palmce. See Botany Index.
ELAM, in Ancient Geography, a country frequently
mentioned in Scripture, and lying to the south-east of
Shinar. In the time of Daniel (viii. 2.) Susiana seems
to have been part of it $ and before the captivity, it
does not appear that the Jews called Persia by any
other name. Elymse and Elymais are often mentioned
by the ancients. Ptolemy, though he makes Elymais
a province of Media, yet he places the Elymae in Su¬
siana, near the sea coast. Stephanus takes it to be a
part of Assyria; but Pliny and Josephus more properly
of Persia, whose inhabitants this latter tells us sprang
from the Elamites. The best commentators agree,
that the Elamites, who were the ancestors of the Per¬
sians, were descended from Elam the son of Shem. It
is likewise allowed that the most ancient among the
inspired writers constantly intend Persia, when they
speak of Elam and the kingdom of Elam. Thus, not
to detain the reader with unnecessary quotations, when
the prophet Jeremiah (xlix. 39.), after denouncing
many judgments against this country, adds these words,
“ But it shall come to pass in the latter days, that I
will bring again the captivity of Elam, saith the
Lord,” he is always understood to mean the restora¬
tion of the kingdom of the Persians by Cyrus, who
subdued the Babylonians, as they before had subdued
the Persians.
ELAPHEBOLIA, in Grecian antiquity, a festival
in honour of Diana the huntress. In the celebration a
cake was made in the form of a deer and of¬
fered to the goddess. It owed its institution to the
following circumstance : When the Phocians had been
severely beaten by the Thessalians, they resolved, by
the persuasion of one Deiphantus, to raise a pile of com¬
bustible materials, and burn their wives, children, and
effects, rather than submit to the enemy. This resolu¬
tion was unanimously approved by the women, who de¬
creed Deiphantus a crown for his magnanimity. When
every thing was prepared, before they fired the pile,
they engaged their enemies, and fought with such des¬
perate fury, that they totally routed them, and obtain¬
ed a complete victory. In commemoration of this un¬
expected success, this festival was instituted to Diana,
and observed with the greatest solemnity.
ELAPHEBOLIUM, in Grecian antiquity, the
ninth month of the Athenian year, answering to the
latter part of February and beginning of March. It
consisted of 30 days ; and took its name from the
festival elaphebolia, kept in this month, in honour of
Diana the huntress, as mentioned in the preceding ar¬
ticle.
ELASMIS, in Natural History, an old term applied
to talcs, composed of small plates in form of spangles }
and either single, and not farther fissile j or, if complex,
only fissile to a certain degree, and that in somewhat
thick laminae.—Of these talcs there are several vane-
] E L a
ties, some with large and others with small spangles, Elasmis
which difter also in colour and other peculiarities. ||
ELASTIC, in Natural Philosophy, an appellation Elastic
given to all bodies endowed with the property of ela- i'VaPours-,
sticity. See Elasticity. ’
Elastic Fluids. See Air, Electricity, Gas,
and Elastic Vapours below.
Elastic Resin. See Caoutchouc.
Elastic Vapours are such as may, by any external
mechanical force, be compressed into a smaller space
than what they originally occupied $ restoring them¬
selves, when the pressure is taken off, to their former
state with a force exactly proportioned to that with
which they were at first compressed. Of this kind are
all the aerial fluids without exception, and all kinds of
fumes raised by means of heat, whether from solid or
fluid bodies.
Of these, some retain their elasticity only when a
considerable degree of heat is applied to them or the
substance which produces them $ while others remain
elastic in every degree of cold, either natural or artifi¬
cial, that has yet been observed. Of the former kind
are the vapours of water, spirit of wine, mercury, sal
ammoniac, and all kinds of sublimable salts $ of the
latter, those of muriatic acid gas, hydrogen gas, nitrous
gas, common air, &c.
The elastic force with which any one of these fluids
is endowed has not yet been calculated, as being ulti¬
mately greater than any obstacle we can put in its
way. Thus, if we compress the atmospherical air, we
shall find that for some little time it will easily yield to
the force we apply j but every succeeding moment the
resistance will become stronger, and a greater and great¬
er force must be applied in order to compress it far¬
ther. As the compression goes on, the vessel contain¬
ing the air becomes hot; but no power whatever has
yet been able to destroy the elasticity of the contained
fluid in any degree $ for upon removing the pressure,
it is always found to occupy the very same space that
it did before. The case is the same with aqueous
steam, to which a sufficient heat is applied to keep it
from condensing into water. This will yield to a cer¬
tain degree: but every moment the resistance becomes
greater, until at last it will overcome any obstacles
whatever. An example of the power of this kind of
steam we have every day in the steam engine $ and the
vapours of other matters, both solid and fluid, have fre¬
quently manifested themselves to be endowed with an
equal force. Thus the force of the vapours of spirit
of wine has occasioned terrible accidents when the
worm has been stopped, and the head of the still ab¬
surdly tied down to prevent an explosion 5 the vapours
of mercury have burst an iron box ; and those of sal
ammoniac, volatile salts, nitrous acid, marine acid,
phosphorus, &c. have all been known to burst the che¬
mical vessels which confined them with great force, in
such a manner as to endanger those who stood near
them. In short, from innumerable observations, it
may be laid down as an undoubted fact, that there is
no substance whatever capable of being reduced into a
state of vapour, but what in that state is endowed with
an elastic force ultimately superior to any obstacle we
can throw in its way.
It hath been a kind of desideratum among philo¬
sophers to give a satisfactory reason for this astonish¬
ing
E L A
[ 638 ]
E L A
Elastic in? power of elasticity in vapour, seemingly so little ca-
Vapours. 5bfe 0f accomplishing any great purpose when in an
1     unconfined state. As air is that fluid m which, from
the many experiments made upon it by the air-pump
and otherwise, the elastic property has most frequently
been observed, the researches of philosophers were at
first principally directed towards it. The causes they
assigned, however, were very inadequate 5 being lound-
ed upon an hypothesis concerning the form of the par-
tides of the atmosphere itself, which they supposed to
be either rolled up like the springy of watches, or that
they consisted of a kind of elastic flakes. I his was
followed by another hypothesis concerning their sub¬
stance, which was imagined to be perfectly elastic, and
so strong that they could not be broken by any me¬
chanical power whatever; and thus they thought the
phenomenon of the elasticity of the air might be ex¬
plained. But an insuperable difficulty still attended
their scheme, notwithstanding both these suppositions :
for it was observed, that the elastic power of the air was
augmented not only in proportion to the quantity of
pressure it was made to endure, but in proportion to
the decree of heat applied to it at the time. Sir Isaac
Newton was aware of this difficulty $ and justly con¬
cluded, that the phenomena of the air’s elasticity could
not be solved on any other supposition but that ot a
repulsive power diffused all around each of its parti¬
cles, which became stronger as they approached, and
weaker as they removed from each other. Hence the
common phenomena of the air-pump and condensing-
engine received a satisfactory explanation •, but still it
remained to account for the power shown in the pre¬
sent case by heat, as it could not be denied that this
element had a very great share in augmenting the ela¬
sticity of the atmosphere, and seemed to be the only
cause of elasticity in other vapours. It does not ap¬
pear that Sir Isaac entered into this question, but con¬
tented himself with attributing to heat the property of
increasing repulsion, and ascribing this to another un¬
explored property called rarefaction. Thus matters
stood till the great discovery made by Dr Black, that
some bodies have the power of absorbing in an un¬
known manner the element in question, and parting
with it afterwards, so that it flows out of the body
which had absorbed it with the very same properties
that it bad before absorption. Hence many pheno¬
mena of heat, vapours and evaporation, were explained
in a manner much more satisfactory than had ever been
attempted or even expected before. One of these was
that remarkable property of metals becoming hot by
hammering j during which operation, in the Doctor’s
opinion, the element of heat is squeezed out from be¬
tween the particles of the metal, as water is from the
pores of a sponge by pressing it between the fingers.
Of the same nature is the phenomenon above mention¬
ed, that air when violently compressed becomes hot,
by* reason of the quantity of more subtle element
squeezed out from among the particles. In this man¬
ner it appears that heat and the repulsive power of Sir
Isaac Newton are the very same j that by diminishing
the heat of any quantity of air, its elasticity is effec¬
tually diminished, and it will of itself shrink into a
smaller space as effectually as by mechanical pressure.
In one case have we what may be called ocular de¬
monstration of the truth of this doctrine, viz. that by
throwing the focus of a strong burning lens upon a
small quantity of charcoal in vacuo, the whole will be
converted into inflammable air, having even a greater
power of elasticity than common air in an equal degree
of heat. Here there is nothing else but heat or light
to produce the elastic power, or cause the particles of
charcoal which before attracted now to repel each other.
In another case we have evidence equally strong, that
the element of heat by itself, without the presence of
that of light, is capable of producing the same effect.
Thus when a phial of ether is put into the receiver of
an air pump, and surrounded by a small vessel of water,
the ether boils violently, and is dissipated in vapour,
while the water freezes, and is cooled to a great de¬
gree. The dissipation of this vapour shows that it has
an elastic force j and the absorption of the heat from
the water shows, that this element not only produces
the elasticity, but actually enters into the substance of
the vapour itself j so that we have not the least reason
to conclude that there is any other repulsive power by
which the particles are kept at a distance from one
another than the substance of the heat itself. In
what manner it acts, we cannot pretend exactly to
explain, without making hypotheses concerning the
form of the minute particles of matter, which must al¬
ways be very uncertain. All known phenomena, how¬
ever, concur in rendering the theory just now laid down
extremely probable. The elasticity of the steam of
water is exactly proportioned to the degree of heat
which flows into it from without j and if this, be kept
up to a sufficient degree, there is no mechanical pres¬
sure which can reduce it into the state of water. Ihis,
however, may very easily be done by abstracting a cer¬
tain portion of the latent heat it contains j when the
elastic vapour will become a dense and heavy fluid.
The same thing may be done in various ways with the
permanently elastic fluids. Thus the purest dephlo-
gisticated air, when made to part with its latent heat
by burning with iron, is converted into a gravitating
substance of an unknown nature, which adheres strong¬
ly to the metal. If the decomposition is performed
by means of inflammable air, both together unite in¬
to an heavy, aqueous, or acid fluid: if by mixture
with nitrous air, still the heat is discernible, though less
violent than in the two former cases. The decomposi¬
tion indeed is slower, but equally complete, and the
deplogisticated air becomes part of the nitrous acid,
from which it may be again expelled by proper means:
but of these means heat must always be one j for thus
only the elasticity can be restored, and the air be re¬
covered in its proper state. T-he same thing takes
place in fixed air, and all other permanently elastic
fluids capable of being absorbed by others. Ihe con¬
clusion therefore which we can only draw from what
data we have concerning the composition of elastic va¬
pours is, that all of them are formed of a terrestrial
substance, united with the element of heat in such a
manner that part of the latter may be squeezed out from
among the terrestrial particles; but in such a manner,
that as soon as the pressure is taken off, the surround¬
ing fluid rushes in, and expands them to their origina
bulk: and this expansion or tendency to it will be in¬
creased in proportion to the degree of heat, just as the
expansion of a sponge would be exceedingly augment¬
ed, if we could contrive to convey a stream of water
' inf rs
Elaitiis
Vapom;
E L A [ 039 ] E L A
asl;c into the heart of it, and make the liquid flow out with
spours, violence through every pore in the circumference. In
ssticity. this case, it is evident that the water would act as a
t-w——* power of repulsion among the particles of the sponge, as
well as the fire does among the particles of the water,
charcoal, or whatever other substance is employed.
Thus far we may reason from analogy $ but in all
probability the internal and essential texture of these
vapours will for ever remain unknown. Their ob¬
vious properties, as well as some of their more latent
operations in many cases, are treated of under CHE¬
MISTRY.
It has been imagined by some, that the artificial
elastic fluids have not the same mechanical property
with common air, viz. that of occupying a space in¬
versely proportional to the weights with which they
are pressed : but this is found to be a mistake. All of
them likewise have been found to be non-conductors
of electricity, though probably not all in the same de¬
gree. Even aqueous vapour, when intimately mingled
with any permanently elastic fluid, refuses to conduct
this fluid, as is evident from the highly electrical state
of the atmosphere in very dry weather, when we are
certain that aqueous vapour must abound very much,
and be intimately mixed with it. The colour of the
electric spark, though it may be made visible in all
kinds of permanently elastic vapours, is very different
in different fluids. Thus in inflammable and alkaline
air |it is red or purple, but in fixed air it appears
white.
ELASTICITY, or Elastic Force, that property
of bodies wherewith they restore themselves to their
former figure, after any external pressure.
The cause or principle of the important property
elasticity, or springiness, is variously assigned. The
Cartesians account for it from the materia subtilis ma¬
king an effort to pass through pores that are too nar¬
row for it. Thus, say they, in bending or compres¬
sing, a hard elastic body, e. g. a bow, its parts recede
from each other on the convex side, and approach on
the concave : consequently the pores are contracted or
straitened on the concave side $ and if they were before
round, are now, for instance, oval: so that the materia
subtilis, or matter of the second element, endeavouring
to pass out of those pores thus straitened, must make an
effort, at the same time, to restore the body to the
state it was in when the pores were more patent and
round, i. e. before the bow was bent: and in this con¬
sists its elasticity.
Other later and more wary philosophers account
for elasticity much after the same manner as the Car¬
tesians ; with this only difference, that in lieu of the
subtile matter of the Cartesians, these substitute E-
THER, or a fine etherial medium that pervades all bo¬
dies.
Others,, setting aside the precarious notion of a ma¬
teria subtilis, account for elasticity from the great law
of nature ATTRACTION, or the cause of the COHESION of
the parts of solid and firm bodies. Thus, say they,
%vhen a hard body is struck or bent, so that the compo¬
nent parts are moved a little from each other, but not
quite disjointed or broke off, or separated so far as to
be out of the power of that attractive force whereby
they cohere $ they must certainly, or the cessation of
the external violence, spring back to their former na- Elasticity,
tural state. y—,
Others resolve elasticity into the pressure of the at¬
mosphere j for a violent tension or compression, though
not so great as to separate the constituent particles of
bodies far enough to let in any foreign matter, must yet
occasion many little vacuola between the separated sur¬
faces j so that upon the removal of the force they will
close again by the pressure of the aerial fluid upon the
external parts. See Atmosphere.
Lastly, others attribute the elasticity of all hard bo¬
dies to the power of resilition in the air included within,
them : and so make the elastic force of the air the prin¬
ciple of elasticity in all other bodies.
The Elasticity of Fluids is accounted for from their
particles being all endowed with a centrifugal force }
when Sir Isaac Newton, prop. 23. lib. 2. demonstrates,
that particles, which naturally avoid or fly off from
one another by such forces as are reciprocally pro¬
portioned to the distances of their centre, will com¬
pose an elastic fluid, whose density shall be propor¬
tional to its compressions j and vice versa, if any fluid
be composed of particles that fly off and avoid one
another, and hath its density proportional to its com¬
pression, then the centrifugal forces of those par¬
ticles will be reciprocally as the distances of their
centres.
Elasticity of the Air, is the force wherewith that
element dilates itself, upon removing the force where¬
by it was before compressed. See Air and Atmo¬
sphere.
The elasticity or spring of the air was first disco¬
vered by Galileo. Its existence is proved by this expe¬
riment of that philosopher : An extraordinary quantity
of air being introduced by means of a syringe into a
glass or metal ball, till such time as the ball, with
this accession of air, weighs considerably more in the
balance than it did before j upon opening the mouth
thereof, the air rushes out, till the ball sink to its for¬
mer weight. From hence we argue, that there is just
as much air gone out, as compressed air had been
crowded in. Air, therefore, returns to its former de¬
gree of expansion, upon removing the force that com¬
pressed or resisted its expansion ; consequently it is en¬
dowed with an elastic force. It must be added, that as
the air is found to rush out in every situation or direc¬
tion of the orifice, the elastic force acts every way, or
in every direction.
The elasticity of the air makes a considerable article
in Pneumatics.
The cause of the elasticity of the atmosphere hath
been commonly ascribed to a repulsion between its par¬
ticles j but this can give us only a very slight idea of
the nature of its elasticity. The term repulsion, like
that of attraction, requires to be defined ; and, in all
probability, will be found in most cases to be tbe effect
of the action of some other fluid. Thus, we find, that
the elasticity of the atmosphere is very considerably af¬
fected by heat. Supposing a quantity of air heated
to such a degree as is sufficient to. raise Fahren¬
heit’s thermometer to 212, it will then occupy a con¬
siderable space. If it is cooled to such a degree as to
sink the thermometer to o, it will shrink up into less
than half the former bulk. The quantity of repulsive
gowtr
E L B
[ 640 ]
E L E
Fla-ticity power therefore acquired by the air, while passing from
II one of these states to the other, is evidently owing to
Elbow, the heat added to or taken away from it. Nor have
  ' we any reason to suppose that the quantity ot elasti¬
city or repulsive power it still possesses.is owing to any
other thing than the fire contained in it. The suppo¬
sing repulsion to be a primary cause, independent of
all others, hath given rise to many erroneous theories,
and been one very great mean of embarrassing philoso¬
phers in their accounting for the phenomena of Elec¬
tricity. , . , 1
ELATE, a genus of plants belonging to the natural
order of Palmce. See Botany Index.
ELATER, a genus of insects belonging to the or¬
der of Coleoptera. See Entomology Index.
ELATERIUM, a genus of plants belonging to the
moncecia class. See Botany Index.
Elaterium, EA*T»g«», mPharmacy, a violently pur¬
gative medicine, prepared from the wild cucumber.
ELATH, or Eloth, a port of Idumaea, situated
upon the Red sea, which David in his conquest of
Edom took (2 Sam. viii. 14.), and there established a
trade to all parts of the world. His son, we see, built
ships in Elath, and sent them from thence to Ophir for
gold, (2 Chr. viii. 17, 18.)- It continued in the pos¬
session of the Israelites about 150 years, till in the
time of Joram, the Edomites recovered it (1 Kings yui.
20.) *, hut it was again taken from them by Azariah,
and by him left to his son, (2 Kings xiv. 22.). His
grandson Ahaz, however, lost it again to the .king of
Syria (ib. xvi. 6.) ; and the Syrians had it in their
hands a long while, till, after many changes under the
Ptolemies, it came at length into the possession of the
Romans.
ELATINE, a genus of plants belonging to the oc-
tandria class. See Botany Index.
ELATOSTEMA, a genus of plants belonging to
the monoecia class. See Botany I?idex.
, ELBA, an island in the Mediterranean, near the
coast of Tuscany, rendered celebrated by the tempo¬
rary residence of Bonaparte in 1814* It is about 60
miles in circuit, and contains 12,000 inhabitants. See
Elba, Supplement.
ELBE, a large river in Germany, which, rising on
the confines of Silesia, runs through Bohemia, Saxony,
and Brandenburg •, and afterwards dividing the duchy
of Luxemburg from that of Mecklenburg, as also the
duchy of Bremen from Holstein, it falls into the Ger¬
man ocean, about 70 miles below Hamburg. It is
navigable for great ships higher than any river in Eu¬
rope.
ELBING, a city of Polish Prussia, in the palati¬
nate of Marienburg, situated in E. Long. 20. O. N.
Lat. 54. 15. on a bay of the Baltic sea, called the
Frischaff, near the mouth of the Vistula. The town is
large, populous, and very well built. It is divided into
two parts, called the old and new town, which are
both of them very well fortified. The old town has a
handsome tower, with a good college. The place has a
considerable trade, especially in cheese, butter, and
corn. It is seated in a champaign level like Holland,
very fruitful and.populous. The inhabitants are partly
Lutherans and partly Roman Catholics.
ELBOW, the outer angle made by the flexure or
bend of the arm. That eminence whereon the arm
rests, called by us elbow, is by the Latins called culi- Elbov*
tus, and the Greeks ctyKUi, and by others ||
Elbow is also used by architects, masons, &c. for pl^'eat*! [
an obtuse angle of a wall, building, or road, which di-. 0^j
verts it from its right line. . 'Hj
ELCESAITES, in church history, ancient here¬
tics, who made their appearance in the reign of the
emperor Trajan, and took their name from their leader
Elcesai. The Elcesaites kept a mean between the Jews,
Christians, and Pagans j they worshipped but one God,
observed the Jewish sabbath, circumcision, and the
other ceremonies of the law. They rejected the Penta¬
teuch, and the prophets : nor had they any more re¬
spect for the writings of the apostles, particularly those
of St Paul.
ELDERS, or Seniors, in Jewish history, were per¬
sons the most considerable for age, experience, and wis¬
dom. Of this sort were the 70 men whom Moses asso¬
ciated to himself in the government of his people : such,
likewise, afterwards, were those who held the first rank
in the synagogue, as presidents.
In the first assemblies of the primitive Christians,
those who held the first place were called elders. The
word presbyter, often used in the New Testament, is of
the same signification : hence the first councils of Chri¬
stians were called presbyteria, or councils of elders.
Elders is also a denomination still retained in the
Presbyterian discipline. The elders are officers, who,
in conjunction with the pastors, or ministers, and dea¬
cons, compose the consistories or kirk-sessions, meet¬
ing to consider, inspect, and regulate, matters of reli¬
gion and discipline. They are chosen from among the
people, and are received publicly with some degree of
ceremony. In Scotland, there is an indefinite number
of elders in each parish j generally about 12. See
Kinic-Sessions and Presbytery.
Elder. See Sambucus, Botany Index.
ELEA, or Elis, in Ancient Geography, a district
of Peloponnesus, situated between Achaia and Messe-
nia, reaching from Arcadia quite to the west or Ionian
sea: so called from Elis, a cognominal town. See
Elis.
ELEATIC philosophy, among the ancients, a
name given to that of the STOICS, because taught at
Uteot, in Latin Velia, a town of the Lucani.
The founder of this philosophy, or of the Eleatic
sect, is supposed to have been Xenophanes, who lived
about the 56th Olympiad, or between 500 or 600 years
before Christ. This sect was divided into two parties,
which may be denominated metaphysical and physical,
the one rejecting, and the other approving, the appeal
to fact and experiment. Of the former kind were Xe¬
nophanes, Parmenides, Melissus, and Zeno of Elea.
They are supposed to have maintained principles not
very unlike those of Spinoza ; they held the eternity
and immutability of the world : that whatever existed
was only one being •, that there was neither any gene¬
ration or corruption j that this one being was im¬
moveable and immutable, and was the true God j and
whatever changes seemed to happen in the universe,
they considered as mere appearances and illusions of
sense. However, some learned men have supposed,
that Xenophanes and his followers, speaking metaphy¬
sically, understood by the universe, or the one being,
not the material world, but the originating principle
ot
E L E
"leatic things, or the true God, whom they expressly
mlasophy affirm to be incorporeal. Thus Simplicius represents
them as merely metaphysical writers, who distinguish¬
ed between things natural and supernatural ; and who
made the former to be compounded of different prin¬
ciples. Accordingly, Xenophanes maintained, that
the earth consisted of air and fire ; that all things
were produced out of the earth, and the sun and stars
out of clouds, and that there were four elements. Par¬
menides also distinguished between the doctrine con¬
cerning metaphysical objects, called truth, and that
concerning physical or corporeal things, called opinion;
with respect to the former there wras one immoveable
principle ; but in the latter two that were moveable,
viz. fire and earth, or heat and cold ; in which parti¬
culars Zeno agreed with him. The other branch of
the Eleatic sect were the atomic philosophers, rvho
formed their system from an attention to the phenome¬
na of nature *, of these the most considerable were Leu¬
cippus, Democritus, and Protagoras.
ELECAMPANE. See Inula, Botany Index.
ELECT, (from eligo, “ I choose1’) Chosen, in the
Scriptures, is applied to the primitive Christians ■, in
which sense, the elect are those chosen and admitted to
the favour and blessing of Christianity.
Elect, in some systems of theology, is a term ap¬
propriated to the saints, or the predestinated : in which
sense the elect are those persons who are said to be pre¬
destinated to glory as the end, and to sanctification as
the means.
Elect is likewise applied to archbishops, bishops,
and other officers, who are chosen, but not yet conse¬
crated, or actually invested with their office or juris¬
diction.
The emperor is said to be elect before he is inaugu¬
rated and crowned j a lord mayor is elect, before his
predecessor’s mayoralty is expired, or the sword is put
in his hands.
ELECTION, the choice that is made of any thing
er person, whereby it is preferred to some other.
There seems this difference, however, between choice
and election, that election has usually a regard to a
company or community, which makes the choice;
whereas choice is seldom used but when a single per¬
son makes it.
Election, in British polity, is the people’s choice
of their representatives in parliament. (See Parlia¬
ment.) In this consists the exercise of the democra-
tical part of our constitution: for in a democracy there
can be no exercise of sovereignty but by suffrage, which
is the declaration of the people’s will. In all democra¬
cies, therefore, it is of the utmost importance to regu¬
late by whom, and in what manner, the suffrages are
to be given. And the Athenians were so justly jealous
of this prerogative, that a stranger, who interfered in
the assemblies of the people, was punished by their
laws with death ; because such a man was esteemed
guilty of high treason, by usurping those rights of
sovereignty to which he had no title. In Britain,
where the people do not debate in a collective body,
but by representation, the exercise of this sovereignty
consists in the choice of representatives. The laws
have therefore very strictly guarded against usurpation
or abuse of this power, by many salutary provi¬
sions } which may be reduced to these three points,
Vol. VII. Part II. f
t 641 ] E L E
I. The qualifications of the electors. 2. The quali- EWtion.
3. The proceedings at11
f rii
‘tnt,
fications of the elected,
elections.
(1.) As to the qualifications of the electors. The
true reason of requiring any qualification, with regard
to property, in voters, is to exclude such persons as are
in so mean a situation, that they are esteemed to have
no will of their own. If these persons had votes, they
would be tempted to dispose of them under some un¬
due influence or other. This would give a great, an
artful, or a wealthy man, a larger share in elections
than is consistent with general liberty. If it were pro¬
bable that every man would give his vote freely, and
without influence of any kind ; then, upon the true
theory and genuine principles of liberty, every member
of the community, however poor, should have a vote in
electing those delegates to whose charge is committed
the disposal of his property, his liberty, and his life.
But since that can hardly be expected in persons of
indigent fortunes, or such as are under the immediate
dominion of others, all popular states have been obli¬
ged to establish certain qualifications ; whereby some,
who are suspected to have no will of their own, are ex¬
cluded from voting, in order to set other individuals,
whose will may be supposed independent, more tho¬
roughly upon a level with each other.
And this constitution of suffrages is framed upon a
wiser principle with us, than either of the methods
of voting, by centuries, or by tribes, among the Ro¬
mans. In the method by centuries, instituted by Ser-
vius Tullius, it was principally property, and not num¬
bers, that turned the scale : in the method by tribes,
gradually introduced by the tribunes of the people,
numbers only were regarded, and property entirely
overlooked. Hence the laws passed by the former me¬
thod had usually too great a tendency to aggrandize
the patricians or rich nobles ; and those by the latter
had too much of a levelling principle. Our constitu¬
tion steers between the two extremes. Only such are
entirely excluded as can have no will of their own :
there is hardly a free agent to be found, but what is
entitled to a vote in some kind or other in the king¬
dom. Nor is comparative wealth, or property, entire¬
ly disregarded in elections ; for though the richest man
has only one vote at one place, yet, if his property be
at all diffused, he has probably a right to vote at more
places than one, and therefore has many representatives.
This is the spirit of our constitution j not that we assert
it is in fact quite so perfect as we have endeavoured to
describe it j for if any alteration might be wished ot
suggested in the present form of parliaments, it should
be in favour of a more complete representation of the
people.
But to return to the qualifications 5 and first those
of electors for knights of the shire. 1. By statute
8 Hen. VI. c. J. and 10 Hen. VI. c. 2. (amended by
14 Geo. III. c. 58.) the knights of the shire shall be
chosen of people, whereof every man shall have free¬
hold to the value of forty shillings by the year within
the county j which (by subsequent statutes) is to be
clear of all charges and deductions, except parliamen¬
tary and parochial taxes. The knights of shires are
the representatives of the landholders, or landed inte¬
rest of the kingdom : their electors must therefore have
estates in lands or tenements within the county repre-
4 M sented.
E L E
F’cction. sented. These estates must be freehold, that is, for term
■ y * of life at least j because beneficial leases for long terms
of years were not in use at the making of these sta¬
tutes, and copyholders were then little better than vil¬
lains’ absolutely dependent upon their lords. This free¬
hold must be of 40 shillings annual value ; because
that sum, would then, with proper industry, furnish all
the necessaries of life, and render the freeholder, if he
pleased, an independent man : For Bishop l1 leetwood,
in his Chronicon Preciosum, written at the beginning ot
the last century, has fully proved 40 shillings in the
reign of Henry VI. to have been equal to twelve pounds
per annum in the reign of Queen Anne j and, as the
value of money is very considerably lowered since the
bishop wrote, tve may fairly conclude, from this and
other circumstances, that what was equivalent to 12
pounds in his days, is equivalent to 20 at present. T.he
other less important qualifications of the electors for
counties in England and Wales may be collected from
the statutes cited below (a); which direct, 2. That no
person under 21 year’s of age shall be capable of voting
for any member. This extends to all sorts of mem¬
bers as well for boroughs as counties *, as does also
the next, viz. 3. That no person convicted of per¬
jury, or subornation of perjury, shall be capable of
voting in any election. 4. That no person shall vote
in right of any freehold, granted to him fraudulently,
to qualify him to vote. Fraudulent grants are such as
contain an agreement to reconvey, or to defeat the
estate granted; which agreements are made void, and
the estate is absolutely vested in the person to whom it
is so granted. And, to guard the better against such
frauds, it is further provided, 5. That every voter shall
have been in the actual possession, or receipt of the pro¬
fits, of his freehold to his own use for 12 kalendar
months before y except it came to him by descent, mar¬
riage, marriage settlement, will, or promotion to a
benefice or office. 6. That no person shall vote in re¬
spect of an annuity or rent-charge, unless registered
with the clerk of the peace 12 kalender months before.
cj. That in mortgaged or trust estates, the person in
possession, under the above-mentioned restrictions, shall
have the vote. 8. That only one person shall be ad¬
mitted to vote for any one house or tenement, to pre¬
vent the splitting of freeholds. 9. That no estate shall
qualify a voter, unless the estate has been assessed to
some land-tax aid, at least 12 months before the elec¬
tion. 10. That no tenant by copy of court-roll shall be
permitted to vote as a freeholder. Thus much for the
electors in counties.
As for the electors of citizens and burgesses, these
are supposed to be the mercantile part or trading inte¬
rest of this kingdom. But as trade is of a fluctuating
nature, and seldom long fixed in a place, it was for¬
merly left to the crown to summon, pro re j;nta, the most
flourishing towns to send representatives to parliament.
So that as towns increased in trade, and grew popu¬
lous, they were admitted to a share in the legislature.
But the misfortune is, that the deserted boroughs con¬
tinued to be summoned, as well as those to whom their
E L E
trade and inhabitants were transferred ; except a few Electb
which petitioned to be eased of the expence, then usual,
of maintaining their members: four shillings a-day
being allowed for a knight of the shire, and two shil¬
lings for a citizen or burgess j which was the rate of
wages established in the reign of Edward III. Hence
the members for boroughs now bear above a quadruple
proportion to those for counties $ and the number of
parliament men is increased since Fortescue’s times, in
the reign of Henry YI. from 30Q to upwards of 500,
exclusive of those for Scotland. The universities were,
in general, not empowered to send burgesses to parlia¬
ment y though once, 28 Edw. I. when a parliament
was summoned to consider of the kingrs right to Scot¬
land, there were issued writs, which required the uni¬
versity of Oxford to send up four or five, and that of
Cambridge two or three, of their most discreet and
learned lawyers for that purpose. But it was King
James I. who indulged them with the permanent pri¬
vilege to send constantly two of their own body to
serve for those students who, though useful members
of the community, were neither concerned in the land¬
ed nor the trading interest: and to protect in the le¬
gislature the rights of the republic of letters. The
right of election in boroughs is various, depending en¬
tirely on the several charters, customs, and constitu¬
tions of the respective places j which has occasioned
infinite disputes*, though now, by statute 2 Geo. II.
c. 24. the right of voting for the future shall be allowed
according to the last determination of the house of com¬
mons concerning it’, and, by statute 3 Geo. III. c. 15.
no freeman of any city or borough (other than such as
claim by birth, marriage, or servitude) shall be intitled
to vote therein, unless he hath been admitted to his
freedom 12 kalender months before.
(2.) Next, as to the qualifications of persons to be
elected members of the house of commons. Some of
these depend upon the law and custom of parliaments,
declared by the house of commons j others upon cer¬
tain statutes. And from these it appears, 1. That
they must not be aliens born or minors. 2. That they
must not be any of the 12 judges, because they sit in
the lords’ house j nor of the clergy, for they sit in the
convocation $ nor persons attainted of treason, or fe¬
lony, for they are unfit to sit anywhere. 3. That she¬
riffs of counties, and mayors and bailiffs of boroughs,
are not eligible in their respective jurisdictions, as be¬
ing returning officers j but that sheriffs of one coun¬
ty are eligible to be knights of another. 4, That,
in strictness,, all members ought to have been inhabi¬
tants of the places for which they are chosen 5 but this,
having been long disregarded, was at length entirely
repealed by statute 14 Geo. III. c. 58. 5. That no
persons concerned in the management ot any duties or
taxes created since 1692, except the commissioners ot
the treasury, nor any of the officers following (viz.
commissioners of prizes, transports, sick and wounded,,
wine licenses, navy, and victualling $ secretaries or re¬
ceivers of prizes j comptrollers of the army accounts;
agents for regiments j governors of plantations, and
their
[ 642 1
(a) 7 and 8 Will. III. c. 25, 10 Ann. c. 23. 2 Geo. II. c. 21. 38 Geo. II. c. 18. 31 Geo. II. c. 14. 3
Geo. III. c. 24.
E L E [ 643
section, their deputies ; officers of Minorca or Gibraltar ; offi-
'-'v 111 1 cers the excise and customs } clerks or deputies in
the several offices of the treasury, exchequer, navy,
victualling, admiralty, pay of the army or navy, secre¬
taries of state, salt, stamps, appeals, wine-licenses,
hackney-coaches, hawkers, and pedlars), nor any per¬
sons that hold any new office under the crown created
since 1^0are capable of being elected or sitting as
members. 6. That no person having a pension under
the crown during pleasure, or for any term of years,
is capable of being elected or sitting. 7. That if any
member accepts an office under the crown, except an
officer in the army or navy accepting a new commission,
his seat is void £ but such member is capable of being
re-elected. 8. That all knights of the shire shall be
actual knights, or such notable esquires and gentlemen
as have estates sufficient to be knights, and by no means
of the degree of yeomen. This is reduced to a still
greater certainty, by ordaining, 9. That every knight
of a shire shall have a clear estate of freehold or copy-
hold to the value of 600I. per annum, and every citi¬
zen and burgess to the value of 300!.: except the eld¬
est sons of peers and of persons qualified to be knights
of shires, and except the members for the two univer¬
sities j which somewhat balances the ascendant which
the boroughs have gained over the counties, by obli-
ging the trading interest to make choice of landed
men: and of this qualification the member must make
oath, and give in the particulars in writing, at the time
of his taking his seat. But, subject to these standing
restrictions and disqualifications, every subject of the
realm is eligible of common right: though there are
instances, wherein persons in particular circumstances
have forfeited that common right, and have been de¬
clared ineligible for that parliament, by a vote of the
house of commons, or for ever, by an act of the legis¬
lature. But it was an unconstitutional prohibition
which was grounded on an ordinance of the house of
lords, and inserted in the king's writs, for the parlia¬
ment holden at Coventry, 6 Hen. IV, that no appren¬
tice or other man of the law should be elected a knight
for the shire therein: in return for which, our law¬
books and historians have branded this parliament with
the name oi par Home ntum indoctum, or the lack-learning
parliament j and Sir Edward Coke observes, with some
spleen, that there was never a good law made thereat.
(3.) Ihe third point, regarding elections, is the
method of proceeding therein. This is also regulated
by the law of parliament, and the several statutes re¬
ferred to in the margin below (b) ; all which we shall
blend together, and extract out of them a summary ac¬
count of the method of proceeding to elections.
As soon as the parliament is summoned, the lord
chancellor (or if a vacancy happens during the sitting
of parliament, the speaker, by order of the house, and
without such order if a vacancy happens by death in
the time of a recess for upwards of 20 days) sends his
warrant to the clerk of the crown in chancery j who
]
E L E
thereupon issues out writs to the sheriff of every county £!ecti
for the election of all the members to serve for that—y-
county, and every city and borough therein. Within
three days after the receipt of this writ, the sheriff is to
send his precept, under his seal, to the proper return¬
ing officers of the cities and boroughs, commanding
them to elect their members: and the said returning
officers are to proceed to election within eight days
from the receipt of the precept, giving four days notice
of the same 5 and to return the persons chosen, together
with the precept, to the sheriff.
But elections of knights of the shire must be pro¬
ceeded to by the sheriffs themselves in person, at the
next county-court that shall happen after the delivery
of the writ. The county-court is a court held every
month or oftener by the sheriff, intended to try little
causes not exceeding the value of 40s. in what part of
the county he pleases to appoint for that purpose: but
for the election of knights of the shire, it must be held
at the most usual place. If the county-court falls up¬
on the day of delivering the writ, or within six days
after, the sheriff may adjourn the court and election
to some other convenient time, not longer than 16
days, nor shorter than 10: but he cannot alter the
place, without the consent of all the candidates ; and, •
in all such cases, 10 days public notice must be given
of the time and place of the election.
And, as it is essential to the very being of parlia¬
ment that elections should be absolutely free, therefore
all undue influences upon the electors are illegal, and
strongly prohibited. For Mr Locke ranks it among
those breaches of trust in the executive magistrate,
which, according to his notions, amount to a dissolu¬
tion of the government, “ if he employs the force,
treasure, and offices of the society to corrupt the re¬
presentatives, or openly to pre-engage the electors, and
prescribe what manner of persons shall be chosen : For
thus to regulate candidates and electors, and new model
the ways of election, what is it (says he) but to cut up
the government by the roots, and poison the very foun¬
tain of public security ?” As soon, therefore, as the
time and place of election, either in counties or
boroughs, are fixed, all soldiers quartered in the place
are to remove, at least one day before the election, to
the distance of two miles or more 5 and not to return
till one day after the poll is ended. Riots likewise
have been frequently determined to make an election
void. By vote also of the house of commons, to whom
alone belongs the power of determining contested
elections, no lord of parliament, or lord-lieutenant of
a county, hath any right to interfere in the election
of commoners j and, by statute, the lord warden of
the cinque-ports shall not recommend any members
there. II any officer of the excise, customs, stamps, or
certain other branches of the revenue, presumes to in¬
termeddle in elections, by persuading any voter or
dissuading him, he forfeits 100I. and is disabled to hold
any office.
4 ^ 2 Thus
„ 7 Hen. IV. c. lS. 8 Hen. VI. c. 7. 23 Hen. VI. c. 14. 1 W. & M. st. j. c. 2. 2 W. and M. st. 1. c. 7.
3 and 6 W. & M. c. 20. 7 W. III. c. 4. 7 and 8 W. HI. c. 7. and c. 2J. 10 and 11 VV. III. c. 7. 12 and 13 W III
c la' C',,23' 9<1Ann- i: 5- '0TAnn. c. 19. and c. 33. 2 Geo. II. c. 24. 8 Geo. II. c. 30. 18 Geo. II.
c. 18. 19 Geo. II. c. 28. 10 Geo. III. c. 16. 11 Geo. III. c. 42. 14 Geo. III. c. 1 j.
E L E
[ 644 ]
E L E
Election. Thus are the electors of one branch of the legisla-
v , ture secured from any undue influence from either ot
the other two, and from all external violence and com¬
pulsion. But the greatest danger is that in w.iich
themselves co-operate, by the infamous, practice ot
bribery and corruption. To prevent which it is en¬
acted, that no candidate shall, after the date (usually
called the teste) of the writs, or after the vacancy,
give any money or entertainment to his electors, or
promise to give any, either to particular persons, or
to the place in general, in order to his being elected j
on pain of being incapable to serve for that place in
parliament. And if any money, gift, office, employ¬
ment, or reward be given, or promised to be given,
to any voter, at any time, in order to influence him
to give or withhold his vote, as well he that takes as
be that offers such bribe forfeits 500I. and is for ever
disabled from voting and holding any office in any
corporation ; unless, before conviction, he will dis¬
cover some other offender of the same kind, and
then he is indemnified for his own offence. The first
instance that occurs of election bribery, \vas so early
as 13 Eliz. when one Thomas Longe (being a simple
man, and of small capacity to serve in parliament) ac¬
knowledged that he had given the returning officer
and others of the borough for which he was chosen
four pounds to be returned member, and was for that
premium elected. But for this offence the borough
was amerced, the member was removed, and the officer
fined and imprisoned. But as this practice hath since
taken much deeper and more universal root, it hath
occasioned the making of these wholesome, statutes j
to complete the efficacy of which, there is nothing
wanting but resolution and integrity to put them in
strict execution.
Undue influence being thus guarded against, the
election is to be proceeded to on the day appointed ;
the sheriff or other returning officer first taking an oath
against bribery, and for the due execution of his office.
The candidates likewise, if required, must swear to their
qualification, and the electors- in counties to theirs j and
the electors both in counties and boroughs are also com¬
pellable to take the oath of abjuration, and that against
bribery and corruption. And it might not be amiss, it
the members elected were bound to take the latter oath
as well as the former j which, in all probability, would
be much more effectual than administering it only to
the electors,.
The election being closed, the returning officer in
boroughs returns his precept to the sheriff, with the
persons elected by the majority : and the sheriff re¬
turns the whole, together with the writ for the county
and the knights elected thereupon, to the clerk of the
crown in chancery before the day of meeting, if it
be a new parliament, or within 14 days after the elec¬
tion, if it be an occasional vacancy j and this under-
penalty of 500I. If the sheriff' does not return such
knights only as are duly elected, lie forfeits, by the
old statues of Plenry VI. look 5 and the returning
officer in boroughs, for a like false return, 40k and
they are besides liable to an action, in which double
damages shall be recovered, by the latter statutes of
King William : and any person bribing the returning
officer shall also forfeit 300k But the members re¬
turned by him are the sitting members, until the house
of commons, upon petition, shall adjudge the return Election
to be false and illegal. The form and manner of pro- 0
ceeding upon such petition are now regulated by sta- ■Elector,
tute 10 Geo. III. c. 16. (amended by 11 Geo. III.
c. 42. and made perpetual by 14 Geo. III. c. 15.),
which directs the method of choosing by lot a select
committee of 15 members, who are sworn well and
truly to try the same, and a true judgment to give, ac¬
cording to the evidence.
Election of Scots Peers. See Lords.
Election of Ecclesiastical Persons. Elections for
the dignities of the church ought to be free, according
to the stat. 9 Ed. II. cap. 14. If any persons, that have
a voice in elections, take any reward for an election in
any church, college, school, &c. the election .shall be
void. And if any persons of such societies res-ign their
places to others for reward, they incur a forfeiture of
double the sum j and both the parties are rendered in¬
capable of the place. Stat. 31 Eliz. cap. 6. .
Election of a Verderor of the Forest felectione vi~
ridariorum forestce), in Law, a writ that lies for the
choice of a verderor, where any of the verderors ot the
forest are dead, or removed from their offices. I his
writ is directed to the sheriff, and the verderor is to be
elected by the freeholders of the county in the same
manner as coroners. New. Nat. Brev. 366. .
Election is also the state of a person who is leit to
his own free will, to take or do either one tiling or an¬
other, which he pleases. See Liberty.
Election, in Theology, signifies the choice winch
God, of his good pleasure, makes of angels ot men, for
the objects of mercy and grace.
The election of the Jews was the choice God made
of that people to be more immediately attached to hi#
worship and service, and for the Messiah to be born
of them. And thus particular nations were elected to
the participation of the outward blessings ol Chnstia-
nitv. . ...
Election also, in the language of some divines, sig¬
nifies a predestination to grace and glory, and sometimes
to glory only. And it has been enjoined as an article
of faith, that predestination to grace is gratuitous, mere¬
ly and simply so ; gratia, quia gratis data. But the
divines are much divided as to the point, whether elec¬
tion to glory be gratuitous, or whether it supposes obe¬
dience and good works, i. e. whether it be before or
after the provision of our obedience, bee ORACE and
Beprobation. ,
ELECTIVE, something that is done, or passes, by
election. See Elector. .
Some benefices are elective, others collative. Mu¬
nicipal offices in England are generally elective 5 m
Spain, venal. Poland is an elective kingdom.
Elective Attraction. See Chemistry Index.
ELECTOB, a person who has a right to elect on
choose another to an office, honour, &c. See Elec-.
TION. „
Elector is particularly, and by way of eminence, ap¬
plied to those princes of Germany in whom lies the right
of electing the emperor j being all sovereign princes,
and the principal members of the empire.
The electoral college, consisting ol all the electors 0
the empire, is the most illustrious and august bo y m
Europe. Bellarmine and Baronius attribute the insti-
tutien of it to Pope Gregory V. and the emperor -
E L E -
[ 645 ]
E L E
s:ctor.
tho III. lo the tenth century $ of which opinion are
the generality of historians, and particularly the ca¬
nonists : however, the number of electors was unset¬
tled, at least, till the 13th century. In 1356 Charles IV.
by the golden bull, fixed the number of electors to
seven ; three ecclesiastics, viz. the archbishops ot Mentz,
Treves, and Cologne} and four secular, viz. the king
of Bohemia, count Palatine of the Rhine, duke ol
Saxony, and marquis of Brandenburg. In 1648 this
order was changed, the duke of Bavaria being put in
the place of the count Palatine, who having accepted
the crown of Bohemia, was outlawed by the emperor ;
but being at length restored, an eighth electorate was
erected for the duke of Bavaria. In 1692, a ninth
electorate was created, by the emperor Leopold, in fa¬
vour of the duke of Hanover, of the house of Brunswic
Lunenburg.
There is this difference between the secular and ec¬
clesiastical electors, that the first have an active and
passive voice, that is, may choose and be chosen ; the
last an active only. The three archbishops are to be
30 years old before they can be advanced to the dig¬
nity •, the seculars T 8, before they can perform the of¬
fice themselves. These last have each their vicars, who
officiate in their absence.
Besides the power of choosing an emperor, the elec¬
tors have also that of capitulating with and deposing
him j so that, if there be one suffrage wanting, a pro¬
test may be entered against the proceedings. By the
right of capitulation, they attribute to themselves great
privileges, as making of war, coining, and taking care Elector,
of the public interest and security of the states j and the Electorate^
emperor promises, upon oath, to receive the empirev—y——^
upon these conditions.
The electors have precedence of all other princes of
the empire, even of cardinals and kings j and are ad¬
dressed under the title of electoral highness.
Their several functions are as follow. The elector of
Mentz is chancellor of Germany, convokes the states,
and gives his vote before any of the rest. The elector
of Cologne is grand chancellor of Italy, and conse¬
crates the emperor. The elector of Treves is chancel¬
lor of the Gauls, and confers imposition of hands upon
the emperor. The count Palatine of the Rhine is great
treasurer of the empire, and presents the emperor with
a globe at his coronation. The elector of Bavaria is
great master of the imperial palace, and carries the gol¬
den apple. The marquis of Brandenburg is grand-
chamberlain, and puts the ring on the emperor’s finger.
The elector of Saxony* is grand marshal, and gives the
sword to the emperor. The king of Bohemia is grand
butler, and puts Charlemagne’s crown on the emperor’s
head. Lastly, the elector of Hanover, now king of
Great Britain, is arch-treasurer, though first erected
under the title of standard-bearer of the empire.
ELECTORATE, a term used as well to signify
the dignity of, as the territories belonging to, any of
the electors of Germany 5 such as Bavaria, Saxony,
&c. See Elector.
ELECTRICITY.
c i'&l
M’lfelec
ll<dc.
INTRODUCTION.
General Principles.
’tTTHEN a glass tube of considerable size, perfectly
. ^ ’ clean and dry, is rubbed briskly with a dry hand,
and immediately held over small pieces of paper, straws,
feathers, or other light bodies, it will attract them, and
after retaining them in contact with it for some time,
repel them 5 and this attraction and repulsion will be
alternately repeated several times.
If after rubbing the tube, the knuckle be presented
to the closed end, a snapping noise will be heard, and
the finger will receive a slight shock. When this ex¬
periment is made in the dark, a luminous spark ap¬
pears at the moment the snap is heard, between the
finger and the tube.
Many other substances, as amber, sealing-wax, ro¬
sin, when rubbed with certain other substances,
possess the property of attracting light bodies and
emitting sparks. As amber was first observed to pos¬
sess them, the bodies which are capable of exhibiting
similar appearances have beer, termed Electrics,
from amber ; and the science which illustrates
and explains these phenomena is denominated Elec¬
tricity (a). Electrical phenomena then are cha¬
racterized by the attraction and recession of light sub¬
stances, the production of sensation in living bodies,
and the evolution or production of light. 3
We shall not at present attempt any inquiry into Electric
the cause of these phenomena, but shall content our-P°'V€r\
selves with calling the power by which they are pro¬
duced, the electric power, reserving any investigation
of its nature for a future part of this article, in which
we shall treat of the theory of electricity. The term
electricity, which is most properly applicable to the
science, is also sometimes applied to the cause of tha
phenomena, or what we here call the electric power. ^
When electrics are made to shew the action of the Excitation,
electric power, they are said to be excited. -
There are many substances which are incapable ofNon-eiee-
being thus excited, and are therefore non-electrics
but which being placed near or in contact with an ex-<luttor**
cited electric, receive from this a portion of the electric
power, and are thus made capable of producing the
same appearance as the electric. Thus if a metallic
rod
(a) The attracting power of amber, when rubbed, is said to have been known to 1 hales the Milesian philoso^
pher, 600 years before Christ.
646
General rod or wire pointed at one end and rounded at the other,
Principles, be attached by the pointed extremity to an excited elec~
‘ v trie, or even placed very near to it, the rounded ex¬
tremity will attract light bodies, and emit sparks. As
these substances are found to convey of conduct the
electric power to any distance in proportion to their
length, they are called conductors.
It is found that all bodies in nature are either elec-
tides or conductors. This distinction was first made by
Mr Stephen Gray, a pensioner of the Charter-house, in
1729. The conducting power of metals, and various
other bodies, was his discovery. Neither of these clas¬
ses of bodies are, however, perfect electrics or conduc¬
tors, even in their most favourable state $ and there is a
gradation of effect from one class to the other. There
are few electrics which may not under some circum¬
stances be made to act as conductors 5 and, on the other
hand, many conductors may be so far excited as to be¬
come in some measure electrics per se. The terms con¬
ductors and electrics per se, were first employed by Dr
Desaeuliers. The following table exhibits the elec¬
trics and conductors arranged according to their degree
of electrical or conducting power, the remote extremes
forming a sort of intermediate class.
Electrics.
Glass and all vitrifications, even the metallic.
All precious stones, of which the most transparent are
the best.
Amber.
All resinous substances.
Wax.
Jet.
Silk in its different states.
Cotton.
Several dry and external animal substances, as feathers,
wool, hair $ parchments, and leather.
Paper.
White sugar, and sugar-candy.
Air, and other permanently elastic fluids.
Oils, especially the heaviest.
Dry and complete oxides of metallic substances.
The ashes of animal and vegetable substances.
Baked wood and other dry vegetable substances.
Most hard stones, of which the hardest are the best.
Ice at —13s Fahr.
Chalk, lime, and phosphorus.
Conductors.
Gold.
Silver.
Copper.
Platinum.
Brass.
Iron.
Tin.
Quicksilver.
Lead.
Intro!
Semi-metals, more or less, Gtner?
Metallic ores, more or less. . Principle
Well-burnt charcoal, either of animal or of vegetable
substances.
Diluted acids.
Metallic ores.
The fluids of an animal body.
Water (especially salt water), and all fluids, excepting
the aerial and oils.
Ice and snow.
Flame, smoke, and steam.
Most saline substances, especially the metallic salts.
Several earthy or stony substances.
The vapour of hot water.
Electricity pervades also such a vacuum as is produced
by the best air-pump ; but not the perfect absence of
air, or the Torricellian vacuum, formed by boiling
the quicksilver in a barometer tube. CavalU'i
Philosoi>„
Many of the substances given in the above table areT0,,‘11,
found to change their nature under certain circumstan¬
ces. Thus, among the electrics, glass heated to red¬
ness, melted resins and wax, baked wood, when very
hot, and heated air, become conductors $ and glass,
which is usually the best electric, is sometimes from
causes which have not been well ascertained a very in¬
different one. The excitability of glass vessels is found
to differ according to the degree of rarefaction of the
included air ; when this is rarefied as much as possible,
the external surface of the vessel cannot be excited,
while the internal surface exhibits strong marks of elec¬
tric power; but when the included air is considerably
condensed, the internal surface shews no marks of elec¬
tric power, while the external is much more excitable
than usual.
Among the conductors, the conducting power of
charcoal varies in proportion to the degree of heat to
which it has been exposed in the making, as, when im¬
perfectly burned, it is a bad conductor. Indeed wood
is capable of being made an electric or a conductor se¬
veral times alternately according to its state. When
fresh cut, it is a good conductor: thoroughly dried by
baking, it becomes, as we have seen, an electric;
burned to charcoal, by which its volatile ingredients are
dissipated, it is again a conductor : but when reduced
to ashes, it is once more made an electric.
Ice (B) is placed among the conductors: but in an
experiment of M. Achard, it appeared that when distil¬
led water was gradually frozen, so that one side of the
vessel retained it fluid, and therefore permitted the air
to escape, the ice thus produced would not conduct,
but on the contrary became a very good electric, and
was employed as such. Snow is a much worse con¬
ductor than ice. WTater is a conductor, and so are the
secondary salts $ it is found that when water is impreg¬
nated with a salt, its conducting power is much in¬
creased.
We have, after Mr Cavallo, placed the salts among
conductors j but, in strict propriety, this conducting
power
electricity.
(b) The conducting power of common ice was first shewn by M. Jallabert, professor of philosophy at Geneva ;
there seem, however, to have been various opinions respecting this fact till it was fully ascertained by Dr Priest¬
ley. Vid. Priestley's History of Electidcity, Part viii. sect. 4.
ttrod.
tnera!
] : ciplei
P»S|(e
pMga-
N^tri
power must be confined to salts in the state of crystals,
s. as it has been proved by decisive experiments, that
J salts, when deprived of their water of crystallization,
become non-conductors. The conducting power of
crystallized salts is therefore probably owing to the wa¬
ter which they contain.
No leading relation holds between the chemical cha¬
racters of bodies and their conducting powers. The
best conductors, the metals, and the best electrics, as
sulphur, are simple inflammables. Alkalies are conduc¬
tors j the other metallic oxides are non-conductors.
Other physical properties are equally independent of
electric relations. Platinum, the densest of bodies, is
a conductor 5 so is charcoal, a very light body, and even
rarefied air. Brittleness, elasticity, and fluidity, are
in the same predicament.
Electrics are called non-conductors, as they do not
readily transmit electric power; they may hence be
employed to check the passage of this power, or to con¬
fine its influence. When a body communicates with a
conducting substance, as the earth, a table, the human
body, &c. the electric power easily passes off j but when
it is supported by an electric, the power may be re¬
tained for a considerable time. In this latter case the
body is said to be insulated. The most important non¬
conductor is the atmospheric air in a dry state, and
of its usual density. If it were really a conductor,
electrical phenomena would be unknown, as the effects
would be dissipated in the very moment of their pro¬
duction. The power of insulation also by other means,
more consistent with stability of position in our appa¬
ratus, will afterwards appear.
We have seen (1, 3)), that fire or light appears to
issue from an excited electric ; and this appearance is
stronger in proportion to the size of the electric, and
the degree of friction which it has undergone. When
a rounded body, as the knuckle or a metallic ball, is
presented to the excited electric, the fire appears to
dart from it in a spark j but if the presented body be
pointed, the fire will appear to issue in a stream com¬
posed of luminous rays. These rays will take a dif¬
ferent direction, according to the substance with which
the electric is rubbed, and other circumstances which
will be explained hereafter. In the case of the glass
tube rubbed with the hand, when a pointed body, as a
needle, or wire, is presented to the tube, the lumi¬
nous rays will appear like a star around the point. The
same appearance will take place on presenting a point
to a stick of sealing-wax rubbed with any metallic body,
as a piece of tinfoil j but when the sealing-wax is rub¬
bed with a piece of woollen cloth, the rays will appear
to issue from the point in a pencil diverging towards the
wax. In some experiments which will afterwards be
described, the stream of fire appears in an evident cur¬
rent,in a direction from the electric in some cases, as in
the tube excited as above, and towards the electric in
others, as in the wax rubbed with the woollen cloth.
These different appearances have been supposed owing
to two different states of the electric power, and these
states have been called the two electricities. As in the
former case, the fire seems to flow from the glass into
the metallic body, as if there was an excess in the for¬
mer, the glass is said to be electrified/?^, or positively,
and this is called positive electricity* In the latter case,,
ELECTRICITY.' <547
as the stream appears to flow from the point into the General
1. * 4  r    v*enerai
sealing-wax, as it there were ^deficiency in the latter, the Principles.
sealing-wax is said to be electrified minus, or negatively,   '
and this is called the negative electricity : As when glass . 8
is rubbed with most substances, positive electricity is and'resin-*
excited, and negative when resinous bodies are rub-ous electii-
bed with most substances, the former is often called tff-eity.
treous, and the latter resinous electricity; and these
terms are still preferred by many electricians, as im-
plying no uncertain theory. The difference of these
forms of electrical excitement was the discovery of M.
Du Faye.
The difference of these two states of the electric
power may be further illustrated by the following simple
experiment.
Let a stem of glass (A, B, fig. 1.) be fixed in a
wooden pedestal C. Through the upper extremity A,
pass a wire A, D, with a rounded end at D, and from
this end suspend two very fine silken threads a, b.
These threads in the usual state of the instrument will
hang in the parallel position a, b ; but if the end of the
W’ire to which they are attached be presented to the ex¬
cited tube, the threads will diverge from each other,
and take a position as at c d. If in this diverging state
they are presented to an excited stick of sealing-wax,..
they will collapse into their original position. Again
the threads presented £rst to the excited sealing-wax
will diverge, but presented in this state to the excited
tube will collapse, thus shewing that these two states
are opposite to each other, each destroying the effect
produced by the other.
The following table shows what kind of electricity Electrified
will be excited by rubbing various electrics with differ-bodies,
ent bodies.
Plate
cirxxxvn.
fig. i.
f
The back of
a cat
Smooth glass
Rough glass -
Tourmalin
Hare’s skin <
White silk -
Black silk. <[
l
Positive
Positive
Positive
Negative
Positive
Negative
Positive
Negative
Positive
Negative
Positive
Negative
C Every substance with which
\ it has been hitherto tried.
T Every substance hitherto
-v tried, except the back of
L a cat.
T Dry oiled silk, sulphur, me-
t tals.
{Woollen cloth, quills,wood,
paper, sealing-wax,white
wax, the human hand.
Amber, a blast of air.
Diamond, the human hand.
f Metals, silk, loadstone, lea-
-j ther, hand, paper, baked
C wood.
Other finer furs.
Black silk, metals, black
cloth.
Paper, hand, hair, wea¬
sels skin.
-[ Sealing-wax-.
1 * Hares, weasels, and ferrets
skin,loadstone,brass, sil¬
ver, iron,hand, whilesilk.
Sealing-wax
648
General
Principle*.
elect
r r Metals, with the exception
j Positive < of those contained in the
| (, next list.
Sealing-wax -j f weasels, and ferrets
° r . j skin, hand, leather, wool-
Negative < Jen cloth, paper, iron, steel,
L lead, bismuth, plumbago.
Positive Silk.
Baked wood -< c
Negative ■< Flannel.
A slight difference in the conditions of such experi¬
ments occasions striking varieties of result. Friction
n I C I T Y. Intrd
with an iron chain on a stick of sealing wax, the suv* Gene;
face of which is scratched, produces positive electricity, Princij*
but negative on a stick with a smooth surface. ^
It appears from (3.) that the power of producing elec-
trical appearances may be communicated from an excit-
ed electric to a conductor. The more perfect the con¬
ductor, the more easily does it receive the electric power.
Electrics may also be made to receive this power from
excited electrics, but it is communicated to these with
more difficulty than to conductors. When any body,
whether electric or conductor, is made to exhibit elec¬
trical phenomena, either by being excited, or by com¬
munication, it is said to be electrified.
PART I.
OF THE GENERAL PHENOMENA OF EXCITED ELECTRICITY.
WHEN an electric is once excited, it retains the
electric power for a longer or shorter time accord¬
ing to its situation and nature. If it communicates
freely with conductors, it will lose it_sooner in propor¬
tion as these are more perfect j but if it be insulated,
it will continue in an electrified state for a consider-
10 able time. . ,
Modes of Electrics may be excited m various modes j the
exciting greatest number of them by friction, as glass, precious
electricity. stones, silk, sulphur, sealing-wax, amber, &c. j some
by melting, and being allowed to cool, as sulphur,
wax ; or simply by heating or cooling, as the tourmalin ;
some by changing of form, and others l>y the contact
of dissimilar bodies. We shall here give an account
of the general appearances exhibited by the principal
electrics when excited in these several modes.
Friction, as we have observed, is the usual method
11
Friction
of exciting electrics. These may be rubbed either by
other electrics, or by conductors j in some cases they
are best excited by being rubbed with the most per¬
fect conductors. Thus glass rubbed with silk exhibits
signs of electricity ; but these are much stronger, it
the silk be covered with some metallic substance, as
an amalgam of zinc. Dust or moisture is found very
much to diminish the excitability of electrics j but oil
or any fat substance increases it.. The appearances
shown by electrics excited by friction, differ somewhat
according to the nature of the electric, and the sub¬
stance employed as a rubber j we shall describe the
most remarkable of them, as they will serve to illus¬
trate and explain the experiments which are afterwards
to be introduced.
Chap. I. Of the Phenomena produced by excited Glass.
Phenomena Dr William Gilbert, a native of Colchester in Es-
froni excit- sex, and a physician in London, who published, in tbe
ed glas*. year 1600, a valuable treatise “2)e Magnete,'1'1 was the
first, we believe, who observed the electrical piopeity
of glass when rubbed j but he discovered little moie
than that like amber it attracted and repelled light
bodies. He found that the most transparent glass was
*Qitberi cte - - - - * • * "T i ‘•,-
tise on electricity, made the first rational experiments MrHal(l
on the electric power of glass. He observed thatsbee’se:
when the air within the globe was considerably rare-penment
fied, a strong light appeared in the inside on applying
his hand to the globe, and when the air was restored
to its natural density, a light appeared also on the out¬
side, appearing as if sticking to his fingers or other
bodies held near the globe.
Having exhausted another globe of glass, he observ¬
ed, that on bringing this near his excited globe, a
light appeared within the former, and became very
brilliant if the exhausted globe was kept in motion, but
died away in a short time if it was suffered to remain
at He ’coated more than half of the inside of a globe
with sealing-wax of various thickness, and after exhaust¬
ing the globe, he set it in motion. On applying his
hand as a rubber, he was surprised to see the exact
shape of his hand appearing on the concave surface ot
the wax, and that even where the coating of wax was
interposed between his hand and the opposite side,
though the wax was in some places an eighth of an
inch in thickness.
Pitch or common sulphur melted answered as well as
wax, but he could not produce these appearances by
using melted flowers of sulphur. When he employed
a very thick coating of common sulphur, he observed
that there was a much greater light within the glohe
but he could not so easily distinguish the figure ot his
On admitting a small quantity of air into the globe,
the light diminished, and on the coating of sealing wax
it entirely disappeared. While the globe continue ex¬
hausted, the coated part of it showed some attraction
for light bodies, but if there was no wax, the globe
would not attract at all ; on admitting the air, the
power of attraction was greater on the coated than on
the uncoated part. * . . . . .
Glass in any form is capable of excitation, but it
more easy, as well as more convenient, to employ a vessel r\
or plate of glass than a solid rod or mass ot that
tlagnete,
' the best electric*. In the beginning of the eighteenth
it.
century, Mr Hawkesbee, the author of the first trea-
stance j and the thinner the vessel or plate is, the ni°re^
easily is it excited. When a tube, plate, or vessel ot
glass is excited, it is found that one side is e
tiap. I. ELECT
eneral positively anil tlie other negatively. Both smooth and
| aomena rough glass may he employed to produce electrical phe-
[Uy—' nomena, but they require different rubbers. The best
rubber for smooth glass is black oiled silk spread with an
amalgam of zinc, made in the proportion of four or five
parts of mercury to one of zinc. The best rubber for
rough glass is soft new flannel. The amalgam of zinc
may be most conveniently made in the following man¬
ner. Place the zinc over the fire in an iron ladle ; and
when the ladle is red hot, put a small quantity of tal¬
low or suet on the zinc, which will immediately melt.
It is best not to allow the zinc to melt without the ad¬
dition of some fatty matter, as this metal is very easily
oxidated or calcined, and thus a great part of it would
be rendered unfit for the required purpose j this in¬
convenience is prevented by the fat which covers the
surface of the melted metal, and protects it from the
action of the air. When the zinc is melted, add the
mercury, previously heated to the degree of boiling
water j stir the mixture a little, and allow it to cool.
Lastly, rub it well in a glass mortar, so as to unite
the fat with it, which will prevent it from becoming
hard by keeping, and will also preserve it longer from
oxidation.
Mr Canton, the first person who employed an amal¬
gam to increase the effect of friction on glass tubes,
used one formed of two parts of mercury and one
of tin-foil, with the addition of a little chalk. Mr
Wilcke found that a piece of woollen cloth spread with
a little wax formed a very powerful rubber for smooth
glass. The best rubber for rough glass is soft new
flannel.
Jieurial ^ ^ °',serve^ by Hawkesbee, that on
^ chorus, ^king mercury in a glass vessel, in the dark, a con¬
siderable light was produced, and that this was much
more remarkable when the air in the vessel was con¬
siderably rarefied. He called the light which he con¬
ceived to be emitted from the mercury, mercurial phos¬
phorus.
Mr Cavallo found that, by shaking mercury in a glass
tube hermetically sealed, and in which the air was
pretty much rarefied, the tube was sensibly electrified
on the outside ; but the electricity produced was not
constant, nor in proportion to the agitation. From this
observation he was led to make some experiments, the
t results of which are very curious.
C illo’s Prepared several tubes, such as are represented at
e'iments fig- 2. Plate CLXXXVII. about 31 inches long,
* glass somewhat less than half an inch in diameter, and about
P ! one-twentieth of an inch thick.
They were closed at one end, and contained each
three-fourths ol an ounce of mercury, winch being made
R 1 c 1 t y. 649
to boil, the air within the tube was rarefied, and the General
open end was then hermetically sealed. Having made Phenomena
the tube clean and a little warm, he caused the mercury ' 1 v
to flow from the one end to the other, by gently eleva¬
ting and depressing either end, alternately, while the
tube was held nearly in a horizontal position. The
tube was thus rendered electrical, but so that the end
where the mercury stood was electrified positively (c)
and all the remaining part of the tube negatively. If
the mercury was made to flow from the positive end to
the negative, by elevating the former, the end to which
it flowed became positive, while the rest of the tube ac¬
quired a negative electricity; but if in elevating the
positive end where the mercury stood, that end were
not touched with the hand, it became negative only in a
slight degree, and if the mercury was made to flow back
to it, and again retire from it, still without touching it,
it became positive; whereas by touching it while eleva¬
ting it, it was rendered strongly negative. The electric
power was always strongest at the positive end. The
electric power at either end was made much more ap¬
parent by coating each end for about two inches with
tin-foil, as represented in the figure, so that the tubes * CavaUo'*
would sometimes emit sparks on being brought near a
conductor •
We have seen (6.) that when an electric is once Durability
excited, it retains the electric power for some time.°^!'e c'ec"
Glass is one of the most remarkable electrics in thistl?cUy of
respect. S,ass-
Mr Canton procured some very thin glass balls, about
an inch and a half in diameter, with slender tubular
stems of eight or nine inches in length. He electrified
these balls in the inside, or semi-positively, and then
sealed the stems hermetically. On examining them af¬
ter some time, he found that they showed no signs of
electricity ; but on holding them at a small distance from
the fire, they became strongly electrical, and still more
so as they cooled. On repeatedly heating them, he
found that the electric power diminished, but it was not
impaired by keeping them for a week under water.
One of them, which he had heated several times be¬
fore immersing it in water, still retained a consider¬
able degree of electric power at the end of above a
month ; and even at the end of six years they had not
entirely lost it.
Mr Henley having electrified a small bottle, observed
that it showed signs of electricity seventy days after,
though it had stood all that time in a cupboard*.
On the ytb of February he excited a glass cylinder;
and from that time till the 10th of March following,
various methods were employed to destroy its electrici¬
ty. These always succeeded at the time, and the cylin¬
der
(c) The method of distinguishing between positive and negative electricity will be more fully explained here¬
after, as well as the modes in which either may be produced at pleasure. But it may be proper here to show a
simple mode of distinguishing these two states of the electric power, which may be done by means of the instiument
described in (8.). The electricity shown by excited polished glass was sa^d to be positive ; and it appeared that
the threads of the instrument separated when brought near an excited tube, as also when brought near excited
sealing-wax, the electricity of which is uegative. If, therefore, when the threads are made to diverge by excited
glass, they diverge still farther, or remain stationary, on being made to approach any other electrified body, the
electricity of this last is positive; but, if they collapse, it is negative. Again, if the threads, when made to diverge
by excited sealing-wax, diverge still farther, or remain stationary, on being made to approach another electrified
body, the electricity of this is negative ; but if they collapse, it is positive.
Vol. VII. Part II. f 4 N
650
ELECTRICITY.
Part [
General der lost all signs of electricity j but these signs returned
Phenomena again without any fresh excitation, and on the loth ot
  v  March the cylinder still retained considerable electric
power. The marks of electricity sometimes became
stronger or weaker, or even quite disappeared and re¬
turned, without any evident cause. The electricity was
generally strongest when the wind was northerly, or
when it had returned after having been destroyed by
flame ; it was generally weakest when there was a fire
in the room where it was kept, or when the door was
left open. He repeated the excitation, but not al¬
ways with the same success j for sometimes the cylin¬
der would lose all signs of electricity in a fortnight,
and at others in twelve hours, till it was again excited*.
Chap. II. Of the Phenomena produced by excited
Silk.
* Phil
Trans.
Ixvii.
Silk was first discovered to be an electric in the year
1729 by Mr Stephen Grey, while making experiments
with his friend Mr Wheeler. These gentlemen at¬
tempted to conduct the electric power to a great di¬
stance by means of silk lines, as Mr Grey had done be¬
fore by means of packthread j but they found that
the silk refused to conduct, but seemed rather to retain
the electric power. No experiments of any consequence
were however made on this substance, till 17591 when
Mr Symmer presented to the Royal Society a series of
observations which he had made on silk stockings.
He had been accustomed to wear two pairs of silk
stockings} a black and a white. When these were put
off both together, no signs of electricity appeared ; but
on pulling off the black ones from the white, he heard
a snapping or crackling noise, and in the dark per¬
ceived sparks of fire between them. To produce this
and the following appearances in great perfection, it
was only necessary to draw his hands several times
backward and forward over his leg with the stocking
upon it.
Suong at- W hen the stockings were separated and held at a di-
traction stance from each other, both of them appeared to be
amt repul- highly excited •, the white stocking positively, and the
sion be- y"ck negatiVe]y. When kept at a distance from each
titled C eC~ other, both appeared inflated to such a degree, that
stockings, they exhibited the entire shape of the leg. When two
black or two white stockings were held in one hand,
they repelled one another with considerable force, ma¬
king an angle of 30 or 35 degrees. W7hen a white
and black stocking were presented to each other, they
were mutually attracted 5 and if permitted, would rush
together with surprising violence. As they approach¬
ed, the inflation gradually subsided, and their attrac¬
tion of foreign objects diminished, but their attraction
of one another increased •, when they actually met,
they became flat, and joined close together like as many
folds of silk. When separated again, their electric
virtue was not in the least impaired for having once
met. These appearances they were capable of exhibiting
for a considerable time. When the experiment was
made with two black stockings in one hand, and two
white ones in the other, they were thrown into a strange
agitation, owing to the attraction between those of dit-
ferent colours, and the repulsion between those of the
same colour. This mixture of attractions and repul¬
sions made the stockings catch at each other at greater
distances than otherwise they would have done, and af- Genera
forded a very curious spectacle. fhvnoiae
When the stockings were suffered to meet, they
stuck together with considerable force. At first Mr
Symmer found that they required from one to I 2 ounces
to separate them. Another time they raised 17 ounces,
which was 20 times the weight of the stocking that
supported them j and this in a direction parallel to its
surface. When one of the stockings was turned inside
out, and put within the other, it required 20 ounces to
separate them j though at that time ten ounces were
sufficient when applied externally. Getting the black
stockings newly dyed, and the white ones washed, and
whitened in the fumes of sulphur, and then putting
them one within the other, with the rough sides toge¬
ther, it required three pounds three ounces to separate
them. With stockings of a more substantial make, the
cohesion was still greater. When the white stocking
was put within the black one, so that the outside of
the white was contiguous to the inside of the black,
they raised nine pounds wanting a few ounces •, and
when the two rough surfaces were contiguous, they
raised 15 pounds one pennyweight and a half. Cut¬
ting off the ends of the thread and the tufts of silk
which had been left in the inside of the stockings,
was found to be very unfavourable to these experi¬
ments.
Mr Symmer also observed, that pieces of white and
black silk, when highly electrified, not only cohered
with each other, but would also adhere to bodies with
broad and even polished surfaces, though these bodies
were not electrified. This he discovered accidental¬
ly, a stocking which he had thrown out of his hand,
having stuck to the paper-hangings of the room. He
repeated the experiment, and found it continue hang¬
ing near an hour. Having stuck up the black and
white stockings in this manner, he came w’ith another
pair highly electrified ; and applying the white to the
black, and the black to the white, he carried them off
from the wall, and each of them hanging to that which
had been brought to it. The same experiments held
with the painted boards of the room, and likewise with^
the looking-glass, to the smooth surface of which both ^
the white and the black silk appeared to adhere morejj part
• I,, a.1 1. „ I tl-ici m a ^
tenaciously than to either of the former*. iS
Similar experiments, but with a greater variety ofExperi-
circumstances, were afterwards made by Mr Cigna of^*°
Turin, upon white and black ribbons. He took two Mr ci J
white silk ribbons just dried at the fire, and extended
them upon a smooth plain, whether a conducting or
electric substance was a matter of indifference. He
then drew over them the sharp edge of an ivory ruler,
and found that both ribbons had acquired electricity
enough to adhere to the plain j though while they con¬
tinued there, they showed no other sign of it. When
taken up separately, they were both negatively electri¬
fied, and would repel each other. In their separation,
electric sparks were perceived between them ; but when
again put on the plain, or forced together, no light
was perceived without another friction. When by the
operation just now mentioned they had acquired the ne¬
gative electricity, if they were placed not upon the
smooth body on which they had been rubbed, but on a
rough conducting substance, they would, on their sepa¬
ration, show contrary electricities, which would again
disannear
ihap. II. ELECT
jjjeneral disappear on their being joined together. If they had
enoraena been made to repel each other, and were afterwards
forced together, and placed on the rough surface above
mentioned, they would in a few minutes be mutually
attracted ; the lowermost being positively and the up¬
permost negatively electrified.
If the two white ribbons received their friction up¬
on the rough surface, they always acquired contrary
electricities. The upper one was negatively, and the
lower one positively electrified, in whatever manner
they were taken off. The same change was instanta¬
neously produced by any pointed conductor. If two
ribbons, for instance, were made to repel, and the
point of a needle drawn opposite to one of them a-
long its whole length, they would immediately rush to¬
gether.
.The same means which produced a change of elec¬
tricity in a ribbon already electrified, would commu¬
nicate electricity to one which had not as yet received
it; viz. laying the unelectrified ribbon upon a rough
surface, and putting the other upon it ; or by holding
it parallel to an electrified ribbon, and presenting a
pointed conductor to it. He placed a ribbon that was
not quite dry under another that was well dried at the
fire, upon a smooth plain ; and when he had given
them the usual friction with his ruler, he found) that
in what manner soever they were removed from the
plain, the upper one was negatively and the lower
one positively electrified.—If both ribbons were black,
all these experiments succeeded in the same manner
as with the white. If, instead of the ivory ruler, he
made use of any skin, or a piece of smooth glass, the
event was the same; but if he made use of a stick of
sulphur, the electricities were in all cases the reverse of
what they had been before the ribbons were rubbed, ha¬
ving always acquired the positive electricity. When
he rubbed them with paper either gilt or not gilt, the
results were uncertain. When the ribbons were wrap¬
ped in paper gilt or not gilt, and the friction was made
upon the paper laid on the plain above mentioned, the
ribbons acquired both of them the negative electrici¬
ty. If the ribbons were one black and the other
white, whichever of them was laid uppermost, and in
whatever manner the friction was made, the black ge¬
nerally acquired the negative and the white the positive
electricity.
He also observed, that when the texture of the up¬
per piece of silk was loose, yielding, and retiform like
tnat of a stocking, so that it could move and be rub¬
bed against the lower one, and the rubber was of such
a nature as could communicate but little electricity to
glass, the electricity which the upper piece of silk ac¬
quired did not depend upon the rubber, but upon
the body on which it was laid. In this case, the black
was always negative and the white positive. But
when the silk was hard, rigid, and of a close tex-
tuie, and the rubber of such a nature as would have
imparted a great degree of electricity to glass, the
electricity of the upper piece depended on the rub¬
ber. 'I bus, a white silk stocking rubbed with gilt
paper upon glass became negatively, and the glass po¬
sitively, electrified. But if a piece of silk of a firmer
texture was laid upon a plate of glass, it was always
electrified positively, and the glass negatively, if it was
R I C I T Y.
651
rubbed with sulphur, and for the most part if it was Ccncrnl
rubbed with gilt paper. Phenomena
If an electrified ribbon was brought near an insulated v'-”—'
plate of lead, it was attracted, but very feebly. On
bringing the finger near the lead, a spark was observed
between them, the ribbon was vigorously attracted,
and both together showed no signs of electricity. On
the separation of the ribbon, they were again electri¬
fied, and a spark was perceived between the plate and
the finger.
When a number of ribbons of the same colour were
laid upon a smooth conducting substance, and the ruler
was drawn over them, he found, that when they were
taken up singly, each of them gave sparks at the place
where it vvas separated from the other, as did also the
last one with the conductor; and all of them were ne¬
gatively electrified. If they were all taken from the
plate together, they cohered in one mass, which was
negatively electrified on both sides. If they were laid
upon the rough conductor, and then separated singly,
beginning with the lowermost, sparks appeared as be¬
fore, but all the ribbons were electrified positively, ex¬
cept the uppermost.—If they received the friction upon
the rough conductor, and were all taken up at once,
all the intermediate ribbons acquired the electricity,
either of the highest or lowest, according as the sepa¬
ration was begun with the highest or the lowest. If
two ribbons were separated from the bundle at the same
time, they clung together, and in that state showed no
sign of electricity, as one of them alone would have
done. When they were separated, the outermost one
had acquired an electricity opposite to that of the bun¬
dle, hut much weaker.
A number of ribbons were placed upon a plate of
metal to which electricity was communicated by means
of a glass globe, and a pointed conductor held to th«
other side ol the ribbons. The consequence was, that
all of them became possessed of the electricity oppo¬
site to that of the plate, or of the same, accord¬
ing as they were taken off; except the most remote,
which always kept an electricity opposite to that of the
Plate *• * Mem. of
the Acad. of
Chap. III. Of the Phenomena produced by excited lor
Paper. I7°3'
1. When a single leaf of writing paper, after being Lrx f
warmed, is laid on a table, and rubbed briskly with amenuoa
piece of India rubber, it becomes strongly electrical ; paper,
on attempting to remove it from the table, it is found
to adhere as if it were besmeared with some gluey sub¬
stance ; and if, before it is quite separated, it be suf¬
fered to return to the table, it will fly back with consi¬
derable force, and adhere almost as strongly as at first.
2. On separating it from the table immediately after
rubbing, it will be strongly attracted by the table or
any substance presented to it, and remain in contact for
a considerable time.
3. When the knuckle is presented to the paper on its
being first taken from the table, a snapping noise is
heard, which is more perceptible if the knuckle be made
to pass successively over different parts of the paper. If
this experiment is made in the dark, sparks will be seen
to accompany the snapping noise.
4 N 2 4. On
65
ELECT
Gctc„, 4. 0„ employing a ,louUe p.ece, or two pieces of
Phenomena paper, these appearances will be tncreased. On at-
' v ' tempting to separate the two pieces of paper, they are
I'ooml to adhere closely together, and their separation
is accompanied with a crackling noise, similar to that
produced by the application of the knuckle, but not so
}ouil When quite separated, on being brought again
within some inches of each other they are strongly and
mutually attracted, and if, while separated, one of them
be held between the other and some contiguous sub¬
stance it will be alternately attracted by that substance,
and the other piece, according as it is nearer the one or
the other. . . ,
c Placing a piece of clean new flannel between the
paper and the table, or between the folds of the paper,
does not diminish the electrical appearances produced *,
but rubbing the paper with flannel produces no remark¬
able signs of electricity. .
6. It is not necessary that the paper be rubbed on a
table to produce these appearances; a book will answer
as well, but with this difference, that if the book be in
boards, the paper will produce no crackling when the
knuckle is applied to it ; but when the paper is double,
the separation of the folds will be attended with the
same crackling as before ; whereas when the book is
bound in leather, a single sheet when rubbed will pro¬
duce the crackling on the application of the knuckle,
■while the double piece will produce it only when its
folds are separated. The adhesion of the paper to the
books is in both cases much slighter than its adhesion to
the table, and in the case of the bock in boards it is
scarcely perceptible. # , , , •
7. White paper of all kinds is capable of producing
these appearances, when rubbed with caoutchouc ;
but blotting paper whether white or red produces them
in a very inferior degree, probably on account of the
weakness of its texture not allowing it to be rubbed with
sufficient force.
In general, the stouter the texture of the paper, the
stronger are the sparks and the attraction.
8. Paper does not retain its electricity for any great
length of time; in general, it ceases to show any re¬
markable signs of electric power about 10 or 15 minutes
after being excited.
9. Other substances besides caoutchouc may be em¬
ployed as rubbers for the excitation of paper, espe¬
cially the dry hand, but none succeed so well as caout-
The electric property of paper was first discovered by
Mr Grey. The paper employed by him was the kind
railed white pressing paper, which is of the same nature
with card paper. Not only did this paper, when made
as hot as his fingers could bear, produce a light when
drawn briskly through his fingers ; but when his fingers
were held near it, a light issued from them also, attend-
* Vhit. with a crackling noise*.
Trans. Abr. £HAp< jy. phenomena produced by the Tourmalin,
'w■ 9* and some other earthy minerals.
Tourmalin The electrical power of this stone, so far at least as
the lyncu- respects its attraction of light bodies, was known to the
rium of the
ancients.
R I C I T Y. Part
ancients; as Theophrastus speaks of a stone, by him GetierJ
called lyncurium, which agrees in all respects with the Phenoim
tourmalin, and which he says attracted straws, ashes,'■“■"“v'—j
and even small cuttings of iron and copper. . 11 I
Nothing more seems to have been known of this stone Experi-
among the moderns till the year 1756, when M. ^Epi*™^
nus made a set of experiments on it, which were print-^ the (;)
ed in the History of the Academy of Sciences and(je No),<
Belles Lettres of Berlin for that year. Mr Car:
In 1758, the due de Noya, in conjunction with
Daubenton and Adamson, made some experiments on
the tourmalin, but they do not seem to have been so ac¬
curate as those of M. ^Epinus.
Soon after this stone was introduced to the notice of
the English, by Dr Heberden, who procured from Hol¬
land several, with which iEpinus’s experiments were
repeated by Messrs Wilson and Canton.
But a more complete series of experiments on the
tourmalin were made by Dr Priestley, and of these we
shall here give a detailed account, as they comprise
nearly all that is known or. the subject, till it was taken
up by M. Haiiy.
I. To ascertain the kind of electricity produced, he
had always at hand a stand of baked wood with four
arms projecting from it. Three of these were of glass,
having threads of fine silk as it comes from the worm
fastened to them, and at the end of each thread a small
piece of down. From the other arm hung a fine thread
about 9 or 10 inches long, while a brass arm suspend¬
ed a pair of pith-balls. At the other extremity of
this arm, which was pointed, a jar could be placed, to
receive the electricity, and by the repulsive power of
it keep the halls equally diverging with positive or ne¬
gative electricity ; or sometimes he suspended the balls
in an uninsulated state within the influence of large
charged jars : and lastly, he had always a fine thread of
trial at hand, by which he could discover whether the
stone was electrical or not before he began his expeu-
ments (d). .
2. Before he began any experiments on the stone,
also, he never failed to try how long the fine threads,
which he used as electrometers, would retain their vir¬
tue ; and found this to be various in various, cases.
When the threads were capable of retaining their elec¬
tric virtue for a few minutes, he preferred them ; hut
when this was not the case, he had recourse to the
feathers, which never failed to retain it for several hours.
They might be touched without any sensible loss of
power, though they received their virtue very slowly.
In the experiments now to be related, he made use 0
Dr Heberden’s large tourmalin, whose convex side be¬
came positive and the flat side negative in cooling ; and
in all of them, when the positive or negative side of the
tourmalin is mentioned, it is to be understood that
which is positive or negative in cooling.
3. From Mr Wilcke’s experiments on the produc¬
tion of spontaneous electricity, by melting one sub-
stance within another, he first conjectured that the
tourmalin might collect its electricity from the neigh¬
bouring air t To determine which the following expcri
meirt was made. Part of a pane of glass was laid on
the
(d) Dr Priestley’s method will be better understood, after the reader has perused Chap. I. HI. and XHL of
Part III.
tap. IV. . ELECT
I neral the standard bar of an excellent pyrometer, and upon
taomena that glass the tourmalin was placed. This bar was
heated by a spirit lamp, so that the increase or de¬
crease of heat in the tourmalin could thus be exactly
determined. In this situation he observed, that when¬
ever he examined the tourmalin, the glass had acquired
an electricity contrary to that side of the stone which
lay upon it, and equally strong with it. If, for ex¬
ample, the flat side of the stone had been presented to a
feather electrified positively, as the heat was increa¬
sing, it would repel it at the distance of about two inch¬
es, and the glass would attract it at the same or a
greater distance ; and when the heat was decreasing,
the stone would attract, and the glass repel it at the
distance of four or five inches. The case was the same
whichever of the sides was presented, as well as when
a shilling was fastened with sealing-wax upon the glass j
the electricity both of the shilling and glass being al¬
ways opposite to that of the stone. When it came to
the turn, the electricity was very quickly reversed j so
that in less than a minute the electricity would be con¬
trary to what it was before. In some cases, however,
viz. where the convex surface of the tourmalin was laid
upon the glass or shilling, both of these became positive
as well as the stone. This he supposed to be owing to
the stone touching the surface on which it lay only in
a few points, and that its electricity was collected from
the air j which supposition was verified : for, getting a
mould of Paris plaster made for the tourmalin, and heat¬
ing it in the mould, fastened to a slip of glass, he always
found the mould and glass possessed of an electricity
contrary to that of the stone, and equally strong with it.
During the time of cooling, the mould seemed to be
sometimes more strongly negative than the stone was
positive; for once, when the stone repelled the thread
at the distance of three inches, the mould attracted it
at the distance of nearly six.
4. On substituting another tourmalin instead of the
piece of glass j it was observed, that when one of the
tourmalins was heated, both of them were electrified as
much as the tourmalin and glass had been. If the ne¬
gative side of a hot tourmalin was laid upon the nega¬
tive side of a cold one, the latter became positive, as
would have been the case with a piece of glass. On
heating both the tourmalins, though fastened together
by cement, they acquired the same power that they
would have done in the open air.
5. As the tourmalins could not in this case touch in
a sufficient number of points, it was now thought pro¬
per to vary the experiment by cooling the tourmalin
in contact with sealing-wax, which would fit it with
- the utmost exactness. On turning the stone, when cold,
out of its waxen cell, it was found positive, and the
wax negative *, the electricity of the stone being thus
contrary to what would have happened in the open air.
The other side, which was not in contact with the wax,
acquired the same electricity that it would have done
though the stone had been heated in the open air; so
that both sides now became positive. In like manner
the positive side of the stone, on being cooled in wax,
became negative.
6. On attempting to ascertain the state of the dif¬
ferent sides of the tourmalin during the time it was
heating in wax, many difficulties occurred. It was
found impossible in these cases to know exactly when
R I C I T Y. 653
the stone begins to cool; besides, that in this me- General
thod of treatment it must necessarily be some time in Phenomena
the open air before it can be presented to the elec- 1 v—■ '
trometer ; and the electricity of the sides in heating
is by no means so remarkable as in cooling. In the
experiments made with the tourmalin, when its positive
side was buried in wax, it was generally found nega¬
tive, though once or twice it seemed to he positive.
On cooling it in quicksilver contained in a china cup,
it always came out positive, and left the quicksilver-
negative ; but this effect could not be concluded to be
the consequence of applying the one to the other, be¬
cause it is almost impossible to touch quicksilver with¬
out some degree of friction, which never fails to make
both sides strongly positive though it be quite cold,
and especially if the stone be dipped deep into it. At
last, supposing that the stone would not be apt to re¬
ceive any friction by simple pressure against the palm
of the hand, he was induced to make the experi¬
ment, and found it fully to answer his expectations ;
for thus, each side of the stone was affected in a man¬
ner directly contrary to what would have happened in
the open air..
7. Fastening the convex side of the large tourmalin
to the end of a stick of sealing wax, and pressing it
against the palm of the hand, it acquired a strong ne¬
gative electricity, contrary to what would have hap¬
pened in the open air. Thus it continued till it had
acquired all the power it could receive by means of the
heat of the hand ; after which it began to decrease,
though it continued sensibly negative to the very last.
On allowing the stone to cool in the open air, its ne¬
gative power constantly increased till it became quite
cold.
8. On heating the same flat side by means of a hot
poker held near it, and then just touching it with the
palm of the hand when so hot that it could not be borne
for any length of time, it became positive. Letting it
cool in the air it became negative, and on touching it
again with the hand it became positive ; and thus it
might be made alternately positive and negative for a
considerable time. At last, when it became so cool
that the hand could bear it, it acquired a strong positive
electricity, which continued till it came to the same de¬
gree of heat.
9. The wax was removed from the convex, and fast¬
ened to the flat side of the stone ; in which circumstan¬
ces it became weakly positive, after receiving all the
heat the hand could give it. On letting it cool in the
open air it grew more strongly positive, and continued
so till it was quite cold ; and thus the same side became
positive both with beating and cooling.
10. On beating the convex side by means of a poker,
and pressing it against the palm ot the hand as soon as
it could he borne, it became pretty strongly negative;
though it is extremely difficult to procure any appear¬
ance of negative electricity from this side; and care
must be taken that a slight attraction of the electrified
feather, by a body not electrified, be not mistaken for
negative electricity.
11.. On covering the tourmalin when hot with oil
and.tallow, no new appearances were produced ; nor
did the heating of it in boiling oil produce any other
effect than lessening the electricity a little; and the
event was the same when the tourmalin was covered with
cement
654- ELECT
General cement made of bees-wax and turpentine. On making
Phenomena a small tourmalin very hot, and dropping melted seal-
■“■“"■v—ing-wax upon it, so as to cover it all over to the thick-
nes of a crown piece, it was found to act through this
' coatino- nearly, if not quite, as well as if it had been ex¬
posed to the open air. Thus a pretty deception may he
made : for if a tourmalin be inclosed in a stick of wax,
the latter will seem to have acquired the properties of
the stone.
12. On letting the stone cool in the vacuum of an
air-pump, its virtue seemed to be diminished about one
half, owing no doubt to the vacuum not being sufficient¬
ly perfect.
13. On fixing a thin piece of glass opposite and pa¬
rallel to the flat side of the tourmalin, and about a quar¬
ter of an inch distance from it, in an exhausted re¬
ceiver, the glass was so slightly electrified, that it
could not be distinguished whether it was positive or
negative.
14. On laying the stone upon the standard bar of
the pyrometer, and communicating the heat to it by
means of a spirit lamp, it was extremely difficult to
determine the nature of the electricity while the heat
was increasing to 70° 5 during which time the index of
the pyrometer moved about one 7200th part of an inch.
But if the stone was taken off the bar, and an electri¬
fied thread or feather presented to that side which had
lain next it, the convex side was always negative, and
the flat one positive.
14. To determine what would be the effect of keep¬
ing the tourmalin in the very same degree of heat for a
considerable time together, it was laid upon the middle
of the bar, to which heat was communicated by two
spirit lamps, one at each extremity; and making the
index move 45 degrees, it was kept in the same degree
for half an hour without the least sensible variation ; and
it was observed, that the upper side, which happened
to be the convex one, was always electrified in a small
degree, attracting a fine thread at the distance of about
a quarter of an inch. If in that time it was taken off
the bar, though ever so quick, and an electrified feather
presented to it, the flat side, which lay upon the bar,
was negative, and the upper side very slightly positive,
which appeared only by its not attracting the feather.
On putting a piece of glass between the stone and stan¬
dard bar, keeping it likewise in the same degree of heat,
and for the same space of time as before, the result was
the same $ the glass was slightly electrified, and of a kind
opposite to that of the stone itself. To avoid the in¬
convenience of making one side of the stone hotter than
another, which necessarily took place when it was heat¬
ed on the pyrometer, the following method was used.
By means of two rough places which happened to he
in the stone, it was tied with a silk thread which
touched only the extreme edge of it; and thus being
perfectly insulated, it might be held at any distance from
a candle, and heated to what degree was thought ne¬
cessary } while, by twisting the string, it was made to
present its sides alternately, and thus the heat was ren¬
dered very equal in both. After being made in this
manner so hot that the hand could scarce bear it, it
was kept in that situation for a quarter of an hour.
Then, with a bundle of fine thread held for some time
before in the same heat, the electricity which it had
acquired by heating was taken off, and it was found
4
R I C I T Y. Part <
to acquire very little, if any ) whence appeared the Gene,,
justness of an observation of Mr Canton’s, that it is Phenoie,
the change of heat, and not the degree of it, that pro- 1
duces the electric property of this stone.
15. On heating the stone suddenly, it may sometimes
be bandied and pressed with the fingers several times
before any change takes place in the electricity which
it acquires by heating, though it begins to cool the
moment it is removed from the fire. In this case,
however, the stone must be heated only to a small de¬
gree. When the heat is three or four times as great
as is sufficient to change the electricity of the two sides,
the virtue of the stone is the strongest, and appears to
be so when it is tried in the very neighbourhood of the
fire. In the very centre of the fire the stone never
fails to cover itself with ashes attracted to it from every
quarter j whence it acquired its name in Dutch.
16. The tourmalin often changes its electricity very
slowly ; and that which it acquires in cooling never
fails to remain many hours upon it with very little di¬
minution. It is even possible, that in some cases the
electricity acquired by heating may be so strong as to_
overpower that which is acquired by boiling; so that
botli sides may show the same power in the whole ope¬
ration. “ I am very certain (says the doctor), that in
my hands both the sides of Dr Heberden’s large tourma¬
lin have frequently been positive for several hours toge¬
ther, without any appearance of either of them having
been negative at all. At this time I generally heated
the tourmalin, by presenting each side alternately to a
red hot poker, or a piece of hot glass, held at the dis¬
tance of about half an inch, and sometimes I held it in
the focus of a burning mirror •, but I have since found
the same appearance when I heated it in the middle of
an iron hoop made red hot. The stone in all these cases
was fastened by its edge to a stick of sealing-wax. This
appearance I have observed to happen the oftenest when
the iron hoop has been exceedingly hot, so that the
outside of the stone must have been heated some time
before the inside 5 and also I think there is the greatest
chance of producing this appearance, when the convex
side of the stone is made the hotter of the two. When
I heat the large tourmalin in this manner, I seldom fail
to make both sides of the stone positive till it be about
blood-warm. 1 then generally observe a ragged part
of the flat side towards one end of the stone become
negative first, and by degrees the rest of the flat side, * PrwsnjL j
but very often one part of the flat side will, in this
thod of treatment, be strongly positive half an hour af-j^™1 '
ter the other part is become negative*.” 22 j
M. Hauy lias found that the state of electrical ex-Diseove|'
citation diminishes from the summits or poles towardsofM.H ■ 1
the middle of the crystal, where it is almost nothing.
This is shown by the action of these different parts on
an insulated electrified needle, this instrument being
attracted by one end, and repelled by the other, but not
affected at all, or with a weak and uncertain motion, at
the middle. When an uninsulated needle is employed
it is attracted by either end. The ends show opposite
states of electrical excitement, and the middle is neu¬
tral. Near each end there is a point in which the ex¬
citement is strongest, and which is a sort of focus for
it. When a light body, e. g. a thread, electrified
positively, is brought near the positive end, it is repel¬
led, but is attracted by the negative end j and there is
another
ip.
IV.
ieral another fact which at first appears anomalous, that
ipmena when brought near the focus of positive excitement it
n
is attracted by that point. The reason is, that from
that point to the middle of the crystal, the electricity,
though positive, is counteracted in its effects by the
neutral state of the middle of the crystal, as well as by
the contrary electricity of its other extremity. A
tourmalin is to be heated for these experiments by
being taken in long pincers by the middle, and brought
near a hot coal or a flame, or dipped for one or two
minutes in hot water. Still held in this manner, it is
to be presented to the diffei-ent bodies on which its
action is to be tried. When we wish it to preserve its
electricity for a length of time, we place it on a little
glass support. It is at temperature between loo0 and
212° that the tourmalin exhibits these properties.
When raised higher it loses them, and sometimes ac¬
quires a contrary electrical state ; that end which was
positive becoming negative, and the contrary.
If a tourmalin is broken during its electrical state,
each fragment has its two extremities in opposite states
of electricity, showing a striking similarity to a number
of magnets.
M. Hauy found, that the vitreous or positive elec¬
tricity was seated in -that end which had most numerous
plane surfaces. But the difference in this particular is
often so slight, that it would not strike the eye on
examining the form of the crystal, unless minutely at¬
tended to for the express purpose of drawing a conclu¬
sion regarding the distribution of its electricity in an ex¬
cited state. That eminent mineralogist observed, that
it followed certain differences in the decrements of the
apposition of the integrant particles to constitute the
secondary forms.
The transparent tourmalins are those in which the
electrical powers now described are most conspicuous,
but the green and dark varieties also possess it. The
black tourmalin or black schorl possesses them in the
weakest degree.
The Brasilian topaz has similar electrical properties
to those of the tourmalin. This was discovered by
Mr Canton. M. Hauy has found the topaz of Siberia
to be possessed of the same properties. Those of
Saxony do not become electrical by heat, but are ex¬
cited by the slightest friction with the linger. Even
the handling of one produces this effect, and gives it
the appearance of being constantly electrical. In dry
weather it retains its electricity for half an hour.
M. Hauy found electrical properties also developed
by borate of magnesia when heated, but subjected to
different laws from those of the tourmalin, the points
of negative and those of positive excitement being more
numerous, and alternating with one another on the sur¬
face. This, however, turned out to be in conformity
with the difference of crystallization. The tourmalin
has only one axis. The borate of magnesia, being a
cube, has four which pass through opposite solid angles.
Each axis has a positive and a negative extremity, the
negative being at that end at which the angles are com¬
plete, and the positive at that which has them defec¬
tive.
Thus nature affords us minute electrical machines,
which, though less striking in their effects than those
of art, are found on examination to be more delicate
and interesting.
ELECTRICITY. 655
Mesotype, when heated, becomes positively electri- General
fied in the terminated summit, and negatively on the Phenomena
extremity which is detached from the mass to which it ' " 1
belonged.
Crystallized oxide of zinc, or calamine, becomes elec¬
trical by being exposed for two or three seconds to a
lire or the flame of a lamp, and retains that state for
several hours after it has been cooled.
Chap. V. Phenomena produced by excited Sulphur.
Sulphur is one of those electrics which may be made Expen-
to exhibit electrical appearances by being melted and menu on
suffered to cool again. Hr Gilbert had shown that sul-su^P^tw hy
phur might be rendered electric by friction j but the M' Wi‘cte*
first person who demonstrated its excitability by melt¬
ing, was Mr Wilcke of Rostoch in Lower Saxony,
who first called this spontaneous electricity.
He melted some crude sulphur in an earthen vessel,
and left it to cool after placing the vessel on a conduct¬
ing substance. On taking out the sulphur when cool,
he found it strongly electrical, but this was not the
case when the vessel was placed on an electric.
He then melted sulphur in glass vessels, and found
that both the glass and the sulphur became electrical,
hut the former acquired a positive, and the latter a ne¬
gative electricity. When glass vessels were employed,
it did not matter whether they were placed on electrics
or conductors, except that the electricity produced was
stronger in the former case, and still stronger when the
glass was coated with some metallic substance. The
electricity of the sulphur was not produced till it began
to contract, and was the strongest when the greatest de¬
gree of contraction had taken place. The electricity of
the glass was always weakest when that of the sulphur
was strongest, and the former was the strongest possible
when the sulphur was shaken o>ut before it had begun
to contract. A silk thread, or a stick of glass, should
he inserted in the sulphur, while fluid, to serve as a
handle.
He found that when melted sulphur was poured into
vessels of rough glass, or into hollowed cakes of sulphur,
no electricity was produced.
Mr Wilcke also made experiments of the same kind
with melted sealing-wax, and found that when this
was left to cool in vessels of smooth glass or of wood,
the sealing-wax acquired a negative, and the glass or
wood a positive electricity 5 but when it was cooled in
cups of sulphur, the sealing-wax became electrified po-1 **
sively, and the sulphur negatively+.
iEpinus made some experiments by cooling melted ^pinus’s
sulphur in metal cups. On examining them after theeJiPeii-
sulphur was cold, he found that while the sulphur re.nienU”
mained in the cups neither of them showed any signs of
electricity j but the moment they were separated, both
appeared strongly electrical. The marks of electricity
disappeared, however, on replacing the sulphur in the
cups, and returned on their being again separated.
When separated, the sulphur was electrified positively,
and the cups negatively j but if, before replacing the
sulphur in the cups, the electricity of either was taken
off’, the sulphur and cups, when together, would show
signs of that electricity that had not been taken off1 J. f Mpini
It must be remarked here, that though the electricity Tentamen.
of the sulphur, sealing-wax, &c. in the above experi¬
ments
656 E
General n'.ents appears to be the consequence of the,r cool,ng
Phenomena after being melted, it is in fact excited by a degree
1 v   friction which these substances undergo by their con-
traction while cooling in the cups, or by being touched
with the hand in making the experiment-, lor it is
found that if they are cooled under circumstances that
prevent all friction, a very small degree of which is
sufficient to excite these bodies, no electricity is pro¬
duced. This appears from experiments made by M.
M. Van Mavum and Van Troostwyck, for the purpose
of ascertaining this point, an account of which is con¬
tained in the 33d volume of Rozier’s Journal, to which
we must refer our readers. ,
The durability of the electric power in excited sul-
of the elec-phur is so remarkable, that Mr Grey, from some ex-
tdc power periments which he made on this and similar siibstan-
in sulphur ce8^ was iej to suppose it perpetual. In particular, he
poured melted sulphur into a conical drinking-glass,
and when it was cold he found, that on taking off the
glass the sulphur never failed to attract light bodies,
and that in every state of the atmosphere j and in fair
weather the glass would also attract.
Mr Henley, who repeated Mr Grey’s experiments,
savs, he has never known the sulphur fail of showing
signs of electricity on the removal of the glass.
Although it be true that sulphur, as well as rosin,
sealing-wax, amber, and silk, retain the electric power
for a considerable time, this is, however, continually
diminishing, and at length disappears altogether.
Other substances, as well as sulphur and sealing-wax,
become electrical by cooling after being melted. Mr
Henley observed that chocolate, when first from the
mill, as it cools in the tin pans into which it is re¬
ceived, becomes strongly electrical, and retains this
property for some time after being taken out of the
but loses it by handling. If melted again, and
lectricity.
Part
18
Electricity
of choco¬
late.
pans, ......   -j  o # # •
left to cool as before, its electricity returns, though m
a less degree ; and thus it may be renewed once or
twice, but still in a much smaller degree than before.
But if before pouring it into the pan, it be well mixed
with a little olive oil, it becomes again strongly elec¬
trical. Chaptal observed the same phenomena during
the congelation of the glacial phosphoric acid.
When a stick of sealing-wax is broken across, each
29
Sealing-       s> ---— “ . . , '
wax excit- piece becomes electrified at the extremities that were
ed by be¬
ing broken.
30 ,
Electricity
af wood
shavings.
the one positively and the other negative-
contiguous
iy-
When wood that is hard and pretty dry, is cut or
shaved, the shavings are rendered electrical. This
fact was observed by Mr William Wilson, who, from
a number of experiments, draws the following conclu¬
sions.
From these experiments it appears, that when very
dry wood is scraped with a piece of window glass, the
shavings are always positively electrified. And if chip¬
ped with a knife, the. chips are positively electrified if
the wood is hot, the edge of the knife not very sharp,
and negatively electrified if the wood is quite cold.
But if the edge of the knife is very keen, the chips
will be negatively electrified whether the wood is hot
or cold.
The greatest number of trials was made with the in¬
sulated knife, which was always electrified contrarily
to the chips j but the surface of the wood where the
chips were cut from was very seldom electrified, and
when it was, it was always but weakly so, and of the Gener
same denomination as that of the weakest of the other Plienoir
two. Mr Wilson repeatedly found that if a piece of w“v4
dry and warm wood is suddenly split asunder, the two
surfaces which were contiguous are electrified, one side
positive and the other negative. Muscovy talc, when
its laminae are suddenly torn apart, appears electrical,
and sometimes exhibits a bright flash of light. 31
Powders, either of electrics or conductors, are ren-Electri
dered electrical by dropping them on an insulated me-ofPomi'
tallic plate.
The method, as described by Mr Cavallo, is as fol-
Insulate a metal plate upon an electric stand, such
as a wine glass, and connect with it a cork-ball elec¬
trometer > then the powder required to be tried, being
held in a spoon, at about six inches above the plate, is
to be let fall gradually upon it. In this manner, the
electricity acquired by the powder, being communica¬
ted to the metal plate, and to the electrometer, is ren¬
dered manifest by the divergence of the threads ; and
its quality may be ascertained in the usual manner j
to be hereafter described.
“ It must be observed, that if the powder is of a con¬
ducting nature, like the amalgam of metals, sand, &c.
it must be held in some electric substance, as a glass
phial, a plate of sealing-wax, or the like. Sometimes
the spoon that holds the powder may be insulated ; in
which case, after the experiment, the spoon will be
found possessed of an electricity contrary to that of
the powder. #
“ In performing these experiments, care must be
taken to render the powders, and whatever they are
held in, as free from moisture as possible ; sometimes
it being necessary to make them very wrarm, otnerwise
the experiment is apt to fail. I be following are the
particulars which have been observed with this method,
which, however, are neither numerous, nor often re¬
peated ; but they may suffice to excite the curiosity of
those persons, who have leisure and the opportunity 0
repeating them more at large and in a greater variety.
“ Powder of rosin, whether it he let fall from paper,
Mass, or a metal spoon, electrifies the plate strongly
negative ; the spoon, if insulated, remaining strongly
positive. Flower of sulphur produces the same efiec|>
but in a little less degree. Pounded glass, let fall
from a piece of paper, made dry and warm, electrifies
the plate negatively, but not in so strong a degree as
rosin. If let fall from a brass cup, it electrifies the
plate positively, hut in a very small degree.
“ Steel filings let fall either from a glass phial or
paper, electrify the plate negatively J but brass filings,
treated in the same manner, electrify the plate positive¬
ly. The amalgam of tin-foil and mercury, gunpowder,
or very fine emery, electrify the plate negatively, when
they are let fall upon it from a glass phial. Quick¬
silver, from a glass phial, electrifies the plate positively.
“ Soot from the chimney, or the ashes of common
pit-coal mixed with small cinders, electrify the plate
negatively, when let fall from a piece of paper.”
M. Volta discovered, that when water and some Elect
other fluids are reduced to a state of vapour, y® °
throwing the fluid on some lighted coals placed in an
insulated crucible, the vapour shews signs of positive
electricity, while the coals it is leaving are J
3
flap.
metrical
aaratus.
33.
Itanic
ctricity.
I. ELECT
electrified j calomel, when it fixes by sublimation to
the upper part of a glass vessel, is found to be strongly
electrical j and hence it is concluded, that all fluids in
the act of evaporation become electrical, the vapour
being electrified positively, and the body which it is
leaving negatively ; and again, that when vapour be¬
comes condensed into a fluid, it becomes negatively
electrified, leaving the bodies with which it was last in
contact in a state of negative electricity.
Some conductors arranged in certain ways will pro¬
duce electrical appearances without friction, or com¬
munication with any electric except the air.
Thus if a plate of zinc, a plate of silver, or of cop¬
per, and a piece of woollen cloth moistened with some
saline solution, as of muriate of ammonia, be arranged
in the order we have mentioned one above another,
they will manifest signs of electricity, which will be the
stronger in proportion as the sets of metal and cloth
are more numerous.
The same appearances will be more manifest if the
metallic plates joined together be fixed in a trough at
B I C I T Y. 657
small distances, while the intermediate spaces are filled {Electrical
with the saline solution. Apparatus.
As the appearances produced by conductors arranged v—
in this way are of a peculiar nature, we shall refer the
consideration of them till we come to Galvanism.
The glass tube and the dry hand, mentioned in (l.),
constitute the most simple electrical apparatus of which
the essential parts are the electric and the rubber.
But for the purpose of experiment it is necessary to
have the electric of considerable size, furnished with
some proper substance which can always perform the
office of a rubber, and so firmly fixed as not to be
easily disturbed from its situation in the course of our
experimeqt. We shall then have what is called an
electrical machine.
As much of the success of electrical experiments de¬
pends on the proper construction and management of
the machine and its attendant apparatus, we shall here
give a pretty full account of the usual apparatus, be¬
fore we proceed in explaining the principles of the
science.
PART II.
OF ELECTRICAL APPARATUS.
Chap. I. 0/ the Construction of Electrical Ma¬
chines.
34
' itruc- WE shall first lay down the general principles on
V«f elec-which the construction of an electrical machine and the
adjusting of its several parts depend j and shall after¬
wards describe some of the more important machines
which are now in use.
The principal parts in an electrical machine are the
electric, the engine by which it is to be set in motion,
j- the rubber, and prime conductor.
iiiic. Several substances have, at various times, been em¬
ployed as electrics, as sulphur (e), rosin, polished glass,
and rough glass, and they have been used of various
forms, as globes, spheroids, cylinders, &.c. The reason of
this variety of form seems to be that experience had not
shown what form was the most convenient ; but the
different substances were employed for the purpose of
producing a positive or negative electricity, as the nature
of the experiment or the fancy of the operator might re¬
quire.
But as this purpose is better answered by insulating
the rubber, or allowing it to communicate freely with
conductors, polished glass is almost the only substance
at present employed as the electric of a machine.
Globes of glass are sometimes used, but the most con-
t venient forms are cylinders and plates.
The most convenient size for globes is from nine to
twelve inches diameter. They are made with one
neck, which is cemented to a strong brass cap, in order
to adapt them to a proper frame. The most conveni¬
ent cement for holding together the parts of electrical
apparatus is made by melting together, over a gentle
fire, two parts of rosin, two of bees-wax, and one of 37
powdered red ochre. The cement is much better than Cement for
rosin alone, as it serves the purposes of insulationelectrioal
equally well, and is much less brittle. Globes were8pparaU,S"
formerly much more used than at present j their great
advantage appears to be, that by making the electric re¬
volve on an axis nearly perpendicular, the upper part is
more completely insulated j but one great disadvantage
attends this motion, namely, that as the pressure is ap¬
plied at a distance from the fulcrum, it in time loosens
the adhesion of the strongest cement.
Plates of glass are much in fashion on the continent; Plate* of
and they seem to attribute to this form much of thegla«s*
wonderful power of their machines, as of that at Haar¬
lem, to he hereafter mentioned. Perhaps the greatest
advantage of plates is that the friction may be applied
to both surfaces at once ; but it may be doubted,
whether this be not an imaginary advantage, and this
form is attended with several material inconveniences ;
as, 1st, Plates cannot bear any great pressure of the
rubber; 2d, They cannot be insulated without very
complicated machinery ; 3d, As they are fixed by the
centre, and the friction is applied towards the circum¬
ference, if much force be employed, there will be great
danger
(e) The first person who constructed any thing like an electrical machine was Otto Guericke, burgomaster of
Magdebourg, who lived in the latter end of the 17th century. He formed a globe of sulphur by melting this
*ubstance in a glass globe, which he then broke away from it, little imagining that the glass itself would have an ¬
swered his purpose much better. Fid. Experimenta Masdebursica.
Vox.. VII. Part II. t 4 0
658
Kleclrical
Apparatus.
ELECTRICITY.
39
Cylinders
to be pre¬
ferred.
danger of breaking tbe plate, or at least of loosening
it, and thus disturbing the equability of its motions j
and athly They are much more expensive than any
other form, and hence, as they are much exposed to
injury, the replacing of them becomes a very serious
°!‘The ingenious Mr Cuthbertson has contrived to ob¬
viate some of these disadvantages, and his plate machines
are very conveniently managed, as well as very power¬
ful in their eft'ect.
On the whole, the cylindrical form seems preferable
to any other, and this is now almost universally em¬
ployed. The cylinders should be blown as light as
possible, consistently with sufficient strength, and their
surface should be as equable and free from knots or pro¬
tuberances as may be •, for these not only render the
cylinder more liable to be broken, but prevent the silk
of the rubber from being closely applied to every part
of the surface. To avoid these inequalities, the cylin¬
der should be blown at the time when the glass is in
the most complete state of fusion, and this is found to
he the case when the pot is about half emptied, which
happens at the London glass houses on Wednesdays and
Thursdays. ,
The cylinders are usually made of the best iiint-giass,
but it is not determined which is the most suitable
kind. In size they vary from eight inches long and
four in diameter, to two feet long and one foot in cia-
meter, which is perhaps as large as they can be conve¬
niently blown. Very small cylinders are, however, of
little use, and it may be doubted whether the diameter
should not be greater in proportion to their length than
what is above assigned. It is of great consequence that
the cylinders shouid be properly annealed, as when they
have been too suddenly cooled, they ansr apt to fly in
pieces in the act of whirling.
Cylinders are made with two necks; and the open¬
ings of these, or at least of one, shtmld be so wide as
to admit the hand to clean the inner surlace of the glass,
which is sometimes sullied by condensed vapour. Ihese
necks are cemented as above directed, to caps of brass,
which are much superior to wooden caps, as they may
be made much more smooth and equal.
Brass caps have been objected to on account of the
conducting power of the metal ; but this objection is
absurd, as the insulation depends on the distance be¬
tween the cap and the cushion, which, as will be men¬
tioned presently, should he as great as possible. Indeed
wood, if ever so well dried, is but a very imperfect in¬
sulator, and the hardest can never he so completely po¬
lished as a metallic substance. The brass cap should be
composed of two parts ; one a ring to be cemented round
the neck of the cylinder, with an aperture sufficient to
admit of the introduction of the hand within the glass,
and with a surface as extensive as possible, that the
adhesion of the cement may be the more complete; the
other a head or lid of brass completely polished, to be
screwed into the ring, and with an orifice into which
the winch, or the pin on which the other end of the cy¬
linder is supported, may be screwed.
Part 11!;
It has been thought of advantage to line the inside Eieotncai)
of tbe glass with some electric substance, as wax, rosin, Apparatm
&c.: this has been thought by some to increase the ex- v—-
citability of the glass. It seems ascertained, that ifCoatSgs,]]
such a coating does not make a good cylinder better, gioi)es g[1 Ji
it at least often improves a bad one. The composition cylinders
most approved for coating globes or cylinders is form¬
ed of four parts of Venice turpentine, one part of rosin,
and one of bees-wax, melted together and kept boiling
over a gentle fire for about two hours, with frequent
stirring. When a vessel is to be coated with this com¬
position, a sufficient quantity of it, broken into small
pieces, is to be put within the globe or cylinder, which
is then held to the fire to melt the composition ; and by
constantly turning it round, the coating is to be spread
equally over the surface to about the thickness of a six¬
pence. In doing this, care must be taken to heat the i
glass very gradually and equally, otherwise it is liable
to be broken during the operation. _ _ 41 1
The electric is set in motion either by a simple winch, Means of
or by means of multiplying wheels. The former, as moringtlal
being more simple, and consequently less liable to pro-cec'ric' '
duce disorder in the motion of the machine, is general¬
ly preferred. T-he handle of the winch is sometimes
made of glass, but this is unnecessary ; for the glass
does not shorten the interval which is most favourable
to the dispersion of the electric power.
Multiplying wheels were much more common form¬
erly than at present. The usual method of employing
these is, to fix a wheel on one side of the frame of the
machine, which is turned by a winch, and has a groove
round its circumference.
Upon the brass cap of the neck of the glass globe,
or one of the necks of the cylinder, is fixed a pulley,
whose diameter is about the third or fourth pait of the
diameter of the wheel : then a string or strap is put
over the wheel, and the pulley ; and by these means,
when the winch is turned, the globe or cylinder makes
three or four revolutions for one revolution of the
wheel. One inconvenience attending this construction,
is, that the string is apt to become so very slack, as
to prevent the machine from working. To remedy
this, the wheel should be made moveable with respect
to the electric, so that, by means of a screw, it may be
fixed at the proper distance ; or else the pulley should
have several grooves of different radii.
The chief advantage of multiplying wheels, is that
the arm of the operator is less fatigued by turning the
machine than when a simple winch is used ; and as by
these the motion of the electric is rendered quicker,
that its electric power is supposed to be proportionally
increased.
In some machines, instead of the pulley or string de¬
scribed above, a wheel and pinion are used, or a wheel
and an endless screw. This machinery requires con¬
siderable nicety in its construction, is apt to produce
an unpleasant rattling, and unless frequently oiled, the
constant friction of the parts against each other soon
wears them away, so as to render the motion unsteady. 41
The rubber (f), by which the electric is to be ex-Rubber.
cited,
(F) For a long time the only rubber employed was the dry hand of the experimenter, till the middle of the
38th century, when M. Winckler, professor at Leipsic, introduced the cushion. It was even long alter tlns^be-
fchap. I. ELECT
iceuical cited, consists of two parts. One part is a cushion,
liaparatu*. which is usually made of a piece of red basil skin, stuff-
—V—ed with hair or flannel. The cushion is either fixed
to a piece of wood well rounded at the edges, and
fastened to a support of glass, or some other insulating
substance *, or where two conductors are employed, it
is fixed to one of these. The cushion should be made
as hard as the bottom of an ordinary hair chair, and
so adapted to the surface of the cylinder, as to press
equally on it in every part. For this purpose it is ge¬
nerally provided with a spring, by which it is adapted
to any inequalities of the surface of the glass $ in the
usual construction of the cushion the spring is placed
without, but Mr Jones, instrument-maker in London,
made what he considers as a great improvement on the
mode of placing it. This consists in a spring placed
within the rubber itself j the action of which is found
to be better suited for adapting the rubber to the ine¬
qualities of the glass, than that placed entirely without
the rubber. It consists of a piece of flexible iron or
brass, represented edgewise by A, fig. 3. j and it is
evident that it acts in a much more parallel and uni¬
form manner than the former, which is constantly chang¬
ing the pressure of the line of contact betwixt the rub¬
ber and cylinder while it passes from the under to the
upper side, thus rendering the effect inconstant.
The length of the cushion should not exceed one-
third of the length of the cylinder j for if it were longer,
the insulation would be much less complete, since one
end of the conductor (when the rubber is fixed to a con¬
ductor) must always be nearer to the hand by two or
three inches than the cushion.
The other part of the rubber consists of a piece of
black Persian silk as broad as the length of the cushion,
and reaching from it over nearly one half of the cylin¬
der. It should be sewed upon a wire, bent at both
ends, and these ends are adapted to holes made on the
upper edge of the wood to which the cushion is fasten¬
ed ; or it may be glued to the edge of the cushion: but
the former mode of fixing it is to he preferred, as it
can then be easily removed.—This silk flap operates as
a continuation of the rubber, which, by partially main¬
taining the excited state of the glass, prevents the ten¬
dency of the acquired electricity to pass back into the
cushion.
The rubber should he insulated in the most perfect
manner ; as, when insulation is not required, it may be
easily taken cfi by a chain or wire hung upon it, and,
thus communicating with the earth or with any unelec¬
trified body*, hut where there is no contrivance for in¬
sulating the rubber, it is impossible to perform many of
R I C I T Y. 659
the most curious experiments. In short, to construct Electrical
the rubber properly, it must be made in such a manner, Apparatus,
that the side it touches in whirling may be as perfect a "V"'1
conductor as it can be made, in order to supply electri¬
city as quickly as possible j and the opposite part should
be as perfect a non-conductor as possible, in order that
none ot the electric power accumulated upon the glass
may return back to the rubber ; which has been found
to be the case when the latter was not made in a pro¬
per manner (g). ^,
Of late, a considerable improvement in the rubber Wolff’s ini-
has been made by M. Wolff, of Hanover. The con-ProVement
struction and advantage of his rubbers, as applied to lU J"
plate machine similar to that of Van Marum, of which
an account will be given in the sequel, is thus described
by the author in a paper in Gilbert’s Annalen det'Phi/-
sick for 102, and translated in Nicholson’s Journal, for
February 1804, from which we have copied them.
The four rubbers are made of dry walnut wood soak¬
ed in amber varnish, and are 5J- inches long, 1 £ broad,
and a little more than one quarter of an inch thick.
The metallic plate that communicates with the leather
covered with amalgam, is only inch broad, and
is fixed externally to the centre of the piece of wood.
Hie rubbers are pressed towards the glass by means of
a spring. They are covered with a piece of thick
woollen, upon which is a piece of fine neat’s leather,
After the leather is fastened to the wood, it is wetted,
and pressed between two boards, where it is kept till it
is again dry. Thus it is rendered very flat, and its
edge very sharp, and all its parts will apply to the sur¬
face of the glass. This piece of leather is covered with
another a little broader, the rough surface of which is
towards the glass, and its lower edge on the side to¬
wards which the plate moves $ and its upper edge on
the other side, from which the plate moves, being like¬
wise very sharp. The piece of silk is applied with ac¬
curacy to this leather. Before it is fastened on, it is
heated, and besmeared first with butter of cacao, then
with a large quantity of Kienmayer’s amalgam (h) j
and after it is fastened on, it is compressed in conjunc¬
tion with the wood, or pressed strongly against the
machine. The leather is next covered with amber var¬
nish, amalgam is spread over this, and after the varnish
is dry, it is smoothed with a burnisher. This is re¬
peated several times. The whole being very dry, and
the rubber being pressed so as to touch the glass in all
points, the leather coated with amalgam (l) is covered
with a piece of fine white paper, as long as the leather,
and half an inch broader, so as to cover the seam that
fastens the silk to the leather, and the paper is fasten¬
ed
fore electricians could be persuaded that any rubber was better than the clean dry human hand. \ id. Priestley's
Hist, part i. sect. 7.
(g) The improvement of the silk flap was first introduced by Dr Nooth. Vide Phil. Trans, vol. Ixiii.
(h) He adds to this amalgam as much silver, as the mercury can dissolve in conjunction with the zinc.
(1) The amalgam mentioned by M. Wolff is formed of two parts of mercury, one part of piirified ’zinc, and
one oipewter. The zinc and pewter are melted together, and, before the mixture is quite cool, the mercury
is added. The whole is then poured into a close box, shaken for some time, and left to cool on a marble slab.
When nearly cold, it is reduced to powder in a glass or earthen mortar, taking care not to triturate it so long as
to make it turn gray. The Baron de Kienmayer, the author of this amalgam, has given a particular account of
its preparation and uses in the 33d vol. of Rozier’s Journal, p. 96. <7. v.
4 O 2
66o
ELECTRICITY.
Kiectrical ed to the wood above or below, accordingly as It is on
Apparatus, the ascending or descending side of the plate. . _
   Dry paper is known to be capable of acquiring a
hiph state of electricity, which induced me to try this
substance as an immediate rubber. The following are
the advantages which by my experiments, repeated
and varied in a great number of ways, I have found
paper as a rubber to possess over every other known
substance. .
1. The glass is not rendered dull by the friction, as
happens by frequent using, when it is in immediate con¬
tact with the amalgam.
2. By the immediate contact of the amalgam, the
glass frequently contracts streaks here and there, which
occasion a circulation of the fluid. This cannot take
place in the construction I propose.
q. Neither the glass nor the silk can be soiled. It
is well known, that the cleanness of the glass, as well
as of the rubber and the whole machine in general, is
of importance in producing an intense electricity. It
is true, that it has been proposed to apply the amal¬
gam to the glass instead of the rubbers ; but the greater
effect, that seems to be produced by this last method,
is only apparent, and consists entirely in the circula¬
tion of the fluid on the glass, while, far from exciting
or accumulating more of the fluid, this process and the
circulation disperse it.
4. The amalgam on the leather does not require to
be frequently renewed. The dust of the amalgam,
that is deposited on the edges of the paper, is injurious
only when accumulated there in sufficient quantity to
be conveyed to the glass, from which however it may
easily be removed.
5. The return and passage of sparks to the rubbers
are rendered more difficult, as the paper sufficiently
covers the borders of the rubbers, that aie turned to¬
wards the axis.
6. In my construction the rubbers may be larger
than in the usual way, and in reality they are larger in
proportion in my machine than in Van Marum’s. No
spark passes the axis, unless the air be very damp. I
am persuaded, that, by adopting my construction, the
rubbers of a plate of 32 inches, such as Van Marum’s
is, may he eleven inches, instead of nine, in which
case there would still be two inches for the diameter of
the piecp of wood that fastens the plate to the axis, and
three inches for the distance from this piece to the rub¬
bers 5 which I think would be sufficient in these cir¬
cumstances •, and the friction being on a larger surface
of the plate, the effect must naturally be much great¬
er. I shall try this alteration of the rubbers on large
plates of Bohemian glass, as well as on English cylin¬
ders of 18 inches diameter, and 21 inches long. The
results already obtained with a small cylinder give me
reason to hope much more complete success with a large
one*
7. With my rubbers the friction may be rendered
much greater, than with those the amalgam of which
is in immediate contact with the glass, and soils it j be¬
sides, the plate turns with a uniform friction.
8. The activity of the machine is extraordinarily
increased by this construction. The greater freedom
with which the plate moves, even under a greater pres-
Part I]
sure, and the paper’s preventing the glass from being Electric,;
soiled, would be sufficient to produce this effect •, even Apparatb
if tbe greater pressure alone did not occasion a more ^
powerful effect than can be obtained from common ma¬
chines. 4i
The last part of a machine which we are to describe priKe ^
is the prime conductor. The object of this part of the doctor,
apparatus is to concentrate the power of the excited
electric. It was the invention of the German elec¬
tricians.
This is a cylindrical tube, usually made of brass,
copper, or tinned iron, the two first of which are much
the best, as they admit of more nicety in the construc¬
tion, especially of being better polished. When re¬
quired very large, the cylinder may be made of paste¬
board covered with tin-foil or gold-leaf. It is of great
consequence that the conductor be made perfectly free
from points or edges, and where holes are made in
it, as is commonly done, for the purpose of experiment,
these should have their edges perfectly smooth and even.
The cylinder is closed at both ends by spherical lids or
covers, made so as to fit with the greatest accuracy,
but so as to he taken off, if requisite. These ends are
sometimes made larger than the rest of the cylinder 5
but this is unnecessary, and it is much better that
they should form with it one smooth and uniform sur¬
face. In some machines the conductor is placed at
right angles to the glass cylinder, but it is now usually
placed parallel to it. At the end or side opposite the
glass, are fixed a row of metallic points, for receiving
the electric power j these are generally either fixed im-
moveably in the side or end of the conductoi, or are
fixed along a separate piece of strong brass wire, which
is made to shut into two holes in the conductor, so that
the points can be removed at pleasure. Air Reid con¬
trived to fix them to rings turning on an axis, the ends
of which were forced into holes made in the conduc¬
tor, so that the points rested on the glass, with which
they were thus in perpetual contact, without disturbing
its motion. It is certainly of great advantage to have
the points as near the glass as possible, hut this mode of
fixing them is attended with the inconvenience of mul¬
tiplying the protuberances on the surface of the con¬
ductor. Air Singer introduced the improvement of
placing the points on a wire, moveable on its axis by
means of a spring socket annexed to the stem. The
points are thus placed at any elevation ; and when they
are a little above the horizontal line, the danger of
scratching the glass is prevented.
The size of the conductor is of some consequence j
in general its length should equal that of the glass cy¬
linder including its necks, and its diameter should be
about one-third of that of the cylinder. It should be
insulated by being fixed on a pillar of glass covered
with sealing-wax. For this purpose, the sealing-wax
may be dissolved in alcohol (spirit of wine), and thus
applied to the glass pillar j but it is better to heat the
glass gradually, and then rub it over with the sealing-
wax till it is covered to a sufficient thickness. Where
there are two conductors, one of them supports the rub¬
ber, and is called the negative conductor ; this is not
furnished with points : the other, which is what we
have just described, is placed opposite and parallel, on
(tap. II. ELECT
t trical tbe side of the glass, and is called the positive
iratus. conductor (k).
t'K "1 1 It is proper to have several brass balls furnished with
stalks, some straight, and others curved, which may be
fitted into the holes in the surface of the conductor.
The halls should be of various sizes, and should be
made to screw upon the ends of the stalks, some of
which should be terminated by points. It is convenient
also that some of the stalks be made with a joint, so
that the ball or point may be placed in any position.
Electrical machines should be furnished with one or
p tusaPat- more chains, by which, when insulation is not required,
ti edto either of the conductors may be made to communicate
tl na- with the table or with the floor.
* There is also attached to the electrical machine, a
stool with four glass feet, for the purpose of insulating
various bodies in the course of experiment. This is
called the insulating stool. It should be made either
of baked wood or thick glass, and sufficiently large to
support an ordinary chair, or at least to allow a person
easily to stand on it.
Chap. II, Description of some particular Electrical
Machines.
I Yiest- The first machine which we shall describe is one in-
k ma- vented by Dr Priestley, which has been considered by
some as so ingenious, that it has been called a univer-
sal electrical machine.
It is thus described by this author in his history.
The frame consists of two strong mahogany boards
of the same length, parallel to one another, about four
inches asunder ; and the lower is an inch on each side
broader than the upper. In the upper board is a
groove, reaching almost its whole length. One pillar,
which is of baked wood and immoveable, is let through
the upper board, aud firmly fixed in the lower, while
the other pillar slides in the groove above mentioned, in
order to receive globes or cylinders of different sizes ;
but it is only wanted when an axis is used. Both
the pillars are perforated with holes at equal distances, -
from the top to the bottom j by means of which globes
may be mounted higher or lower according to their
size; and they are tall, to admit the use of two or
more globes at a time, one above the other. Four of a
moderate size may be used, if two be fixed on one
axis 5 and the wheel has several grooves for that pur¬
pose.
If a globe with only one neck be used, a brass arm
with an open socket, is necessary to support the axis be¬
yond the pulley ; and this part is also contrived to be
put higher or lower, together with the brass socket in
which the axis turns. The axis is made to come quite
through the pillar, that it may be turned by another
handle, without the wheel, if the operator chooses.
The frame being screwed to the table, may be placed
nearer to, or farther from the wheel, as the length of
the string requires, in different states of weather. The
R I C I T Y. 66i
wheel is fixed in a frame by itself, by which it may Eiectrieal
have a situation with respect to the pulley, and be Apparatus,
turned to one side, so as to prevent the string from cut- —'
ting itself. The hinder part of this frame is supported
by a toot of its own.
I he rubber consists of a hollow piece of copper lin¬
ed with horse hair, and covered with a basil skin. It
is supported by a socket, which receives the cylindrical
axis of a round and flat piece of baked wood, the op¬
posite part of which is inserted into the socket of a bent
steel spring. These parts are easily separated ; so that
the rubber, or a piece of wood that serves to insulate it,
may be changed at pleasure. The spring admits of
a twofold alteration of position. It may be either slip¬
ped along the groove, or moved in a contrary direction,
so as to give it every desirable position with respect to
the globe or cylinder; and it is besides furnished with a
screw, which makes it press harder or lighter, as the
operator chooses.
The prime conductor is a hollow vessel of polished
copper, in the form of a pear, supported by a pillar,
and a firm basis of baked wood, and it receives its fire
by means of a long arched wire, or rod of very soft
brass, easily bent into any shape, and raised higher or
lower, as the globe requires ; and it is terminated by
an open ring, in which are hung some sharp-pointed
wires playing lightly on the globe when it is in mo¬
tion. The body of it is furnished with holes and sockets,
for the, insertion of metallic rods, to convey the fire
wherever it is wanted, and for many other purposes
convenient in a course of electrical experiments. The
conductor is thus made steady, and yet easily put into
any situation. It collects the fire perfectly well, and
(what is of the greatest consequence though but little
attended to) retains it equally everywhere.
When positive electricity is wanted, a wire or chain,
as is represented in the figure, connects the rubber with
the table, or the floor. When negative electricity is
wanted, that wire is connected with another conductor,
such as is represented at fig. 5. while the conductor at
fig. 4. is connected by another wire or chain with the
table. If the rubber be made tolerably free from
points, the negative power will be as strong as the po¬
sitive.
In short, the capital advantages of this machine
are, that glass vessels, or any other electric body, of
any size or form, may be used, with one neck or two
necks at pleasure ; and even several of them at the
same time if required. All the essential parts of the
machine, the globe, the frame, the wheel, the rubber,
and conductor, are quite separate; and the position of
them to one another may be varied in every manner
possible. The rubber has a complete insulation, by
which means the operator may command either the
positive or negative power, and may change them in
an instant. The conductor is steady and easily en¬
larged, by rods.inserted into the holes, with which it is
furnished, or by the conjunction of other conductors in
order
(k) M. Boze, professor at Wittemburg, first employed & prime conductor ; his conductor was a tube of iron
or tin, which he insulated at first by its being held by a man standing on cakes of rosin, and afterwards by
suspending it by silken lines, horizontally before the globe. For a long time a gun-barrel was employed as k
prune conductor. w 0 r j
Plate
ctxxxvit.
lig. 4.
hous«.
662
Electrical order to give larger sparks, &c.
Apparatus, used or not at pleasure ; so that the operator may either
1 v "■ git or stand to his work, as he pleases , and he may
with the utmost ease both manage the wheel and his
JiDDHrutllSa
This machine is figured in Plate CLXXXVII. fig.
4. where
a a, Represent the two boards of the frame.
b. One of the pillars.
c, The brass arm with the open socket,
e/, The axis on which the globe turns.
e. The frame to which the wheel is fixed.
f The rubber j g, The piece of baked wood ; h, The
steel spring j The screw. #
/r, The prime conductor j /, The rod or wire j wz, J.he
points.
n, The wire for connecting the rubber with the table.
Machine by Next to Dr Priestley’s machine, we shall describe
Dr Ingen- one which was invented by Dr Ingenhousz, in which
a plate of glass is employed instead of a globe or cylin¬
der. .
There is a circular plate of glass, about a loot in di¬
ameter, perforated in the centre by an iron axis, upon
which it is turned vertically by means of a winch. It
has four cushions, each above two inches long, which
are situated at the opposite ends of its vertical diameter.
It moves in a frame composed of a bottom board about
a foot square, or a foot long and about six inches broad,
upon which are raised two other smaller boards, parallel
to each other, and fastened together at the top by a
small wooden cross bar. By these upright beards, the
axis of the plate is supported, and to them the cushions
are fastened. When the machine is used, the bottom
of the frame is fastened to the table by an iron crank.
The conductor in this machine is made ot hollow brass j
and is furnished with branches extending from its extre¬
mities, and approaching very near the circumference
of the plate.
An improvement on this machine is thus describ¬
ed by Dr Wralker in his Lectures on Familiar Philo-
sophv.
“ It is made of a round plate of thick looking-glass,
(fig. 6. Plate CLXXXVII.). This plate turns on an
axis «, supported by the mahogany frame ccc, by the
handle g. The rubbers are of red leather stufied with
curled hair, and nailed to thin slips of wood, dd, one on
each side of the glass, and made to press the glass very
close by the screws xx; to these rubbers are attached
oiled silk curtains, on both sides of the glass. rihe
conductor www, is of brass, and fixed to the frame,
ccc, by the glass supporter q, which insulates the con¬
ductor w, and terminates in the two knobs, ss; into
these knobs are screwed small cylinders of brass, with
a number of points that nearly touch the glass, and re¬
ceive the electric matter from it j they cannot^ be seen
in the drawing, being behind the curtains. For excit-
-)• Walker's imj positive electricity in all kinds of weather and si-
Lect. vol d'tuations, this is the most powerful and convenient
2dedlg' machine ever yet inventedt.”.
Machine in ^ very powerful machine, in which plates of glass
Teyler’s are employed, is that in Teyler’s museum at Haarlem,
museum at constructed by Mr John Cuthbertson. It consists of
two circular plates of glass, each 65 inches in diame¬
ter, and made to turn upon the same horizontal axis,
Plate
CXCII
Plate
CI.JCXX VII,
fig. 6.
Haarlem.
ELECTRICITY. Parti
The wheel may be at the distance of 7^ inches from one another. These Electri*
plates are excited by eight rubbers, each 15* inches APpam
long. Both sides of the plates are covered with a re- ‘"—Y-j
sinous substance to the distance of 16^ inches from the
centre, both to render the plates stronger, and likewise
to prevent any of the electricity from being carried off
by the axis. The prime conductor consists of several
pieces, and is supported by three glass pillars 57 inches
in length. The plates are made of French glass, as
this is found best next to the English flint, which could
not be procured of sufficient size. The conductor is - |J
divided into branches which enter between the plates,
but collect the fluid by means of points only from one
side of the plate. The force of two men is required
to work this machine: when it is required to he
put in action for any length ot time, four are neces¬
sary.
By this machine Van Marum made his experiments
on metals, &c. which will he mentioned hereafter. ^
More lately, Dr Van Marum has constructed a new Van Ma-
machine, of smaller dimensions, but of much greaterr,lm’*ne’
proportional power than the preceding. It is thus c
described in Nicholson’s Journal. Fig. 75. Plate
CXCllI. exhibits a perspective view of the machine,
and fig. 76, 77, 78, 79, a section, exclusive of the
cushions. In the view it may be observed that the
cushions are each separately insulated upon pillars ot
glass, and are applied nearly in the direction ot the ho¬
rizontal diameter of the plate, instead of the vertical
diameter as heretofore. The ball diametrically oppo¬
site to the handle is the prime conductor, and the semi¬
circular piece with two cylindrical ends, serves, in the
position of the drawing, to receive the electricity from
the plate. By the happy contrivance of altering the
position of this semicircular branch from vertical to
nearly horizontal, the cylindrical ends may he placed
in contact with the cushions, and the prime conductor
instantly exhibits negative electricity. But as it is ne¬
cessary that the cushions should communicate with
the ground when the positive power is wanted, and that
they should be insulated when the negative power is
required, there is another semicircular branch applied
to the opposite side of the plate nearly at right angles to
the first. That is to say, when positive electricity is
wanted, this second branch denoted by I, I in the sec¬
tion fig. 76. is placed nearly horizontal, and forms a com¬
munication from the cushions to the ground through a
metallic rod from K behind the mahogany pillar which
supports the axis *, but when, on the contrary, the nega¬
tive power is w'anted, and the branch from the prime
conductor is placed in contact with the cushions, this
other branch from the axis is put into the vertical situa¬
tion, and carries off the electricity emitted from the
plate of glass.
The axis of the plate B //, fig. 76. is supported by a
single column A, which for that purpose is provided
with a bearing-piece K, on which two brass coliar-pie¬
ces DD, represented more at large and in face in fig-
78. are fixed, and carry the axis itself. The whole of
fig. 76. is reduced to one-16th of its real dimensions,
unless contracted by the shrinking of the paper after
printing j to obviate which, it may he remarked that
the diameter of the plate is 31 English inches. The
axis has a counterpoise O, of lead, to prevent too great
friction in the collar D nearest the handle. The arc
01
(tup. II. ELECT
l||![tical of the conductor EE, which carries the two small re-
iiaatus. ceiving conductors FF, is fixed to the axis G, which
w„,r——^ tur|ls |n the ball H. On the other side of the plate is
seen the other arc II, of brass wire, half an inch in
diameter, fixed to the extremity of the bearing-piece
K, so that it may be turned in the same manner as the
arc EE. The two receiving conductors FF are six
inches long, and two and a half inches in diameter.
The double line P represents a copper tube termina¬
ting in a ball Q. It moves like a radius upon the stem
E of the bail S, which being screwed into the conduc¬
tor H, serves to confine the arm P in any position
which may be required. The diameter of the ball S is
only two inches, which, together with certain other
less rounded parts of this apparatus, may serve to show
that the considerable electricity from this machine is
less disposed to escape than if it had proceeded from a
cylinder. The dissipation of electricity along the glass
supports is prevented by a kind of cap T, of mahoga¬
ny, which affords an electrical avell or cavity under¬
neath, and likewise effectually covers the metallic caps
into which the glass is cemented. The lower extremi¬
ty of the cap is guarded in the same manner by a hol¬
low piece or ring V, of mahogany, which covers the
metallic socket into which the glass is cemented. The
three glass pillars are set in sliding-pieces, as marked
on the platform of fig. 75. which are nine inches
long.
The rubbers of this machine differ in no essential
particular from those described by the inventor in the
Journal de Physique for February 1791 5 and the ap¬
paratus for applying them is described in the same work
for April 1789. Fig. 77. represents a section of this
judicious piece of mechanism seen from above, and one-
fourth of the real size. A metallic sliding-piece M, is slitk
ed into a correspondent face, on the ball Z, which is one
of those fixed on the top of the glass pillars near the
circumference of the glass plate in fig. 75. To this is
affixed the piece d d, which terminates in two hinges
g g, that allow the springs e e to move in the plane of
the horizon. The pieces gg represent the wood-work
of the cushions attached to the extremities of the springs
by the hinges h h. The springs are regulated by the
bolt and screw i i. The two cushions are thus made to
apply to the plate equally through their whole length ;
the actions on the opposite sides of the plates are accu¬
rately the same j and the play of the hinges gg, pre¬
vents the plate from being endangered by any strain in
the direction of its axis. It is certain that, before this
adequate provision was made to secure those essential
requisites, it was impracticable to apply the cushions to
a plate with the same safety and effect as to cylinders,
which possess much strength from their figure. An in¬
genious workman will probably find little difficulty in
constructing those rubbers from this description and
drawings but the most precise information respecting
every circumstance and dimensions is to be found in the
lectures above quoted.
The inner extremities of the cushions are defended
by the plates of gum lac YY, which cover the three
sides or edges, and prevent their attracting the electric
power from the ends of the receiving conductor.
The part of the axis which moves between the col¬
lars is made of steel. The middle of the non-conduct¬
ing part of the axis is a cylinder of walnut-tree a aa a,
It I C I T Y. 663
baked until its insulating power is equal to that of glass. Electrical
and then soaked in amber varnish, while the wood still Apparatus!,
remains hot. The two extremities of this cylinder, '
which are of a less diameter, are forced, by strong
blows, with a mallet, into the stout brass caps b and c,
in which they are retained by two iron screws d d.
Ihe cylinder a a, and the brass caps, are covered with
a layer ot gum-lac e e e e, to preserve the insulating
state of the wooden cylinder more perfectly, and to
prevent the cap b from throwing flashes to the rubbers.
The bottom of the cap b is screwed home on the cap¬
ped extremity of the steel axis B. The base of the cap
r, which is four inches in diameter, terminates in an
axis one inch thick, and two in length j the extremity
of which is formed into a screw. The glass plate is
put on this projecting part, and secured in its place by
a nut of box-wood, forced home by a key, applied in
the holes it. Two rings of felt are applied on each
side of the glass, to defend its surface from the contact
of the wood and the metal; and the central hole in the
glass, which is two inches in diameter, contains a ring of
box-wood, which prevents its immediate application to
the axis.
As it is necessary that the axis G should be parallel
to the axis of the plate, in order that the conductors
FF may move parallel to the plate itself, the pillar M
is rendered adjustable by three bearing screws r/’r
at the bottom, which re-act against the strong central
screw T, and this is drawn downwards by its nut. The
conductors FF are also adjustable by the sliding pieces
vv, and the binding-screws tuw, which also afford an
adjustment to bring the axis of each small conductor
parallel to the face of the glass plate. A similar ad¬
justment may be observed at the extremities of the
arc II.
Fig. 79. represents a section of the moving part of
the branch II, one-half of its real size. A brass plate
x a h screwed to the face of the capital K by three iron
screws g. To this is screwed another ring £ which
affords a groove for the moveable ring yy, into which
the arms II are fixed. This is accordingly applied in
its place before the ring $ 5 is fixed.
The wooden part of the rubbers g g, fig. 77. is
covered with thin plates of iron, excepting the surface
nearest to the glass. The intention of this is to main¬
tain a more perfect communication between the rubbed
part of the cushion and the earth or negative conductor,
as the case may be.
The plates of gum-lac YY, are applied to the rub¬
bers, each by means of a thin plate of brass, to which
they are affixed by heat. There are two wires rivetted
in the plates, which are thrust into correspondent holes
in the wooden part of the cushion.
The mahogany column A ends in a square upon
which the piece K is fitted and firmly applied, by means
of the screw and nut exhibited in the section*. * jg{cjl0i
The plate machine, in any of its forms, may be made son’s Jowra.
to exhibit the two electricities at the same moment, by4to, vol. i»
being fixed on an insulating table. P- 48*
The following description of a useful machine is ta¬
ken from Mr Cavallo, who considers it as one of the
most complete with which he is acquainted.
The frame of this machine consists of the bottom
hoard ABC, fig. 7. which when the machine is to be Plate
used, is fastened to the table by two iron clamps, one of cixxxxm
which < 7*
664
electricity.
Part]
Electrical which appears In the figure near C. Upon the bottom
Apparatus, board are perpendicularly raised two strong wooden
   pillars KL, and AH, which support the cylinder, and
the wheel. From one of the brass caps of the cylinder
FF an axle of steel proceeds, which passes quite through
a hole in the pillar KL, and has on this side of the
pillar a pulley I, fixed upon its square extremity. Up¬
on the circumference of this pulley there are three or
four grooves, in order to suit the variable length of the
string a b, which goes round one of them, and round
the groove of the wheel D. The other cap of the cy¬
linder has a small cavity, which fits the conical extre¬
mity of a strong screw, that proceeds from the pillar
H. The wheel D, which is moved by the handle L,
turns round a strong axle, proceeding from almost the
middle part of the pillar KL.
The rubber G of this machine is on each end two or
three inches shorter than the cylinder (i. e. the cylinder
exclusive of the necks), and it is made to rub about
one-tenth part of the cylinder’s circumference, or ra¬
ther less *, it consists of a thin quilted cushion of silk,
stuffed with hair, and fastened by silk strings upon a
piece of wood which is properly adapted to the surface
of the cylinder. And to the lower extremity of the
cushion, or rather of the piece of wood to which the
cushion is tied, a piece of leather is fastened, which is
turned over the cushion, i. e. stainds between it and the
surface of the cylinder, and to the extremity of which
a piece of silk, or oiled silk is fastened, which covers
almost all the upper part of the cylinder. Upon this
leather, which reaches from the lower to almost the up¬
per extremity of the cushion, some of the amalgam is to
be worked, "so as to forced as much as possible into
its substance; if mosaic gold is to be tried, then the
leather should be new, and whereon no other amalgam
has been put. This rubber is supported by two springs,
screwed to its back, and from which it may be easily
unscrewed, when occasion requires it. The two springs
proceed from the wooden cap of a strong glass pillar,
perpendicular to the bottom board of the machine.
This pillar has a square wooden basis, that slides in two
grooves in the bottom board ABC, upon which it is
fastened by a screw. In this manner the glass pillar
may be fastened at any required distance, and in conse¬
quence the rubber may be made to press harder or
lighter upon the cylinder. The rubber in this manner
is perfectly insulated j and, when insulation is not re¬
quired, a chain with a small hook may be hanged to
it, so as to have a regular communication with the
piece of leather-, the chain then falling upon the table,
renders the rubber uninsulated.
AB represents the prime conductor belonging to this
machine. This is ofliollow brass, and is supported by
two glass pillars varnished, that by two brass sockets
are fixed in the board CC. This conductor receives
the electric power through the points of the collector
L, which are set at about half an inch distance from the
surface of the cylinder of the machine.
If the handle E of the wheel be turned, (and on ac¬
count of the rubber it should be turned always in the
direction of the letters a £ c) this machine standing in
the situation that is represented in the figure, will give
positive electricity, i. e. the prime conductor will be
electrified positively. But if a negative electricity be
required, then the chain must be removed from the rub¬
ber and bung to the prime conductor*, for in this case Electrit
the electricity of the prime conductor will be communi- Apptrat:
cated to the ground, and the rubber remaining insula-v—
ted, will appear strongly negative. Another conduc¬
tor, equal to the conductor AB, may be connected
with the insulated rubber, and then the operator may
obtain as strong negative electricity from this, as be can
positive from the conductor AB. _ . jo
The next machine which we shall mention is one in-MrNaitJ
vented by Mr Nairne, which is chiefly employed for™aclimt]
medical purposes; but a modification ol which, to be *** ‘
presently described, will answer for most purposes of
electrical experiment better than any other.
The cylinder in Mr Nairne’s machine is about twelve
inches long and seven in diameter ; it turns upon two
wooden pieces cemented on the top ot two strong glass
pillars, BB. These pillars are made fast into the bot¬
tom board of the machine, which is fastened to the ta¬
ble by means of a crank. There are grooves made in
the under part ot the bottom of the crank, through
which the pieces FE slide. On these pieces the pillars
stand by which the two conductors are supported ; and
in order to place these conductors nearer to the cylin¬
der, or remove them farther from it, the pieces on
which they stand are moveable inwards or outwards,
and may be fixed by the two screw nuts LL. The
rubber is fastened to the conductor It; and consists of
a cushion of leather stuffed, having a piece of silk glued
to its under part. This last being turned over the sur¬
face of the cushion, and thus interposed between it and
the glass, goes over the cylinder, and almost touches
the pointed wires which are situated on the other conduc¬
tors. The conductors are of tin covered with black
lacquer, each of them containing a large coated glass
jar, and likewise a smaller one, or a coated tube, which
are’ visible when the caps NN are removed. To each
conductor is fixed a knob G, for the occasional suspen-
sion of a chain to produce positive or negative elec-
tricity. The part of the winch C, which acts as a le-
ver in turning the cylinder, is of glass. Thus every
part of the machine is insulated, the cylinder itself and
its brass caps not excepted. And to this the inventor
has adapted some flexible conducting joints, a discharg¬
ing electrometer, and other utensils necessary for the
practice of medical electricity.
A modification of this machine is represented at
c „ r,S 5*
fig. 9.
a, the handle of the cylinder.
b, the negative, c, the positive conductor.
d, the silk flap of the rubber. . J
Mr Reid’s portable machine, as improved by Mr Mr Rc
Lane, is the last which we shall describe, and is repre-
sented at fig. 10. A is the glass cylinder, moved vei- Fig
ticnlly by means of the pulley at the lower end ot tlie
axis. This pulley is turned by a large wheel B, which
lies parallel to the table. There are three pulleys ot
different dimensions marked in the figure ; one ot whici
revolves four times for every revolution of the laige
wheel E. The conductor C, is furnished with points to
collect the fluid, and is screwed to the wire of a coate
jar D, which stands in a socket between the cylinder
and the wheel. This figure also shews how Mr Uane s
electrometer, to be afterwards described, may be adapt¬
ed to this machine. .
lap. HI- ELECTRICITY
ctiical A great many other machines have been described
araun. in the Philosophical Transactions, Journal de Physique,
'"Y""”’* and in various books on electricity $ but those now de¬
scribed are the most material.
665
Chap. III. Genera/ Directions for using the Electri¬
cal Machine.
5t It is of the greatest consequence that the machine,
as well as the table on which it stands, and every thing
in its neighbourhood, be perfectly free from dust j it is
therefore necessary to begin by wiping every part of
the machine, &c. with a clean, dry, soft linen cloth.
If the weather is not warm and dry, it will be proper
also to place the machine for some time before the fire,
that it may be perfectly free from moisture. The
cylinder, if used lately , and not cleaned, may have
contracted spots of dirt and grease ; in which case
it must be rubbed with a soft rag dipped in spirit of
wine.
jj The conductors are now to be fixed in a proper situa¬
tion, so that the rubber of the negative conductor mav
press closely to the cylinder on one side, and the points
of the positive conductor may approach on the other as
near to it as possible, without touching. Then while
the cylinder is made, to revolve, the amalgam is to be
applied to it, where it is not covered with the silk ;
this is best done by means of a piece of leather to
Which the amalgam has been previously fastened, which
is a better method than by spreading it on the rubber.
As the amalgam is liable to oxidation from exposure to
the air, it is proper to scrape the surface of it before it
is applied to the cylinder 5 and if any old amalgam has
been left on the cushion of the rubber, this should also
be scraped before using the new.
After h aving made these arrangements, on whirling
4 the cylinder in contact with the rubber, without bring¬
ing any conducting body near the former, or insulating
the latter, we shall perceive in the dark a stream of fire
issuing from the place of contact between the rubber
and the cylinder, and adapting itself to the form of the
cylinder, so as to involve it in a blue flame mixed with
bright sparks ; the whole making a very perceptible
whizzing and snapping noise. If the finger is brought
near the cylinder in this situation, the flame and sparks
leave the cylinder and strike the finger *, and this phe¬
nomenon continues as long as the globe is whirled
round. *
On applying the prime conductor, the light will va¬
nish, and be perceptible only upon the points presented
to it by the cylinder; but if the finger is now brought
near the conductor, a very smart spark will strike it,
and that at a greater or smaller distance, according to
the strength of the machine. This spark, when the
electricity is not very strong, appears like a straight
line of fire ; but if the machine acts very powerfully,
it will Jmt on the appearance of zig-zag lightning,
throwing out other sparks from the corners, and strike
with such force as to give considerable pain to those
who receive it.
If these appearances do not take place, or only in a
slight degree, soon after the applying the amalgam, a
little oil is to be spread on the palm of the hand, which
must slightly touch the cylinder as it moves round ; in
Vol. VII. Part II. ' |
S«
57
general this is instantly followed by a copious emission Electrical
of sparks, numerous torrents of which will now pass Appamim
from the edge of the silk to the knuckles. Sometimes, v—“
however, after using all these precautions, the ma¬
chine does not act well, and in tins case the rubber
should be examined, to see if any thing is wrong there.
Ihe rubber should be removed from the glass pillar or
the negative conductor, to which it is fastened, by
taking out the screws by which it is usually secured ;
it is then to be brought near the fire so that the silk
may be perfectly dried, after which a little tallow or
Suet should be rubbed upon the cushion, and it should
then be replaced in its situation. If the silk of the
rubber is fitted to the cushion by means of a wire as
described in (42.) it will only be necessary to take
out this wire, in order to dry the silk.
While both conductors remain insulated, the machine
will not continue to act long, or at least its action will
be much less powerful ; but if the negative conductor
or rubber be made to communicate with the floor or a
moist wall, it will in general continue its action for any
length of time required.
I he weather is found to have considerable influence
on the action of an electrical machine ; in wet weather
it will neither act so powerfully, nor for so long a time,
as when the weather is moderately warm and dry, un¬
less perpetual care be taken to keep every part of it
warm and clean. Very hot dry weather is also unfa¬
vourable to the action of the machine, and when this
happens, even the floor of the room may be too dry to
serve as a conductor; it is then necessary to connect the
rubber by a chain which communicates with some moist
surface, as a cellar, or a pump.
Mr Nicholson lays down the following directions forMrXichof
preparing the machine for experiment. son’s direc
Clean the cylinder, and wipe the silk. tions form
Grease the cylinder, by turning it against a greased
leather till it is uniformly obscured. 1 use the tallow of the cy-
of a candle. linder.
Turn the cylinder till the silk flap has wiped off so
much of the grease as to render it semitransparent.
Put some amalgam on a piece of leather, and spread
it well, so that it may be uniformly bright. Apply
this against the turning cylinder. The friction will
immediately increase, and the leather must not be re¬
moved until it ceases to become greater.
Remove the leather, and the action of the machine
will be very strong*. * Phil.
Tram, for
Chap. IV. yin Enumeration of some other Parts of1^9’
an Electrical Apparatus to be described hereafter.
There are many other parts of the electrical appara¬
tus ; but these we can only enumerate here, as their
description and use will come more properly to be ex¬
plained under the principles on which they are con¬
structed.
Fig. 12. and 13. represent different forms of coated
jars or Leyden phials employed for the accumulation of
the electrical power, and the usual forms of the dis¬
charging rod.
Fig. 14. shews one of the most approved forms of
the electrical battery.
Fig. 15. represents a stand supporting four electro-
4 meters
6 66
Principles meters for ascertaining the presence and measuring the
of Electri- degree of electricity.
city illus- Fig* 17* exhibits the usual form of the quadrant e-
trated by ]ectromeler, invented by Mr Henley, placed on the end
esperunent. ^ ^ ^ conductor>
v Fig. 18. represents Mr Bennet’s gold-leat electro-
meter.
Fig. ip. shews Mr Cavallo s pocket electrometer.
Fig. 29. represents Mr Henley’s universal dischar¬
ger ; and fig. 30. a press belonging to it.
]fig. g 1. and 32. shew an outline of Mr Morgans
discharging rod. ,
Fig. 42. represents Mr Nicholson’s instrument tor
distinguishing positive and negative electricity.
Fig. 67. gives a view of Lane’s electrometer.
Fig. 68. and 69. represent Mr Brooke’s electrometer
as made by Mr Adams.
Fig- 7°> represents Cuthbertson’s compound or uni¬
versal electrometer.
Fig. 71. and 72. are two views of Hr Robison’s com¬
parable electrometer. > _
Fig. 80. is a figure of an electrical machine in which
silk is employed as an electric instead of glass.
ELECTRICITY. Part If
Fig. 85. represents Bennet’s doubler, and fig. 86. Principle,!
Nicholson’s revolving doubler. ofElectri
The rest of the apparatus figured in the plates will c!ty illis j
  * ’• tratedbm
be enumerated and fully described in the succeeding^. »
parts of the article. _ ' J
Besides the apparatus which we have described and
enumerated, the electrician should have several glass
tubes, some of smooth and others of rough glass, sticks
of sealing-wax, a piece of yellow amber, &c. for ex¬
citing positive and negative electricity, when these two
states are to be observed or compared.
It is of some consequence that an electrician should
have some mechanical facility as he may often be re¬
quired to renew or repair parts of his apparatus, either
to save expence, or from being at a distance from a
skilful workman. For this purpose, few tools are ne¬
cessary. The principal are a turner’s lathe, for turn¬
ing caps, balls, pedestals, &c. ; a blow-pipe with a
proper lamp, for bending tubes, or opening and closing
such as are of large diameter j a few files of various
degrees of fineness, and various forms, as flat, hall-
round, rat-tail, &c.
1
PART III.
AN EXPERIMENTAL ILLUSTRATION OE THE PRINCIPLES OF
ELECTRICITY.
9 WE propose, in this part, to describe the principal
phenomena of comtnunicated electricity; and to illus¬
trate these by experiments, which we shall, as nearly
as can be done, class under certain general heads.
After recounting the experiments which illustrate
each head, we shall describe the construction and ex¬
plain the uses of the several electrical instruments
which depend on the principle laid down. We shall
also take an opportunity, in this part, of tracing the
origin and progress of the more important discoveries
which have been made in the experimental part of the
science.
As it must be supposed that the reader is at present
unacquainted with the theory of electricity, the princi¬
ples to which the several experiments in this part are
referred, will be merely such general facts as have been
observed in the course of experiment, independent of
theory. In the following part of this article, we shall
endeavour more accurately to illustrate these pheno¬
mena, and explain them according to the most general¬
ly received theories of electricity.
Chap. I. 0/ Electrical Attraction and Repulsion,
and the Instruments ’which depend on them.
6o An electrified body attracts bodies brought near to it,
and after holding them in contact with it for some
time, again repels them.
Experiment 1.—Suspend a downy feather by a silken
thread •, on making it approach within a few inches of
the prime conductor, while the cylinder is set in mo¬
tion, it will be attracted to the conductor, and almost
immediately repelled j and thus alternately attracted
2
and repelled, as long as the machine continues to be
worked.
This experiment may be thus varied in a pleasing
manner. Take a glass tube, no matter whether smooth
or rough, and, after rubbing it, present to it a downy
feather ; this will, as in the former instance, be instant¬
ly attracted, and be retained for a short time in contact
with the tube j when it will be repelled. If, at the
time of its repulsion, the tube be held in the air at a
distance from surrounding objects, the repelled feather
will float above the tube, and may be driven about the
room as long as it does not touch any object in its
neighbourhood. If one person hold a smooth glass tube,
and another a rough tube or a stick of sealing-wax, and
a feather be let loose between them when excited, the
feather will leap from one to the other, and thus the
two persons will seem to drive it between them like a
shuttlecock, whence this experiment is called the elec¬
trical shuttlecock. ti
Exper. 2.—Let there be two metallic plates, one as Dancing
c, fig. 20. supported by a stand, so that it may be&i^M
placed on a table, &c. j the other d provided with a ci)tjraVJ
hook, by which it may be hung by a chain to the prime jg id
conductor, at some distance from the other plate. Ihen
cut some small figures of men or other objects in paper,
or, what is better, form them out of the dry pith of
elder, or of rushes, and lay them on the lower plate.
On working the machine the figures will rise from the
lower plate, and move perpetually from the one plate
to the other, as represented in the figure.
Exper. 3. Place a leaf of gold, silver, or Dutch me¬
tal on the palm of the hand, and bring it within a few
inches of an electrified conductor} it will first move to
the
feaj). I. ELEC'
•teiples ^,e c0ll^uc^°r, then to the hand alternately, as long as
Kiectii- the conductor is electrified.
villus- Exper. 4.—Let a solid rod of glass, as o, fig. 21. be
pied by made to pass through a hell b} perforated for the pur-
nirunt. p0Se^ an(j ]e^ one en(j 0j- |.|le roj j)e £xe(| jn a
>iate f°ot> ^vhile the other supports two metallic arms, c,d, e,f,
itxviu. crossing each other, and knobbed at their extremities.
f- n- From each extremity let a small bell without a clapper
be suspended by a metallic wire, and from each arm, at
a little distance from the extremities, let the clappers
of these bells be suspended by silken threads. On con¬
necting the top of the stand with the prime conductor,
and setting the machine in motion, the clappers will be¬
gin to move between the central bell and the other four
so as to ring the whole five.
Here the bells receive the electric power from the
prime conductor, and being electrified, attract and re¬
pel the clappers which hang freely between them.
Exper. 5—Connect a circular ring of brass with the
conductor of the electrical machine, so as to hang near
an inch and a half from the flat surface of a table, and
place within it, on the table, a very light glass ball of
two inches diameter. The ball will be attracted by the
ring, will touch it, and become electrified at the point
of contact •, this point will then recede, and be attract¬
ed by the table, while another part of its surface will
be attracted by the ring ; and, by the repetition of this
process, the ball is made to revolve and travel round
the ring. This arises from the non-conducting proper¬
ty of the ball, by which diflerent parts of its surface
are in difierent states of electricity at the same time.
Exper. 6.—Tie a small body, as for instance alight
piece of cork, to a silk thread about eight inches long,
and holding the thread by its end, let the small body
bang at the distance of about eight inches from the side
of the prime conductor electrified. This same body, if
the electrization of the conductor is not strong, will not
be attracted. But if a finger or any conducting sub¬
stance be presented to that side of the small body which
is farthest from the prime conductor, then the small
body will immediately move toward the prime conduc¬
tor 5 and when this body has touched the prime conduc¬
tor, it will be instantly repelled from it, on account of
the repulsion existing between bodies possessed of the
same kind of electricity.
Indeed, if this insulated body be very near to the
prime conductor, or the prime conductor strongly elec¬
trified, then the small body will be attracted without
presenting to it any conducting substance j or the na¬
tural fluid belonging to that body will be all crowded
on that side of it which is nearest to the prime con¬
ductor.
If this small body, instead of the silk, be suspended
by a linen thread, it will be attracted at a much great¬
er distance, than in the other case.
Sadies in the same state of electricity, i. e. which are
all electrified positively, or all negatively, have a ten¬
dency to repel each other.
Exper. 1.—Stick a downy feather into one of the
holes of the prime conductor. When the cylinder is
moved the feather will begin to swell, and its plumes
will separate to a considerable distance from each
other.
This experiment may be varied, by placing the re¬
presentation of a human head upon the prime conduc-
r It I C I T Y. 667
tor. When the cylinder is moved, the hair of the Principle*
head will bristle up and stand erect as represented in of Electri-
fig. 22. city JIIbi-
Exper. 2—Let small balls made of cork, or the pith
of elder well dried, be suspended from tire prime con- * * v
ductor by threads ot an equal length. While the cylin-Fig. n.
der continues at rest, the balls will touch each other,
but as soon as the machine is set in motion they will
repel each other to a greater or less distance, accord¬
ing as the electric power produced is stronger or
weaker.
It is not necessary that the threads be in contact with
the prime conductor, for if the balls be brought near
the conductor while the machine is in motion, they will
recede from each other as before.
I he same effect will be produced whether the balls
are hung from the positive or the negative conductor.
From the circumstance observed in the above ex¬
periments we deduce the following important corol-
lary.
Objects brought near an electrified body are electri- Corollary.
Jied by position.
Hie communication of electricity from an electrified
body, to another which is not in contact with it, but is
only in its vicinity, may for the present be conceived
by remarking that these bodies are surrounded with air.
Air, although an electric, is not a very perfect electric,
but is more or less also a conductor, especially when it
is moist. When a body is electrified it communicates to
the air in contact with it a portion of its electric power,
and thus the air becomes electrified, and of course im¬
parts to the bodies which are surrounded by it' a degree
of electricity j and this the more easily as it is in a bet¬
ter conducting state.
The apparent action of the air in communicating
electricity to a body which is surrounded by it, may be
illustrated by the following experiments.
Insulate in a horizontal position a metallic rod about
two feet long, having blunt ends, and at one of its ends
suspend an electrometer, like that represented in fig. 16.;
then bring within three or four inches distance of its
other end an excited glass tube. On the approach of
the tube,’ the balls of the electrometer will open, and if
you present towards them a body positively electrified,
you will perceive that they diverge with positive electri¬
city. If the tube be removed, the balls come together
again, and no electricity remains in them, or in the me¬
tallic rod. But if while the tube is near one end of the
rod, and the ball diverge with positive electricity, the
other end of the rod, viz. that from which the electro¬
meter hangs, be touched with some conductor, the cork
balls will come immediately together, and they will re¬
main so when the conductor lias been removed ;—re¬
move now the excited glass tube, and the halls will im¬
mediately diverge with negative electricity : which
shows that the rod remains electrified negatively.
If the above experiment be made with an electric ne¬
gatively electrified (for instance, a rod of sealing-wax
instead of the excited glass-tube) then the apparent elec¬
tricities in the rod will be just the reverse of what they
were before ; for, in this case, that end of the rod to
which the electric has been presented, will be positive,
and the opposite end negative 5 which opposite end, if
touched in this state with some conducting substance,
will acquire some electric power from that substance ;
4 I* 2 the
668
electricity.
P.incj.U, amlivlien, after that substance has been remove.!, the
of'Stri. excited electric is also removed, the rod w.ll rema.n po-
city illus- gj^ivc# |
trated l>y jn mak|ng this experiment, care must be taken that
experiment.th^ end of the rod be very blunt, and that the electric
' v be not very powerfully excited otherwise a spark may
pass from this to the rod, which renders the experiment
1 Take two rods of metal, each about a foot long, fur¬
nished with knobs at both ends *, and, either by silk
lines or by insulating stools, insulate them, so that they
mav stand horizontally in one direction, and about a
quarter of an inch distance from one another. To the
middle of each of these rods hang an electrometer, like
that represented in fig. 16. This done, take an excited
glass tube, and bring it to about three inches distance
from the knob of one of the rods ; on doing which, the
electrometers of both rods will appear electrified : keep
the tube in that situation for about two seconds, then
remove it. The rods now will remain electrified, as ap¬
pears by the electrometers ; the first, viz. that to which
the excited tube had been presented remaining negative,
and the other positive.
In this experiment, if, instead of the glass tube, an
electric, negatively'excited, be brought near the end of
one rod, then that rod will be electrified positively, and
the other negatively.
This is all that we can properly explain at present
with respect to the agency of the air in the production
of electrical phenomena. We shall take occasion to
consider this subject more fully in a future part of this
article, when we shall see that a variety in the state
of the air produces considerable diversity in the pheno¬
mena. _ . 11!
On the principle of electric repulsion, and the above
corollary, depend the action of several instruments which
are of great use in electrical experiments, and which we
64 shall now describe.
F.'ectro- Instruments which are employed to ascertain the pre¬
scopes or gence electricity are called electroscopes, As they
electronic- ^ generally employed to measure the degree of elec¬
tricity produced, they are also called electrometers, and
bv this name we shall in future distinguish them.
' The first electrometer appears to have been construct¬
ed by the abbe Nollet j it consisted of two threads of
silk, which, as has been shown, recede from each other
on the approach of an electrified body. He observed
the angle of their divergency by its shadow cast on
a board placed behind them. Mr Waitz improved
this electrometer by appending small weights to the
threads *.
Mr Canton contrived an electrometer which is the
foundation of those which are now in common use. He
got a pair of balls turned in a lathe out of the dry pith
of elder •, these he hung by threads of the finest linen,
and kept them in a narrow box with a sliding cover,
where they were so disposed that the threads could lie
straight. When he was to use it, he held the box by
the extremity of the cover, and allowed the balls to
hang freely from a pin to which they were fixed f.
Fig. 15* represents a stand supporting the electrome-
meters DD, CC. B is the basis of it, made of common
wood. A is a pillar of wax, glass, or baked wood.
ter.
Abbe Nol-
. let’s.
* Hist one
e I'Elec-
iricite.
66
Mr Can¬
ton’s elec¬
trometer.
f Phil.
Trans.
vol. xlix.
b. 300.
Plate
tzxxxvnx.
^ ‘5.
Part 111!
To the top of the pillar, if it be of wax or glass, a cir- Principle
cular piece of wood is fixed.J hut if the pillar he of ha- ol Electrj
ked wood, that may constitute the whole. From this
circular piece of wood proceed four aims of glass, or
baked wood, suspending at their ends four electronic-v ^
ters, two of which, DD, are silk threads about eight
inches long, suspending each a small downy leather at
its end. The other two electrometers, CC, are those
with very small balls of cork, or of the pith of eUlei 5
and they are constructed in the following manner:—ab
is a stick of glass about six inches long, covered with
sealing-wax, and shaped at top in a ling . fiom the
lower extremity of this stick of glass proceed two fine
linen threads (l) cc, about five inches long, each sus¬
pending a cork or pith-ball d, about one-e>ghth of an
inch in”diameter. When this electrometer is not elec¬
trified, the threads cc hang parallel to each other, and
the cork-balls are in contact; but when electrified, they
repel one another, as represented in the figure. The
glass stick ab serves for an insulating handle, by which
the electrometer may be supported, when it is used with¬
out the stand AB. < Plate
Another species of the above electrometer is repre- cexxxvh
sented in fig. 16.; which consists of a linen thread, hav- fig. 16.
ing at each end a small cork-ball. The electrometer
suspended by the middle of the thread on any conductor^ ■
proper for the purpose, and serves to shew the kind and p. jgs,
quantity of its electricity *. 6’
Fig. 1 7. represents the quadrant electrometer of Wr
Henley, one of the most useful instruments of the kind
yet discovered, as well for measuring the degree ol ciec-tl.omcler
tricity of any body, as to ascertain the quantity of a Fig. 17.
charge before an explosion and to discover the exact
time the electricity of a jar changes, when without
making an explosion, it is discharged by giving it a
quantity of the contrary electricity. rI he pillar FM is
generally made ol wood, the graduated arch NOP of
ivo-.y, the rod flS is made of very light wood, with a
pith ball at the extremity ; it turns upon the centre of
the semicircle, so as always to keep near its suitace j
the extremity of the stem LM may either he fitted to
the conductor or the knob of a jar. When the appara¬
tus is electrified, the rod is repelled by the stem, and
moves along the graduated arch of the semicircle, so
as to mark the degree to which the conductor is elec¬
trified, cr the height to which the charge of the jar is
advanced.
Beccaria recommends fixing the index between two
semicircles, because when it is placed over one unit,
the electricity of this repels and counteracts the motion
of the index. Other improvements and variations have
been made in this instrument, which will he described
hereafter.
The first account of Mr Henley’s electrometer was
given in the Phil. Trans, vol. Ixii. by Dr Priestley,
who speaks of it in very high terms in a letter to Dr
Franklin. He considers it as a perfect instrument lor
measuring degrees of electricity, but it will appear
hereafter that this is not the case. .
The scale in Mr Henley’s quadrant is divided ,
equal parts 5 but M. Achard has already shewn ser,ati f
when this is the case, the angle at which the index iSontbe'
held suspended by the electric repulsion is not a truevisi0n
r J measure the w|'
65
^l) These threads should be wetted in a weak solution of salt.
6i>
Ben-
| lap. I. ELECT
I imiples measure of the repulsive force ; to estimate which truly,
I Electri-he demonstrates that the arc of the electrometer should
| tyillus- Jje divided according to a scale of arcs, the tangents of
‘riraeat which are in arithmetical progression.
«nmen . jjajjs 0f t|ie ordJnary electrometer may be made
ot pith or of cork, hut the latter must be very smooth and
well polished. They are best made in a turner’s lathe.
They may be made of any shape, provided they are
regular and free from edges. A very convenient elec¬
trometer is made of two long, slender pieces of rush pith,
made and appended to short threads of flax. These
may easily be hung parallel to each other, whereas in
the usual ball-electrometers the threads to which the
balls are hung form an angle with each other. This
parallelism of the threads is of advantage, and was con¬
sidered of so much consequence by Lord Stanhope
(better known to electricians by the title of Lord Ma¬
hon) that he was at great pains to suspend his balls in a
parallel position.
Of all the instruments by which it has been attempt¬
’s elec- ed to measure electricity, none have been found to an-
Pkte' Swer ^ie l5UrPose better than that invented by Mr Ben-
ravm. net» and which is represented in fig. 18. It consists of
ig. iS. two slips of gold leaf a a, suspended in a glass cylinder
b. The foot, c, may be made of wood or metal, and
the cap, d, should be of metal ; the latter being made
flat at top for the convenience of putting any thing up¬
on it that is to be electrified. The cap is about an inch
wider than the diameter of the glass, and its rim about
three quarters of an inch broad, hanging parallel to the
glass to keep it sufficiently insulated, and to turn off
the rain, when the instrument is employed in experi¬
ments on atmospherical electricity. Within this is an¬
other circular rim about half as broad as the former,
lined with silk or velvet, so that it may be made to fit
the outside of the glass exactly, while the cap may he
easily taken off to repair any damage done to the gold
leaf. From the centre of the cap hangs a tin tube
somewhat longer than the depth of the inner rim, in
which a small peg, f is placed, which may he taken
out occasionally. To this peg, which is rounded at one
end and flat at the other, two slips of gold leaf are fast¬
ened with paste, gum water, or varnish. They are a-
bout a fifth part of an inch broad and two inches long,
and are generally made tapering to a point. In one side
of the cap is a small tube,^, to place wires in; //, h, are
two long pieces of tin-foil fastened with varnish on op¬
posite sides of the internal surface of the glass, where the
slips of gold leaf may be expected to strike, and in con¬
nexion with the foot of the instrument. The upper end
of the glass is covered and lined with sealing-wax as low
as the outer rim, in order to make the insulation more
complete.
An improvement on this electrometer is to make the
."'to; ties cylinder pretty long, and to have a small additional tube
umem. 0fgUm ]ac on t]ie em] 0f Jt. The s]jpS of tinfoil reach
almost to the edge of the outer rim, and are sharp point¬
ed at the top, widening in the middle and decreasing in
i ^ breadth again as they descend,
V antages The great advantage of this instrument over the elec-
*u' trometers which we have described above is its extreme
sensibility, which will appear from the following exam¬
ples.
i. On putting powdered chalk into a pair of bellows,
‘Ability, and blowing it upon the cap, this was electrified posi-
R I C I T Y.
669
7°
xove-
bluieme
tively when the nozzle of the bellows was about six Principle
inches from it; but at the distance of three feet from the of Electri-
nozzle, the same stream electrified the cap negatively. c'ty *^n®~
l bus it appears that the electricity may be changed from ex Anient
positive to negative merely from the circumstance of this '■‘-v
stream ol chalk being more widely diffused in the air.
It may also be changed by placing a bunch ot fine wire,
silk, or leathers, in the nozzle of the bellows : and it is
likewise negative when the air is blown from a pair of
bellows wanting the iron pipe, so that it may come out
in a large stream ; but this last experiment succeeded
best when the air was damp. There is likewise a re¬
markable difference between the experiments in which
the electricity is positive and that in which it is nega¬
tive, the former being communicated to the cap with
some degree of permanency, so that the slips of gold leaf
continue for some time to diverge ; but the latter being
only momentary, and the slips collapsing as soon as the
cloud of chalk is dispersed. The greater permanency of.
the electricity in the former case is owing to some of the
chalk sticking to the cap when the nozzle of the bellows
is very near it.
2. A piece of chalk drawn over a brush, or pow¬
dered chalk put into the brush, and projected upon the
cap, electrifies it negatively ; but its electricity is not
communicated. It is only produced by position.
3. Powdered chalk blown with the mouth or bellows
from a metal plate placed upon the cap, communicates
to the cap a permanent positive electricity. If the chalk
is blown from the plate either insulated or not, so that
the powder may pass over the cap, if not too far oil’, the
electricity communicated is also positive ; or if a brush
he placed upon the cap and a piece of chalk be drawn
over it, the slips of gold-leaf when the hand is withdrawn
gradually open with positive electricity as the cloud of
chalk disperses.
4. Powdered chalk falling from one plate to an¬
other placed upon the instrument electrifies it nega¬
tively.
Other methods of producing electricity with chalk
and other powders have been tried ; as projecting chalk
from a goose wing, chalking the edges of books and
clapping the leaves of the book suddenly together, ako
sifting the powder upon the cap, all which electrified it
negatively; but the instrument being placed in a dusty
road, and the dust struck up with a stick near it, elec¬
trified it positively. Breaking theg/asx-tear upon a hook
electrified it negatively, but when broke in water it did
not electrify it.
Wheat flour and red lead produced a strong negative
electricity in all cases where the chalk produced a posi¬
tive electricity. The following powders were like chalk:
red ochre, yellow rosin, coal ashes, powdered crocus
metallorum, aurum mosaicum, black-lead, lamp-black
(which was only sensible in the two first methods), pow¬
dered quick-lime, umber, lapis calaminaris, Spanish
brown, powdered sulphur, flowers of sulphur, iron filings,
rust of iron, sand. Rosin and chalk, separately alike,
were changed by mixture ; this was often tried in dry
weather, but did not succeed in damp ; white-lead also
sometimes produced positive and sometimes negative
electricity when blown from a plate.
If a metal cup be placed upon the cap with a red hot
coal in it, and a spoonful of water be thrown in, it
electrifies it negatively; and if a bent wire be placed
6yo
Principles
of Electri¬
city illus¬
trated by
experiment,
73 .
Its sensi¬
bility in-
ereased !jy
a lighted
candle.
ELECT
in the cap, with a piece of paper fastened to it to in¬
crease its surface, the positive electr.city of the ascend¬
ing vapour may be tried by introducing the paper into
it. , . .
The sensibility of tins electrometer may be consi¬
derably increased by placing a candle on the cap. By
this means, a cloud of chalk, which in the other case
only just opens the gold-leaf, will cause it to strike the
sides for a long time together j and the electricity,
which was not before communicated, now passes into
the electrometer, causing the gold-leaf to repel after it
is carried away. Even sealing-wax by this means com¬
municates its electricity at the distance of 12 inches at
least, which it would scarcely otherwise do by rubbing
upon the cap. .
A cloud of chalk or wheat flour may be made in one
room, and the electrometer with its candle be after¬
wards leisurely brought from another room, and the
cloud will electrify it before it comes very near. Ihe
air of a room adjoining to that wherein the electrical
machine was used, was very sensibly electrified, which
was perceived by carrying the instrument through it
with its candle. , , ,. .
No sensible electricity is produced by blowing pure
air, by projecting water, by smoke, flame, or explosions
of gun-powder. .
A book was placed upon the cap, and struck with
silk, linen, woollen, cotton, parchment, and paper, all
which produced negative repulsion but when the other
side of the book was struck with silk, it became posi¬
tive j this side, struck at right angles with the former,
was again negative-, and by continuing the strokes
which produced positive, it changed to negative for a
little while •, and by stopping again, became positive.
No other book would do the same, though the sides
were scraped and chalked, upon a supposition that al¬
tering the surface would produce it. At last, one side
of a book was moistened, which changed it ; whence it
was concluded, that one edge of the book bad lain m a
damp place ; which conjecture was farther confirmed
by all the books becoming positive in damp weather,
and one of them being dried at the fire again became
negative. .
When the cap is approached with excited sealing-
Hvax, the gold-leaf may be made to strike the sides of
the glass more than twelve times 5 and as the sealing-
wax recedes, it strikes nearly as often •, but if it ap¬
proaches much quicker than it recedes, the second
number will sometimes be greater.
The quantity of electricity necessary to cause a re¬
pulsion of the gold-leaf is so small, that the sharpest
points or edges do not draw it off without touching *,
hence it is unnecessary to avoid points or edges in the
consiruction of this instrument.
To the experiments on blowing powders from a pair
of bellows, it may be added, that if the powder is
blown at about the distance of three inches upon a
plate which is moistened or oiled, its electricity is con¬
trary to that produced by blowing upon a dry plate.
This shews that the electricity of the streams of powder
issuing out of the bellows is only contrary to the more
expanded part, because it is within the influence of its
own atmosphere j for when this is destroyed by the
adhesion of the powder to the moistened place, it is ne-
r I C I T Y. lYrt Hi..
gative when the bellows are positive, as it was before Principles
positive when the. more expanded cloud was negative, of Electn.
This instrument is also free from an inconvenience
which attends the electrometers in which cork or pith
halls are employed. In these, when the balls are elec-   
trifled, they are veiy apt to adhere together for some
time before the repulsion takes place, and then they
often separate with a jerk so as to recede from each
other farther than they ought to do, and thus make
the electricity produced appear greater than it really
is ; whereas the slips of gold-leaf in Benuet’s electro¬
meter do not adhere together, and separate equally and
gradually. . r 1 ^
This instrument is, however, not without its defects, its def«t«
as the delicate texture of the gold-leaf renders it very
difficult to fasten the slips, so as to keep them entire,
and also prevent the instrument from being easily re- 75
moved from one place to another. Mr Cavallo Pr0‘
poses to remedy these defects in the following manner :
When the slips are cut and are lying upon papei, tliesedc
on the leather cushion upon which they are cut, make feels,
them equal in length, by measuring them with a pair
of compasses, and cutting oft a suitable portion horn
the longest; then cut two bits of very fine gilt paper,
each about half an inch long, and a quarter of an inch
broad, and by means of a little wax, stick one of them
to one extremity of each slip of gold-leaf, so as to form
a kind of letter T. This done, hold up in the fingers
of one hand, one of those pieces of paper with gold-leaf
suspended to it, and hold the other with the fingers of
the other hand; then bringing them near to each other,
and having adjusted them properly, viz. so as to let them
hang parallel and smooth, force the pieces of papei,
which now touch each other, between the two sides of
a sort of pincers made of brass wire, or of very thin
and hammered brass plate, which pincers are fastened
to the under part of that piece which forms the top or
cover of the glass vessel. As these gold slips are very
apt to be spoiled, we should keep several of them ready
cut in a book, each having a cross piece of paper fast¬
ened to one extremity, so that, in case of accident, a
new pair of gold slips may be soon put between the
aperture of the above-described pincers ; and by this
means the electrometer is rendered, in a certain man¬
ner, portable. . 7s
Mr Cavallo describes an electrometer which is nearly Mr Ca«l-
as sensible as Mr Rennet’s, and is not liable to the
conveniences above mentioned. It is represented at^
fig. 19. , . f Fig. 19
The case or handle of this electrometer is formed
by a glase tube, about three inches long, and three-
tenths of an inch in diameter, half of which is covered
with sealing-wax. From one extremity of this tube,
i. e. that without sealing-wax, a small loop of silk pro¬
ceeds, which serves occasionally to hang the electrome¬
ter on a pin, &c. To the other extremity of this tube
a cork is adapted, which, being cut tapering on both
ends, can fit the mouth of the tube with either end.
From one extremity of this cork, two linen threads
proceed, a little shorter than the length of the tube,
suspending each a little cone of pith and elder. M hen
this electrometer is to be used, that end of the cork
which is opposite to the threads is pushed into the
mouth of the tube ; then the tube forms the insulated
handle
map. I.
dipleg handle of the pith electrometer, as represented fig. 19.
Lliectri- c. But when the electrometer is to be carried in the
U M115- pocket, then the threads are put into the tube, and the
mmeot cor^ S^°PS **» as represented at b. The peculiar advan-
’ tap-es of this electrometer are, its convenient small size,
its great sensibility, and its continuing longer in good
order than any other we have yet seen.
a, Represents a case to carry the above-described elec¬
trometer in. This case is like a common toothpick case,
except that it has a piece of amber fixed on one extre¬
mity, which may occasionally serve to electrify the
electrometer negatively, and on the other extremity it
has a piece of ivory fastened upon a piece of amber.
This last amber serves only to insulate the ivory, which,
when insulated, and rubbed against woollen cloths, ac¬
quires a positive electricity j and it is therefore useful
to electrify the electrometer positively.
There are many other electrometers employed by
electricians j but these cannot properly be described at
. present, as they are constructed on principles which
have not yet been explained. They will be noticed in
j. their proper place.
C 11 ary .By the electric power, fluid or plastic conducting
tv on, &c. substances, that have part of their surface projecting
into the surrounding air, are formed into much more
attenuated streams or threads.
Exper. 1.—Suspend a small metallic bucket full
of water from the prime conductor, and place in the
water a glass syphon, the diameter of whose tube is
so small that the water will only drop from it. Now
set the cylinder of a machine in motion, and the water
will, begin to flow in a full stream from the end of the
syphon. The stream will sometimes be subdivided,
and if the experiment is made in the dark, the water
will appear luminous.
Exper. 2.—Dip a sponge in water, and suspend it
from the prime conductor. The water which before
only dropped from the sponge, will now flow very
fast, and appears in the dark like fiery rain.
The effect of electricity on water flowing through
capillary tubes, was first observed by M. Boze ; but
was more accurately investigated by the Abbe Nollet.
He found that the stream of water through a capillary
tube, was accelerated in the inverse ratio of the diame¬
ter of the tube, till the diameter of the tube was less
than a line j but that after this the stream was not sen¬
sibly accelerated. The important application which the
abbe thought he could make of this experiment will be
seen hereafter.
Exper. 3.—Insulate a condensed air fountain, and
electrify it; the jet will be minutely subdivided and ex¬
panded over a considerable space, but will return to its
original limit when the electrization is discontinued.
Exper. 4.—Fasten a piece of sealing-wax to a wire,
inserted in one of the holes of the prime conductor.
Soften the wax by heat, then turn the cylinder) very
fine threads of sealing-wax will be separated, and if re¬
ceived on paper, will cover it with minute fibres re¬
sembling fine red wool.
67I
When an insulated vessel is electrified, and an insu- Principles
lated body, such as a ball-electrometer,, is suspended of Electri-
withm the cavity of the vessel, the body shows no signs c*tJ’ illus-
qf electrical attraction or repulsion. trated by
The experiment by which this principle is to be il-exi)u|n)C1ltf‘
lustrated, is called the electrical well, and is thus de-
scribed by Mr Cavallo. 79
“ Place upon an electric stool a metal quart mug, or Electrical
some other conducting body nearly of the same formweli*
and dimension ; then tie a short cork-ball electrometer,
of the kind represented fig. 16. (m), at the end of a silk
thread proceeding from the ceiling of the room, or
from any other proper support, so that the electrometer
may be suspended within the mug, and no part of it
may be above the mouth; this done, electrify the mug,
by giving it a spark with an excited electric or other¬
wise, and you will see that the electrometer, whilst it
remains in that insulated situation, even if it be made
to touch the sides of the mug, is not attracted by it,
nor does it acquire any electricity; but if, whilst it
stands suspended within the mug, a conductor standing
out of the mug be made to communicate with, or only
presented to it, then the electrometer acquires an elec¬
tricity contrary to that of the mug, and a quantity of
it, which is proportionable to the body with which it
has been made to communicate ; and it is then immedi¬
ately attracted by the mug.
“ If, by raising the silk thread a little, part of the
electrometer, i. e. of its linen threads, be lifted just a-
bove the mouth of the mug, the balls will be immedi¬
ately attracted ; for then, by the action of the electri¬
city of the mug, it will acquire a contrary electricity,
by giving to, or receiving the electric power from, the
air, above the cavity of the mug.”
This experiment may be made in greater perfection
by employing a globular glass vessel, with a narrow
neck just sufficient to admit the electrometer, which
should be fastened to a crooked glass rod, so that it
may be presented to any part of the cavity. The out¬
side of the vessel should be smeared with some clammy
substance, as syrup or treacle, and may be insulated
by placing it on a wine glass. The balls presented to
the outside when the vessel is electrified, will be repel¬
led ; but presented to any part of the inside, they will
show no signs of electricity, unless touched with some
substance, as a wire, while within the cavity; when, on
being taken out, they will repel each other.
This experiment was invented by Dr Franklin, and
is called by him the electrical cup.
The intensity of the excitement in an electrified con¬
ductor, suffers diminution in proportion to the extent of
surface.
Exper. 5.—Insulate a smooth metallic cup with round¬
ed edges. In the cup place a quantity of gold chain
with a silk thread attached to it, by which the chain
may be raised out of the cup at pleasure ; attach a pith
ball electrometer to the cup, and electrify it. In pro¬
portion as the chain is raised from the cup, the diver¬
gence of the pith balls is diminished, and is restored
again
ELECTRICITY.
(m) Instead of the electrometer, there may be used any other kind of small conducting body; but that seems
best adapted to such expex-iments.
67
E L E C T R
Principle* ^ain in proportion as the chain is replaced. If this
Ji Electri- experiment is performed on a scale of sufficient magm-
city ilhts- tU(le e{ectric sparks will be procured, and the ditter-
tmudby ence ar;sin£? from the extension of the surface by the
rspeinncnt. up ^ the ch;iln win appear in the different powers
of the sparks.
I C I T Y.
Part III,,
present the sun. At one extremity of the wire, let a
pie sc m, mi- uuw    _ j - - - Principles
small wire be soldered perpendicularly, and on this ha- of Electri.
Chap. II. Of the Diversities exhibited by the Electric
Power in its passage from Pointed surfaces, and
from Obtuse surfaces.
So
Plate
CLxxxvur.
fig. 23.
Fig. *4.
Whex the electric power passes between an electrified
body and a pointed conductor, a luminous stream is
produced, attended with a current of air from the
point. ....
Exper. I.—Fix a metallic point in the prime
conductor, and set the machine in motion. No crack¬
ling, but rather a hissing noise, will be heard, and a
light will appear as if issuing from the point j and on
holding the hand near it, a strong blast of air will be
found to proceed from it. On holding another point
at the distance of about halt an inch from the point in
the prime conductor, a stream ol light will be seen pas¬
sing between them, attended with a crackling noise.
This current of air will he sufficiently strong to turn
any light bodies which are freely suspended, and in
this way the following pleasing experiments may be
made. . c i
Exper. 2.—Cut a round flat piece of cork,
with the edges very smooth, and stick a number ot
small crow quills into the circumference, with the fea¬
ther ends as represented in fig. 23. J pass a needle
through the centre of the cork, and suspend this needle
by a small magnet m: on holding the cork near the
point, the current of air will make it move round with
great swiftness.
Exper. 3.—Let four arms of wire, with their ex¬
tremities pointed and turned all in the same direction,
be stuck in the circumference of a small circular piece
of light wood, supported on a pointed wire, as repre-
sented in fig. 24. On bringing the wires near the
point in the conductor, while the machine is in motion,
they will move swiftly round as before, and in the
dark, a beautiful circle of fire will be produced by the
light issuing from the points. It figures of dogs, hoises,
£ic. formed of elder pith, he stuck on the points, they
will appear as if pursuing each other, thus forming what
lance another small wire with its ends pointed and turn- city illM.
ed, and having a small pith hall w in its centre to
present the earth, and a smaller ball of the same kind
at one of the angles for the moon. Let the whole be p]ate
supported upon a glass pillar, and be conducted by a clxxxvhi
chain proceeding from the prime conductor to the wire fio-2(S-
supporting the glass ball. Now, when the macnine is
put in motion, the wires will turn round, so that the
ball representing the earth will move round the central
ball, and the little ball at the angle of the smaller wire
will at the same time revolve about the earth.
Exper. 6.—The power exerted by electricity uponGravitatios
points, may under some circumstances be made to coun-resisted by
teract the power of gravitation. Let an inclined plane
be formed of two parallel wires fastened by their extre¬
mities to four pillars ot solid glass, M, N, O, P, fig.
2*]• fixed in a hoard, so that the two at one end shall
be higher than the other two. Then fix a wire with
its ends pointed and turned in the same direction, at
right angles upon a wire axis. When this axis is laid
upon the inclined plane, it will of course roll to the
bottom, but if, when it has nearly arrived there, the
machine be put in motion, the wire will return up the
plane, revolving on its axis. 84
Exper. 7. Take a small lock of cotton, extended The eiec-
in every direction as much as can conveniently betnfied cot-
done, and by a linen thread about five or six inches10"-
Jong, or by a thread drawn out of the same cotton, tie
it to the end of the prime conductor ', then set the ma¬
chine in motion, and the lock of cotton on being elec¬
trified, will immediately swell, by repelling its fila¬
ments from one another, and will stretch itself towards
the nearest conductor. In this situation let the cylin¬
der be kept in motion, and present the end of your fin¬
ger, or the knob of a wire, towards the lock of cotton,
which will then immediately move towards the finger,
and endeavour to touch it ; but take with the other
hand a pointed needle, and present its point towards"
the cotton, a little above the end of the finger, and the
cotton will he observed immediately to shrink upwards,
and move towards the prime conductor. Remove the
needle, and the cotton will come again towards the
fimrer. Present the needle, and the cotton will shrink
agai
8l. . Mr Kinnersly called the electrical horse-race.
Electrical / oi.Avf n»lla nP,r tl.P ed
horse race.
Fig. 2 5*
8a
Electrical
errery.
Exper. 4.—Fix eight bells near the edge of a
circular hoard supported on .four feet, as represented
fig* 25. having a glass pillar e in the centre terminat¬
ed by a point g. On this point place the pointed wires
used in the last experiment, hanging from one of them
as d, a small glass clapper by a silken thread ; and con¬
necting the apparatus by a chain h, proceeding from
the prime conductor. On setting the machine in mo¬
tion, the wire will move round, and the clapper ring
the bells. ...
Exper. 5.—By this motion of circulating points, we
may in some measure imitate the revolutions of the hea¬
venly bodies, forming what is called the electrical orre¬
ry. Let a single wire, with the extremities pointed
and turned as before, be nicely balanced on a point;
fix a small glass ball over its centre, as a, fig. 26. to re-
fThen the electric power passes between an electri¬
fied body and a conductor whose surface is obtuse, a
luminous spark is produced, attended with an explosion,
and these appearances are more or less strong tn pro¬
portion as the surfaces are more or less obtuse. .
Exper. I.—When the prime conductor is situated in
its proper place, and electrified by whirling the cylin-J.park».
der, if a metallic wire, with a ball at its extremity, or
the knuckle of a finger, be presented to the prime con¬
ductor, a spark will be seen to issue between them,
which will be more vivid, and will be attended with a
greater or less explosion, according as the hall is lar¬
ger. The strongest and most vivid sparks are 01 awn
from that end or side of the prime conductor which
is farthest from the cylinder. The sparks have the
same appearance whether they be taken from the posi¬
tive or the negative conductor ; they sometimes appear
like a long line of fire reaching from the prime con-
0 ductor
4
Chap. II. ELECT
ineiples ductor to the opposed body, and often (particularly
Electri- when the spark is long, and different conducting sub-
'a h*" stances in the line of its direction) it will have the ap-
ieriment. Pearance being bent to sharp angles in different
places, exactly resembling a flash of lightning.
87 The figure of the spark varies with the superficial di-
iure of mensions of the part from which it is taken. If it be
'r^eclucdrawn from a ball of two or three inches in diameter,
it will have the appearance of a straight line 5 but if
the ball from which it is drawn be much smaller, as
half an inch in diameter, it will assume the zig-zag ap¬
pearance above mentioned. These differences arise
from the resistance of the surrounding airj for in a
vacuum the short sparks are uniform, and the long ones
rarely deflected.
We have just seen that when* the electric power pas¬
ses from a point to a point, there are no sparks, but a
luminous stream appears ; but if the point be obliterat¬
ed, by being thrust back so as to be on a level with the
surface of the conductor, by being held between the
fingers, &c. the sparks will appear as before. Or in¬
close a metallic point in a glass tube, so that it may be
placed at any distance from the open ends of the tube.
In this situation its influence as a point will be destroy¬
ed, and it will transmit electricity by sparks like a
Jth of baI1’
1 spark ^,e ^en8tb °f lbe spark, or the distance through the
air which it strikes from the conductor, depends on se¬
veral circumstances ; as, the length and diameter of
the conductor j the termination of the surface from
which, or to which, the spark passes ; the dimensions
of the cylinder*, and the position of the conductor.
1. If the conducting body be increased in length
only, the distance of the spark will be shortened. This
fact was very early observed by Dr Priestley. He
found that a spark from the end of a wire several yards
in length, and about one-fourth of an inch in diameter,
was not longer than one taken from a conductor two
feet in length, and two inches in diameter. Signior
Volta found, that when he connected several rods, eight
feet long, and half an inch in diameter, suspended at
the distance of eight inches from each other, the spark
drawn from them was not so long as one drawn from
a conductor of the same length, hut of twelve inches
diameter. Mr Brooke of Norwich connected nearly
twenty rods of wood covered with tin-foil, near seven
feet long, and three-fourths of an inch in diameter, at
about a foot from each other, so that the whole appa¬
ratus resembled a large gridiron, which was suspended
from the ceiling by glass rods. From so large an ex¬
tent of conducting surface no spark exceeding six inches
could be drawn ; whereas from a conductor eight feet
long, and five inches in diameter, sparks may often he
drawn above nine inches long, with the same cylinder.
2. If the diameter of the conductor be increased in
proportion to its length, the spark is not so long as when
it is shortened, while the diameter is increased. A con¬
ductor twelve feet long, and eight inches in diameter,
does not yield a spark above half the length that may
E I C I T Y. 673
be drawn from a conductor of the same diameter, only Principles
six feet long. of Elect i-
3. The spark will strike to a greater distance, accord- cily ir,us-
ing as the cylinder is smaller in proportion to the con- trat®tl
ductor. A much longer and more violent spark was t'xtiei*tneHt-
drawn from Mr Brooke’s gridiron conductor with a cy¬
linder only four inches in diameter, than from a conduc¬
tor five feet long, and six inches in diameter, with the
same cylinder.
4. The length of the spark is greater from a ball of
moderate dimensions than from the surface of the prime
conductor.
5. The spark will be longer when the conductor is
placed parallel to the cylinder, than when it is at right
angles with the cylinder. .
The sound of the spark varies according as the sur-Sound of
faces between which it strikes are more or less obtuse. It the spark,
is louder when the spark is taken from the prime con¬
ductor, than when taken from a ball annexed to it;
and it is loudest of all when the spark strikes from one
flat surface to another: a straight spark is always louder
than one of the zig-zag appearance, If the spark be
made to pass from one end of a glass tube (closed at
both ends and very dry) to the other, the sound is en¬
tirely hushed. ^
When the spark is received by the knuckle, it pro- Force of
duces a sensation which is more or less painful. It is the spark,
more pungent when received from the prime conductor
than from a ball attached to it. The spark produces
a more painful sensation in proportion as it is shor¬
ter.
The most remarkable circumstance attending the elec- Light of the
trie spark is the light (n) produced in its passage through spark,
the air. The sparks which usually pass between the
rubber of the negative conductor, through the cylinder
to the points of the positive conductor, are of a beauti¬
ful light blue colour j but when the spark passes be¬
tween the prime conductor and a hall of the diameter
of an inch, its edges are purplish, and from these diverge
several ramifications of a purple or indigo colour. If
the balls between which the spark passes are not more
than half an inch distance from each other, a continued
stream of the most brilliant light will be produced, at¬
tended with a whizzing noise. If the distance of the
balls from each other be increased, sparks equally bril¬
liant will be produced j but their succession will be less
quick, and no continued steam will appear.
The light emitted from electrified conductors is more
copious and brilliant in proportion as their surfaces are
more extended. If a person standing on an insulating
stool, and connected with the prime conductor of a ma¬
chine in motion, hold a flat plate of metal, as a pew¬
ter plate, while another person standing on the floor
holds another plate, large flashes of vivid light will
appear between the plates, so as to illuminate a dark
room.
Soon after the cylinder is set in motion, and sparks Pcculioj-
begin to issue, a peculiar odour may he perceived j and odour at-
if the machine acts well, this is very powerful. It is tending the
difficult 8l,aik*
(n) The first person who seems to have observed the electric light was Otto Guericke. He appears indeed
only to have had a glimpse of it ; and the first who perceived it in any great degree was Dr Wall, on rubbing a
pretty large piece of amber. Vid. Philos. Trans, abridged, vol. ii.
VOL. VII. Part II. t 4 Q
674-
Principles
of iiiectri-
eily illus¬
trated by
experiment
9.3
electricity.
difficult to describe this odour, but it seems to resemble
that of phosphorus.
•Chap. III. Of charging and discharging the Leyden
' Phial; with directions for the construction of Jan
and Batteries.
94
Dancing
balls.
95
Construc¬
tion of the
Leyden
phial .”
Plate
cxxxxvni
12.
96 c
Method of
charging
and dis¬
charging it
The electric power is communicated to electrics with
difficultly unless their surfaces be covered with some con¬
ducting substance ; but it may be accumulated on them
in a much greater degree than on conduc tui s.
L.rper. 1. Take a common tumbler or glass jar,
and having placed a brass ball in one of the holes of the
prime conductor, set the machine in motion, and let
the halls touch the inside of the tumbler J while the ball
touches only one point, no more of the surface oi the
glass will be electrified, but by moving the tumblers
about so as to make the ball touch many points succes¬
sively, all these points will be electrified, as will appear
by turning down the tumbler over a number ot pith or
cork balls placed on a table. These balls will immedi¬
ately begin to fly about, thus showing the electric at¬
traction and repulsion illustrated in (61.). Ih»s expe¬
riment is commonly called the experiment ot the dan¬
cing balls, and is represented at tig. 28. .
Lxpr. 2.—Let a glass jar, either cylindrical, such as
is represented at fig. 12. Plate CLXXXVIIL or with
as wide a mouth as possible, be covered on both its in¬
side and outside surfaces to within two inches ol t*16
with tinfoil fastened on by means of gum water. I be
jar is then said to be coated. Fit to the mouth ot the
jar a piece of baked wood, through the centre ot which
pass a wire, whose lower extremity is terminated by a
number of other wires, which must be made to touch
the inside coating, while its upper extremity pro¬
jects an inch or two above the mouth ot the jar, and
terminates in a metallic ball a. This ball should be
perforated so as to receive a wire supporting a quadrant
electrometer.
The jar being thus prepared, let the knob a com¬
municate with the prime conductor, and let it remain
while the cylinder is in motion till the ball c ot the
• electrometer stands nearly horizontal j the jar is then
said to be charged. This requires a much longer time
than to raise the electrometer to the same height when
no such jar is presented, although the conductor sliouli
be connected with a much more extensive surface ot
conducting matter. That instrument does not indi¬
cate the actual quantity of excitement, but its intensity,
or its tendency to equilibrium by motion or explosion.
It may be removed from the conductor without any
effect being produced so long as the inside coating has
no communication with the outside.
Let there be provided a curved brass rod, termina¬
ting at each end in a knob, and furnished with a glass
handle, such as Yief; it now one ol the knobs, as e,
be made to approach the hall a of the jar, while the
other knob^touches the outside coating, a consider¬
able explosion will take place, and the jar will lose its
electricity, as will appear by the baH of the electrome¬
ter falling into a perpendicular situation.
The jar is then said to be discharged, and the rod
defis called a discharging rod.
Part Hi.
A jar or phial of glass thus constructed is, for a reason Principle,
which will presently appear, called a Leyden jar ox phial, of Electri.
In this experiment, the jar is not charged to its ut- «ty iUiis.
most height. If, instead of stopping when the index
of the quadrant is nearly at right angles, we persist __
in charging, there will soon appear several luminous
streams passing from the prime conductor across the
cylinder to the cushion. Presently an explosion will
take place from the phial, and tins is called its spon¬
taneous discharge. It the phial is not very strong,
it will probably either be broken, or on examination
will be found perforated in some part. It tne glass
be very thin, a spontaneous discharge will soon take
place, attended with a harsh crackling noise, and the
phial will certainly be cracked. A spontaneous diSr
charge happens much more readily when the neck of
the phial is very small, and consequently the wire comes
very near the uncoated part oi the glass.
If the uucoated part ot the glass be moist or dusty,
the jar will not receive a charge, so that it is necessary
to be very careful in cleansing the jar before using it.
When the uncoated part is made very hot, the spon¬
taneous discharge is much accelerated. . /
The appearance of the uncoated part of the jar, when
the discharge is made in the dark, is very curious. A
great number of luminous streams will be seen pouring
over the edge of the jar from the inside to the outside.
The force of the explosion depends very much on
od.
the termination of the extremity 0! tue dischaiging 1
If this be terminated by a large ball, the noise will be
much greater than when the ball is small il it be tei-
minated by a small obtuse surface, a hissing noise is
heard before the explosion, and this is taint. But if
the rod terminate in a point, no explosion will take
place, but the jar will be silently discharged. _ _
In the above experiment the jar is charged positively,
it having been in contact with the positive conductor ;
but if it be connected with the negative conductor, the
jar will be charged negatively. This will be more
fully illustrated by and by.
As the accumulation of the electric power by means
of coated jars forms one of the most important discove¬
ries which have been made in this science, we shall here
relate the method in which the discovery was made.
This discovery was accidental, and was the result ot
an experiment made in the end ol toe >eai 1 ^45 ljy
M. Van Ivleist, dean of the,cathedral in Cammin, who
sent the following account ol it to Dr Lieberkuhn at
Berlin. . • . |
When a nail or a piece of thick brass-wire, &c. isDiscowrjji
put into a small apothecary’s phial, and electrified, re-
markable effects follow j but the phial must be very dry u Y|
or warm. I commonly rub it once beforehand with aK}ei5l(
finger, on which I put some pounded chalk. It a little
mercury, or a few drops of spirit of wine, be put into
it, the experiment succeeds the better. As soon as
this phial and nail are removed from the electrifying
glass, or the prime conductor to which it has been ex¬
posed, is taken away, it throws out a pencil of flame so
long, that with this burning machine in my hand, I
have taken about sixty steps in walking about my room.
W’hen it is electrified strongly, I can take it into ano¬
ther room, and there fire spirits of wine with it. B,
while it is electrifying, I put my finger, or a
ELECT
j tnciples gold wiiich I hold in my hand, to the nail, I receive a
hEte tri- shock, which stuns my arms and shoulders.
|./villus- A tin tube, or a man placed upon electrics, is elec-
I'Hment niuc^ stronger by this means than in the com-
i. t ' mon way- When I present this phial and nail to a tin
tube, which I have, fifteen feet long, nothing but ex¬
perience can make a person believe how strongly it is
electrified. Two thin glasses have been broken by the
shock of it. It appears to me extraordinary, that when
this phial and nail are in contact with either conducting
or non-conducting matter, the strong shock does not
follow. I have cemented it to wood, metal, glass,
sealing-wax, &c. when I have electrified without any
great efiect.
M. Van Kleist communicated this experiment to se¬
veral of his acquaintances, but they all for some time
failed in their attempts to repeat it.
E ni- An experiment of a similar kind was soon after made
n by at Leyden by Mr Cuneus. Making an attempt to
MCimeus.CQmmuBjcate the electric power to water, contained in
a phial, in which was a nail, happening to hold his
glass in one hand, while he disengaged it from the
prime conductor with the other, when he imagined
that the water had received as much electricity as it
was capable of acquiring, he was surprised with a sud¬
den shock in his arms and breast, which he had not in
the least expected.
This experiment was afterwards repeated in the pre¬
sence of M. M. Allamand and Muschenbroeck with
similar results : and as it was at Leyden that the expe¬
riment was made with the greatest success, and after¬
wards improved, it obtained the name of the Leyden
experiment, and a phial so constructed as to exhibit si
milar phenomena, has been ever since called a Leyden
J I? phial.
Indeed the philosophers of Leyden seem to have
some merit in this discovery, which with them does
not appear to have been merely accidental. The views
which are said to have led to it were as follow. Pro¬
fessor Muschenbroeck and his friends, observing that
electrified bodies, exposed to the common atmosphere,
which is always replete with conducting particles of
various kinds, soon lost their electricity, and were
capable of retaining hut a small quantity of it, ima¬
gined, that were the electric bodies terminated on all
sides by original electrics, they might be capable of
receiving a stronger power, and retaining it a longer
time. Glass being the most convenient electric for
Mile this purpose, and water the most convenient non-elec-
tfj h'Ac'c. tric» they first made these experiments with water in
oo close bottles
iXe581've ^ 01 a l°n£ time water and spirit of wine were the
gf'theonly conductors employed in this experiment; but it
Lien was soon found by Dr Watson, that the experiment suc-
ph ceeded better when the outside of the glass was coated
with some metallic leal, as sheet-lead, or tin-foil, while
the phial contained some water within ; and after this
there was a natural transition to the use of an internal
6( rv.
Hi led
(is dis-
R I C I T Y. 675
as well as external metallic coating, and thus the Ley- Principles
den phial was completed in its present form (o). ofElectri-
A number of coated jars having their internal coat- c>ty iilus-
ings connected together by metallic wires, constitute Uatcd by
what is called a battery. Fig. 14. represents an elec-cxl,ei‘"ltnt;
trical battery of the most approved form, containing iot
nine jars. rI he bottom of the box is covered with tin- Electrical
foil to connect the exterior coatings; the inside coat-*)at.l;er' r*e"
ings of the jars are connected by the wires a b c, f/c/jscllue‘1’
g h i, which meet in the large hall A; a ball D pro¬
ceeds from the inside, by which the circuit may be con¬
veniently completed. In one side of the box, near the
bottom, is a hole through which a brass hook passes,
and which communicates with the metallic lining of the
box, and consequently with the outside coating of the
jars. To this a wire or chain is occasionally connected
when a discharge is made; and for the more conveni¬
ent making of this discharge, a ball and wire, D, pro¬
ceed to a convenient distance from the centre of the ball
A. When the whole force of the battery is not re¬
quired, one, two, or three jars may be removed, only
by pressing down the wires belonging to them, until
their extremities can slip out of their respective holes
in the brass ball, and then turning them into such a
posture that they cannot have any communication willi
the battery. The number of jars represented in this
figure is rather small for some purposes ; hut it is better
to join two or three small batteries, rather than have a
single large one, which is inconvenient on account of
its weight and unwieldiness.
As coated jars form one of the most expensive parts Directions
of an electrical apparatus, it is of consequence that the for thecou-
electrician should himself be able to adjust them for ®t,uction ot
experiment, and repair the coating, &c. when injured,|ars and
We shall therefore give particular directions for the >a 1
preparation of jars and batteries. The circumstances
necessary to be attended to, respect principally the
form of the coated electric, the substance employed
as an electric, and the conductor employed as a coat-
ing\
For most experiments the best form is that of a cy- Fomfof
lindrical jar, in which the mouth is large enough tojars, See.
admit the introduction of the hand. A phial of this
form is much more easily coated, cleaned, or repaired,
than one of any other form. Mr Cuthbertson used to
make his jars cylindrical,but now he is of opinion
that it is better to have the mouth a little contracted,
and he has of late always made his jars of this latter
form. For illustrating the theory of coated electrics,
as we shall see hereafter, plates are the most conveni¬
ent, and they are also useful in some experiments.
Dr Robison prefers bottles of a globular form to any
other, and he commonly employed the balloons used in
distillation, which he says make excellent jars. The
bottles employed for holding mineral acids also make
very good jars, but they are rather inferior to the bal¬
loons, as having very thick bottoms. For ordinary
purposes, where a glass house is at a great distance,
4 Q 2 common
(o) Dr Watson was indebted for the hint of a metallic coating to Dr Bevis, who was also the first electrician
that employed a plate of glass coated on both sides in performing the experiments with coated electrics. Hence
the coated plate is often called, especially by the continental electricians, Bevis’s plate, or square, le carrean
de Bevis.
6y6
Principles
of Electri¬
city illus¬
trated by
experiment.
104
Electrics
employed.
105
Substitute
for glass by
Beccaria,
ELECT
common green glass bottles or apothecary’s phials
with the mouths as wide as possible, will answer very
well. • .
With respect to the electric employed tor this pur¬
pose, glass is to be preferred on many accounts, and of
this the best kind, as flint or crystal: but the expence
here becomes a very considerable object, especially as
the jars of a battery are very apt to break by reason ot
the inequality of their strength ; for it should seem that
the force of the electric power in a battery is equally
distributed among all the bottles, without any regari
to their capacities of receiving a charge singly consider¬
ed. Thus if we express the quantity of charge which
one jar can easily receive, by the number 10, we ought
not to connect such a jar in a battery with one whose
capacity is only 8 •, because the whole force of electricity
expressed by 10 will be directed also against that whose
capacity is only 8, so that the latter will be in danger
of being broken. It will be proper, therefore, to
compare the bottles with one another in this respect be¬
fore putting them together in a battery. Besides the
consideration of the absolute capacity which each bottle
has of receiving a charge, the time which is taken up
in charging it must also be attended toj and the jars of
a battery ought to be as equal as possible in this respect
as well as the former. The thinner a glass is, the more
readily it receives a charge, and vice versa; but it
does not follow from thence, as was formerly imagined,
that on account of its thinness it is capable of contain¬
ing a greater charge than a thicker one. The reverse
is actually the case ; and though a thick glass cannot
be charged in such a short time as a thin one, it is
nevertheless capable of containing a greater degree
of electric power. In fact, it the glass be thinner
than one-eighth of an inch, the phial will not bear any
considerable charge. If the thickness of the glass be
very great, no charge can indeed be given it; but ex¬
periments have not yet determined how great the
thickness must be which will prevent any charge. In¬
deed it is observed, that though a thick glass cannot be
charged by a weak electrical machine, it may he so by
a more powerful one: whence it seems reasonable to sup¬
pose that there is no real limit of this kind j but that, if
a machine could be made sufficiently powerful, glasses
of any thickness might be charged.
Glass is attended with one considerable inconveni¬
ence *, that it is very apt to attract moisture, and there¬
fore the jars require perpetual care in wiping before
they are used ; and this, when a large battery is em¬
ployed, becomes a very troublesome operation. It is
the uncoated part of the jar which is injured by the
moisture, for it is found, that if the coating he moist,
the jar is more easily and more completely charged.
Electricians have often endeavoured to find some
other electric which might answer better than glass for
tliis purpose, at least be cheaper; but except Father
Beccaria’s method, which may be used very well, no
remarkable discovery has been made relating to this
point. He took equal quantities of very pure colopho-
nium and powder of marble sifted exceeding fine, and
kept them in a hot place a considerable time, where
they became perfectly free from moisture ; he then
mixed them, and melted the composition in a proper
vessel over the fire, and when melted poured it upon
a table, upon which he had previously stuck a piece of
ictf
R I C I T Y. Tart III,
tin-foil, within two or three inches of the edge of the Principle,
table. ’ This done, he endeavoured with a hot iron
to spread the mixture as equally as possible, and to ^
the thickness ot one-tenth ot an inch all over the table $eXperjnient
he afterwards coated it with another piece of tin-toil,
reaching within about two inches ot the edge of the
mixture ; in short he coated a plate ot this mixture as
he would a plate of glass. This coated plate seems,
from what he says, to have had a greater power than a
glass plate of the same dimensions: even when the
weather was not very dry, and if it is not liable to
be easily broken by a spontaneous discharge, it may
be conveniently employed in place of glass j tor it does
not very readily attract moisture, and consequently may
hold a charge better and longer, than glass 5 besides,
when broken, it may be again repaired by means of a
hot iron, whereas a broken plate or vessel of glass can
seldom be employed again. #
Talc or Muscovy glass, is one of the most convenient Talc a ten
electrics for the purposes of coating. It is not very good cU,.-
apt to contract moisture, and will retain a charge for al"^rg
very considerable time.
A very convenient portable phial may be constructed
of sealing wax in the following manner: Procure a
phial made of tin-plate, or white-iron (as it is called
in Scotland), with a long neck j cover the outside of
this phial with sealing wax as far as the neck, and coat
the sealing wax to within a little of the neck with tin-
foil. In this phial it is evident that the sealing wax is
the electric, of which the tin-foil forms the outer and
the tin-plate the inner coating. 10y
When plates or jars having a sufficiently large open-Method °l
ing are to be coated, the best method is to coat them coating
with tin-foil on both sides, which may be fixed upon aB
the glass with varnish, gum water, bees wax, &c. j but
in case the jars have not an aperture wide enough to
admit the tin-foil, and an instrument to adapt it to the
surface of the glass, brass-filings, such as are sold by
the pin-makers, may be advantageously used j and these
may be stuck on with gum water, bees wax, &c. but
not with varnish, for this is apt to be set on fire by the
discharge. Care must be taken that the coating do not
come very near the mouth ot the jar, for that will
cause the jar to discharge itself. If the coating is about
two inches below the top, it will in general do very
well ■, but there are some kinds of glass, especially tin¬
ged glass, that when coated and charged have the
property of discharging themselves more easily than
others, even when the coating is five or six inches be¬
low the edge- . f ,
It is much more difficult to coat vessels of a globular
form than plates or cylindrical jarsj but the former may
be coated with tolerable ease by attending to the method
of cutting the tin-foil. This should be cut into the
form of gussefs, as in covering a globe or in making
a balloon ; and they should be pasted on, so as to over¬
lap each other about half an inch. After having coat¬
ed the sides of a balloon in this manner, the bottom is
to be covered with a circular piece of tin-foil. The
thinner the foil, the better it is adapted for the inside
coating ; and it may readily be applied by first pasting
it upon paper, and then pasting either the paper or the
foil next the glass.
In coating plates of glass it is better to cut the tin¬
foil into circular pieces, as it is found that a circular
space
ro 3
r
ooke’s
ile of
Uiog-
hap. HI. ELECT
inciples sPace *s capable af giving as great a charge to the glass,
lElectri- as a square coating of the same breadth, and a spon-
.yillas- taneous discharge does not so readily take place from
tiled by t|)e circular edge, as from the edges of a square coat-
^•ing.
Mr Brooke discovered, that when jars are coated
with tin-foil first pasted upon paper, they were render¬
ed much less liable to be broken by the discharge. As
the trials which led to this discovery afford a useful les¬
son to the young electrician, we shall relate them in his
own words.
“ In making electrical experiments, and in particular
those in which the Leyden phial is concerned, a me¬
thod of preserving the bottles or jars from being struck
through by the electric power, is very desirable ; but I
do not know that it has hitherto been accomplished.
The number of them that have been destroyed in many
of my experiments, have led me to various conjectures
to preserve them : at the same time I have been obliged
to make use of bottles instead of open mouthed jars.
And as coating the former withinside is very trouble¬
some, it has put me on thinking of some method more
easy, quicker, and equally firm and good, as with tin-
foil. With respect to the new method of coating, I
failed } though something else presented itself rather in
favour of the former : therefore, introducing the pro¬
cess here will not be of very great use ; unless in
saving another the trouble of making use of the same
method, or giving a hint towards the former so as to
succeed with certainty. My aim was to find something
that should be quick and clean, and not easy to come
off with the rubbing of wires against it, and yet a good
conductor. My first essay was with a cement of pitch,
rosin, and wax, melted together ; into which, to make
it a good conductor, 1 put a large proportion of finely
sifted brass filings. When this mixture was cold, I
put broken pieces of it into the bottle, and warmed
the bottle till it was hot enough to melt the cement in
it so as to run, and cover the bottle withinside ; then I
coated the outside with tin-foil, as is commonly done,
and now it was fit for use or ready to be charged, to
which I next proceeded j and I believe I had not
made more than four or five turns of the winch, before
it spontaneously struck through the glass with a very
small charge. 1 then took off the outside coating, and
stopped the fracture with some of my common cement,
after which I put the coating on again ; and in as little
time as before, it was struck through again in a differ¬
ent place ; and thus I did with this bottle five or six
times $ sometimes it struck through the glass in four
different places. This made me consider what it might
be that facilitated the spontaneous striking through the
glass, and likewise what might retard it. I had, long
before, thought that jars or bottles appeared to be
struck through with a much less charge, just after their
being coated, or before they were dry, than when they
had been coated long enough for the moisture to be
evaporated from the paste, with which I mostly lay on
the tinfoil, and could only consider the dry paste as a
kind of mediator between the tinfoil and the glass, or,
in other words, that the moisture in the paste was a bet¬
ter conductor and more in actual contact with the glass
than the paste itself when dry. And the coating the
bottles with the heated cement, though long afterward,
did. not alter my former idea: for it appeared as if the
a i c I T Y.
677
hot cement, with the conducting substance in it, might Principles
be still more in actual contact with the glass than the of Electri-
moisture in the paste. On these probabilities I had to ilhis-
consider what might act as a kind of mediator more exp^meirt.
effectually than the dry paste, between the glass and ■ y - ■
the tinfoil. It occurred, that common writing paper,
as being neither a good conductor nor insulator, might
be serviceable by being first pasted smoothly to the tin¬
foil, and left to dry. The paper then being pasted on
one side, having the tinfoil on the other, I put them
on the glass together with the tinfoil outward, and
rubbed them down smooth. This succeeded so well
that I have never since had any struck through that
were thus done, either common phials or large bottles,
which contain near three gallons each, though some of
the latter have stood in the battery in common use
with the others for a long time. And as I have
never had one struck through that has been prepared
in this way, I am much less able at present to tell
how great a charge they will bear before they * Brooke's
struck through, or whether they will be struck through Miscdla-
at all ncous Ex-
The mineral acids serve very well for an inside
ing to jars; but their use is attended with some
from their corrosive quality. 10p
The wire through which the charge is made, should Directions
not be less than the fourth of an inch in diameter; itf°r fi*ing
should be terminated by a metallic ball, at least one ^ie wire’
inch in diameter.
If the phials be intended to be frequently removed
from one place to another, the charging wire must be
fastened so as to be always steady in the centre of the
phial. For this purpose, some employ a piece of wood,
to fit the mouth of the phial like a lid, but the length
of insulation which separates the coating from the
phial is thus diminished, and consequently, as we 3hall
see hereafter, the phial is more liable to a gradual
spontaneous discharge, so that it is much more diffi¬
cult to charge it. The wire is best fastened below the
edge of the inner coating, and in this way Mr Cuth-
bertson constructs his jars, the mouth being left entirely
open.
When the phial is not to be removed from the situa¬
tion in which it is charged, the wire may be fastened to
the conductor. JIo
Batteries may he formed either of plates or jars. Construc-
A very compendious battery may be made in the fol-tion of bat-
lowing manner. Select a number of plates of the bestte“e»*
crown glass that are very flat and thin ; coat them oil
each side with a circular piece of tinfoil pasted in
the middle of the plate, so as to leave a margin suf¬
ficiently wide to prevent a spontaneous discharge ; let
a narrow slip of tinfoil pass from the circumference of
the coating on each side, and lay the plates upon each
other so that these slips may coincide. Let the slips be
connected at their ends by a wire which touches
them all; then if one of these slips be connected
with the prime conductor, and the other with the
ground, the whole may be charged or discharged to¬
gether. If we wish to have a number of these plates
connected so as to form a perpetual battery, they
may be cemented by covering the tin-coated margins
with melted pitch, and pressing the plates down on each
other while the pitch is soft till the coatings touch
each other. But if we desire to make use only of a few
of
6;8
E L E C T R I C I T Y.
i ii
Mr
Erooke’s
mode of
construct-
Prineiples of the plates at a time, and to vary their number, they
ofElectii- may be placed upon their edges in an open jrame j and
city Ulus- when we wish to make a break in the chain or plates,
traied by , • ma easi| be done by placing one of them at right
eKuenment. , J J .
.  —, . ang’es to the rest. ,
A very convenient battery may be formed in tins
way with coated plates of Muscovy glass j but great
caution is necessary in the use of such plates, as they
are very easily broken by a spontaneous discharge, and
it is not easy to discover where the crack has happen-
ed. .
Mr Brooke of Norwich constructed his batteries,
which appear to have been very powerful, of green
olass bottles. Some of them, like that represented in
This bat-the figme, bad only nine of these bottles j but when a
greater power was wanted, more were added. Jars
would have been preferred to bottles, on account of
their being more easily coated by reason of their wide
mouths ; but being less easily procured, he was content
to put up with this inconvenience. The mean size
of these bottles was about eight inches in diameter j
they were coated 10 inches high, and made of the
thickest and strongest glass that could he procured,
weighing from five pounds and a half to seven pounds
each. In the construction of a battery of 27 bottles,
he disposed of them in three rows ; nine of the stoutest
and best composing the first row, nine of the next
in strength being disposed in the second, and the third
containing the nine weakest. All of these were of
green glass, but not of the same kind. Some of those
which stood in the foremost row, were composed of a
kind very much like that of which Frontigniac wine
Part lit
teries.
bottles are made 5 and our author remarks, that this
112
Mr Mor¬
gan’s rules
for the con¬
struction of
batteries.
kind of glass seems to be by much the best, as being
both harder and stronger, and less liable to break by
a Wgh charge. The second and third rows of the bat¬
tery0 consisted of bottles whose diameter was from six
and a half to ten inches, and which were coated from
eight and a half to eleven inches high j none of their
mouths being larger than an inch and a half, nor less
than three quarters of an inch.
All the bottles of this battery, as well as the single
ones which be commonly made use of in his experi¬
ments, were coated both on the inside and outside with
slips of tinfoil from three-eighths to three-fourths ot an
inch wide, laid on with paste of flour and water, at the
distance of about a slip between each.
Mr G. Morgan lays down the following requisites,
essential in the construction of a battery.
1. Its connecting wires should be perfectly free from
all points and edges.
2. The connecting wires should be easily moveable,
so that when accident has lessened the number of phials,
the number of wires may be reduced so as to correspond
with the I’emaining quantity of glass.
3. The phials should not he crowded •, for in such a
case, if necessity should oblige us to employ phials of
different heights or sizes, the tinfoil of the higher ones,
being in contact with the uncoated glass of the lower
ones, the insulation will thus be rendered less complete.
4. The size of the phials should not be large •, for
though an increase of magnitude lessens the trouble of
cleaning, it at the same time increases the expence of
repairing damages which frequently occur.
5. The several wires should he fixed very steadily, Principle:!
or in such a manner as not to admit of any shaking. of Elecui
6. The battery should take up the least possible cPyillus-
room j for as it increases in size, so is the probability
increased of its being exposed to the influence of sur-
rounding conductors. 113
The first electrical battery appears to have been con- Origin of
strncted in the year 1746 by Mr Gralath, a German.^
Dr Franklin constructed a battery consisting of eleven
plates of common window glass, and with this he made
most of the experiments which will be mentioned here¬
after. The construction of the battery was greatly im¬
proved by Dr Priestley, who formed them of consider¬
able size and power. In his history he describes and
figures one consisting of sixty-four jars, each ten inches
high, and two inches and a half in diameter, and the
whole battery containing 32 square feet ol'coated sur¬
face. 114
But the most complete electrical batteries are those Van M*.
made by Mr Cuthbertson for Teyler’s museum at Haar- bat"
lem. Of these batteries there are two, differing in their U)'
magnitude and mode of construction, hut allowed to be
equally perfect. The first was completed in the year
1784, and is composed of 135 jars in nine boxes, which
may be used separately or combined, as the nature of
the experiment requires. Each box is a separate bat¬
tery of itself j and the description of one box will be
sufficient for explaining its construction and use. Each
box contains 15 jars*, each jar is 11 inches high, and
six inches in diameter, contracted at the mouth to four
inches, and coated so as to contain 140 square inches j
and thus the whole battery will contain about 132
square feet of coated surface. Each box is divided in¬
to 1 s partitions, five of which are in the length and
three in the breadth ; the height of the sides of the box
being somewhat lower than the coating of the jars, as
are also the partitions in which they stand. The lid of
the box is made without hinges, for the convenience of
releasing it from the box, that it may he removed while
experiments are performed. It is taken off by lifting
it upwards. The outside coatings of the jars are con¬
nected by means of cross wires passing under the bot¬
tom of each jar j and those on the inside by means of
a brass frame, bearing 15 brass balls, fixed upon the
frame above the centre of each jar. All these balls,
excepting the four at the corners, have wires screwed
to them and hanging downwards into the inside of each
jar *, but the wires of the four corner jars are screwed
to a foot, which is cemented to the bottom of each in
the inside. Upon these wires the whole frame rests,
and is kept in its proper position. The four corner
balls have holes, which receive the ends of the wires,
and terminate at a proper height from the jars. By
this contrivance the inside connecting frame may at any
time be easily removed. It is according to the above
construction that Mr Cuthbertson forms his present
batteries, excepting that lie has increased the size of
the jars, so as to make one battery contain about 17
square feet *, and he engages to prove by experiment,
that the batteries of his construction are far superior to
any others. Teyler’s second grand battery was finish¬
ed by Mr Cuthbertson in 1789* This is the largest
and most complete battery that was ever made. It
consists of 100 jars-of the same shape with that of
those
IIS
; tliod of
i airing
i :ked
fiap. HI.
incip!es those already described, only that they are so enlarged
iElectri- in size, that each of them contains 5!- square feet of
p 'l1”5' coated surface, instead of 140 inches, and the, whole
^^battery contains 550 square feet of coating*, and for
1,^,—. 1 conveniency, it is put into four separate cases, each
containing 25 jars in the form of a square, five on each
side. 'Ihe boxes are lined with lead on the inside for
forming the outside communication •, each jar has a
perpendicular stand resting upon its bottom, and sup¬
ported from falling sideways by three stays on the inside.
Upon the top is screwed a three-inch brass globe, from
which proceeds a brass tube about an inch in diameter,
to a large brass globe, supported by the middle jar at a
proper height, so as to keep the inside communication
properly arranged.
Various expedients have been thought of to repair
jars when cracked, and enable them to bear another
charge, but they seem to have been attended with very
little success. Mr Brooke found that when any of his
bottles was broken by the discharge, it might be con¬
veniently mended and made serviceable in the follow¬
ing manner. “ Take of Spanish white eight ounces ;
heat it very hot in an iron ladle, to evaporate all the
moisture ; and when cool sift it through a lawn sieve j
add three ounces of pitch, three quarters of an ounce
of rosin, and half an ounce of bees wax ; heat them
all together over a gentle fire, stirring the whole fre¬
quently for near an hour ; then take it off the fire, and
continue the stirring till it is cold and fit for use.” The
bottles cemented with this composition, however, were
not judged to be sufficiently strong to stand in their
original place, but were removed to the second or third
row, as it was apprehended they could best sustain the
charge.
In relating the experiment of charging and dischar¬
ging a Leyden phial, we have briefly described the dis-
charging rod. Discharging rods are made of various
forms and dimensions ; fig. 13. represents one of the
most common forms. It is convenient that the legs
should move upon a hinge, so that the balls may be
placed at a greater or less distance as occasion may
require ; the extremities of the legs should terminate
in points, and the balls be made to screw on and off at
pleasure.
Fig. 29. represents Mr Henley’s universal discharger j
an instrument of very extensive use in forming commu¬
nal dh- nications between jars, or directing the shock through
e! ser. any particular substance. AB is a flat board fifteen
inches long, four broad, and one thick, and forming
the basis of the instrument. DC are two glass pillars
cemented in two holes upon the board AB, and fur¬
nished at their tops with brass caps 5 each of which has
a turning joint, and supports a spring tube, through
which the wires EF and ET slide. Each of these caps
is composed of three pieces of brass, connected with
each other in such a manner, that the wire EF, besides
its sliding through the socket, has two other motions,
viz. a horizontal one, and a vertical one. Each of the
wires is furnished with an open ring at one end, and at
the other has a brass ball ; which, by a short spring
socket is slipped upon its pointed extremity, and may
be removed from it at pleasure. HG is a circular piece
of wood five inches diameter, having a slip of ivory in¬
laid on its surface, and furnished with a strong cylindri¬
cal foot, which fits the cavity of the socket I. This
ELECTRICITY.
679
116
he dis¬
cing
JIate
:xvrir.
13-
"7
1‘tlen-
! §■• 29.
socket is fixed in the middle of the bottom board, and Principles
has a screw at Iv 5 by which the foot of the circular of Electri-
board is made fast at any required height. eity illus-
1 ig. 30. is a small press belonging to this instrument. tlate.d ,jy
It consists of two oblong pieces of wood, which are fcxiie”1“e11
forced together by the two screws, a, a. The lower Plate
end has a circular foot equal to that of the circular
ble H. When this press is to be used, it must be fixed ^ 30,
into the socket I, in place of the circular board HG 5
which in that case is to be removed. ,,5
Mr G. Morgan gives the following rules for the Mr Mor-
construction and use of discharging instruments. gan’s rules
1. They should be constructed so as to allow nof°l con'
other passage to the electric power, than that of the ^eharjdiKr
intended circuit.
2. The conducting wires of the instrument should he
made to come into contact with the inner surface of the
coated electric as speedily as possible ; for when ap¬
proaching gradually, part of the charge is taken off
previous to the explosion, the power of which is thus
greatly diminished.
3. The operator should not he within the atmosphere
of the conductor at the time of making the discharge.
4. The discharging instrument and the inside of the
charged surface should be separated as rapidly as they , v
were connected.
On these principles the instrument employed by Mr His dis-
Morgan, in his experiments on the conducting power charging,
of various substances, is constructed, and is thus de- ro.J-
scribed by him. 3I*
A and B, fig. 31. are two brass wheels, whose dia¬
meter is four or five inches; they are connected by an
axis, which is made to turn easily in a collar, fixed up¬
on the glass stem DM. The wires DC, and EF, are
screwed into the circumference of the wheels, but on
sides directly opposite to each other. The lengtlt of
these wires is regulated by the distances at which the
discharging rod is fixed from the conducting body, and
their direction is perpendicular to the axis of the wheels.
Two other wires are to be fixed perpendicularly to the
planes of the wheels, to the circumference of which
they are screwed as nearly as possible, but at opposite
points, so that they may strike objects lying in the same
line, parallel to the axis, at the distance of half a revo¬
lution from each other. The length of these last wires
is regulated by the distances at which they join the
metallic or other connection that is formed with the
outside of the coated phial.
The mode of using this discharging rod is as follows.
When C is brought into contact with the conductor, it
receives the electric power, and conveys it through G
into the outside of the coated surface. The motion of
C is not stopped by the contact, but the continuance of
it brings E into the same contact by which the residue
of the jar is conveyed through K to the outside. The
glass stem should penetrate deeply into each of the
caps, for the whole apparatus will be otherwise loosened
and put out of order, by the necessary rapidity of the
motion and the conquassation of parts attending it.
If C, in its circumvolutions, strike against an im¬
moveable body in connection with the conductor, it is
frequently stopped, and then its ball is injured, or a
change unfavourable to the accuracy of the experiment
takes place.
To prevent these inconveniences, C, fig. 32, strikes rj
the g'3
68o
ELECTRICITY.
Princiolc. the ball A which is connected with the brass tube that
of Electri- penetrates into the conducting substance, with an elas-
city illus- t;c wire bent into the form of a spring. _ Ihe points
trated by an(j e(1(res 0f tbjs instrument are rendered impotent by
experiment.fastpni^r a box to the brass tube, so that the ball A
V may move backwards and forwards in the hollow of it,
when struck by C. The box should be made of hard
wood, and its edge carefully turned and well polished.
Cautions. When a coated jar has been discharged, either
spontaneously, or by a discharger, there is still a por¬
tion of the charge remaining, sufficient to give a slight
shock, as will be found by grasping the outside with
one hand, and with the other touching the ball of the
wire. As this remaining charge, especially in large
jars or batteries, is often so considerable as to give a
pretty severe shock, it is therefore proper to caution
the experimenter, not to touch the outside of the jar or
battery, or any conductor which communicates with
the inside at the same time. _
Everv machine will not charge jars equally well, but
the power of charging will depend much on the good¬
ness of the cylinder.
In a battery it sometimes happens, that one or more
of the jars is more apt than the rest to undergo a spon¬
taneous discharge, and in this case, the whole of the
battery will be discharged at the same time, although
the other jars, without this accident, would have con-
jj! tained a much higher charge. .
MrNairne’s To remedy the inconvenience of some of the Jar® ‘n
mode of a battery bursting at the time of the discharge, JV r
preventing j^a;rne proposed "that the discharge should not be made
l,hbttte^ through a perfect conductor of a shorter circuit than
from being live feet: and this method be found so effectual, that
broken by after be adopted it, he was able to discharge a battery
a discharge. for a |iundred times without breaking a single jar,
which before was continually happening. It must be
observed, however, as will appear soon, that when the
circuit through which the discharge is made, is consi¬
derably lengthened, the force of the discharge is also
proportionably diminished. Hence in many experi¬
ments, where it is necessary to employ the highest pos¬
sible charge, this method of diminishing the risk of
breaking the jars is inadmissible.
If a Leyden phial, or' any other coated electric, be in¬
sulated or placed so that its external coating has no com¬
munication with conducting bodies, it cannot be charged.
Place a Leyden phial on the insulating stool, or on
a wine glass turned mouth downwards ; connect the
knob of the jar, or its outside coating, with the prime
conductor, by means of a chain* and set the machine in
motion. It will then be observed that the quadrant
electrometer on the knob will soon rise to 90°, seem¬
ing to indicate that the jar is charged. On taking off
the connection between the jar and the prime conduc¬
tor, and endeavouring to discharge the jar by means of
the discharging rod, or by the hands, it will however
appear that the jar has received only a very slight
charge, as no considerable spark will strike the ball of
the discharging rod, and no remarkable shock will he
felt by the hand. _
If now the outside of the jar, still standing on the
insulator, be connected with the floor, table, &c. by a
chain, and then charged, the result will be very differ¬
ent, as the jar will then receive its usual charge.
If a jar be insulated, and one side of it, instead of
Partlljp
being connected with the earth, be connected with the Principle
insulated rubber, while the other side communicates of Eleciu
with the prime conductor, the jar will be charged, and iluJ
perhaps in a more expeditious manner. expedmeii
To make the above experiment in a clearer and more ,—
satisfactory manner, place the jar upon the stool as be¬
fore, and with its wire not in contact, hut at about half
an inch distance from the prime conductor; hold the
knob of another wire at such a distance from the out¬
side coating of the jar, as the knob of the jar is from the
prime conductor, then let the winch of the machine be
turned, and it will be observed, that whenever a spark
comes from the prime conductor to the wire of the jar,
another spark passes from the outside coating of the jar
to the knob of the wire presented towards it. In this
manner the jar becomes charged.
If instead of the knobbed wire, a pointed wire lie
presented to the outside of the jar, the point will ap¬
pear illuminated with a star; and if instead of pre¬
senting any wire to the jar, a point he connected with
its coating, the point will appear illuminated with a
brush of rays which will last as long as the jar is charg-
ing.
"if the knob of another jar be presented to the outside
coating of the insulated jar in the above experiment, it
will also he charged. „ itj
The charge a coated jar, or amy coated electric, The ch
resides in the jar, or electric, and not in the coating, of a coatei
Take an uncoated phial, and, for a coating on
outside, stick a piece of tinfoil with a little tallow or1
122
An insula¬
ted phial
cannot be
charged.
bees wax, so that it can just adhere to the glass ; and
for an inside coating put into the jar a quantity of small
shot or mercury : stop the mouth of the jar with a
perforated cork, through which insert a knobbed wire,
so as to communicate with the shot or the mercury.
Then hold the phial thus coated, by its outside coating,
and charge it by presenting the knob of the wire to
the prime conductor. When it is charged turn it up¬
side down, so that the wire, and the mercury or shot
within the jar, may fall into a dry glass vessel ; then
remove also the outside coating. During this opera¬
tion the phial does not lose its charge ; and if the shot
or mercury he examined, it will be (ound that they are
not more electrified than would happen to any other in¬
sulated body of equal conducting power, after having
been in contact with the prime conductor. Now re¬
place the outside coating on the phial, and pour into it
the shot or mercury ; then touch with one hand the out¬
side coating, and with the other introduce a knobbed
wire within the phial so as to touch the inside non-elec¬
tric, and you will feel a shock, which will prove that
the jar has lost very little of its charge by removing
the coatings. .
The same experiment may be more conveniently
made bv laying a pane of glass upon a metal plate, an
covering an equal part of the upper surface with
tinfoil, "having a silk thread fastened to one ot its
sides, by which it may be easily taken off when the
glass is charged, and as easily replaced when re-
q This important fact, that the charge in a coated Discote
electric resides in the electric, and not in the coating,
was ascertained by Dr Franklin.
When he first began his experiments upon the Ley¬
den phial, he imagined that the electric power was all
accumulated
114
hap. HI. ELECT
inciples accumulated in the substance of the non-electric in con-
lElectri- tact with the glass ; but he afterwards found, by the fol-
7 dins- lowi„g ingenious analysis of the bottle, that the power
riment a shock lay in the glass itself, and not in the
coating.
In order to find where the strength of the. charged
bottle lay, he placed it upon glass 5 then first took out
the cork and the wire, and finding the virtue was not
in them, he touched the outside coating with one hand,
and put the finger of the other into the mouth of the
bottle, when the shock was felt quite as strong as if the
cork and the wire had been in it. He then charged
the phial again, and pouring out the water into an emp¬
ty bottle insulated, expected that if the force resided
in the water it would give the shock, but he found it
gave none. He then judged that the electric fire must
either have been lost in decanting, or must remain in
the bottle, and the latter he found to be true j for fill¬
ing the charged bottle with fresh water, he found the
shock, and was satisfied that the power of giving it re¬
sided in the glass itself.
Pie made the same experiment with panes of glass,
laying the coating on lightly, and changing it as he
had before changed the water in the bottle, and the
result was the same in both. This experiment is more
satisfactory than the former ; because when the water
is poured out of the phial, there still remains a thin
coating of the fluid, which might be thought to contain
the power of giving a shock.
A charged jar may be gradually discharged by mak¬
ing a conducting body communicate alternately with the
outside and the inside coating.
Experiment 1.—Fig. 33. represents an electric jar,
having a wire, CDE, fastened on its outside, which is
bended so as to have its knob E as high as the knob A.
r B is the figure of a spider formed out of a piece of cork
slightly burned, with a few short threads run through
it to represent its legs. This spider is to be fastened at
the end of a silk thread, proceeding from the ceiling of
the room, or any other support, so that the spider may
hang midway between the two knobs AE, when the
jar is not charged. Let the place of the jar upon the
table be marked ; then charge the jar, by bringing its
knob A in contact with the prime conductor, and re¬
place it in its marked place. The spider will now
begin to move from knob to knob, and continue this
motion lor a considerable time, sometimes for several
hours;
This experiment is one of the earliest that were
made by Dr Franklin and his friends, and is described
by Dr Franklin in one of his letters to Coilinson.
Exper. 2.—Let a coated jar be insulated by passing
it through a ring fixed upon a glass stand, as represent¬
ed at fig. 34. From the ball a of the wire which com¬
municates with the inside coating suspend a wire to
which are hung three bells and two clappers, and sus¬
pend a similar wire with the same number of bells and
clappers from the ball, b, of a wire which is made to
communicate with the outside coating. Hang the
chain <7 to the wire a, so that it does not touch the
table, and charge the jar by holding the knob a to the
prime conductor. While the jar is charging, the bells
hanging from b will ring. When the jar is charged,
remove it from the prime conductor, and unhook the
chain g, by means of a wire fastened to a glass handle,
Vol. VH. Part II. f
T elec-]
Vifcd^pi-
dii
I ’late
dicxxix
Mi
R I C I T Y.
681
and let it lie on the table. If now the ball b be touch- Principles
ed, the bells which are suspended from it will cease of Electri¬
ringing, and the bells suspended from a will ring, and «tyillus.
will continue to ring for a considerable time if not t,attd
touched. But, now’ again, if a be touched, these hells^xPtr^lllfllt‘
will cease, and those at b will begin to ring, and thus
each set may be made to ring alternately, but never
both sets at once till the bottle is discharged. I27
If ajar be discharged with a discharging rod that Lateral ex-
has no electric handle, the hand that holds it in makingplo ion.
the discharge, feels some kind of shock, especially
when the charge is considerable.—In other words ; A
person, or any conducting substance, that is connected
with one side of a jar, but forms no part of the circuit,
will feel a kind of shock, i. e. some effect of the dis¬
charge. This may be rendered visible in the following
manner. Connect with the outside of a charged jar
a piece of chain; then discharge the jar through
another circuit, as for instance, with a discharging rod
in the common way, and the chain that communicates
with the outside of the jar, and which makes no part
of the circuit, will appear lucid in the dark, i. e. sparks
will appear between the links.' This chain will also
appear luminous, when it is not in contact with the
outside of the jar, but only very near it; and on
making the discharge, a spark will be seen between the
jar and the end of the chain near it. This electrical ap¬
pearance out of the circuit of a discharging jar is that
which we call the lateral explosion: and to make it ap¬
pear in the most conspicuous manner, observe the fol- '
lowing method, which is that of Dr Priestley.
V\ hen a jar is charged, and stands upon the table as
usual, insulate a thick metallic rod, and place it so
that one of its ends may be contiguous to the outside
coating of the'jar; and within about half an inch of
its other end, place a body of about six or seven feet in
length, and a few inches in breadth j then put a chain
upon the table, so that one of its ends may be about
one inch and a half distant from the coating of the jar j
to the other end of the chain apply one knob of the
discharging rod, and bring the other knob to the wire
of the jar in oider to make the explosion. On making
the discharge in this manner, a strong spark will be
seen between the insulated rod, which communicates
with the coating of the jar, and the body near its ex¬
tremity, which spark does not alter the state of that
body in respect to electricity ; hence it is imagined,
that this lateral spark flies from the coating of the jar,
and returns to it at the same instant, allowing no per¬
ceptible space of time, in which an electrometer can
be affected. Whether this lateral explosion is received
on flat and smooth surfaces, or upon sharp points, the
spark is always equally long and vivid.
Chap. IV. Of the method of distinguishing Positive
and Negative Electricity.
12S
These states of electricity are usually distinguished Poshive
by means of the common pith-ball electrometer. “Ild »tgu-
Experiment.—Set the machine in motion, while
both conductors are insulated, or without connectingtm uished
either the prime conductor or the rubber with contigu- b> the dcc-
ous bodies. We have before remarked (44.), that thetranieier*
prime conductor was called the positive, and that to
4 B which
682
principles
of Electri¬
city illus¬
trated by
experiment
electricity.
Plate
cxxxxvur.
Rg. 15.
129
By the
liiilR.
which the rubber is adapted the negative conductor •,
that they are so in these circumstances may be de¬
monstrated according to the explanation given in
note (c.)
On presenting a pith-ball electrometer to the cylin¬
der whose electricity we have agreed to call positive, the
halls will diverge, and will continue to diverge when
brought near that side of the prime conductor which is
most remote from the cylinder 5 but being carried to
the other conductor, they will instantly collapse •, thus
showing that the electricity of the rubber is opposite to
that of the other conductor or of the cylinder, i. e. that
it is negative. This may be shown in another way.
The balls presented to the rubber will diverge with ne¬
gative electricity, but being brought near the other con¬
ductor in this divergent state, they will collapse.
But should a more precise method be required to
determine the quality of the electricity of an electrified
body, the following may be used :—First, electrify one
of the electrometers C, placed upon the stand fig. 15.
either positively, or negatively, at pleasure : touch it,
for instance, with an excited glass tube, so that its balls
may repel, and stand about two inches distance from one
another ; then touch the other electrometer C with the
electrified body that you desire to examine, so that it
may be possessed of the same degree of electricity : last¬
ly, take either of the two electrometers by the top of
the glass handle, disengage it from the arm of the stand,
and bring it near the other electrometer 5 if then the
balls of one electrometer repel those of the other, you
may conclude that they are possessed of the same kind
of electricity but if they attract each other, you may
conclude that they have been electrified with contrary
electricities •, and as you know the electricity of that
electrometer, which was first electrified, you will of
course know the electricity of the other electrome¬
ter, i. e. of the electrified body, with which it was
touched.
The above experiment may be also made with the
single thread electrometers; for if they are brought
near to one another, when their feathers are electrified,
they will, if possessed of the same electricity, repel each
other, or, if possessed of contrary electricities, they will
attract each other.
While the conductors are thus insulated, if a pointed
body (as for instance, the point of a needle or pin), be
presented to the back of the rubber, at the distance oi
about two inches, a lucid pencil of rays will appear to
proceed from the point presented, and diverge towards
the rubber.
If another pointed body be presented to the prime
conductor it will appear illuminated with a star ; but
if a pointed wire, or other pointed conducting body,
be connected with the prime conductor, it will throw
out a pencil of rays.
F. Beccaria remarks, that if two equally sharp points
are approached to a prime conductor, they will appear
luminous at only half the distance at which one of them
would have done.
From this experiment may be learned the method of
distinguishing the quality of the electricity of an electri-
Part III]
fied body, by the appearance of the electric light ; for Principle,
if a needle, or any other pointed body, be presented in oi Elect™
the dark, with the point towards a body strongly elec- tUy
trified, it will appear illuminated with a star, when that
body is electrified positively, and with a pencil or brush, < ^  
when it is electrified negatively (p).
Here it is proper to remark, that when tyvo points
(one of which is connected with the prime conductor,
or the rubber) are opposed to one another, the appear¬
ance of light in both is pretty much the same. Mr
Wilcke remarks, that when a point not electrified, is
opposed to another point electrified positively, the cones
of light, which otherwise would appear upon them, dis¬
appear; but that if a positive cone be opposed to a
negative cone, they both preserve their own charac¬
teristic properties-f-. f Nikkc
Mr Nicholson has given us. some valuable observa-P>240‘
tions on the different appearances of the electric light,
when proceeding from bodies electrified positively or
negatively.
“ The escape of negative electricity from a ball,”
says Mr Nicholson, “ is attended with the appearance of
straight sharp sparks, with a hoarse or chirping noise.
When the hall was less than two inches in diameter, it
was usually covered with short flames of this kind, which
were very numerous. 130 |
“When two equal balls were presented to each Mr Niclio!
other, and one of them was rendered strongly positive,
while the other remained in connection with the earth,
the positive brush or ramified spark was seen to pass produced
from the electrified ball: when the other hall was elec-by posiiws1
trified negatively, and the ball, which before had beenRtKl^
positive, was connected with the ground, the electricity^®^'
exhibited the negative flame,or dense, straight, and more
luminous sparks from the negative ball ; and when the
one ball was electrified plus and the other minus, the
signs of both electricities appeared. If the interval was
not too great, the long zig-zag spark of the plus ball
struck the straight plane of the minus ball, usually at
the distance of about one-third of the length of the lat¬
ter from its point, rendering the other two-thirds very
bright: sometimes, however, the positive spark struck
the ball at a distance from the negative flame. These plate
effects are represented in Plate CLXXXIX. figs. 35, CLXX
36, and 37.
“ Two conductors of three quarters of an inch dia¬
meter, with spherical ends of the same diameter, were
laid parallel to each other, at the distance of about two
inches, in such a manner as that the ends pointed in
opposite directions, and were six or eight inches asunder.
These, which may be distinguished by the letters P and
M, were successively electrified, as the halls were in
the last paragraph. When one conductor P was posi¬
tive, fig. 39. it exhibited the sparks of that electricity
at its extremity, and struck the side of the other con¬
ductor M. When the last-mentioned conductor M
was electrified negatively, fig. 38. the former being in
its turn connected with the earth, the sparks ceased to
strike as before, and the extremity of the electrified
conductor M exhibited negative signs, and struck the
side of the other conductor. And when one conductor
was
(?) The pencil of light exhibited by a point positively electrified was first seen by Mr Grey, though the dif¬
ference of the two states was not in his time correctly ascertained.
hap.
p1
131
Nichol-
■ icii the
i ion of
|.U8 is
i itrated.
IV. ELECT
■inciples was electrified 'plua and the other minus, fig. 40. both
Electri- signs appeared at the same time, and continual streams
ityillus- of electricity passed between the extremities of each
rate! by con(Juctor, to the side of the other conductor opposed
enment. .
to it.
“ In drawing the long spark from a ball of four
inches diameter, I found it of some consequence that
the stem should not he too short, because the vicinity of
the large prime conductor altered the disposition of the
electricity to escape : I therefore made a set of experi¬
ments, the result of which showed, that the disposition
of balls to receive or emit electricity, is greater when
they stand remote from other surfaces in the same state ;
and that between this greatest disposition in any ball,
whatever may be its diameter, every possible less degree
may be obtained by withdrawing the ball towards the
broader or less convex surface out of which its stem pro¬
jects, until at length the ball, being wholly depressed be¬
neath that surface, loses the disposition entirely. From
these experiments it follows, that a variety of balls is un¬
necessary in electricity : because any small ball, if near
the prime conductor, will be equivalent to a larger ball
whose stem is longer.
“ From comparing some experiments made bv myself
’« appa- many years ago with the present set, I considered a point
us by as a ball of an indefinitely small diameter, and con¬
structed an instrument consisting of a brass ball of six
inches diameter, through the axis of which a stem, car-
lying a fine point, was screwed. When this stem is
fixed in the prime conductor, if the ball be moved on
its axis in every direction, it causes the fine point ei-
ther to protrude through a small hole in its external
surface, or to withdraw itself j because by this means
the ball runs along the stem. The disposition of the
point to transmit electricity may thus be made equal to
that of any ball whatever, from the minutest size to the
diameter of six inches. See fig. 41. A.
“ The effect of a positive surface, appears to extend
farther than that of a negative 5 for the point acts like
a ball, when considerably more prominent, if it be posi¬
tive, than it will if negative f.”
Fig. 42. represents an instrument invented by Mr
Si'Nicho!- Nicholson for distinguishing positive from negative
«q*;instru-e|ec{ricity. Jt consists of two metallic balls, A, B,
xoiish vv^’c^ may be placed at a greater or less distance from
‘l ^ each other, by means of a joint at C, on which the
two branches CA, CB move. These branches are of
glass covered with varnish. A short point proceeds
from one of the balls B towards the other A. If the
two balls be placed near the body which is electrified, so
that the electric power may pass through them, it may
be known whether it is positive or negative, that is,
whether it is proceeding/rom or towards the electrified
body. For, supposing that the electricity passes from
A to B, there will be a certain distance of the balls at
which a spark will pass between the balls $ but this dis¬
tance will be much shorter when the electricity is pas¬
sing from B to A. It is evident that this instrument
will be of use only when the electricity to be examined
is sufficiently strong to give sparks.
Ap France appearances of positive and negative electricity
light are sufficiently distinct in almost every experiment
M|lper. which can be made with the exhibition of electric light.
Paper is a good substance for observing the visible pas¬
sage of the electric power. If a strong positive electric
R I C I T Y.
683
IP-
for
*32
miiega-
tiiliroaj
Pyive
d.deity.
Pbcxc.
i • 4»-
stream be let fall on the flat side of an uninsulated sheet Principle,
of paper, it will form a beautiful star about four inches of Ekctri-
in diameter, consisting of very distinct radii not ramifi- city *lius-
ed. Negative electricity, in perfectly similar circum- tmte.d by
stances, throws many pointed brushes to the paper, but i ^ ^ ,
forms no star upon it. This experiment is by Mr
Nicholson, and the cylinder of the machine employed
in making it was seven inches in diameter*.
In order to have a more familiar view of the impor- * jgichol.
tant reciprocal relations of these two forms of electrical son's Phil.
excitement, our readers may attend to the following Jountat,
plain facts : 1. That the sparks taken from the respec- vol‘
live conductors of a machine, are strongest when taken1’’
from both at the same time. This shows a mutual ac¬
tion between the opposite electricities. 2. The power
ot the spark from either conductor singly is greatest,
when the opposite conductor is connected with the
ground by conducting matter, such as a metallic chain.
This shows that the same relation which exists between
the opposite conductors, exists also between either of
them, and the ground, but in an inferior degree. The lat¬
ter therefore maintains an intermediate character, or is
habitually in an intermediate state. 3. When the two
conductors are connected by a wire, a column of water,
or any other conducting body in a strictly continuous
position, no electrical phenomena are exhibited 3 but
when short interruptions are formed in this connecting
matter, the electric spark instantly makes it appearance
at each, showing that electricity is excited, though un¬
der the former conditions not displayed. These facts
represent the circumstances that occur in all cases
in which electricity is excited by friction, the two con¬
ductors exhibiting the opposite states of the two bodies
between which the friction is performed.
Chap. V. Of the different States of Electricity pos¬
sessed by the two Surfaces of a charged Electric.
The opposite surfaces of a charged electric are in op¬
posite states, i. e. one positive, and the other negative.
Exper. I.—Insulate a coated phial, such as is describ- Po*;^
ed in fig. 34. without the bells, and charge it by hold-and nega-
ihg the knob a to the positive conductor, while the l»ve Matt*
knob A communicates with the table. When the phial of a .chllr-
is charged, hold a pith-ball electrometer to the knob
a, and the balls will diverge with positive electricity, as the ball
will appear by presenting them in their diverging state ehetromc-
to excited sealing-wax, when they will collapse. Nowte.r;
hold the balls to the knob h, which communicates with *?1£‘34*
the outer coating of the phial, and they will diverge
with negative electricity, as will appear by presenting
them to an excited glass tube.
If the jar be charged at the negative conductor,
these appearances will be reversed ; the balls presented
to the knob a will diverge with negative electricity,
and presented to b, they will diverge with positive elec¬
tricity.
Exper. 2.—-Fix a pointed wire into a hole in the knob by the ap-
b of the insulated phial, and fix another wire in the po-peararce of
sitive conductor. Hold the knob a to the point in the lbe fight-
dark, a pencil of luminous rays will be seen diverging
from the point in the conductor to the knob a, while a
positive conductor, and on turning the cylinder in the
similar pencil of rays, diverges from the wire fixed in
the knob b.
4 R 2
If
684
ELECT
p.- If the wire is fixed in the negative conductor, a lu
oNEUctri- minous star will appear at each point. . ,
city illus- Exper. 3.—Fix a pointed wire into a hole m thi
tiHte:i by ],nojj w!iile another pointed wire is fixed in 6, as 11
experiment. tlie ]HSt eXperiment T»^Sent the wire in the knob a 11
Plate
cxc.
fig- 43-
136
(bourse of
the dark, to the positive conductor, and a luminous
star will appear at the point o, while the point at b
throws out a pencil of luminous rays.
If the point at a be presented to the negative con¬
ductor, the luminous pencil will appear at a and the lu¬
minous star at ..... .
Kxner. 4.—Fig. 4V is an electric jar which serves to
illustrate the contrary states of the sides of a Leyden
phial while charging: BB is the tinfoil coating; L, a
stand which supports the jar; D, a socket of metal, carry¬
ing the glass rod EF, a bent brass wire pointed at each
end, and fixed at the end of the rod G; this rod is
moveable in the spring tube N at pleasure : that tube
beimr fixed by a socket on the top of the glass rod E,
the jar is charged by the inside wire, which communi¬
cates with the different divisions of the inside coating
by horizontal wires.
Place the jar at the conductor as usual ; and when
charging, a luminous star will appear upon the upper
point of the wire at F, clearly showing, according to
the commonly received opinion, that the point is then
receiving the electric power. From the upper ring of
the coating B, on the outside of the jar, a stream or
pencil of rays, will at the same time fly oft, beautifully
diverging from the lower point of the wire E upon the
bottom ring of the coating of the jar. ^\hen the ap¬
pearances cease, which they do when the jar is charged,
let a pointed wire be presented to the conductor : this
will soon discharge the jar silently ; during which the
point will be illuminated with a small spark, while the
upper point of the wire will throw off a pencil of rays
diverging towards the upper ring of the coating.
Exper. 5.—Take two equal jars, with a quadrant
electrometer attached to the knob of each. 1 lace one
in contact with the positive conductor, and the other
with the negative. When the machine is turned, both
jars will charge to the same height, as will be seen by
the equal rising of the electrometer.
Exper. 6.—'Charge ajar at the positive conductor ;
then move it to the negative one : the electrometer Will
fall by the turning of the machine, till the charge is
gone. After this, if the turning be continued, the elec¬
trometer will diverge with negative electricity.
When a charged, electric is discharged, the electric
R I C I T Y: Part III,
held to the knob of the jar, and a luminous star at that Principle,,
which is held at the outer coating. _ Ebet i.
Exper. 2.—Remove the circular piece of wood GH, ^ d|u».
from the universal discharger, fig. 29.; fix the wires EF, exiJei.imj
ET, so that their knobs FT may be about two inches  
distant from one another. Then fix upon the socket 137
from which the board was removed, a small lighted wax-by the di-
taper so that its flame may be just in the middle between
' the apparatus is thus disposed, if the flam
the1 electric power passes from the positive to the negative surface.
.  : ~ TV   * ^ k.irc Koixn ti rir^ri at" tliP. HOSl-
p.)wer in
the dis¬
charge
shewn by
the light;
Exper. 1.—"When 11 jar ^een charged at the posi¬
tive conductor, take a discharged rod, furnished with
pointed extremities, and hold it in such a position, that
one point shall be at the distance of about an inch from
the knob of the jar, while the other point shall be at
nearly the same distance from the outside coating. In
this way the jar will be silently discharged, and if the
experiment be made in the dark, a luminous star will
appear at that point which is held to the knob ot the
jar, and a luminous joeww/ at the point which is herd to
the outer coating.
If the jar has been charged at the negative conductor,
the appearance of the light at the points will be reversed ;
a luminous will now appear at the point which is
the knobs FT. When the apparatus is thus clisposeii, it
the outside of a charged jar be connected, by means of 0f a taper
a chain or other conducting substance, with one of the I'late
wires, and the knob of the jar be brought to the other CL™1L
wire, it will be observed, that, on making the discharge
which must pass between the knobs FI, the flame of the
taper will be driven in the direction of the electric
power, i. e. it will be blown towards the knob of that
wire which communicates with that surface of the jar
which is negatively electrified.
Exper. 3.—Fig. 44. and 45. of Plate CXC. repre- j’l.tc
sent a small phial coated on the outside, about three,
inches up, with tin-foil ; at the top of the neck of this^
phial, is cemented a brass cap, having a hole with a I3s
valve, and from the cap a wire proceeds a few inches by the
within the phial, terminating in a blunt point. WhenJ(J™
this phial is exhausted of air, a brass ball is to be screw¬
ed on the brass cap, so as to defend the valve, and pre¬
vent any air from getting into the exhausted glass. 'Ibis
phial exhibits clearly the direction of the electric power,
both in charging and discharging; for if it be held by
its bottom, and its brass knob be presented to the prime
conductor positively electrified, you will see that the
electric power causes a pencil of rays to proceed from
the wire within the phial, as represented fig. 45. and
when it is discharged, a star will appear in the place of
the pencil, as represented in fig- 44* But if the phial
he held by the brass cap, and its bottom be touched
with the prime conductor, then the point ot the wire,
on its inside, will appear illuminated with a star when
charging, and with & pencil w\wn discharging. If it be
presented to a prime conductor electrified negatively, all
these appearances, both in charging and discharging,
will be reversed. .
This experiment of the Leyden vacuum, as it is call¬
ed is an invention of the late Mr Henley.
’Exper. 4. Fig. 46. represents an electric jar, whose
exterior coating is made up of small pieces of tin-foil
placed at a small distance from each other. Tins jar
is to be charged in the usual manner, when small sparks
will pass from one piece of tin-foil to the other, in van-
ous directions, forming a very pleasing spectacle. I he
separationof thetin-foilis thecause ofthisvisible passage,
from the outside to the table; and the experiment is si¬
milar in appearance to that mentioned. If the jar be
discharged by bringing a pointed wire gradually to the
knob T, the unsealed part of the glass between t ie
wire and knob will be agreeably illuminated, attend¬
ed by a crackling noise of the sparks. If the jar be
suddenly discharged, the whole outside will be illumi¬
nated. The jar, used in these experiments, must be very
drv*
Exper. c.—Fig. 47. represents two jars, or Leyden by the
phials, placed one over the other, by which various ex- oU
periments may be made in order to elucidate the theory
of electiicitv. Bring the outside coating of the bottle
illiiap. V. ELECT
rciples contact with the prime conductor, and turn the
jfjcctri- machine till the bottle is charged j then place one ball
yillus- 0f the discharging rod upon the coating of B, and with
itcd by jj1(J 0ther touch the knob of the jar A, an explosion
' . will follow j now place one ball of the discharger on
the knob of A, and bring the other ball to its coat¬
ing, and you have a second discharge. Again, ap¬
ply one ball of the discharger to the coating of B, and
carry the other to the coating of A, and it will pro¬
duce a third discharge. A fourth is obtained by ap¬
plying the discharger from the coating of A to its
knob.
The outer coating of the upper jar communicating
with the inside of the under one, conveys the electric
power from the conductor to the large jar, which is
therefore charged positively : the upper jar does not
charge j but when a communication is formed from the
outside of A to the inside of B, part of the electric
power on the inside of A will be conveyed to the nega¬
tive coating of B, and the jar will be discharged. The
second explosion is occasioned by the discharge of the
jar A but as the outside of this communicates by con¬
ducting substances with the positive inside of the jar B,
if the ball of the discharging rod remains for a little
time after the discharge on the knob of A, part of the
electric power of the inside of A will escape, and be re¬
placed by an equal quantity on the outside from the jar
B, by which means A is charged a second time ; the
discharge of this produces the third, and of B the fourth
4!} explosion.
i tiiooke’s Mr Brooke of Norwich brings the following experi-
«•«- ments to prove that the opposite surfaces of an electric,
fiw.s. while charging, are not necessarily in opposite states of
electricity.
“ i. Let two pound phials be coated with tin-foil on
their outsides, and filled to convenient height with com¬
mon shot, to serve as a coating withinside, as well as to
keep a wire steady in the phials without a stopple in the
mouth of them. Let each phial be furnished with a
wire about the size of a goose quill, and about ten
inches long, and let each wire be sharpened a little at
one end, that it may the more easily be thrust down in¬
to the shot, so as not to touch the glass anywhere at the
mouth of the phials, yet so as to stand steadily in them.
Let a metallic ball about six or seven eighths of an inch
diameter be screwed on at the other end of each wire :
also let there be in readiness a third wire, fitted up like
those for the phials, except that another ball of nearly
the same size as the former may occasionally be screwed
on at the sharpened end of it. I say, instead of sus¬
pending the phials from the prime conductor, let one of
those above described be charged at the prime conduc¬
tor, and then set it aside, but let it be in readiness in
its charged state j then let the other be placed upon a
good insulating stand, and let the third wire also be laid
upon the stand, so that its ball, or some part of the wire,
may touch the coating of the phial. Let the sharpen¬
ed end of this wire project five or six inches over the
edge of the stand : all of these being now placed close
to the edge of a table, bang a pair of cork balls on the
sharpened end of the wire, and make a communication
from the prime conductor to the ball on the wire on the
bottle : on working the machine, the sharpened end of
the wire will permit the bottle to be charged although
it be insulated $ and if the wire be very finely pointed,
3
R I C I T Y.
685
the bottle may be charged nearly as well as if it were Principle*
not insulated ; I say, on working the machine, the phial ofElectri-
will charge, and the cork balls will immediately repel
each other j but whilst this phial is charging, take the e^pedment
first phial, which having been previously charged at the ■ ,■
same prime conductor in the hand, and while the second
phial is charging, present the ball of the first to the
cork balls, and they will all repel each other. This
plainly proves that the outside of the second bottle is
electrified pltts at the time that it is charging, the same
as the inside of the first j and the inside of both the bot¬
tles will readily be allowed to charge alike, that is plus
or positive. *
“ 2. Let the second bottle in the last experiment be
wholly discharged, and charge it again as before (the
first bottle yet remainingcharged) j and whilstitischarg-
ing, let the ball of the first approach the cork balls con¬
tiguous with the second, and they will, as before, all re¬
pel each other : withdraw the ball of the first, and so
long as the machine continues to charge the second bot¬
tle higher, the cork balls will continue to repel each
other; but cease v\’oiking the machine, and the cork
balls will cease to repel each other till they touch, and
will then very soon repel each other again; then let the
ball in the first phial approach the cork balls, and they
will now be attracted by it, instead of being repelled as
above, as in the last experiment. This also plainly
shows, that both sides of a Leyden phial are alike at the
time it is charging; and at the same time evidently
shows, that the difference of the two sides does not take
place till after the bottle is charged, or till the machine
ceases to charge it higher.
“ 3. In this experiment, let both of the former bot¬
tles be discharged; then let one of them be placed upon
the insulating stand. Let a ball be put on over tbp
sharpened end of the third wire, and let it be laid on the
stand as before, so as to touch the coating of the phial:
place the other phial on the table, so that its ball or
wire may touch the ball on the third wire, or any part
of the wire itself: make a communication from the ball
on the wire of the first phial to the prime conductor:
then, by working the machine, both bottles will soon
become charged. As soon as they are pretty well char¬
ged, and before the machine cease working, remove the
second phial from the third wire; after the second
phial is removed, cease working the machine as soon
as possible; take the third wire, with its two balls, off
the stand with the hand, and lay it on the table, so that
one of its balls may touch the outside coating of the se¬
cond phial: remove the first phial off the stand, and
place it on the table, so as to touch the ball at the
other end of the third wire; then with an insulated dis¬
charging rod, make a cummunication from the ball in
one bottle to the ball in the other. If the outside of
the first phial be negative at the time it is charging, the
inside of the second will be the same, and making the
above communication would produce an explosion, and
both bottles would be discharged; but the contrary
will happen, for there will be no explosion, nor will ei¬
ther of the bottles be discharged, although there be a
complete communication between their outsides, because
the inside of them both will be positive. This is a proof,
that considering one side of a phial to be positive and
the other negative at the time they are charging is a
mistake; as well as that, if any. number of bottles be
> suspended
686
electricity.
Principles suspended at the tail of each other, all the intermediate
of Electri- surfaces or sides do not continue so. .
city illus- << . Here a^so ^et t*ie aPParatus disposed as in the
tratadby jagt experiment, till the bottles are highly charged j
experunent. ^en wjth a clean stick of glass, or the like, remove the
V communication between the balls of the first phial and
the prime conductor, before the machine ceases work¬
ing : then, with an insulated discharging rod, make a
communication from the outside to the inside of the first
phial J a strong explosion will take place on account of
the excess withinside, notwithstanding they are both
positive. < t
“ 5. This experiment being something of a continua¬
tion of the preceding one, immediately after the last ex¬
plosion takes place, discharge the prime conductor of its
electricity and atmosphere j then touch the ball in the
first phial with the hand, or any conducting substance
that is not insulated *, then will the inside coating of the
first phial, which at first was so strongly positive, be in
the same state as the outside coating of the second, hav-
ino- a communication by the hand, the floor, &c. with
each other j that is negative, if any thing can properly
be called negative or positive that has a communication
with the common stock: but a pair of cork-balls that
are electrified either yi/ws or minus will no more be at¬
tracted by either the inside coating of the first phial or
the outside coating of the second, than they will by the
table on which they stand, or a common chair in the
room, while they continue in that situation. Remove
the aforesaid communication from the ball of the first
phial •, touch the ball in the second, as before in the
first, or discharge the bottle with the discharging rod,
and the ball in the first bottle will immediately become
negative j with a pair of cork balls electrified negative¬
ly, approach the ball in the first phial, and they will all
repel each other, or if the cork balls be electrified posi¬
tively, they will be attracted. All these circumstances
together serve fully to prove what has already been said,
not only that the inside of the first phial, which was so
strongly positive, may be altered so as to become in the
same state as the outside of the second, without dis¬
charging the phial, or any more working the machine ;
but that it may be fairly changed from being positively
charged to being negatively charged. If a pair of cork
balls are now hung on to the ball of the wire in this
phial, by the help of a stick of glass, they will repel each
other, being negatively electrified. Make a communi¬
cation from the outside of the bottle to the table, and
replace the communication from the prime conductor to
the ball in the bottle j then, upon moderately working
the machine to charge the bottle, the cork balls will
* Brooke's cease to rePe^ eac^ otlier tliey touc!b ancl will soon
Miscellane- repel each other again by being electrified positively.
ousExperi- Here the working the machine anew, plainly shows that
ments, ^ Jnsidg 0f the first bottle, which was positive, was
chap’^ likewise changed to negative
4 The following observations and experiments on the
Leyden phial, are taken from a little work by Dr Tho¬
mas Milner.
An electric power communicated to any insulated
Mi
Milner’s
observa¬
tions and
e*peri-
jnents on
Ui^Leyden conducting substance has been named simple electrifica-
phial
tion, in order to distinguish this particular state from
that of the charged phial: but it will appear whether
this distinction ought to be retained or not, by taking
a comparative view of both these cases. And, if the
changes which an electrical power in general is capable
less both the glass and the air be tolerably free from
moisture. , .
IV. It appears that the influence of electricity acts in
the same manner through glass as it does thiough the
air, and produces a contrary power in both cases.
v. A communication of the electric power is more
easily made through the fluid yielding substance of the
air than through glass, which is so hard and solid a bo¬
dy, as to require a very considerable degree of power to
separate its component particles : this, howevei, some¬
times happens, and a hole is made through the glass it¬
self, without design, in attempting to charge a very thin
phial as high as possible, in the most favourable state ol
the atmosphere.
VI. A conducting body receives the strongest charge
of the contrary electricity, when it is brought as near
as possible to the electric power, without being in the
communicating distance. And it is well known that the
thinnest phial, if it be strong enough to prevent a com¬
munication between the two surfaces, will always receive
the highest charge.
VII. The electricity of the external surface of the
charged phial cannot be destroyed, so long as the inter¬
nal surface remains in force, and continues to exert its
influence through the glass j because this influence was
the cause of the contrary electricity on the external sur¬
face, and must therefore preserve it.
VIII. If part of the course which the electric power
takes in discharging a phial be thiough the air, a small
part of the charge will always remain j because the whole
of the redundancy on one surface is not capable of for¬
cing a passage through the resisting medium of the air,
in order to supply the deficiency on the other surface.
But if every part of the circuit, from the internal to the
external coating, consists of the best conductors, and it
the coated surfaces be nearly equal, and directly oppo¬
site to each other, the phial will then appear to have re¬
tained
Part III!
of making in the electrical state of any substance con- prjncij)t
tained within the sphere of its influence, be taken into 0? Elect;
consideration, and compared with those which have cityilltu
been observed in the charged phial, it is apprehended^^
that they will not appear to be different in any material
circumstance.
I. In the charged phial, when the inside has either
kind of electricity communicated to it, the outside is
found to possess a contrary power. It appears also that
either kind of electricity always produces the other on
any conducting substance placed within the sphere of
influence. And as the same effect is also produced on
electrics themselves, in the same situation, and as some
portion of the air, supposing no other substance to be
near enough, must be unavoidably exposed to such in¬
fluence, it necessarily follows, that neither power can
exist without the other* j and, therefore, in every possi¬
ble case, positive and negative electricity are inseparably
united.
II. A phial cannot be fully charged in any way by
which the outside acquires a contrary electricity, unless
the external coating has a communication by some con¬
ductor with the earth. In the same manner a full charge
of the contrary electricity cannot readily be procured
without a similar communication.
III. In both cases the interposition of an electric
body between the contrary powers is absolutely neces¬
sary. In one case that body is glass, in the other it is
and the experiment will not succeed in either, un-
lap,
nciples
lectri-
illus-
.ed by
sriment.
V.
tained no part of the charge 5 so far as it is covered with
tin-foil; but the parts of it above the coating on both
sides will, however, still retain the contrary electricities,
after the circuit has been completed. A residue of the
charge may also be observed in every other instance of
electrification, in which the degree of electricity is
sufficient to force a communication between the elec¬
trified body and a conductor not insulated, through a
small portion of the air: and if the experiment be care¬
fully made, it will appear, that the whole of the re¬
dundancy is not capable of passing through the resisting
intermediate air, in any case, and therefore a part of the
charge must always remain. But here it will be pro¬
per to examine more particularly the nature of the
charged glass.
143 When a plate of coated glass has been charged, and
the circuit between the coatings has been completed,
by the mediation of a good conducting substance, no
part ot the coated surface is supposed to retain any part
of the charge j but, according to the comnionly receiv¬
ed doctrine, the whole of it is said to he discharged ; or
in other words, to be brought into its natural state,
This, however, is not really the case, as will evidently
appear from the following experiment; the design of
which is to show the effects produced by charging and
discharging a plate of glass.
Let the middle of a piece of crown window glass,
seven inches square, be placed between two circular plates
of brass, about the 16th part of an inch thick, and five
inches in diameter. In order to enable these plates to
retain a greater degree of power, it will be proper to
terminate each of them with a round bead the third part
of an inch thick ; and the whole of the bead should
be formed on one side of the plate, that the other side
may remain quite flat, and apply well to the surface of
the glass. Let the whole be insulated about four inches
above the table, and in a horizontal position, by fasten¬
ing one end of a cylindrical piece of some good insula¬
ting substance to the middle of the under plate, the
other end of it being fixed in any convenient stand. Let
a like insulating stem be fastened to the middle of the
upper plate. Let a brass chain, which may easily be re¬
moved, reach from the under plate to the table. In the
last place bend a piece of brass wire into such a shape,
that it may stand perpendicularly on the upper plate ;
and let the upper extremity of this wire be formed into
a hook, that it may be removed at any time by the assist¬
ance of a silk string, without destroying the insulation of
the plate.
The glass being thus coated with metal on both sides,
and having also a proper communication with the table,
will admit of being charged j and both coatings may
he separated from the glass, and examined apart, with¬
out destroying the insulation of either: for the upper
coating may be separated by the means of its own pro¬
per stem j and the under coating may be separated bv
taking hold of the corners of the glass, and lifting the
glass itself. As glass readily attracts moisture from the
atmosphere, it will therefore be necessary to warm it in
the beginning, and to repeat it several times in the
course of the experiment, unless the air should be very
dry.
Excite a smooth glass tube, of the common size, by
rubbing it with silk, and apply it repeatedly to the bent
wire, until the glass be well charged. Then remove the
ELECTRICITY. 687
chain, which reaches from the lower plate to the table, Principles
and also the charging wire from the upper plate, by lay- of Electri-
ing hold of its hook with a silk string. It necessarily c‘ty '*'us-
follows, from considering the quality of the power em“ expe^ment
ployed in the present case, that the upper surface of the > —
glass, together with the upper coating, must be electri¬
fied positively j and that the under surface and coating
must be electrified negatively j hut as it is designed in
this experiment to examine the powers of charged glass,
that no virtue may be imputed to the glass but what
really belongs to it, let both coatings be separated from
it 5 and after they have been brought to their natural
state, by touching them with a conducting body not in¬
sulated, let the glass be replaced between them j and
whatever effects may be now produced must be ascribed
solely to the powers of the charged glass. On bring¬
ing a finger near the upper coating, a small electrical
spark will appear between the coating and the finger,
attended with a snapping noise. Apply a finger in the
same manner to the under coating, and the same thing
will happen. This effect cannot be produced twice,
by two succeeding applications to the same coating;
but it may be repeated several hundred times over, in
a favourable state of the atmosphere, by alternate ap¬
plications to the two coatings ; and the powers of the
glass will be thus gradually weakened.
'I his part of the experiment may be explained, by
observing that the contrary electricities have a natural
tendency to produce and to preserve each other, on the
opposite sides of a plate of glass ; and therefore, the in¬
crease or decrease of power, on the other side : and as
in charging a plate of glass positively, no gradual addi¬
tion of electric matter can be made on the upper surface,
without a proper conveyance for a proportionable part
to pass away from the lower surface ; so in this method
of discharging it, the electric power cannot be gradually
taken away from the upper surface, without adding a
proportionable part to the undersurface : one operation
is the reverse of the other, and so are the effects; one
case being attended with an increase and the other with
a decrease of power.
Let the glass be again fully charged, and after bring- 145
ing both coatings to their natural state, as before, let
the glass be replaced between them ; and on touching
tiie upper coating with a finger, and then separating it
from the upper and positive surface of the glass by the
insulating stem, this coating will require a weak nega¬
tive power, which will be sufficient to produce a small
spark while the glass is in full force, though after the
power of the glass has been reduced, it will give little
or no spark : but in both cases, on touching the coat¬
ings alternately two or three times, the negative power
of this coating, when separated from the positive surface
of the glass, will be so considerably increased, as to pro¬
duce strong negative sparks.—This effect may now be
repeated several times, by only touching the upper coat¬
ing, but the sparks will grow weaker every time; and
they may be restored again to nearly their former
strength, by alternate applications to both coatings, as
before. The same things will also happen to the under
coating, in the same circumstances ; but with this dif¬
ference, that the power of the under coating, on being
separated from the under and negative surface of the
glass, will be positive. And thus a long succession of
both positive and negative sparks may be produced in
favourable
688 ELECT
Principles favourable weather, or at any time by keeping the glass
of Electri- moderately warm. . , .
city illus- ft appears from this part of the experiment, that each
trated by of tjie eu,.faces of the charged glass has a power of pro-
«perinient a contrary electricity in the coating in contact
^ ’ with it, by a momentary interruption of the insulation.
It necessarily follows, in producing these effects, that
more electrical matter must have passed away from the
upper coating, at the time of touching it, than the same
coating could receive from the upper surface of the glass;
and therefore the upper coating, by losing some of its
natural quantity, will be negatively electrified; and also
that more electric matter must have been added to the
under coating at the time of touching it, than the under
surface of the glass could receive from it; and therefore
the under coating, by receiving some addition to its na¬
tural quantity, will be positively electrified. It appears
further, that the greatest degree of this influential power,
which may be consistent with the circumstances of the
case will be produced in either coating by taking care
at the same time to bring the opposite coating into a
like state of influential electricity: and thus it is evident,
that the influential powers of the two coatings have the
same relation to each other, as the contrary powers of the
glass itself, and will therefore always increase or decrease
145 1 \’he glass being again well charged, as at first, let a
brass wire bent in the form of a staple be brought in¬
to contact with the upper and lower coating al- 1
same time. By this the common discharge will be
made: but the equilibrium of the coated glass will be
only restored in part; for a considerable degree of at¬
traction will happen at the same time between the up¬
per coating and the glass, which has frequently been
strong enough to lift a piece of plate glass weighing
ten ounces. Neither coating will now show the least
external sign of electricity while it is in contact with
the glass : but on separating either of them from
it if care be taken to preserve their insulations, the
upper coating will be strongly electrified negatively,
and the under coating will be strongly electrified posi¬
tively. Let then both coatings be brought to their
natural state, by touching them when separated from
the glass, with a conducting body not insulated, and
let the glass be replaced between them as before. In
this state of things, on touching the upper coating only,
and separating it from the glass, it will not be capable
of giving any spark ; but on touching the coatings allei-
nately five or six times, it will then give a weak spaik .
and this may now be repeated several times by only
touching the upper coating: but on a second applica¬
tion of the bent wire to both coatings at the same time,
a second discharge may he perceived, though much
weaker than the first, and the coatings will be again
brought into the same electrical state as immediately
after the first discharge. This may frequently he re¬
peated ; and a considerable number of strong negative
sparks mav be taken from the coating when it is se-
R I C I T Y. Parti]
parated from the positive surface of the glass. If the Principle,
glass in replacing it between the two plates be turn- ofEiectri
ed upside down, the electrical powers of both coatings
will be changed by the next application of the djS'experintel:
charging wire to complete the circuit; and a succession 1 y-™.
of strong positive sparks may be taken fiom the coat¬
ing when it is separated from the negative surface of
•the glass. , .
It appears from this part of the experiment, that
the coated part of the charged glass was not brought
into its natural state by completing the circuit be¬
tween the coatings, but that it still retained a degree
of permanent electricity ; that the powers of both coat¬
ings were actually changed at the time of the fiist dis¬
charge ; and that a succession of the same powers may
be produced in the coatings, without renewing the least
application of electricity to the glass itself.
The whole quantity of electric power added to the 147
glass in charging it, is evidently distinguished into two
parts in this experiment. The first part, which is by
far the most considerable, appears to have been readily
communicated from one surface of the glass to the
other, along the bent wire, when it was first brought
into contact with both coatings at the same time. The
second part of the charge appears to be moie perma¬
nent, and remains still united with the glass, notwith¬
standing the circuit has been completed (Q,). This
permanent electricity, as well as the other, must be po¬
sitive on the upper surface, and negative on the lower
surface: because, in the present experiment, the charge
was given by a smooth glass tube excited with a silk
rubber. Now, the influence of the opposite and per¬
manent powers on the different sides of the glass (each
side having a tendency to bring the coating in con¬
tact with it into a state of electricity contrary to its
own) must assist each other, in causing part of the elec¬
tric matter naturally belonging to the upper coating to
pass away from it to the under coating, along the dis¬
charging wire, and at the same time the surcharge to
pass the same way. The upper coating, therefore, by
losing some part of its natural quantity, must be nega¬
tively electrified ; and the under coating, by receiving
an addition to its natural quantity, must he positively
electrified. The whole quantity of electric matter,
which the influence of the permanent electricity of
the glass is capable of taking from one coating and ot
adding to the other, bears hut a small proportion to
the whole charge : and therefore the second and every
subsequent discharge must be considerably weaker than
the first.
It appears from several of the preceding experi¬
ments, that a considerable degree of influential power
may he produced at some distance by an electric in full
force ; and therefore a small excited body of a cylin¬
drical shape was sufficient to answer that purpose : but
when the excited electric has been so far weakened
that it cannot communicate its own power, nor pro¬
duce this influential power in any body, unless it be
brought
(O Some new terms seem to be watted in order to express w.th prec.s.on he d.fferent parts of the cba g
And if that part of it which cannot be destroyed by completing the circuit, should be called the Perman ?
«/* the charle, or more simply the charge; then might the other part, or that which may be destroyed by
•pleting the circuit, be named the surcharge.
ihap. V.
linciplcs
iElcotri-
l.y illus-
r.ted by
rrimeut,
14!
] * to
«rge a
f il with
c fric-
ti i.
brought very near or in contact with it, bodies of a
cylindrical form must then act to great disadvantage,
and a small degree of power only can be produced j
because the strength of the influential electricity in this
case will be in proportion to the surfaces of the electric
and conducting bodies, which are brought near toge¬
ther, or in contact with each other ; and therefore a
plate of glass in the same circumstances, whether its
permanent power be derived from excitation or com¬
munication, is enabled from its shape to produce a con¬
siderable degree of the influential powers in the coat¬
ings in contact with it.
It has been very properly recommended to use
a particular kind of rubber, and to attend to the state
of it, in order to excite glass well; but it will not be
necessary to pay the least regard to these circumstances
in the following experiments, in which a method will
be shown of charging a small phial and a plate of
glass at the same time, by a gradual accumulation of
power; that power being entirely derived from the
glass itself, and with no other degree or kind of fric¬
tion than is necessarily connected with the form of the
experiment.
Place a circle of tin-foil five inches in diameter on
the table, between a soft piece of baize and the middle
of the same plate of glass that was used in the last expe¬
riment, which will thus be coated on the under side :
and in order to preserve a proper communication with
this coating, let a fillet of tin-foil reach from it beyond
the extremity of the glass. The same insulated metal
cover is to be used for the upper coating as before.
Let a thin ounce phial of glass be filled with brass fil¬
ings, and coated with tin-foil on the outside to about
one inch from the top. Let a large brass wire, the
fifth part of an inch in diameter, pass through the cork
of the phial into the filings, about an inch of it being
left above the cork, and let the upper extremity of
this wire be well rounded. This experiment requires,
that the whole construction should be well warmed
at first ; and it will be necessary to repeat it at pro¬
per intervals, unless the atmosphere should be very
dry.
Taking hold of the wire of the phial with one
hand, let it be placed on the upper surface of the glass,
and its bottom carried in contact over the middle of the
upper surface, as far as the tin-foil coating reaches on
the under side : and during this part of the operation,
a finger of the other hand must be kept in contact with
the fillet of tin-foil. Then li fling the phial by the
wire with one hand, let it be placed on the insulated
metal cover, suspended in the air with the other hand ;
and after shifting the hand from the wire to the coating,
let the bottom of the phial be placed bn the end of the
tin-foil fillet. Place the insulated metal cover on the
middle of the glass, and touch it with a finger of one
hand, while the other hand touches the tin-foil fillet.
Now lift the insulated cover by its stem, and bring the
head of the cover in contact with the wire of the phial,
and a very small spark of liglit will appear between them.
Let this be repeated in the same manner about 15 times,
taking care to preserve a proper communication between
the coating and the floor. Then taking hold of the
phial by the coating, let it be replaced on the insulated
cover while it is suspended in the air; and after shift¬
ing the hand from the coating to the wire, let it be
Vol. YU. Pan If. f
ELECTRICITY.
again placed on the middle of the glass: and let the
bottom be again carried in contact over the middle of
the glass, holding the wire in one band, while the other
has a proper communication with the tin-foil coating.
Let the phial be again returned to the tin-foil fillet as
before, and let the insulated cover be applied repeatedly
to the wire, immediately after every separation from
the glass ; and a brighter spark, together with a weak
snapping, will now attend each application, if it be
carefully observed to touch the cover with one hand
before every separation, while the other hand rests on
the fillet of tin-foil. By proceeding in this manner,
after the third application of the phial to the glass, a
very weak shock will be felt in those fingers which are
used in completing the circuit of the glass ; and after
repeating two rounds more in the manner before men¬
tioned, the phial will be fully charged. By applying
the coating of the phial when it is in full force to the
upper surface as before, the glass plate will get the
greatest power it is thus capable of receiving, and will
then give a shock as high as the elbows. After this,
on attempting to lift the insulated cover, the glass itself
will generally be lifted at the same time, with the tinfoil
coating adhering to the under surface : but by continu¬
ing the separations of the cover from the glass, a suc¬
cession of strong negative sparks may be produced by
the influence of the upper surface ; and by turning the
glass over, and leaving the tinfoil coating on the baize,
a succession of strong positive sparks may be produced
by the influence of the other side.
This experiment may be performed more steadily
by placing the glass, together with the tinfoil coat¬
ing and baize, on a plate of metal about one tenth of
an inch thick, and of the same square as the glass. The
whole may be fastened together by two small holdfasts
placed at the opposite corners, which will prevent the
glass from being lifted. This plate of metal will he
useful in another view ; for after it has been sufficiently
warmed, by retaining heat well, it will help to keep the
glass dry, and consequently fit for use so much the
longer. But when it shall be required to show the con¬
trary powers of the opposite sides of the glass, it will
be more convenient not to fasten the parts together,
and the whole may be kept sufficiently steady, by the
operator’s keeping down one corner of the glass with a
finger, and by placing a proper weight on the opposite
corner.
The bottom of the phial cannot be carried in con¬
tact over the glass without producing some little de¬
gree of friction ; from which the power in this experi¬
ment is originally derived. The cover will appear on
examination to be electrified negatively after every se¬
paration from the glass : but as it was touched in com¬
pleting the circuit between the coatings before every
separation, it necessarily follows, that the cover can
have only an influential electricity, and consequently
that the permanent power of the upper surface of the
glass must be positive. The negative power of the co¬
ver is communicated to the wire of the phial, by which
the inside is electrified negatively and the outside posi¬
tively ; and both these powers will increase with every
application, because the circumstances of the phial are
favourable to its charging. The phial must be insulat-
ed every time it is required to shift the hand from the
wire to the coating, or from the coating to the wire ;
4 S * for
689
Principles
of Electri¬
city illus¬
trated by
experiment,
6go
Principles
ct BUctri-
pity illus¬
trated by
experiment
149
E L E C T R
for without this precaution the phial would be dischar¬
ged. Bv applying the outside ot the phial to the up¬
per surface of the glass, in the manner above mention¬
ed the phial will he partly discharged on the surface :
'and thouoh it must be therefore weakened, the povver
of the glass will be increased, and consequently enabled
to produce a proportionably stronger effect on the brass
cover which by the next round ot applications will
oive the phial a stronger charge than it had before. And
thus a very small degree of original power is first gene¬
rated and then employed in forming two different .ac¬
cumulations : and by making each of these subservient
to the increase of the ether, the phial is at last fully
charged, and the glass plate acquires such a degree o
the surcharge, as to give a pretty smart shock J and
after, it remains capable, by the influence ot its perma¬
nent powers, of producing a succession of positive and
necative sparks on the opposite surfaces.
The contrary charge may be given to the phial,
by taking hold of the coating, and carrying the wire
in contact over the middle of the upper-surface of the
glass, and by applying the power of the insulated cover
fo the coating ; for if the operat.on he conducted in
every other respect in the same manner as beiore, then
will the inside be electrified positively, and the outside
negatively. The powers of the glass plate will he the
same as they were in the former case. t
After the phial has been fully charged negatively,
bv the process of the last experiment, let it be insu¬
lated ; and taking hold of the wire, let the bottom be
held uppermost, and let the hand which holds it rest on
the fillet of tinfoil. Apply the insulated cover to the
dass and after touching it with a finger of the other
hand’, separate it from the glass j and on bringing it to¬
wards the coating of the phial, a strong spark will pass
between them. After repeating this between 20 and
20 times, the powers of the phial will be destroyed ;
and by continuing the same operation, they will be in¬
verted j for the inside will be at last fully charged po¬
sitively, and the outside negatively. .
The same effect may he produced by turning the
glass over, and by repeatedly applying the influential
electricity, produced on that side, to the wire of the
11 When the phial has been fully charged negatively,
as in the last experiment, take hold of the coating of
the phial with one hand, and while the othei hand
rests on the tin-foil fillet, apply the wire to the middle
of the upper surface of the glass, as far as the tin-ion
coating extends on the other side. By this the powers
of the glass plate will be changed.
Another, and perhaps a better method of apply¬
ing the phial, is to place the insulated cover on the
surface of the glass, and then holding the phial by the
coating in one hand, to apply the wire to the cover,
while the other hand touches the fillet of tin-foil 5 by
which a shock will he given, and the same change of
powers will he produced in an instant, which betore took
up some little time. On lifting the insulated cover by
its stem immediately after the shock, it will be negative,
or have the same power as the inside of the phial; but
on replacing the cover, and completing the circuit of
the glass plate, the surcharge will be destroyed ; another
shock will be felt; and the power of the cover, after
the next separation, will be positive, or contrary to that
1
I C I T Y.
1 jo
Part III,
of the inside of the phial. Apply this positive power to Principles
the wire of the phial as before; and after 15 applica- ofElectri.
tions, the powers of the phial will be destroyed ; and
by still proceeding in the same manner, the powers
the phial will be changed, and the inside will be fully < ^ 
charged positively, and the outside negatively, by 60
applications.
These effects may also be produced by a single ap¬
plication of the coating of the phial to the other side
of the glass plate ; and by repeated applications of the
influential electricity, produced on the same side, to the
coating of the phial.
If it were simply the object in this experiment to
change the powers of the phial, the operation might
then be considerably shortened, by completing the cir¬
cuit of the phial, and consequently destroying the whole
surcharge r but it was intended to show what effects
might he produced, by opposing the contrary powers
to each other ; and by doing this it appears that either
side of the glass plate can destroy the powers of the
phial, and give it a contrary charge; that either side
of the phial can also change the powers of the glass
plate ; and that the powers of the glass plate, thus in¬
verted, can again destroy the powers of the phial, and
give it a full charge of the contrary electricity.
Here it may be observed, that, in some cases, the
quality of the power may be determined by observation
alone. When the phial employed in the two last expe¬
riments has been fully charged, it may be known whe¬
ther the inside be positive or negative from the light
which appears at the wire, or from the hissing noise
which attends it: for when the phial has been fully
charged positively, if the room be sufficiently dark¬
ened^ a bright luminous appearance may.be seen, di¬
verging in separate rays to the distance ot an inch, at¬
tended with an interrupted hissing noise ; and both the
light and the noise continue a very short time. But
when the phial is fully charged negatively, a weaker
and more uniform light appears, which does not extend
itself more than the sixth part of an inch, and is at¬
tended with a closer and more uniform hissing ; and
this noise and light always continue longer than the
former. Even positive and negative sparks, passing
between the insulated cover and a finger, may lie dis¬
tinguished from each other : for the positive sparks are
more divided, give less light, make a weaker snapping
noise, and affect the finger less sensibly than the nega¬
tive. i • 1
The strongest sparks which can be produced in these
experiments, are those that pass between the coating of
the phial and the insulated cover, when they possess the
contrary powers ; but they will be more particularly
vigorous if the coating be positive, and the insulated
cover negative*.
* Mihier
Expert-
.merits ann
• 7 y uiensi
Ch/p VI. Miscellaneous Experiments with charged obseWt.
Electrics. t;ons;:
SlG. Cigna made some curious experiments on ^‘epgj!;meDt«
adhesion of electrified plates uf glass. He laid two 0 on
these plates well dried, one upon the other as onepiatcs.
piece, the lowermost of them being coated on the out¬
side ; and, when they were insulated, he alternately
rubbed the uppermost plate with one hand, and too
a spark from the coating of the lower with the
>. IV.
ELECTRICITY.
<S*
Si Hen-
1< ie-
[ inciplcs till they were charged} when the coating and both
1 l&lfctri- the plates adhered firmly together. Giving a coating
i iy illus- t0 t]ie other side, and making a communication between
jseriraent. ^ie ^uo coat>ngs» the usual explosion was produced.
t ■ fiiitT though the united electric was tlms discharged,
the plate still cohered, and though no sign of electricity
appeared while they were united, they were, when se¬
parated, found possessed of opposite states of electri¬
city.
If the two plates were separated before they were
discharged, and the coating of each was touched, a
spark came from each, and when they were again pla-
ced together, they cohered as before, but were not ca-
! Mad. I>ablf giving a shock f.
( Turin, If plates of glass, thus coated and electrified, be se-
i 1765. parated in the dark, flashes of light will be perceived
between them. By laying the plates together again,
and again separating them successively, the appearance
of these luminous flashes maybe repeated several times,
but always in a weaker degree than the first.
Mr Symmer made several experiments of the same
kind before Sig. Cigna. He found that when the two
plates were coated only on one side, they were charged
as one plate, and the uncoated sides adhered together;
but when they were coated each on both sides, they
became charged distinctly from each other, and did not
adhere.
Mr Henley, in describing an experiment of this kind,
makes the following observation. “ Crown glass, that
is, the glass commonly used for sash-windows, though
so much thinner, succeeds in this experiment as well
as the plate-glass; but what is very remarkable, the
Dutch plates, when treated in the same manner, have
each a positive and a negative surface, and the electri¬
city of both surfaces of both plates is exchanged for the
contrary electricity in the discharge. If a clean, dry,
uncoated plate of looking-glass be placed between the
coated looking-glass plates, or between the plates of
crown-glass, it appears, after charging, to be negatively
electrified on both sides 5 but if it be placed between
the Dutch plates, it acquires, like them, a positive
electricity on one surface, and a negative electricity on
15,] the other.”
TU5C*- A very curious and elegant experiment on the Ley-
ofcssor4^0 vvas ma(^e hy Professor Ilichman of Peters-
Hman. burgh, whose unfortunate death will be hereafter re¬
lated.
He coated both sides of a pane of glass, within two
or three inches of the. edge, and fastened linen threads
to the upper part of the coating on both sides ; which,
when the plate was not charged, hung down in contact
with the coating j but setting the plate upright and
charging it, he observed, that when neither of the sides
was touched by his finger, or any other conductor com¬
municating with the earth, both the threads were re¬
pelled from the coating, and stood at an equal distance
from it ; but when he brought his finger or any other
conductor to one of the sides, the thread hanging to
that side fell nearer to the coating, while the thread on
the opposite side receded as much ; and that when his
finger was brought into contact with one of the sides,
the thread on that side fell into contact with it like¬
wise, while the thread on the opposite side receded to
twice the distance at which it hung originally $ so that
691
the two threads always hung so as to make the same iMrcipie?
angle with one another |. of E'.ccln-
One of the most amusing experiments with charged c 1 !u>-
electrics, is that which Dr Franklin calls the Magic ;U^ !,vt
Picture, and which/he describes in the following man- -.-LT111
ner. Having a large mezzotinto print (suppose of the} Mpini
king), with a frame and glass; take out the print and Tentamen,
cut a pannel out of it, near two inches distant from the I1, 33-'
frame all around. If the cut be through the picture, it Marini,'-
is not the worse. With thin paste or gum-water, fix turet
the board that is cut oil on the inside of the glass, pres¬
sing it smooth and close, then fill up the vacancy by
gilding the glass well with gold or brass leaf. Gild
likewise the inner edge of the back of the frame all
round, except the top part, and form a communication
between that gilding and the gilding behind the glass ;
then put in the board and that side is finished. Turn
up the glass, and gild the foreside exactly over the
back gilding; and when it is dry, cover it, hy pasting
on the pannel of the picture that has been cut out, ob¬
serving to bring the correspondent parts of the board
and picture together, by which the picture will appear
of a piece as at first, only part is behind the glass, and
part is before. Lastly, hold the picture horizontally
by the lop, and place a little moveable gilt crowm on
the king’s bead.
If now the picture be moderately electrified, ami
another person take bold of the frame with one hand,
so that his fingers touch its inside gilding, and with the
other hand endeavour to take off the crown, he will
receive a severe shock, and fail in the attempt.
On the same principle that the wires of phials char-Electncal
ged differently, will attract and repel differently, isjaeft.
made an electrical wheel, which, Dr Franklin says,
turns with considerable strength, and of which he gives
the following description. A small upright shaft of
wood passes at right angles through a thin round board,
of about twelve inches diameter, and turns on a sharp
point of iron, fixed in the lower end ; while a strong
wire in the upper end, passing through a small hole, in
a thin brass plate, keeps the shaft truly vertical. About
thirty radii of equal length, made of sash-glass, cut in
narrow slips, issue horizontally from the circumference
of the board ; the ends most distant from the centre,
being about four inches apart. On the end of every
one a brass thimble is fixed.
If now the wire of a bottle electrified in the common
way, be brought near the circumference of this wheel,
it will attract the nearest thimble, and so put the wheel
in motion. That thimble, in passing by, receives a
spark, and thereby being electrified is repelled, and so
driven forwards; while a second being attracted, ap¬
proaches the wire, receives a spark, and is driven after
the first; and so on till the wheel has gone once round ;
when the thimbles before electrified approaching the
wire, instead of being attracted as they were at first,
are repelled, and the motion presently ceases.
But if another bottle which had been charged through
the coating, be placed near the same wheel, its wire
will attract the thimble repelled by the first, and there¬
by double the force that carries the wheel round ; and
not only taking out the electric pow-er that bad been
communicated by the thimbles to the first bottle, but
even depriving them of their natural quantity, instead
4 S 3 of
692
ELECTRICITY.
Part III.
Principles
of Et> ctii
«ity ilius-
trated by
experimeut
. 156
Self-moY-
iag-wbeel.
of being repelled when they come again towards the
first bottle, they are more strongly attracted ; so that
the wheel mends its pace, till it goes with great rapidi¬
ty, 12 or 15 rounds in a minute, and with such strength,
that the weight of 100 Spanish, with which it was
once loaded, did not seem in the least to retard its mo¬
tion. This is called an electrical jack, and if a large,
fowl was spitted on the upper shaft, it would be cariied
round before a fire, with a motion fit for roasting.
But this wheel, like those driven by wind, moves
by a foreign force, viz. that communicated to it by the
bottles.
The self-moving wheel, though constructed. on the
same principles, appears more surprising. It is made
of a thin round plate of window glass, seventeen inches
in diameter, well gilt on both sides, to within two
inches of the circumference. Two small hemispheres ot
wood are then fixed with cement, to the middle of the
upper and under sides, centrally opposite, and in each
of them a thick strong wire, eight or ten inches long,
together making the axis of the wheel. . It turns hori¬
zontally on a point at the lower end of its axis, which
rests on a bit of brass cemented within a glass salt sel¬
ler. The upper end of its axis passes through a hole m
a thin brass plate, cemented to a long and strong piece
of glass : which keeps it six or eight inches distant from
any non-electric, and has a small ball of wax or metal
on its top. .
In a circle on the table which supports the wheel,
are fixed twelve small pillars ot glass, at about eleven
inches distance, with a thimble on the top of each. On
the edge of the wheel is a small leaden bullet, commu-
nicating by a wire with the upper surface of the wheel ;
and about six inches from it, is another bullet com¬
municating, in like manner, with the under surface.
When the wheel is to be. charged by the upper surface,
a communication must be made from the under surface
with the table.
'When it is well charged it begins to move. Ihe
bullet nearest to a pillar moves toward the thimble on
that pillar, and passing by, electrifies it, and then
pushes itself from it. The succeeding bullet, which
communicates with the other surface of the glass, more
strongly attracts that thimble, on account of its being
electrified before by the other bullet, and thus the
wheel increases its motion, till the resistance of the air
regulates it. It will go half an hour, and make one
minute with another, twenty turns in a minute, which
is six hundred turns in the whole, the bullet of the up¬
per surface giving in each turn, twelve sparks to the
thimbles, which makes seven thousand two bundled
sparks, and the bullet of the under surface receiving as
many from the thimble, these bullets moving in the
time near two thousand five hundred feet. Ihe thim¬
bles are well fixed, and in so exact a circle, that the
bullets may pass within a very small distance of each
of them. .
If instead of two bullets yon put eight, four com¬
municating with the upper surface, and four with the
under surface, placed alternately, (which eight, at about
six inches distance, complete the circumference) the
force and swiftness will be greatly increased, the wheel
making fifty turns in a minute, but then it will not con¬
tinue moving so long.
These wheels may be applied perhaps to the ringing pr:Rcil)lc|
of chimes, and moving light-made orreries*. ofElectri.
Mr Cavallo gives the following description of an
instrument which he calls the Self-charging Leyden
Phial. . . . '   >'
Take a glass tube of about eighteen inches in length, * Frank.
and an inch, or an inch and a half, in diameter. It is^»*-^<-
immaterial whether one of its ends be closed or not. m*
Coat the inside of it with tin-foil, but only from oneSeif ch7arg.
open extremity of it about as far as its middle; the iug Lejdsu
other part, which remains uncoated, we shall call the phial,
naked part of the instrument. Put a cork into the aper¬
ture of the coated end, and let a knobbed wire pass
through the cork, and come in contact with the coat¬
ing. The instrument being thus prepared, hold it in
one hand by the naked part, and with the other hand
clean and dry-rub the outside of the coated part of the
tube ; hut after every three or four strokes you must re¬
move the rubbing hand, and must touch the knob of
the wire, and in so doing a little spark will be drawn
from it. By this means the coated end of the tube will
gradually acquire a charge, which may be increased to
a considerable degree. If then you grasp the outside
of the coated end of the tube with one hand, and touch
the knob of the wire with the other hand, you will ob¬
tain a shock, &c.
In this experiment the coated part of the tube an¬
swers the double office of electrical machine and of
Leyden phial; the naked part of it being only a sort
of handle to hold the instrument by. The friction on
the outside of the tube accumulates a quantity of posi¬
tive electricity upon it, and this electricity forces out
of the inside a quantity of electricity also positive..
Then by taking the spark from the knob, this inside
electricity, which is by the coating communicated to
the knob through the wire, is removed, consequently
the inside remains undercharged or negative, and of
course the positive electricity of the outside comes closer
to the surface of the glass, and begins to form the
charge. By farther rubbing and taking the spark from
the knob this charge is increased, &c.
Instead of a tube, this instrument may be constructed
with a pane of glass, in which case it will be rather
simpler, but it cannot be managed so easily, nor of
course can it he charged so high as the tube. A piece
of tin-foil must be pasted in the middle of only one
surface of the pane, leaving about two inches and a
half or three, inches of uncoated glass all round. This
done, hold the glass by a corner, with the coated side
from you, and with the other hand rub its uncoated
side, and take the spark from the tin-foil alternately,
until you think that the glass may be sufficiently charg¬
ed ; then lay the glass with its uncoated side flat upon
one hand, and on turning the tin-foil with the other,
hand you will receive the shock.
Chap. VII. Of the Chemical Effects of the Electric
Spark.
The Germans were the earliest to apply the elec¬
tric light to chemical purposes, suggested by its ana¬
logy to common fire. By this application of it, that
analogy was confirmed and illustrated. I lie arrange
ment required for subjecting bodies to this agency, simp y
'‘59
I fit's
(nap. VII. ELECT
nci[)ies consists in placing them in an interrupted part of an
ftleclri- electric circuit, so as to make the spark pass through
lyiiliis- them, or in very close contact.
The electric spark sets fire to infiammable bodies.
E.rper. I.—Tojire rosin. Wrap some cotton wool
containing as much powdered rosin as it will hold, about
one of the knobs of a discharging rod. Then having
charged a leaden jar, apply the naked knob of the rod
to the external coating, and the rod enveloped by the
cotton to the ball of the wire. The act
the jar will set fire to the rosin.
Powdered rosin may even be inflamed, when strewed
on the surface of water in a^porcelain dish, when
the wires between which the spark is produced are
placed near the surface of the water, four or five inches
distant from each other.
A piece of phosphorus or camphor wrapped in cot¬
ton wool, and used in the common way, will be much
more easily inflamed.
Exper. 2.—To fire spirits. Hang a small ball with
a stem to the prime conductor, so that the ball may
project below the conductor. Then warm a little ar¬
dent spirit, by holding it a short time over a candle in
a metallic spoon ; hold the spoon about an inch below
the ball, and set the machine in motion. A spark will
soon issue from the ball and set fire to the spirits.
This experiment succeeds in the very same manner,
whether the conductor is electrified positively or nega¬
tively, i. e. whether the spark be made to come from
the conductor or from the spoon ; it being only in con¬
sequence of the rapid motion of the spark that the spirits
are kindled.
It will be perhaps scarcely necessary to remark, that
the more inflammable the spirits are, the more proper
they will be for this experiment, as a smaller spark will
he sufficient to inflame them ; therefore rectified spirit
of wine is better than common proof spirit, and aether
is better than either.
This experiment may be varied different ways, and
may be rendered very agreeable to a company of spec¬
tators. A person, for instance, standing upon an elec¬
tric stool, and communicating with the prime conduc¬
tor, may hold the spoon with the spirits in his hand,
and another person, standing upon the floor, may set
the spirits on fire, by bringing his finger within a small
distance o£ it. Instead of his finger he may fire the
spirits witjh a piece of ice ; when the experiment will
seem mucii more surprising. If the spoon is held by
the person Standing upon the floor, and the insulated
person brings some conducting substance over the sur¬
face of the spirit, the experiment succeeds as well.
Mr Winckler says, that oil, pitch, and sealing-wax,
might be lighted by electric sparks, provided those
substances were first heated to a degree next to kind¬
ling. To these it must be added, that Mr Gralath
fired the smoke of a candle just blown out, and lighted
it again ; and that Mr Boze fired gunpowder, melt¬
ing it in a spoon, and fired the vapour that rose from
R I C I T Y. 693
tube s .y is passed, containing a wire projecting be- Principle*
yond the tube at one end, which is terminated by a of Etectri-
tit.
Elect.
it <
I 'O
* e iiy-
yhoH*
Ue
4*.
This experiment will succeed better with a charged
Exper. 3. To fire hydrogenous gas.—Provide a bot¬
tle of strong glass with two necks, as a, fig. 48. Let a
brass cap be fitted to each neck ; one of which is
furnished with a cock, and through the other a glass
knob n, while the other passing within the bottle turns Clly
round so as to come within an inch of the brass through ^
which the glass tube passes. The bottle being thus fxt)C1^eilt;
prepared, fill it with water, and throw up into it equal
parts of hydrogen gas and common air, or two parts
of hydrogen and one pf oxygen gas ; fix in the cork,
'eloped by the and shake the bottle so as to mix the gases well toge-
of discharging ther. Then bring the knob n, near the knob of a
charged jar, or a ball of the prime eonductor, and the
hydrogen will be inflamed with a loud report.
In general the cork will be forced out by the explo¬
sion j but if this should not be the case, an opportunity
is afforded of proving that the gases have disappeared,
and water has been produced by the experiment. On
taking out the cork below the surface of water, the
water will rush in and fill the bottle, thus shewing that
the gases have disappeared.
To prove the production of water, it is necessary
that the bottle should have been filled with mercury
before the gases were introduced. In both cases drops
of water will appear within the bottle after the report;
hut where water has been employed in introducing the
gases, this testimony is more equivocal than when no
water has been used.
I he first person who fired inflammable bodies by thej.
electric spark, was Dr Ludolf of Berlin, in 1774, who, Tram. Abr.
by sparks excited by the friction of a glass tube, kin-*.
died the ethereal spirits of Frobenius f. Mr Gordon * No/tet's
of Erfurd, produced so strong a spark from the back RfHarth*''
of a cat, as to fire spirit of wine J. I>'
Exper. 4—It has been proposed by Sig. Volta tolnfiamma-
apply the burning of hydrogen gas to economical pur- ble »iir
poses, in what he called the infiammable air lamp. 1“m"
A, fig. 49. is a glass globe for containing the gas ;
B a glass bason or reservoir for holding water ; D a
cock to form a communication between the water and
the gas. The water passes into the globe through the
metal pipe gg, which is fixed to the upper part of the
reservoir A ; at 5 is a cock to cut off or open a com¬
munication between the air and the jar K. N is a
small pipe to hold a piece of wax taper ; L a brass pil¬
lar, on the top of which is a hall of the same metal ;
is a pillar of glass with a socket at the top, in which
slides the wire b, having a ball screwed on the end of
it. F, is a cock by which the globe is filled with hy¬
drogen gas, and which afterwards serves to confine the
gas and what water falls from B into A.
To use this instrument, having filled xhe globe with
gas, and the reservoir A with water, turn the cocks I>
and s, and water will fall into the globe, forcing up a
quantity of gas, which will rise through the pipe K.
If now an electric spark be made to pass from the ball
m to that marked n, it will set fire to the inflammable
gas which passes through the pipe K. 7'his is done
by means of an electrophorus, which, by retaining a
constant reservoir of electricity of the easiest applica¬
tion, is extremely convenient for this purpose. Hence
instruments of this kind are neatly fitted op, with an
electrophorus attached, 'idle gas is thus emitted and
kindled in one moment ; one motion being sufficient for
both effects. To extinguish the lamp, first shut the-
cock s, and then D.
The gas is obtained in the usual way from diluted.
sulphuric
lamp.
Plate
cxc.
fig- 49*
694-
Prii’ciples sulphuric acid and iron filings, and the globe is to be
of Klectii- filled in the following manner. Having previously hi-
oily illus- jecj with water, place the foot 11 in a tub of water
trated by so t]ia(. jt roay be covered, and that the bent glass tube
ejcpenmenl though ^ gag ^ tQ be ;ntr0(h,ced, may pass
commodiously below the foot. When the gas has dri¬
ven out nearly all the water, turn the cock F, and the
J5-. lamp is ready for use.
To fire gun- Expcr. $. To fire gunpowder.—¥ix a small car-
powder. (ridge on a metallic wire which is fitted to a glass or
wooden handle; make a communication between the
wire and the ground *, then present the cartridge to the
knob of a charged Leyden phial, and the gunpowder
will be fired. .
Fig. 50. represents a small cannon, w'lth an ivory
touch-hole fitted with a brass pin furnished with a round
head. Gunpowder may be fired from this cannon by
the electric shock, in the following manner. Charge
the cannon with gunpowder as usual j then fill the
touch-hole with powder, ram it well down, and push
into it the brass pin, so that its end may be near the
bottom of the hole. Now make a communication be¬
tween the outside of a large charged jar, or a battery,
and the body of the cannon •, then, placing one ball of
a discharging rod on the head of the pin, which passes
down the touch-hole of the cannon, bring the other
to the knob of the jar, and the discharge will fire the
cannon.
The elcciric spark decomposes most of the compound
gases, and forms new compounds with their component
jg- principles.
Action of The first who examined the action of electricity on
the electric tbe gases, was Dr Priestley. In the course of bis ex-
ELECTRICITY. Fart 111
To determine the cause of tbe change of colour, Dr principles
Priestley expanded the air in the tube by means of anof Eltctri
air-pump, till it expelled all the liquor, and admitted
Plate
cxc.
fi.?- s°.
spaik on
the gases.
164
Experi¬
ments of
j)r Priest¬
ley.
periments on air, he found that by means of the elec¬
tric spark, he could convert the blue colour of a vege¬
table infusion into red. The instrument used in this
experiment, was a glass tube about four or five inches
long, and one or two tenths of an inch in diameter in
the inside ; a piece of wire was put into one end of the
tube, and fixed there with cement ; a brass ball was fix¬
ed on the top of this wire •, the lower part of the tube
was filled with water, tinged blue with a piece of turn¬
sole or archil. This was easily effected by setting the
tube in a vessel of the tinged water, then placing it un¬
der a receiver on the plate of an air-pump 5 exhausting
the receiver in part, and then, on letting in the air,
the tinged liquor rose in the tube, and the elevation
would he in proportion to the accuracy of the vacuum ;
now taking the tube and vessel from under the re¬
ceiver, he threw strong sparks on the brass ball from
the prime conductor.
When Dr Priestley made this experiment, he per¬
ceived, that after the electric sparks had been passed
between the wire and the liquor for about a minute,
the upper part of the liquor began to look red ; in two
minutes it was manifestly so, and the red part did not
readily mix with the rest of the liquor. If the tube
was inclined where the sparks were passed through it,
the redness extended twice as far on the lower side as
on the upper. In proportion as the liquor became red,
it advanced nearer to the wire, so that the air through
which the sparks weie passed, was diminished*, the di¬
minution amounted to about one-fifth of the whole space ;
after which a continuation of the electric sparks pro¬
duced no sensible eflect.
dll - JJU III Pj vill * ** V- /TV j v. A ^ 7 ^ trstp'l 1
fresh blue colour in its place ; hut after this, electricity experimJ
produced no sensible effect on the air or on the liquor ; v.
so that it was clear, that the air had been decomposed,
and something of an acid nature had been produced.
The result was the same with wires of different metals.
It was also the same, when, by means of a bent tube,
the sparks were made to pass from the liquor in one leg
of the tube to the liquor in the other. The air thus
diminished, was in the highest degree noxious.
In passing the electric spark through different gases,
it appears of different colours. In carbonic acid gas,
the spark is very white : in hydrogenous gas, and am-
maniacal gas, it appears of a purple or red colour.
Dr Priestley found that the electric spark passed
through any kind of oil, produced an inflammable gas.
He tried it with nil of olives, oil of turpentine, and es¬
sential oil of mint. The electric spark, when passed
through ether, produces the same effect.
He found that the electric spark, when passed through
ammoniacal gas, increases the bulk of this gas*, so that,
by making about two hundred shocks pass through a
given quantity of it, the original quantity was some¬
times increased one-fourth. If water was admitted
to this gas, it absorbed the original quantity, and left
about as much gas as was generated by the electricity,
and this was a strongly inflammable gas.
Dr Priestley found, that on passing slight electric
shocks for about an hour, through an inch of carbonic
acid ga.s, confined in a glass tube one tenth of an inch
in diameter, when water was admitted to it, only one-
fourth of the air was absorbed.
He likewise found, when the electric spark was pas¬
sed through carbureted hydrogen gas, that the inside of
the tube in which the gas was confined, was covered
with a blackish substance,
Dr Priestley took the simple electric spark from a
conductor of a moderate size, for the space of five mi¬
nutes without interruption, in a quantity of carbureted
hydrogen gas, without producing any change in the in¬
side of the glass } when immediately after, passing
through it only two shocks of a common jar, each of
which might he produced in less than a quarter of a
minute with the same machine in the same state, the
whole of the inside of the tube was completely covered
with the black matter.
A large phial, about an inch and a half wide, being
filled with this gas, the explosions of a very large jar,
containing more than two feet of coated surface, nad no
effect upon it *, from which it seems, that in these cases
the force of the shock was not able to decompose the
gas.
Several valuable experiments were made by the
Hon. Henry Cavendish, of which he gave an account
in the 73d volume of the Phil. Trans.
The apparatus used in making the experiments ^aS‘jJj,., ex(
as follows. The air, through which the spark was in-rjments,
tended to be passed, was confined in a glass tube M, plate
bent to an angle, as in fig. 51. which, after being fill¬
ed with quicksilver, was inverted into two glasses of
the same fluid as in the figure. The air to he tried
was then introduced by means of a small tube, such as
is used for thermometers, bent in the manner represent-
cd j
165
! up. VII. ELECT
iiic'p'es e<l liy ABC, fig. 52. the bent eml of which, after be-
[ IKlectri- ing previously filled with quicksilver, was introduced,
vifus- as ;n the figure, under the glass DEF, inverted into
erimcnt. water’ aiu^ with the proper kind of air, the end
C of the tube being kept stopped by the finger 5 then,
ll;. 52. on removing the finger from C, the quicksilver in the
tube descended in the leg BC, and its place was sup¬
plied with air from the glass DEF. Having thus got
the proper quantity of air into the tube ABC, it was
held with the end C uppermost, and stopped with the
finger j and the end A, made smaller for that purpose,
being introduced into one end of the bent tube M,
fig* 51. the air, on removing the finger from C, was
forced into that tube by the pressure of the quicksilver
in the leg BC. By these means he was enabled to in¬
troduce the exact quantity of soap lees, or any other
liquor which he wanted to be in contact with the air.
In one case, however, in which he wanted to intro¬
duce air into the tube many times in the same experi-
],. 53. ment, he used the apparatus represented in fig. 53. con¬
sisting of a tube AB of a small bore, a ball C, and a
tube DE ot a larger bore. This apparatus was first
filled with quicksilver, and then the ball C and the
tube AB were filled with air, by introducing the end
A under a glass inverted into water, which contained
the proper kind of air, and drawing out the quicksilver
from the leg ED by a siphon. After being thus fur¬
nished with air, the apparatus was weighed, and the
end A introduced into one end of the tube M, and
kept there during the experiment ; the way of forcing
air out of this apparatus into the tube, being by thrust¬
ing down the tube ED a wooden cylinder, of such a
size as almost to fill up the whole bore, and by occa¬
sionally pouring quicksilver into the same tube, to sup¬
ply the place of that pushed into the ball C. After
the experiment was finished, the apparatus was weighed
again, which shewed exactly how much air had been
forced into the tube M, during the whole experiment j
it being equal in bulk to a quantity of quicksilver,
whose weight was equal to the increase of weight of the
apparatus.
The bore of the tube M used in most of the follow¬
ing experiments, was about one-tenth of an inch ; and
the length of the column of air, occupying the upper
part of the tube, was in general from one and a half
to three quarters of an inch.
In order to force an electrical spark through the
tube, it was necessary, not to make a communication
between the tube and the conductor, but to place an
insulated ball at such a distance from the conductor, as
to receive a spark from it, and to make a communica¬
tion between that ball and the quicksilver in one of the
glasses, while the quicksilver in the other glass commu¬
nicated with the ground.
When the electric spark was made to pass through
common air, included between short columns of a solu¬
tion of litmus, the solution acquired a red colour, and
the air was diminished conformably to what was ob¬
served by Dr Priestley. When lime-water was used in¬
stead of the solution of litmus, and the spark was con¬
tinued till the air could be no farther diminished, not
the least cloud could be perceived in the lime-water;
but the air was reduced to two-thirds of its original
bulk ; which is a greater diminution than it could have
R I C I T Y.
695
suffered by mere phlogistication, as that is very little Principles
more than one-fifth of the whole. of JCltcUi-
Ihe experiment was next repeated with some impure chy dim-
oxygen gas. The gas was very much diminished, but trate.“ by
without the least cloud being produced in the lime-cx!'t‘^llll-'lt;
water, nor was any cloud produced when carbonic
acid gas was let up to it; hut on the further addition
ol a little caustic ammonia, a brown sediment was im¬
mediately perceived.
Hence we may conclude that the lime-water was
Obturated by some acid formed during the operation ;
as in this case it is evident that no earth could have
been precipitated by the carbonic acid gas alone,
but that the caustic ammonia, on being added, would
unite with the carbonic acid, and thus becoming a
carbonate would precipitate the lime by double affi¬
nity ; whereas, if the lime had not been saturated with
an acid, it would have been precipitated on the addi¬
tion of carbonic acid gas. As to the brown colour of
the sediment, it was probably owing to some of the
mercury having been dissolved.
When the impure oxygen gas was confined by soap
lees, the diminution proceeded rather faster than when
it was confined by lime-water; for which reason, as
well as on account of the lixivium containing a large
quantity of alkali in proportion to its bulk, it seemed
better adapted than lime-water for experiments design¬
ed to investigate the nature of the acid produced. Ac¬
cordingly some experiments were made to determine
of what degree of purity the oxygen gas should be, in
order to be diminished most readily and in the greatest
degree; and it was found that when good oxygen gas
was employed, the diminution was but small ; when
perfectly pure azotic gas was used, no sensible diminu¬
tion took place ; but when five parts of pure oxygen
gas and three of common air were employed, almost
the whole of the gases were made to disappear. It must
be considered that common air consists of one part of
oxygen gas mixed with between three and four of azo¬
tic gas, so that a mixtui’e of five parts of pure oxygen
gas and three of common air, was nearly the same
thing as seven parts of oxygen gas and three of azotic
gas.
Having made these previous trials, Mr Cavendish
introduced into the tube a little soap lees, and then let
up some oxygen gas and common air, mixed in the
above proportions, which rising to the top of the tube
M, distributed the soap lees in the two legs of the tube,
as fast as the air contained in it was diminished by the
electric spark ; continuing to add more of the same
mixture till no further diminution took place ; after
which a little pure oxygen gas, and then a little com¬
mon air, were added, in order to see whether cessation
of diminution was not owing to some imperfection of
the proportion of the two kinds of air to each other,
but without effect. The lixivium being then poured
out of the tube, and separated from the mercury, seem¬
ed to be perfectly neutralized, as it produced no change
on the colour of paper tinged with the juice of blue
flowers. Being evaporated to dryness, a small quantity
of salt was left, which was evidently nitre, as appeared
by the manner in which paper impregnated with a so¬
lution of it burned.
For more satisfaction, he tried this experiment over
again*.
6q6
electricity.
Prt'c'p'.es
»!' ijIccLi-
illus¬
trated by
experiment
i6<>
Van M'a-
iuiu’s expe
riments on
the gases.
again, on a larger scale. About five times the former
quantity of soap lees were now let up into a tube of a
larger bore 5 and a mixture of oxygen gas and common
air, in the same proportions as before, being introduced
by the apparatus represented in fig. 53. the spark was
continued till no more air could be made to disappear.
The liquor when poured out of the tube, smelled
evidently of nitrous acid. This salt was found, by the
manner in which paper, dipped into a solution of it,
burned, to be true nitre. It appeared, by the test ot
muriate of baryta, to contain no more sulphuric ac.d
than the soap lees themselves often contain, which is in
general very little j and there is no reason to think
that any other acid entered into it, except the ni-
By these beautiful experiments was demonstrated
one of the most important facts in modern chemistry,
viz. that the nitric acid is composed of oxygen and
azote.
The above experiments of Priestley and Cavendish,
were repeated on a large scale by l)r ^ an Maium,
with the powerful machine in Teyler’s museum.
For this purpose he used a cylindrical glass receiver
five inches long and an inch and a quarter in diameter,
into which different sorts of gases were successively m-
serted, and were confined by quicksilver or water, lo
a hole made in the bottom of the inverted glass re¬
ceiver, an iron wire was fastened, the external part of
which communicated with a conductor, which being
presented to the prime conductor of the machine, re¬
ceived the sparks from it. In this disposition of the
apparatus it evidently appears, that the sparks passed
.through the gas contained in the receiver, by going
Part HI
from the inner extremity of the wire to the quicksilver Prireiplej
or water in which the receiver was inverted. With ofEketri-
this apparatus it was found, that oxygen gas, obtained city illns.
from mercurial red precipitate, lost one-twentieth of its
bulk-, but its quality was not sensibly altered, as ap-  ^
peared from examining it with the eudiometer. This
experiment being repeated when the receiver was in¬
verted in lime water, and likewise in the infusion of
turnsole, there ensued no precipitation, nor change of
colour. On pouring out this air, the usual smell of the
electric spark was very sensibly perceived.
Nitrous gas was diminished to more than the half of
its original bulk 5 and in that diminished state, being
mixed with common air, it occasioned no red fumes,
nor any sensible diminution. It had lost its usual smell,
and it extinguished a candle. In passing the spark*
through the nitrous gas, a powder was formed on the
surface of the quicksilver, which consisted of a portion
of that metal dissolved by the nitrous acid.
Hydrogen gas, obtained from iron and diluted sul¬
phuric acid, communicated a slight redness to the tinc¬
ture of turnsole. fhe stream of electricity through
this air appeared more red, and much larger, than in
common air, being everywhere surrounded by a faint
blue light.
The inflammable gas, obtained from alcohol and
sulphuric acid, was increased to about three times its
original bulk, and lost a little of its inflammability.
Carbonic acid gas, from chalk and sulphuric acid,
was a little increased in hulk by the action of electrici¬
ty ; but it was rendered less absorbable by water (s).
The gas obtained from sulphuric acid and char¬
coal was diminished a little, and black spots were
formed
(s) It was found by C. Monge, who carefully examined the gas produced by passing eleC|^
carbonic acid gas, that it had been rendered inflammable; that the mercury employed to confine the gas
well as the wires between which the sparks passed, were oxidated. C, Monge s7Posed/h^oeseCdarb0t";u?^
employed had undergone no change, but that the water held in solution by it had been decomposed , thu. ac
counting for the oxidation of the metals, and the generation of inflammable gas. lnrirPr scale
M. Theodore de Saussure, not considering C. Mongers experiments as decisive^repeatedfhem on a larger scale.
He caused to circulate for 18 hours, electric sparks in the bulb of a matrass which contained 13 cubic »'jj*esot
pure carbonic acid gas, and without any mixture of water superabundant to that which it might natura y
l, solution. The mercury in which the inverted matrass was immersed rose to about the half of its neck. After
electrization the metallic fluid was found oxidated black, as had been observed by Monge and Pnest ey , but h
conductors, which were of copper, were not sensibly altered. The elastic fluid had experienced ^ df 0 J
which appeared to him not to exceed the tenth part of a cubic inch He then made about a gr^ of water to
pass in contact with the aeriform gas contained in the matrass. He let it remain there for several days, w.tho
perceiving any dilatation in the volume of the gases, the residue of the operation. He then moistened w.tl a
drop of water, which he introduced, the whole inside of the matrass; but in vain . t ic meicmy cons ai y
mained at the same height. He, however, found, on absorbing by potash the residuum of the acid gas, that a
cubic inch of carbonic acid gas had disappeared, and had been replaced by a quantity near y equa , or ra
superior, of the inflammable gas. The 20 cubic centimetres occupied, in the neck of the matrass a co nmn 0
inches in length ; and the acid gas, had the supposed explanation been just, would have been dila e g ‘
that space. "He then thought that this inflammable gas did not arise from the decomposition ol the wa e ,
from that of the carbonic acid itself, by the metal. He indeed found that this gas was not hydrogen gas, bu
carbonous gas perfectly pure. He burnt IOO parts of it on mercury with about a third of oxygen gas. He
not perceive water after this combustion, which left for residuum 77 parts of carbonic acid gas.
The dilatation which the latter experiences by electrization may be explained by the different densities t
carbonous gas and the carbonic acid gas. He was not able to verify the observation of C. Monge respecting
dilatation experienced by the carbonic acid gas, after electrization over mercury.
If it was not possible to reduce entirely the acid gas into carbonous gas by these processes it was because
first strata of metallic oxidation presented an obstacle to further oxidation, by preventing the points ot com.
The developement of the carbonous gas produced therefore an analogous eflect.
4
«ap. VII.
ELECTRICITY.
Ijlioi^lcs formed on the inside of the glass receiver. Afterwards
,, ectri- Jt was observed, that only one-eighth part of the electri-
C 'd b*" ^aS was a^sor^e^ by water. It extinguished a
1 rinient. can^'e» ani* *iat* very smell.
Ulf, i-..< Muriatic acid gas seemed to oppose in great measure
the passage of the electric sparks, since they would not
pass through a greater length than 2^th inches of this
air. It was considerably diminished, hut the rest was
readily absorbed by water.
Fluoric acid gas was neither diminished, nor any
other way sensibly altered, by the electric sparks.
Ammoniacal gas, extracted from pure ammonia, was
at first almost doubled in bulk ; then it was diminished
a little ; after which it remained without any aug¬
mentation or diminution. It became unabsorbable
by water; and by the contact of flame it exploded,
like a mixture of hydrogen gas and a good deal of com¬
mon air.
Common air was lastly tried, and it was found to
give a little faint redness to the tincture of turnsole ;
becoming at the same time sensibly deoxidized. The
experiment was repeated thrice at different times, and
in each time after the electrification it was examin¬
ed by the admixture of nitrous gas in Mr Fontana’s
eudiometer, and it was compared with the same gas not
electrified ; the latter always suffering the greatest di¬
minution. In the first experiment the diminutions
were £44 and ££i-; in the second, and £§4 > and
in the last and f4|.
A column of ammoniacal gas obtained by heat from
pure ammonia, three inches high, was electrified
four minutes, and rose to six inches, but did not rise
higher when electrified ten minutes longer. It appears
that this air is not expanded more by the powerful elec¬
tric stream from this machine than by the common spark.
Water would not absorb this electrified air, which was
in part inflammable.
The tube, being filled to the height of an inch with
ammoniacal gas, and inverted in mercury, was electri¬
fied four minutes ; in which time the tube was filled
with eight inches of gas, which proved to be equally
inflammable, and as little absorbed by water as the am¬
moniacal gas.
The following experiment is very curious. Two
balloons, made of the allantoides of a calf, were filled
with hydrogen gas, of which each contained about two
w>t ydi) cu^‘c T0 each of these was suspended, by a
je„ Js silken thread about eight feet long, such a weight as
was just sufficient to prevent it from rising higher in
the air; they were connected, the one with the positive,
the other with the negative conductor, by small wires
about 30 feet in length ; and being kept near 20 feet
asunder, were placed as far from the machine, as the
length of the wires would admit. On being electri¬
fied, these balloons rose up in the air as high as the
wire allowed, attracted each other, and uniting as it
were into one cloud, gently descended.
Het cal The rarefaction of air by the electric explosion, is
^ 1no' well illustrated by an experiment of Mr Kinnersley,
A1
Ctii1 s ex-
perpnt
wtlal.
Iw-illed
Plate
cxc.
fig- 54*
697
thus described by Mr Cavallo. Fig. 54. Pi. CXC. Princ ples
represents an instrument, which the inventor, Mr Kin- efilkctri-
nersley, calls the electrical air thermometer, it being c'l>' ’"us- .
very useful to observe the effects of the electric explo- expeHmeut
sion upon air. The body of this thermometer consists
of a glass tube AB, about ten inchr« long, and nearly
two inches in diameter, and closed air-tight at both ends
by two brass caps. Through a hole in the upper cap,
a small tube HA, open at both ends, is introduced in
some water at the bottom B of the large tube. Through
the middle ot each of the brass caps, a wire FG, El, is
introduced, having a brass knob within the glass tube,
and by sliding through the caps, they may be set at any
distance from one another. This instrument is, by a
brass ring C, fastened to the pillar of the wooden stand
CD, that supports it. When the air within the tube
AB is rarefied, it will press upon the water at the bot¬
tom of the tube, which will consequently rise in the
cavity of the small tube; and as this water rises higher
or lower, so it shows the greater or less rarefaction of
the air within the tube AB, which has no communica¬
tion with the external air.
If the water, when this instrument is to be used, is
all at the bottom of the large tube, (i. e. none of it is
in the cavity of the small tube), it will be proper to
blow with the mouth into the small tube, and thus
cause the water to rise a little in it; where, for better
regulation, a mark may be fixed.
Bring the knobs GI of the wires IE, FG, into con¬
tact with one another, then connect the ring E or F,
with one side of a charged jar, and the other ring with
the other side, by which operation a shock will be
made to pass through the wires FG, IE, i. e. between
the knobs El. In this case you will observe, that the
water in the small tube is not all moved from the
mark.
Put the knobs GI, a little distant from one another,
and send a shock through them as before, and you will
see that the spark between the two knobs, not only dis¬
places, but rarefies considerably the air ; for the water
will be suddenly pushed almost to the top of the small
tube, and immediately it will subside a little, as for
instance as far as H ; which is occasioned by the sud¬
den displacing and replacing of the air about the place,
where the spark appeared within the tube AB. After
that the water has subsided suddenly from the first
rising, it will then gradually and slowly come down to
the mark at which it stood before the explosion ; which
is the effect of the air that was rarefied, gradually re¬
turning to its former temperature.
If this experiment be made in a room, where the de¬
gree of heat is variable, then proper allowance must be
made for this circumstance, in estimating the event of
the experiment ; for the electrical air thermometer is
affected by heat or cold in general, as well as by that
caused by an electric spark.
In the year 1789, Messrs Pacts, Van Troostwyk, and £)ec(,r^110
Deiman, the three associated Dutch chemists, as they sition 0f
are generally called, sent a letter to M. de la Methrie, water.
giving
It results then from his observations, that the change which carbonic acid gas undergoes by electrization does
t arise from the decomposition of the w'ater, but from the partial decomposition of the carbonic acid gas, which
not
becomes carbonic oxide gas, giving up a part of its oxygen to the metal introduced in those experiments.
Vol. VII. Part II. + 4 T
698
Principles
of Electri¬
city illus¬
trated by
experiment
ELECTRICITY.
giving an account of some experiments, which they,
assisted by Mr Cuthhertson, had made on the effect of
passing a stream of electricity for a considerable time
through water. Their letter was printed in the Jour¬
nal de Physique for that year j but the account is too
long to be inserte 1 here ; we shall, therefore, copy the
following succinct account of the experiment by Dr
Pearson.
The apparatus employed was a tube 12 inches in
length, and its bore was one-eighth of an inch in diame¬
ter, English measure ; which was hermetically sealed at
one end, and, while it was sealing, an inch and a halt of
gold or platinum wire was introduced within the tube,
and fixed into the closed end, by melting the glass
around the extremity of the wire. Another wire of pla¬
tinum, or of gold, with platinum wire at its extremity,
immersed in quicksilver, was introduced at the open
end of the tube, which extended to within five-eighths
of an inch of the upper wire, which, as was just said,
was fixed into the sealed extremity (t).
The tube was filled with distilled water, which had
been freed from air by means of Cuthbertson’s last im¬
proved air-pump, of the greatest rarefying power. As
the open end ol the tube was immersed in a cup of
quicksilver, a little common air was let into the con¬
vex part of the curved end of the tube, with the
view of preventing fracture from the electrical dis¬
charges.
The wire which passed through the sealed extremity
was set in contact with a brass insulated ball •, and this
insulated ball was placed at a little distance from the
prime conductor of the electrical machine. The wire
of the lower or open extremity, immersed in quicksilver,
communicated by a wire or chain with the exterior
coated surface of a Leyden jar, which contained about
a square foot of coating j and the ball of the jar was in
contact with the prime conductor.
The electrical machine consisted of two plates of 31
inches in diameter, and similar to that of Teyler. It
possessed the power of causing the jar to discharge it¬
self 25 times in 15 revolutions. When the brass ball
and that of the prime conductor were in contact, no
air or gas was disengaged from the water by the elec¬
trical discharges \ but on gradually increasing their
distance from one another, the position was found in
which gas was disengaged, and which ascended imme¬
diately to the top of the tube. By continuing the dis¬
charges, gas continued to be disengaged, and ascend,
till it reached nearly to the lower extremity of the up¬
per wire •, and then a discharge occasioned the whole
Part I
of the gas to disappear, a small portion excepted, and PrinciP:
its place was consequently supplied by water. It forms of Elect
a curious problem, whence does it happen that hydrogen Clt7
and oxygen may either be chemically united or chemi-
cally decomposed by the same agent ? ^
The residuary portion of gas being let out after each
experiment, and the discharges being continued in the
same water, this residuary gas was left in smaller and
smaller quantity ; so that after four experiments, proba¬
bly made on the same day, it did not amount to more
than i-8oth of the bulk of gas which had been produ¬
ced. If it had been possible to pass electric sparks
through this very small quantity of gas a second time,
or oftener, it was supposed it would have been dimi¬
nished still more. But when the tube had been left
for a night only filled with water, the residuary gas was
in greater quantity than after the last experiment the
preceding day (u).
It was concluded that the gas produced by the elec¬
trical discharges was oxygen and hydrogen gas, from
decompounded water :
1. Because no other gas hitherto known instantly
disappears on passing through it an electric spark.
2. The gas obtained must have been the oxygen and
hydrogen of decompounded water, because they were in
exactly those proportions in which by combination they
reproduce water j the trifling residue being considered
to be merely a portion of air which had been dissolved
in the water.
3. Liquids which are not compounded of hydrogen
and oxygen, as sulphuric and nitric acids, afforded gas
by the electric discharges, but which did not disappear
on passing through it an electric spark *, but which did
disappear on adding to it nitrous gas over water. Mr
Schurer also asserts, on the authority of Mr Van Troost*
wyk, that even liquid muriatic acid, which contains a
very large proportion of water, affords hydrogen ga«
only, the oxygen being absorbed by the muriatic acid,
and becoming oxymuriatic acid. . j7o
Dr Pearson repeated the above experiments 5 and hasu, pta
given an ample detail of the manner in which he con- son’s ei
ducted his experiments, and of their result. Our limits,<meBls
will not permit us to give the paper of this ingenious
chemist at length: we shall therefore present our readers
with a brief abstract of it, referring them for the origi¬
nal to Nicholson’s Journal for September, October, and
November 1797, or the Philosophical Transactions for
the same year.
Dr Pearson remarks that electric discharges may be
exployed in two manners to decompound water, viz. by
rx It n t.
(t) In another part of Mr Van Troostwyk’s memoir, it is stated that the distance was an inch and a quarter
from the end of the upper wire to the top of the lower wire; and that the distance between the insulated ball and
prime conductor was at first three-fourths of an inch, but that afterwards it was increased to an inch. Although
the wire fastened into the top of the tube was said to be an inch and a half in length, it is observed, that when a
column of three-eighths of an inch of air was collected, it was almost at the extremity of the upper wire. From
these and other inaccuracies, it will be made appear, that no one, from the account published, has been able to re¬
peat the experiment. # ,
(u) In at least fifty experiments I have never seen the residue of gas less than one-fortieth of the gas produced,
although the water had been freed from air by the most effectual means. But Mr Schurer (Annales de Chimie,
tom. v. p. 276.) testifies that he saw Mr Van Troostwyk make the experiment; and that alter it was repeated
many times, on the same parcel of water, there was no residue at all. I have very good grounds for believing*
that this is one of the number of inaccuracies in the account published of this subject.
top. VII.
riuciples w^iat lms ^eenr termed the interrupted explosion, which
E'ectri- was Mr Van Iroostwyk’s method, and the uninterrupt-
ityillus- ecl or complete explosion.
crlraent. ^1e Poct°r ^ays down the following requisites for
succeeding in this experiment by the interrupted ex¬
plosion.
1. The electrical machine must possess sufficient power.
Dr Pearson employed a plate machine, constructed by
Cuthbertson, which he considers as preferable to a cy¬
lindrical machine.
2. The Leyden jar must have a sufficient quantity of
coated surface. The Doctor found by experience that
the proper quantity was about 150 or 160 square inches,
with a proportional prime conductor.
3. The distance between the insulated ball and the
prime conductor must always be less than the distance
between the extremities of the wires.
4. The extremities of the upper and under wire with¬
in the tube must be at a certain distance from one an¬
other. The distance which the Docfor generally found
to answer best, was about five-eighths or seven-eighths
of an inch.
5. The upper ivire fixed into the closed extremity of
the tube must be of a pt'oper length and thickness. The
diameter of the upper wire cannot perhaps be too small,
and the smaller the diameter of the tube, the longer this
wire may be.
6. The tubes must be of a proper length and diame¬
ter. The Doctor found the proper length to be nine
or ten inches, exclusive of the curved part. The dia¬
meter should not be more than one-eighth, or less than
one-twelfth of an inch.
To succeed by the complete or uninterrupted explo¬
sion, Dr Pearson used the following apparatus.
1. A tube about four or five inches in length, and
one-fifth or one-sixth of an inch in diameter ; one end
of which was mounted with a brass cap, and into the
other, which was hermetically sealed, was fitted a pla¬
tinum wire of about i*40th of an inch in diameter, ex¬
tending into the brass cap, so as to be almost in con¬
tact with it.
2. He also employed a tube five inches long and half
an inch wide, either blown into a funnel at one end, or
having a brass funnel fitted to it, and inverted in a
brass dish ; a wire, such as the last, is sealed into the
other end, and nearly touches the brass dish.
The proper distance between the wire and dish must
be found by trials. In the Doctor’s experiments it was
about one-twentieth of an inch.
3. The Leyden jar employed must contain about 1
square inches of coating.
4. The distance between the insulated ball and the
prime conductor was about half an inch.
From his experiments Dr Pearson draws the follow¬
ing conclusions.
The mere concussion by the electric discharges, ap¬
pears to extricate not only the air dissolved in water,
which can be separated from it by boiling and the air-
pump, but also that which remains in water, notwith¬
standing these means of extricating it have been em¬
ployed.
The quantity of this air varies in the same, and in
different waters, according to circumstances. New-River
water from the cistern yielded one-fifth of its bulk of
air, when placed by Mr Cuthbertson under the receiver
699
of his most powerful air-pump ; hut in the same situation, pr;, c:„!cs
New-River water taken from a tub exposed to the at- o! Electn-
mosphex-e for some time yielded its own bulk of air. caky illus-
Hence the gas procured by the first one, two, or even trat^d Ly
three hundred explosions in water containing its natural
quantity of air, diminished very little by an electric
spark.
The gas thus separated from water, like atmospheri¬
cal air, consists of oxygen and nitrogen, or azotic gas*,
which may be in exactly the same proportions as in at-
mospnerical air : for the water may retain one kind of
gas more tenaciously than the other j and on this account
the air separated may be better or worse than atmo¬
spherical air at different periods of the process for ex¬
tricating it.
VVith regard to the gas, which instantly disappears on
passing through it an electric spark, its nature is shewn
by (a) this very property of thus diminishing j and by
the following properties :
{b) A certain quantity of nitrous gas instantly disap¬
peared, apparently composing nitrous acid, on beinu-
added to the gas (a).
Oxygen gas being added to the residue after satura¬
tion with nitrous gas, and an electric spark being ap¬
plied to the mixture of gasses, well dried, a consider¬
able diminution immediately took place, and water was
produced.
(c) Combustion from hydrogen and oxygen gas took
place when the tube was about three-fourtbs full of g-us,
which was confirmed by passing an electric discharge,
under the same circumstances, through a mixture of
hydrogen and oxygen gas.
(g?) Combustion from hydrogen and oxygen gas took
place when the points of the compasses were accidental¬
ly applied to the part of the tube containing gas j which
was confirmed by passing a discharge, under the same
circumstances, through a mixture of hydrogen and oxy¬
gen gas, while the points of the compasses were applied
to the tube.
(e) The observations made of the kindling of gas, in
small quantities, from time to time, during the process
of obtaining it, particularly while it was descending in
chains of bubbles, or was adhering to the funnel of the
tube, confirm the evidence in favour of this gas being
hydrogen and oxygen gas.
By Dr Wollaston’s improvement on the method of
conducting such experiments, they are now gx-eatly factli- -
tated. Two very fine wires of gold or platinum are insert¬
ed in capillary tubes j one extremity of each is previously
pointed as fine as possible, and being introduced within
the capillary tube to a short distance from its end, the
glass is softened by beat till it adheres to the point and
covers it. The glass is then gradually ground down
till the point of the wire is just uncovered. By confin¬
ing thus the action of the electricity to a single point,
this arrangement prevents the diminution of intensity
which would otherwise ensue. ^
The electric spark fuses and oxidates metals. The Fusion of
first experiment to ascertain the action of electricity on”16491*
metals was, we believe, made by Dr Franklin. 'p{,e the electrie
method in which he made the spark fuse metals was by8I1ar*1,
putting thin pieces of them between two panes of glass
bound fast together, and sending an electric shock
through them. Sometimes the piece of glass by which
they were confined, would be shattered to pieces by the
4 T 2 discharge,
ELECTRICITY.
700
electricity.
Principk-fi discharge, and he broken into a kind of coarse sand,
of EkcP.ri. which once happened with pieces of thick looking." ass ,
city illus- but if they remained whole, the piece of metal woo hi he
tr.ited by • • in several places where it had lain between them,
experiment.^ instead of it, a metallic stain would be seen on
^ both the glasses, the stains on the under and upper
Mass being exactly similar in the minutest stroke.
A piece of gold-leaf used in this manner appeared
not only to have been melted, but even vitrified, as the
Doctor thought, or otherwise so driven into the pores ot
the glass, as to be protected by it from the action of the
strongest nitro-muriatic acid. Sometimes he observed
that the metallic stains would spread a little wider than
the breadth of the thin pieces of metal. I rue gold, he
observed, made a darker stain, somewhat reddish, and
silver a greenish stain. . r c •
Mr Cavallo gives the following directions for fusing
metallic wires. . . . . il .
Connect with the hook, communicating with the out¬
side coating of a battery, containing at least thirty square
feet of coated surface, a wire, that is about one-nltietli
part of an inch thick, and about two feet long 5 the
other end of it must be fastened to one end of the dis¬
charging rod i this done, charge the battery, and then
by bringing the discharging rod near its wires, send the
explosion through the small wire, which, by this means,
will be made red hot, and melted, so as to fall upon the
floor in different glowing pieces. When a wire is
melted in this manner, sparks are frequently seen at a
considerable distance from it, which are red-hot par¬
ticles of the metal, that by the violence of the explosion
are scattered in all directions. If the force of the bat¬
tery is very great, the wire will be entirely dispersed by
the explosion, so that none of it can afterwards be found.
By repeating this experiment with wires of different
metals, and the same force of explosion, it will be found
that somehnetals are more readily fused than others, and
some not at all affected-, which shows the difference of
their conducting power. It it be required to melt such
particles of metals, that cannot easily be drawn in wires,
as ores, grains of platinum, &c.they may be set in a train
upon a piece of wax -, this train may be inserted in the
circuit, and an explosion may be sent through it,
which, if it be sufficiently strong, will melt the metal¬
lic particles, as well as the wires : or, if the quantity to
be tried be large enough, it may be confined in a small
tube of glass. , . , , ,
If a wire be stretched by weights, and a shock be made
to pass through it, so as to render it just red hot, the
wire after the explosion will be found considerably in¬
creased in length $ but if the wire be left loose, it will
be found after a similar explosion considerably shor-
* Cava'h's tened *. .
Electricity, If a wire be melted upon a piece of glass, the glass
to!, i. ' ’wiU after the explosion be found marked with all the
»»• 3*3. prismatic colours.
The wire may be formed into globules by inclosing
it in a glass tube about a quarter of an inch in diameter,
and sending the charge of a battery through it. The
wire thus melted, will run into globules, which will ad¬
here to the inner surface of the tube, and may be easily
separated from it. On examination they will be found
to be hollow, and are the metal in its least state of oxi¬
dation. # .
Some nicety is required in this experiment, as, if the
3
Part III
charge be too small, the globule will not be well form- princ;p}.
ed and if it be too great, the metal will be so much ofEUct
oxidated as to be dissipated in smoke. cityjl).
If a flat piece of metal be fixed upon each of the t
knobs of the universal discharger, or upon the extremi- v^
ties of the wires that support these knobs, so that their
surfaces may come sufficiently near each other for the
charge of a battery to be passed between them, and if
a discharge be then made, a spot and coloured circles
will be formed upon each metallic surface, which are
evidently owing to a partial oxidation of the metal.
In order to exhibit coloured rings upon the surface
of metals, place a plain piece of any of the metals upon
one of the wires ot the universal discharger, and upon
the other wire fix a sharp-pointed needle, with the point
just opposite to the surface of the metal} then connect
one wire of the discharger with the outside of a bat¬
tery and the other with the discharging rod, &c. In
this manner, if explosions be repeatedly sent either from
the point to the piece of metal, or from the latter to
the former, they will gradually mark the surface of the
piece of metal opposite to the point, with circles, con¬
sisting of all the prismatic colours ; which are evidently
occasioned by laminae of the metal, raised by the force
of the explosions. .
These colours appear sooner, and the rings are closer
to one another, when the point is nearer to the surface
of the metal. The number of rings is greater or less,
according as the point of the needle is more sharp or
more blunt 3 and they are represented equally well up¬
on any of the metals.
The point of the needle is also coloured to a consider¬
able distance ; the colours upon it returning in circles,
though not very distinctly. This is an experiment ot
Dr Priestley. . , . . f f?*
But the most splendid experiments on the fusion ol Van Mi
metals by electricity have been made by Dr Van Ma-rumW
rum. He first tried the effect of a battery containing
120 square feet of coated surface. With this extraor-metak>
dinary power, he melted an iron wire 15 feet long and
T-J-T of an inch in diameter*, and another time melted
a wire of the same metal 25 feet long and ^th ol aa
inch in diameter. . , r
He afterwards added to the battery 90 jars, each oi
the same size with the former, so that his grand bat¬
tery now formed a square of 15 feet, and contained 225
square feet of coated glass. He caused wires ol differ¬
ent metals to be drawn through the same hole, ot one-
thirty-eighth part of an inch in diameter, and observed
how many inches of each could be melted by the ex¬
plosion of his battery -, taking care in all these experi¬
ments to charge it to the same degree as ascertained by
his electrometer. The results were as follows:
Of lead he melted 120 inches
Of tin 120
Of iron 5
Oi gold 3y * p
Of silver, copper, brass, not quite a quarter 01
an inch.
These several lengths of wire, of the sara* diameter,
melted by equal explosions, indicate, according to our
author, the degree in which each metal is fusible by
the electrical discharge j and if these be compared with
the fusibility of the same metals by fire, a very cousi er-
VII.
Principle*
(f Electri¬
city illus¬
trated by
wperiineu t<
able difference will be observed. According to the ex¬
periments ot the academicians ot Dijon, to melt tin re¬
quired a heat ol 172 degrees of Reaumur’s thermometer.
ELECTRICITY. yci
Twenty-four inches of leaden wire 7TTth of an inch Principles
Lead
Silver
Gold
Copper
Iron
2 30
43°
563
630
696 (x).
Thus tin and lead appear to be equally fusible by
electricity, but not by fire : and iron, which by fire is
less fusible than gold, is much more so bji the electrical
explosion.
When iron wire is melted by the explosion of the
battery, the red-hot globules are thrown to a very con¬
siderable distance, sometimes to that of 30 feet; it is
however remarkable, that the thicker the wire is which
is melted, the further are the globules dispersed j but
this is accounted for, by observing that the globules
formed by the fusion of the thinner wires, being smaller,
are less able to overcome the resistance of the air, and
are therefore sooner stopped in their motion.
Two pieces of iron wire being tied together, the fu¬
sion extended no further than from the end connected
with the inside coating of the jars to the knot ; though
wire of the same length and thickness, when in one
continued piece, had been entirely melted by an equal
explosion. The action of electricity in the fusion of
metallic wires, increases in the ratio of the square of
the increased power. Two jars, charged to any degree,
melt four times the length of wire that is melted by
one jar. This law varies when any considerable dif¬
ference exists in the thickness of the jars employed, as
thick jars display the same intensity with a compara¬
tively small quantity of electricity.
When a wire was too long to be melted by the dis¬
charge of the battery, it was sometimes broken into
several pieces, the extremities of which bore evident
marks of fusion 5 and the effect of electricity in shorten¬
ing wire, was very sensible in an experiment made on
18 inches of iron wire ^fj-th of an inch in diameter,
whicli by one discharge lost a quarter of an inch of its
length. An explosion of this battery through very
small wires, of nearly the greatest length that could be
melted by it, did not entirely discharge the jars. On
transmitting the charge through 50 feet of iron wire of
?^oth of an inch in diameter, the doctor found that
the residuum was sufficient to melt two feet of the same
wire y but this residuum was much less when the wire
was of too great a length to be melted at the first dis¬
charge, After an explosion of the battery through 180
feet of iron wire of equal diameter with the former, the
residuum was discharged through 12 inches of the same
wire which it did not melt, but only blued.
in diameter, were entirely oxidated by an explosion of ofEiictri-
this battery ; the greater part of the lead rose in a thick c:ly dlus-
smoke, the remainder was struck down upon a paper ^'V.
Jam beneath it, where it formed a stain which resem- > ^
bled the painting of a very dark cloud. When shorter
wires were oxidated, the colours were more varied. In
Dr Van Marum’s work a plate is given of a stain
made by the oxidation of this wire, in which the cloud
appears variously shaded with different tints of green,
gray, and brown, in a manner of which no adequate
description can give an idea.
On discharging the battery through 8 inches of tin
wire ^th of an inch in diameter, extended over a sheet
of paper, a thick cloud of blue smoke arose, in which
a number of filaments of oxide of tin were discernible 5
at the same time a great number of red-hot globules of
tin, falling upon the paper, were repeatedly thrown up
again into the air, and continued thus to rebound from
its surface for several seconds. The paper was marked
with a yellowish clouded stain immediately under the
wire, and with streaks or rays of the same colour issu¬
ing from it in every direction $ some of these formed
an uninterrupted line, others were made up of separate
spots. In order to be certain that the colour of these
streaks was not caused by the paper being scorched, the
experiment was several times repeated, when a plate of
glass and a board covered with tin were placed to re¬
ceive the globules. These, however, were stained ex¬
actly like the paper. On oxidating five inches of the
same kind of wire, the red-hot globules were thrown
obliquely to the height of four feet, which afforded an
opportunity of observing that each globule, in its course,
difiused a matter like smoke, which continued to ap¬
pear for a little time in the parabolic line described by
its flight, forming a track in the air of about half an
inch in breadth.
Dr Van Marum attributes the clouded sfain, imme¬
diately under the wire, to the instantaneous oxidation
of its surface j whereas the remainder of the metal is
melted into globules, which, while they retain their
glowing heat, continue to be superficially oxidated, and
during the process, part with this oxide in the form of
vapour.
Phenomena something similar to the above, were ob¬
served on the oxidation of a wire of equal parts of tin
and lead, eight inches long, and T\d of an inch in dia¬
meter. This also was melted into red globules, which
were repeatedly driven upwards again from the paper
on which they fell, and marked it with streaks of the
same kind, but of a brown colour, edged with a yel¬
low tinge. Some of these globules, though apparently
not less hot, moved with less velocity than others, and
were soon stopped in their course by their burning
(x) According to the experiments of Mr Wedgwood with his pyrometer, the following are the degrees of <
heat, computed in degrees of Fahrenheit’s scale, that are required to fuse certain metals.
Brass
Swedish copper
Fine silver
Fine gold
Cast iron.
3807°
4587
47‘7
5237
39977 PM' Trans, vol. Ixxii*
702 elect
Principles a hole In the paper. In this case a yellow matter was
wf Electn- seen to rise from their surface to the height of one or
city illtis- twQ jjneSj an(| extended itself to the width of a quarter
extierirarat of an inch- This matter contlnued durinS five 0r sl.X
^ seconds to issue from the globules, and formed on then-
surface a kind of efflorescence, resembling the flowers
of sulphur produced by the solfa-terra. The globules,
from which this efflorescence had issued, were found to
be entirely hollow, and to consist only of a thin shell.
When this mixed metal is oxidated with a less charge
of battery, it leaves a stain upon the paper, something
similar to that made by lead, and does not run into
globules.
Dr Van Marum has also given plates of the stains
made upon paper by the oxidation of iron, copper,
brass, silver, and gold. Those made by copper and
brass wire, are commonly beautiful, and are variegated
with yellow, green, and a very bright brown. Eight
inches of gold wire, of ^-th of an inch diameter, were,
by the explosion, reduced to a purple substance, of
which a part rose like a thick smoke, and the remain¬
der on the paper left a stain diversified with different
shades of this colour. Gold, silver, and copper, can¬
not easily be melted into globules. Our author has
once accidentally succeeded in this ^ but it required a
degree of electrical force so very particular, that the
medium between a charge, which only broke the wire
into pieces, and one which entirely oxidated it, could
not be ascertained by the electrometer.
Dr Van Marum found, as might be expected, that
the electric spark did not oxidate metals when confined
in any gas which did not contain oxygen. On expo¬
sing wires of lead, tin, and iron, to the electric spark
from the discharge of a battery, while the metals were
confined in air deprived of oxygen, by the burning
of inflammable bodies in it, he found that the first was
reduced to a. fine powder, which upon trial with nitric
acid appeared to be merely lead ; the two other metals
were melted into small globules. He found that in ge¬
neral metals were not more highly oxidated in pure
oxygenous gas than in common air-, except that lead
was reduced to a fine yellow oxide, perfectly resembling
massicot.
In nitrous gas, oxidation took place as easily as in
common air or in oxygenous gas.
His method of making these experiments was as fol¬
lows. He confined the gas in which he was to subject
the metal to the explosion, in a glass cylinder six inches
high and four inches in diameter, closed at the upper
end with a brass plate j from the centre of this plate
was suspended the wire on which the experiment was
made. The cylinder was set in a pewter dish filled
with water ; and to prevent its being broken by the
expansion of the air, its lower edges were supported by
two pieces of wood half an inch high. The lower end
of the wire rested on the dish, which was connected
with the outside coating of the battery.
On submitting metallic wires to the action of the
electric spark while confined in water, he found that
the water was decomposed, the metal being oxidated,
and a portion of impure hydrogenous gas being discn-
gaged.
Although there was good reason to suppose that the
powders produced in the above experiments were real
oxides of the metals, yet they had not been proved to
R I C I T Y.
Part III.
be so by any satisfactory evidence, till Mr Cuthbert- Pw'neiplei
son carried into execution a series of experiments, by of Elecni.
which he has fully proved that metals exploded by the
electric spark absorb oxygen from the air, and become
oxidated, more readily than when fused by ordinary
fire. They are published at length in Nicholson’s Jour¬
nal for July 1801.
The electric discharge was made to act on metals
inclosed within a limited quantity of atmospheric air or
oxygenous gas, and the changes produced on the gas
were accurately examined. When no oxygen was pre¬
sent, the metals were simply fused. When in contact
with oxygen, they were converted into oxides of various
colours, and the oxygen suflered diminution. When
the wire operated on lies on the surface of a plate of
glass, a mark is left in the direction of the wire, con¬
sisting of a line of pure metal nicely comminuted with
a more diffused colour on each side, consisting of the
oxide. A beautiful figure is also produced on a sur¬
face of paper, and the colours differ from those of ox
ides produced in the air without the vicinity ot such a
surface. Mr Singer gives the following view of the
results of similar experiments made with a moderate
electrical discharge. The length of wire exploded in
each experiment was five inches. This table exhibits,
in one column, the thickness of the wire in fractions of
an inch ; in another the number of grains with which
the electrometer was loaded j and in another the colour
of the figures on paper.
Gold wire
Silver wire
Platinum
Copper
Iron
Tin
Zinc
Lead
Brass
Tiro
18
18
TTS-
Ttfo
T-ffor
T"g~o
rio-
13
12
12
II
TIT o'
17
IO
12
Purple and brown.
Grey, brown, and green.
Grey and light brown.
Green, yellow, and brown.
Light brown.
Yellow and grey.
Dark brown.
Brown and blue grey.
Purple and brown.
The following are Mr Cuthberton’s general conclu¬
sions :
“ From the result of the foregoing experiments, it
may be safely concluded that all the ductile metals can
by electric discharges be sublimed and converted into
proper oxides, by absorbing the oxygen from the atmo¬
sphere •, and although some of the metals resist the ac¬
tion of common fire, and require different solvents to
convert them into oxides, yet they all yield to the ac¬
tion of electricity.
“ It is remarkable that platinum, though it resist#
the action of common fire, is more easily fused by elec¬
tric discharges than copper, silver, or gold, and seems
to be as greedy of oxygen as any of tne other metals 5
but these experiments have not been sufficiently exten¬
sive to settle the last-mentioned property.
“ It is well known that all metals which are subli¬
mable by common fire, absorb oxygen in different de¬
grees, and likewise in different proportions, according
to the degrees of heat employed ; this seems to take
place also when they are sublimed by electric dis¬
charges, but the proper degree of discharge for each
metal remains for investigation.”
The oxides thus produced consist of several distinct
portions, of different degrees of fineness. When a wir*
►
it
Hiap- VII. ELECT
Principles 13 exploded in a receiver, part of the oxide immediate-
isf Electri- ]y falls to the bottom j but another portion remains su-
wty Ulus- Spended in the air fora time, and is then gradually de-
iiperiment. Pos*te^* difference of colour in a receiver, and in
.v » the open atmosphere, may arise from a portion of it
being in the latter case always lost.
'0 Imm Exper.—To burn a metallic wire in oxygen gas, by
lire in the electric spark.
yjgen gas. apparatus for this experiment is represented at
55’ ^t consists of a glass jar for holding the gas,
fitted to the bottom C, so that it may easily be taken
out.. Into the bottom is fastened a brass knob B, and
a wire passes through the top of the jar furnished with
a ball at A, and a knob within the jar as D, into which
the piece of wire, twisted in a spiral form, is to be in¬
serted.
The jar, thus fitted up with the wire, is to be filled
with oxygen gas j and on passing the charge of a small
Leyden phial through the wire A, an explosion will
take place between the knob B, and the extremity of
the small wire, by which this will be inflamed, produ¬
cing a most brilliant and beautiful appearance. It is
only the first explosion kindling the iron that forms the
electrical part of the experiment. The combustion is
purely chemical, being exactly the same that takes
place when the wire is kindled by means of tinder.
174 JEhen the electric spark is passed through a metallic
oxide, the oxide is reduced to a metallic state.
1 his was effected by Sign. Beccaria, by making the
spark pass between two surfaces of the oxide. In this
Heecario way he reduced several of the metallic oxides, among
Hre dell others, that of zanc. He also obtained pure mercury,
r*tr*m from the red sulphuret or cinnabar t. This may be done,
I7J by the charge of a very moderate sized jar.
illnmi- -L?16 electric spark renders bodies luminous, and
i« water, makes opaque substances appear transparent.
Exper. 1.—Connect one end of a chain with the out¬
side of a charged phial, and let the other end lie on
the table. Place the end of another piece of chain at
the distance of about a quarter of an inch from the
former } and set a glass decanter of water on these se¬
parated ends. On making the discharge, the water
will appear perfectly luminous.
The electric spark may be rendered visible in water,
in the following manner. Take a glass tube of about
half an inch diameter, and six inches long ; fill it with
water, and to each extremity of the tube adapt a cork,
which may confine the water; through each cork in¬
sert a blunt wire, so that the extremities of the wires
within the tube may be very near one another j then on
connecting one of these wires with the coating of a small
charged phial, and touching the other wire with the
knob of it; by which means the shock will pass through
the wires, and cause a vivid spark to appear between
their extremities within the tube. The charge in this
experiment must be very weak, or there will be danger
of bursting the tube.
Exper. 2.—Fig. 56. represents a mahogany stand,
so constructed as to hold three eggs at greater or smal¬
ler distance, according to the position of the sliding
pieces. A chain C is placed at the bottom in such a
manner as to touch the bottom of the egg at B with
one end, and with its other, the outside coating of a
charged jar. The sliding wire A at top is made to
R I C I T Y.
7°3
.,.>6
lilumi-
;eggS.
late
xc.
'• 5*«
touch the upper egg} and the distance of the eggs PHne;.,]*,
asunder should not exceed the quarter or eighth part of of Elettri-
an inch. The electric spark, being made to pass down city
r»XT rvtoono 4-L^-v —  1 . 1 t .« • _ tr*o* 1,A
 — '-j-—- 6 ^ UUYYIJ  J
by means of the discharging rod through the wire and trale(*
ball at A  1   I .. experiment.
ln
ball at A, will in a darkened room render the eggs
very luminous and transparent.
Exper, 3.—Place an ivory ball on the prime con¬
ductor of the machine, and take a strong spark, or send
the charge of a Leyden phial through its centre, and
the ball will appear perfectly luminous : but if the
charge be not passed through the centre, it will pass
over the surface of the ball and singe it. A spark
made to pass through a ball of boxwood, not only illu¬
minates the whole, but makes it appear of a beautiful
crimson, or rather fine scarlet colour.
If the same experiment be performed with a piece of
pine deal, and the one wire have its point sunk deeper
than the other, different colours appear between the
points, arising from the different thickness of substance
through which the light is transmitted to the eye.
Even good conductors are rendered luminous, by the
passage of electricity through them, provided they have
sufficient tenuity.
Exper.4.—If sparksare passed through a silver thread
two or three yards long, the one extremity being fixed
to a large brass ball placed near to the prime conduc¬
tor, and the other held in the hand, the whole thread
appears faintly luminous.
Gold-leaf or Hutch metal may be rendered luminous
by discharging a small Leyden phial through it. A
strip ot gold-leaf, one-eighth of an inch in breadth, and
a yard long, will frequently be illuminated throughout
its whole extent, by the explosion of a jar containing
two gallons. This experiment may be beautifully di¬
versified, by laying the gold or silver leaf on a piece of
glass, and then placing the glass in water j for the
whole gold-leaf will appear most brilliantly luminous
in the water, by exposing it thus circumstanced to the
explosion of a battery.
Exper. 5.—The natural, or, what answers better, the To iVtimi-
artificial Bolognian stone reduced to powder, (common-nate Can-
ly called Canton’s phosphorus') may be illuminated byt0n’sPllos
the electric spark in a more perfect manner than by theP^0,us*
rays ot the sun. The method of making this experi¬
ment is thus related by Mr Cavallo.
Put some of this powder in a clear glass phial, and
stop it with a glass stopper, or a cork and sealing-wax.
If this phial be kept in a darkened room (which for
this experiment must be very dark) it will give no
light j but let two or three strong sparks be drawn from
the prime conductor, when the phial is kept at about
two inches distant from the sparks, so that it may be
exposed to that light, and this phial will receive the
light, and afterwards will appear illuminated for a con¬
siderable time.
This powder may be stuck upon a board by means
of the white of an egg, so as to represent figures of
planets, letters, or any thing else, at the pleasure of the
operator ; and these figures may be illuminated in the
dark, in the same manner as the above-described phial.
A beautiful method of expressing geometrical figures
with the above powder, is to bend small glass tubes, of
about the tenth part of an inch diameter, in the shape
of the figure desired, and then to fill them with the
phosphoric
7°4
Principles
of Electri¬
city illus¬
trated by
experiment.
ELECTRICITY. Part III.
... . 1 • fi.„ nther- then put the thumb just upon that interruption, Principle,
pliospliovic powder. Tliese may lie ilkimtna flfi ,|own. This done, bring the discharg--°f Elemi.
manner described ; and .bey are not so snbject to be press,ng t ^ tbe kn()b of (he jar, and on on, ,
spoiled, as tbe iigores represented npon tbe boa.d ^ the ,ll5charge, ,he spark wbich necessarily hap-
quently are. , . , • t u » nens untler the thumb will illuminate it in such a man-
a -rtl-He bone and .be prineipa, blood-vesseis may
small electric jar near it. . , mnrWp In this experiment the operator need not be afraid oi
Paper, after being made dry and rather llot» ^ ^ receiv; a slI10tk • for the discharge of the jar passes
•oyster shells, and most calcareous substances, esp y L only afl'ects the thumb with a
len burned to lime, have tbe ^of tremor, nbich is far from painfui.
before related Mr Hawkesbee’s expen-
Wlien uuiiicu tu i**v.^ *•iv • ^ ■ a •/ r. «
minated by the light given by the discharge ot a jar,
though not so much as the above-mentioned powder.
Put the extremities of two wires upon the surface ot
a card, or other body of an electric nature, so that they
may be in one direction, and about one inch distance
from one another *, then, by connecting one of he
wires with the outside of a charged jar, and the other
wire with the knob of the jar, the shock w, 1 be made
to pass over the card or other body. If the card be
made very dry, the lucid track between the wires will
be visible upon the card for a considerable time after
the explosion. If a piece of common writing paper be
used instead of the card, it will be torn by the exp o-
sion into very small bits. This experiment may also
be performed on tbe surface of a piece of dry chalk.
When the electric discharge is passed through a
lump of sugar, the sugar is rendered perfectly lumi¬
nous, and will retain the light for a considerate time.
The following tabular view of the effects of the elec¬
trical discharge, in producing phosphorescence, with
the colour of the light which appears, is given by JV r
Singer.
Native sulphate of barytes,
Native carbonate of barytes,
Dry acetate of potash,
Succinic acid,
Loaf sugar,
Selenite,
Calcined oyster shells,
Do. calcined with sulphur,
Hock crystal,
Quartz,
Borax,
Boracic acid,
Bright green light.
Do. less brilliant.
Brilliant green.
D o. more durable.
Do.
Do. but transient.
Prismatic colours.
Durable and bright light.
First red, then white.
Dull white.
Faint green.
Bright green.
179
‘Expet'. 6.—But the, most remarkable instance of the
penetrating power of the electric light, is that related
by Dr Priestley. “ I laid a chain (says he), which
was in contact with the outside of a jar, lightly on my
finger, and sometimes kept it at a small distance by
means of a thin piece of glass. If I made the dis¬
charge at the distance of about three inches, the elec¬
tric fire was visible on the surface of the finger, giving
it a sudden concussion, which seemed to make it vi¬
brate to the very bone *, and when it happened to pass
on that side of the finger that was opposite the eye,
the whole seemed, in the dark, perfectly transpa-
• •
The following is Mr Cavallo’s method of making this
curious experiment. _ . ,
Let the extremities of two wires, one or which pro¬
ceeds from the outside of a charged jar, and another
from one branch of the discharging rod, be laid on a
table at the distance of one-tenth of an inch from each
We have before related Mr
ment by which he rendered sealing-wax transparent.
Signior Beccaria effected the same by making an elec¬
tric explosion pass between two plates of sealing-wax,
on which some brass-dust was sprinkled. 1 he whole
was rendered perfectly luminous and transparent. ^
Exper. 7. Fig. 57. represents an instrument com-Spiraltul)e
nosed of two glass tubes CD, one within another, and Fig. S7,
closed with two knobbed brass caps A and B. The in¬
nermost of these has a spiral row of small round pieces
of tin-foil stuck upon its outside surface, and lying at
about one-thirtieth of an inch from each other. It
this instrument be held by one of the extremities, and
its other extremity be presented to the prime conductor,
every spark that it receives from the prime conductor
will cause small sparks to appear between all the found
pieces of tin-foil stuck upon the innermost tube *, which
in the dark affords a pleasing spectacle, the tube ap¬
pearing encompassed by a spiral line of fire. , r- 9
Fig. 58. represents several spiral tubes placed round tig
a hoard, in the middle of which is screwed a glass pil¬
lar and on the top of this pillar is cemented a brass
cap with a fine steel point. In this a brass wire turns
having a brass ball at each end, nicely balanced on
the wire. To make use of this apparatus, place the
middle of the turning wire under a ball proceeding from
the conductor, so that it may receive a succession of
sparks from the ball } then push the wire gently round ;
and the balls in their relative motions will give a spark
to each tube, and thereby illuminate them down to the
hoard, which from its brilliancy and rapid motion, af¬
fords a most beautiful and pleasing sight. 1S1
Exper 8 —The small pieces of tin-foil may be stuck Luminous|
on a flat piece of glass ABCD fig. 59. so as to repre-»j.jd
sent various fanciful figures. Upon the same principle >'8' »
is the word Light produced, in luminous characters.
It is formed by the small separations of the tin-foil
pasted on a piece of glass fixed in a frame of baked
wood, as represented fig. 60. To use this, the frame Fig.
must he held in the hand, and the ball G presented to
the conductor. The spark then will be exhibited m
the intervals composing the word; from whence it
passes to the hook at h, and thence to the ground by a
chain. The brilliancy of this is equal to that or the
spiral tubes. , .
Though many of the following experiments on elec¬
tric light, may not with strict propriety belong to this
chapter, we shall relate them here for the sake ot um-
^Mr G. Morgan, in the Philosophical Transactions for Morgan'
1758, has given a series of propositions resPect^n§^ ^
electric light, and illustrated them by experiments, y e,.^
shall here give the substance of his paper nearly in his
own words. j
ELECTRICITY.
!iap. VII.
inciples I* There is no fluid or solid body, in its passage
Electri- through which the electric light may not be rendered
i.yiilus- luminous.
iBiimeiit. ProPosJtion Iias been fully illustrated by the fore-
1 ^ .Voinp-experiments.
183 II* The difficulty of making any quantity of the elec¬
trical light visible in any body, increases as the con¬
ducting power of that body increases.
)Lxper. I.—In order to make the contents of ajar
luminous in boiling water, a much higher charge is ne¬
cessary, than would be sufficient to make it luminous
in cold water, which is universally allowed to be the
worst conductor.
Exper. 2.—There are various reasons for believing
the acids to be very good conductors if, therefore,
into a tube filled with water, and circumstanced as has
been already described, a few drops of either of the mi¬
neral acids are poured, it will be almost impossible to
make the light visible in its passage through the tube.
Exper. 3.—If a string, whose diameter is one-eighth
of an inch, and whose length is six or eight inches, is
moistened with water, the contents of a jar will pass
through it luminously 5 but no such appearance can be
produced by any charge of the same jar, provided the
same string be moistened with one of the mineral acids.
To the preceding instance we may add the various
instances of metals which will conduct the electric
power without any appearance of light, in circum¬
stances the same with those in which the same force
would have appeared luminous in passing through other
bodies, whose conducting power is less.
84 III. That the ease with which the electric light is
rendered visible in any particular body, is increased by
increasing the rarity of the body. The appearance of
a spark, or of the discharge of a Leyden phial, in rare¬
fied air, is well known. But we need not rest the
truth of the preceding observation on the several varie¬
ties of this fact ; similar phenomena attend the rarefac¬
tion of ether, of spirits of wine, and of water.
Exper. 4.—Into the orifice of a tube, 48 inches
long, and two-thirds of an inch in diameter, cement an
iron ball, so as to bear the weight which presses upon it
when the tube is filled with quicksilver, leaving only
an interval at the open end, which contained a few
drops of water. Plaving inverted the tube, and plun¬
ged the open end of it into a«bason of mercury, the mer¬
cury in the tube stood nearly half an inch lower than
it did in a barometer at the same instant, owing to
the vapour which was formed by the water. But
through this rarefied water, the electrical spark passed
as luminously as it does through air equally rarefied.
Exper. 5.—If, instead of water, a few drops ofspi¬
rits of wine are placed on the surface of the mercury,
phenomena, similar to those of the preceding experi¬
ment, will be discovered, with this difference only, that
as the vapour in this case is more dense, the electrical
spark, in its passage through it, is not quite so luminous
as it is in the vapour of water.
Exper. 6.—Good ether, substituted in the room of
the spirits of wine, will press the mercury down so low
as the height of 16 or 17 inches. The electric spark,
in passing through this vapour, (unless the force be very
great indeed), is scarcely luminous ; but if the pressure
on the surface of the mercury in the bason, be gradual¬
ly lessened by the aid of an air-pump, the vapour will
Vol. VII. Part II. +
become more and more rare, and the electric spark, in Principles
passing through it, more and more luminous. of Eieciri-
Exper. 7*—It has not been discovered, that any city iilus-
vapour does escape from the mineral acids, when ex- tratet*
posed in vacuo. 1o give them, therefore, greater ra- X* ^ **
rity or tenuity, difterent methods are found necessary.
With a fine camel-hair pencil, dipped in the sulphuric,
the nitric, or the muriatic acid, draw upon a piece of
glass a line, about one-eigbth of an inch broad. In
some instances, you mus't extend this line to the length
of 27 inches, and you will find that the contents of an
electric battery, consisting of ten pint phials coated,
will pass over the whole length of this line with the
greatest brilliancy. If, by widening the line, or by
laying on a drop of the acid, its quantity he increased
in any particular part, the charge, in passing through
that part, will not appear luminous. YVater, spirits of
wine, circumstanced similarly to the acids in the pre¬
ceding experiments, will be attended with similar, but
not equal effects ; because, in consequence of the infe¬
riority of their conducting power, it will be necessary
to make the line, through which the charge passes, con¬
siderably shorter.
IV. The brilliancy or splendour of the electric light, 1S5
in its passage through any body, is always increased by
lessening the dimensions of that body ; that is, a spark,
or the discharge of a battery, which we might suppose
equal to a sphere one quarter of an inch in diameter,
will appear much more brilliant, if the same quantity is
compressed into a sphere one-eighth of an inch in dia¬
meter. lids observation is the obvious consequence of
many known facts 3 ii the machine be large enough to
afford a spark, whose length is nine or ten inches, this
spark may he seen sometimes forming itself into a brush,
in which state it occupies more room, but appears very
faintly luminous: at other times, the same spark may
be seen dividing itself into a variety of ramifications,
which shoot into the surrounding air. A spark, which
in the open air cannot exceed one quarter of an inch in
diameter, will appear to fill the whole of an exhausted
receiver, four inches wide and eight inches long : but
in the former case it is brilliant, and in the latter it
grows fainter and fainter, as the size of the receiver
increases. This observation is further proved by the
following experiments.
Exper. 8.—To an insulated ball, four inches in dia¬
meter, fix a silver thread, about four yards long. This
thread, at the end which is remotest from the ball, must
be fixed to another insulated substance. Bring the ball
within the striking distance of a conductor, and the
spark, in passing from the conductor to the ball, will
appear very brilliant ; the whole length of the silver-
thread will appear faintly luminous at the same instant.
When the spark is confined within the dimensions of a
sphere, one-eighth of an inch in diameter, it will be
bright j hut when diffused over the surface of air which
received it from the thread, its light will he so faint as
to be seen only in a dark room. If you lessen the sur¬
face of air which receives the spark, by shortening the
thread, it will not fail to increase the brightness of the
appearance.
Exper. 9.—To prove that the faintness of the elec¬
tric light in vacuo, depends on the enjarged dimensions
of the space through which it is diffused ; we have no¬
thing more to do than to introduce two pointed wires
4 U into
706
electricity.
Part II
Principle*
of Electri¬
city illus¬
trated !>y
experiment
I Si
187
into the vacuum, so that the fluid may pass from the
point of the one to the point of the other ; when the
distance between them is not more than the one-tenth
of an inch, in this case we shall find a brilliancy as
great as in the open air. .
Exper. 10.—-Into a Torricellian vacuum, 36 inches
long, convey as much air as will fill two inches only of
the exhausted tube if it were inverted in water 5 this
quantity of air will afl'ord resistance enough to con¬
dense the light, as it passes through the tube, into a
spark 38 inches in length. The brilliancy of the
spark in condensed air, in water, and in all substances
through which it passes with difficulty, depends on prin¬
ciples similar to those which account for the preceding
^V, That in the appearances of electricity, as well as
in those of burning bodies, there are cases in which all
the rays of light do not escape j and that the most re¬
frangible rays are those which escape first or most easily.
The electrical brush is always of a purple or bluish hue.
If you convey a spark through a Torricellian vacuum,
made without boiling the mercury in the tube, the
brush will display the indigo rays. The spark, how¬
ever, may be divided and weakened, even in the open
air, so as to yield the most refrangible rays only.
Etcper. II.—To an insulated metallic ball, four
inches in diameter, fix a wire afoot and a half long *,
this wire should terminate in four ramifications, each of
which must be fixed to a metallic ball half an inch in
diameter, and placed at an equal distance from a metal¬
lic plate, which must be communicated by metallic
conductors with the ground. A powerful spark, after
falling on the large ball at one extremity of the wire,
will be divided in its passage from the four small balls
to the metallic plate. When you examine the division
of the spark in a dark room, you will discover some lit¬
tle ramifications, which will yield the indigo rays only :
indeed at the edges of all weak sparks the same purple
appearance may be discovered. You may likewise ob¬
serve, that the nearer you approach the centre of the
spark, the greater is the brilliancy of its colour.
VI. That the influence of different media on electri¬
cal light, is analogous to their influence on solar light.
V iewed, for example, through a prism, it exhibits all
the prismatic colours. This property will help us to
account for some very singular appearances.
Exper. 12.—Let a pointed wire, having a metal¬
lic ball fixed to one of its extremities, be forced ob¬
liquely into a piece of wood, so as to make a small angle
with the surface of the wood, and to make the point lie
above one-eighth of an inch below the surface. Let an¬
other pointed wire, which communicates with the ground,
be forced in the same manner into the same wood, so
that its point likewise may lie about one-eighth of an
inch below the surface, and about two inches distant
from the point of the first wire. Let the wood be insu¬
lated, and a strong spark, which strikes on the metallic
hall will force its passage through the interval of wood
which lies between the points, and appear as red as
blood. To prove that this appearance depends on the
wood’s absorption of all the rays but the red ; when
these points were deepest below the surface, the red
only came to the eye through a prism $ when they were
raised a little nearer the surface, the red and orange
appeared j when nearer still, the yellow } and so on,
till, by making the spark pass through the wood very priBC; j
• . n 11 x!      T.M
near its surface, all the rays were at length able to reach ofElefti
the eye. If the points be only one-eighth of an inch
below the surface of soft deal wood, the red, the
orange, and the yellow rays will appear as the spark v ^
passes through it •, but when the points are at an equal
depth in a harder piece of wood (such as box) the yel¬
low, and perhaps the orange will disappear. As a far¬
ther proof that the phenomena, thus described, are
owing to the interposition of the wood, as a medium
which absorbs some of the rays, and suffers others to
escape, it may be observed, that when the spark strikes
very brilliantly on one side of the piece of deal, on the
other side it will appear very red. In like manner,
a red appearance may be given to a spark which strikes
brilliantly over the inside of a tube, merely by spread¬
ing some pitch very thinly over the outside of the same
tube. . . .
Exper.13.—Seal a short wire of iron or platinum with¬
in one extremity of a glass tube 30 inches long, and pro¬
jecting a little into its cavity, and screw a ball on the
outer end of the wire j fill the tube with mercury, and
invert it in a bason of that metal j a vacuum will be form¬
ed in the upper part of the tube. A spark which in the
open air would pass only through a quarter of an inch,
will pass through six inches of this vacuum with facility,
with a current if faint. When a little water or ether is
introduced to the top of the mercurial column, it ex¬
pands, occupying the vacuum, and extending the space
so as to make the mercury descend. A luminous current
of electricity will pass through this vapour, by connect¬
ing one end of the tube with the prime conductor while
the machine is working, and the other with the ground.
Its colours are various. Through some inches of ex¬
panded ether, its colour is a beautiful green. 1 he ap¬
pearances will differ, in some measure, according to the
distance at which the eye is placed from the tube j be¬
coming more red by distance, like the light of a dis¬
tant candle, or a beclouded sun.
Exper. 14.—Dr Priestley long ago observed the red
appearance of the spark when passing through hydrogen
gas •, but this appearance is very much diversified by
the quantity of medium, through which you look at
the spark. When at a very considerable distance, the
red comes to the eye unmixed *, but if the eye is placed
close to the tube, the sparK appears white and brilliant.
In confirmation, however, of some of these conclusions,
you must observe, that by increasing the quantity of
sparks which are conveyed through any portion of hy¬
drogen gas, or by condensing that gas, the spark may
be entirely deprived of its red appearance, and made
perfectly brilliant. All weak explosions and sparks,,
when viewed at a distance, bear a reddish hue. Such
are the explosions which have passed through water,
spirits of wine, or any bad conductor, when confined in
a tube whose diameter is not more than an inch. Ine
reason of these appearances seems to be, that the weaker
the spark or explosion is, the less is the light winch
escapes ■, and the more visible the effect of any medium,
whicli has a power to absorb some of that light. >
Chalk, oyster-shells, together with those, phosphoric
bodies, whose goodness has been very much impaired by
long keeping, when finely powdered, and placed withm
the circuit of an electrical battery, will exhibit, J
their scattered particles, a shower of light $ but t. es»
iSS
minocs
uluctor.
Mate
cxc.
k- St-
lap. VII. ELECT
Mnciple* particles will appear reddisli, or their phosphoric power
lElectri- will be sufficient only to detain the yellow, orange, and
’uted'bT ie^ rays* When spirits of wine are in a similar manner
teriment. broaght "’lthIn tiie circuit of a battery, a similar effect
may be discovered ; its particles diverge in several di¬
rections, displaying a most beautiful golden appearance.
The metallic oxides are, of all bodies, those which are
rendered phosphoric with the greatest difficulty ; but
even these may be scattered into a shower of red lumi¬
nous particles by the electric stroke.
The following experiments are given by Mr Cavallo
to illustrate the appearance of the electric light in rare¬
fied air.
Exper. r.—Fig. 6l. represents a prime conductor,
invented by Mr Henley, which shows clearly the di¬
rection of the electric power passing through it, from
whence it is called the luminous conductor (y). The
middle part Ef of this conductor, is a glass tube about
eighteen inches long, and three or four inches in dia¬
meter. To both ends of this tube the hollow brass
pieces FD, BE, are cemented air-tight, one of which
has a point C, by which it receives the electric power,
when set near the excited cylinder of the electrical
machine, and the other has a knobbed wire G, from
which a strong spark may be drawn ; and from each of
the pieces FD, BE, a knobbed wire proceeds, within
the cavity of the glass tube. The brass piece FD, or
BE, is composed of two parts, i. e. a cap F cemented
to the glass tube, and having a hole with a valve, by
which the cavity of the glass tube may be exhausted of
air } and the ball D, which is screwed upon the cap
F. The supporters of this instrument are two glass
pillars fastened in the bottom board H, like the prime
conductor represented fig. 16. When the glass tube
of this conductor is exhausted of air by means of an
air-pump, and the brass ball is screwed on, as repre¬
sented in the figure, then it is fit for use, and may
serve for a prime conductor to an electrical machine.
If the point C of this conductor is set near the ex¬
cited cylinder of the machine, it will appear illuminat¬
ed with a star ; at the same time the glass tube will ap¬
pear all illuminated with a weak light 5 but from the
knobbed wire, that proceeds within the glass from the
piece FD, a lucid pencil will issue out, and the oppo¬
site knob will appear illuminated with a star or round
body of light, which, as well as the pencil of rays, is
very clear, and discernible among the other light* that
occupies the greatest part of the cavity of the tube.
If the point C, instead of being presented to the cy¬
linder, be connected with the rubber of the machine,
the appearance of light within the tube will be rever¬
sed j the knob which communicates with the piece FD
appearing illuminated with a star, and the opposite with
a pencil of rays.
If the wires within the tube EF, instead of being
furnished with knobs, be pointed, the appearance of
light is the same, but it seems 'not so strong in this, as
!:$! in the other case.
1pct'ng Exper. 2.—Take a glass tube of about two inches
l tuinj. diameter, and about tv\o feet long j fix to one of its
R I C I T Y. 7o7
ends a brass cap, and to the other a stop-cock, or a Principle!
valve 5 then by means of an air-pump exhaust it of air. of Electri-
If this tube be held by one end, and its other end be Cit^
brought near the electrified prime conductor, it cx^eWuieiu
appear to be full of light, whenever a spark is taken •'f-lIL*—“j
by it from the prime conductor ; and much more so, if
an electric jar be discharged through it.
I his experiment may also be made with the receiver
of an air-pump. Fake, for instance, a tall receiver,
clean and dry, and through a hole at its top insert a
wire, which must be cemented air-tight. The end of
the wire, that is within the tube, must be pointed, but
not very sharp ; and the other end must be furnished
with a knob. Put this receiver upon the plate of the
air-pump, and exhaust it. If now the knob of the
wire at the top of the receiver be touched with the
prime conductor, every spark will pass through the re¬
ceiver in a dense and large body of light, from the wire
to the plate of the air-pump.
It must be observed, that when the air is very much
rarefied, the electric light in it is less dense, though
more diffused j and contrary wise. 1?(,
Exper. 3.—Take a phial nearly of the shape and Aurora bo-
size of a Florence flask, such as is represented at fie. re8li*.
^ ° Plate
62.
CXC1L
l>g. 62.
Fix a stop cock or a valve to its neck, and exhaust
it of air as much as it is possible with a good air-pump.
It this glass be rubbed in the common manner used to
excite electrics, it will appear luminous within, being
full of a flashing light, which plainly resembles the au¬
rora borealis, or northern light. This phial may also
be made luminous by holding it by either end, and
bringing the other end to the prime conductor ; in this
case all the cavity of the glass will instantly appear full
of flashing light, which remains in it for a consider¬
able time after it has been removed from the prime
conductor.
Instead of the above-described glass vessel, a glass
tube, exhausted of air and hermetically sealed, may be
used, and perhaps with greater advantage. The most
remarkable circumstance of this experiment is, that if
the phial or tube, after it has been removed from fthe
prime conductor (and even several hours after its flash¬
ing light hath ceased to appear) be grasped with the
hand, strong flashes of light will immediately appear
within the glass, which often reach from one of its ends
to the other. t
Exper. 4.—GT, fig. 63. represents the receiver with Visible e-
the plate of an air-pump. In the middle of the plate lectnc 8t-
IF, a short rod is fixed, having at its top a metal ball m.0SPh*rc-
B nicely polished, whose diameter is nearly two inches. 63‘
From the top of the receiver another rod AD with a
like ball A proceeds, and is cemented air-tight in the
neck C } the distance of the balls from one another
being about four inches, or rather more. If, when
the receiver is exhausted of air, the ball A be electri¬
fied positively, by touching the top D of the rod AD
with the prime conductor or an excited glass tube, a
lucid atmosphere appears about it, which, although it
consists of a feeble light, is yet very conspicuous, and
4 U 2 very
(y) An instrument much like this conductor was some yearts ago invented by Dr Watson, with which b«
made several original experiments upon the electric light.
ycB
Principles
of Electii-
city illus¬
trated by
experiment
ELECTRICITY.
very well defined $ at the same time the ball B has not
the least light. The atmosphere does not exist all
192
Fig. 64.
and 55.
T93
Mr Caval-
Jo’s experi¬
ments on
colours.
Fig- 66.
round the ball A, but reaches from about the middle of
it, to a small distance beyond that side of its surface,
which is towards the opposite ball B. 11 the rod with
the ball A be electrified negatively, then a lucid at¬
mosphere, like the above described, will appear upon
the ball B, reaching from its middle to a small distance
beyond that side of it that is towards the ball A ;
at the same time the negatively electrified ball A re¬
mains without any light.
The operator in this experiment must take care not
to electrify the ball A too much, as, in that case, a
spark will pass from one ball to the other, and the de¬
sired effect will not he produced. A little practice,
however, will render the experiment very easy and fa-
This elegant experiment is the invention of Sig.
Beccaria. . c
Fig. 64. and 65. represent a curious appearance ot
the electric light. In fig. 65. the light is seen stream¬
ing from a wire within the exhausted receiver of an air-
pump. If in this state of things, the hand or a finger
be applied to the external part of the receiver, part of
the light will approach the finger, as represented in
fig. 64. .
T/ie electric spark produces changes on most artifici¬
al colours.
Mr Cavallo made several experiments on substances
‘ painted with various colours. I hey were occasioned
by his having observed that an electric spark sent over
the surface of a card, made a black stroke upon a red
spot, from which he was induced to try the effect of
sending shocks over cards painted with different water
colours. The force employed was generally about one
foot and a half of charged surface j and the shocks
were sent over the cards while the latter were in a very
dry state. ,
44 Vermilion was marked with a strong black track,
about one-tenth of an inch wide. This stroke is gene¬
rally single, as represented by AB, fig. 66. Some¬
times it is divided into two towards the middle, like
EF ; and sometimes, particularly when the wires are
set very distant Irom one another, the stroke is not
continued, but interrupted in the middle, like GH.
It often, although not always, happens, that the im¬
pression is marked stronger at the extremity of that wire
from which the electric sparks issue, as it appears at
E, supposing that the wire C communicates with the
positive side of the jar *, whereas the extremity of the
stroke, contiguous to the point ot the wire D, is nei¬
ther so strongly marked, nor surrounds the wire so
much, as the other extremity E.
“ Carmine received a faint and slender impression of
a purple colour.
Verdignse was shaken off from the surface of the
card ; except when it had been mixed with strong gum-
water, in which case it received a very faint impression.
44 White lead was marked by a long black track, not
so broad as that on vermilion.
“ Red lead was marked with a faint mark much like
carmine.
44 The other colours I tried were orpiment, gamboge,
sap green, red ink, ultramarine, Prussian blue, and a
Part II
few others which were compounds of the above j hut Princip-i
they received no impression. of Elect;;
“ It having been insinuated that the strong black ^ty Uhs
mark, which vermilion receives from the electric shock,
might possibly be owing to the great quantity of sul-, 
phur contained in that mineral, I was induced to make
the following experiment. I mixed together equal
quantities of orpiment and flower of sulphur ; and with
this mixture, by the. help, as usual, ot very diluted
gum-water, I painted a card j but the electric shock
sent over it left not the least impression. .
44 Desirous of carrying this investigation on colours
a little farther, with a particular view to determine
something relative to the properties ol lamp black and
oil, I procured some pieces of paper painted on both
sides with oil colours ^ and sending the charge of two
feet of coated glass over each of them, by making the
interruption of the circuit upon their surfaces, I observ¬
ed that the pieces of paper painted with lamp black,
Prussian blue, vermilion, and purple brown, were torn
by the explosion j but white lead, Naples yellow, Eng¬
lish ochre, and verdigrise, remained unhurt.
“ The same shock sent over a piece of paper paint¬
ed very thickly with lamp black and oil left not the
least impression. I sent the shock also over a piece of
paper unequally painted with purple brown, and the
paper was torn where the paint lay very thin, but re¬
mained unhurt where the paint -lay evidently thicker.
These experiments I repeated several times, and with
some very little variation, which naturally produced
different effects •, however, they all seem to point out
the following propositions.
“ 1. A coat of oil paint over any substance, detenus
it from the effect of such a shock as would otherwise
injure it j but by no means defends it from any electric
shock whatever.
“ 2. No one colour seems preferable to the others, 11
they are equal in substance, and equally well mixed
with oil j but a thick coating does certainly afford a
better defence than a thinner one.
“ By rubbing the above mentioned pieces ot paper,
I find that the paper painted with lamp-black and oil
is more easily excited, and acquires a stronger electri¬
city, than the papers painted with the other colours;
and perhaps on this account it may be, that lamp-black
and oil might resist the shock somewhat better than the
other paints. . _ , , ,
“ It is remarkable that vermilion receives the blacx
impression when painted with linseed oil nearly as well
as when painted with water. The paper painted with
white lead and oil receives also a black mark ; but its
nature is very singular. The track when first made, is
almost as dark as that marked on white lead painted
with water ) but it loses its blackness, and in about an
hour’s time (or longer, if the paint is not fresh) it ap¬
pears without any darkness-, and when the painted
paper is laid in a proper light appears only marked with
a colourless track, as if made by a finger nail. I sent
the shock also over a piece of board, which had been
painted with white lead and oil four years before, ami
the explosion marked the black track upon this also j
this track, however, was not so strong, nor vanished
so soon, as that marked upon the painted paper 5 but
in about two days time it also vanished entirely.’’
ELECT
194
flectric
lower
1 rives light
todies be-
'jrc it.
Chap. VIII.
principles
^lecu-i. Chap. VIIL Of the Mechanical Effects of the Electric
Sled by Power.
speriment. „ ; ,
y   I he electric power in its passage through the air,
drives light bodies before it.
Sig. Beccaria put a narrow piece of silver leaf be¬
tween two plates of wax, laying it across them, but
so that it did not quite reach one of the sides. The
discharge being made through this strip of metal, by
bringing a wire opposite to the silver at the place where
it was discontinued y the silver was found melted, and
part of it dispersed all along the track that the electric
spark took between the plates of wax, from the silver
to the wire.
The following experiment shows the force of the elec¬
tric explosion in driving the particles of a metal into
the pores of glass.
Take two slips of common window glass, about three
inches long, and half an inch wide j put a small slip
ot gold, silver or brass leaf, between them, and tie
them together, or press them together between the
boards of the press H, belonging to the universal dis¬
charger, leaving a little of the metallic leaf out between
the glasses at each end 5 then send a shock through this
metallic leaf, and the force of the explosion will drive
part of the metal into so close a contact with the glass,
that it cannot be wiped off, or even be affected by the
common menstrua which otherwise would dissolve it.
In this experiment the glasses are often shattered to
pieces j but whether they are broken or not, the inde¬
lible metallic tinge will always be found in several
places, and sometimes through the whole length of both
glasses.
Dr Priestley made the following experiments to as¬
certain this remarkable property of the electric power.
He discharged frequent shocks both of a common
jar, and another of three square feet, through trains of
brass dust, laid on a stool of baked wood, making in¬
terruptions in various parts of the train ; and he al¬
ways found the brass dust scattered in the intervals, so
as to connect the two disjoined ends of the train $ but
then it was likewise scattered nearly as much from
almost all other parts of the train, and in all direc¬
tions.
When small trains were laid, the dispersion was the
most considerable, and a light was very visible in the
dark, illuminating the whole circuit. It made no dif¬
ference, in any of these experiments, which way the
shock was discharged.
When he laid a considerable quantity of the dust at
the ends of two pieces of chain, through which the
shock passed at the distance of about three inches from
one another, the dust was always dispersed over the
whole interval, but chiefly laterally ; so that the great¬
est quantity of it lay in arches, extending both ways,
and leaving very little of it in the middle of the
path.
R I C I T Y. 709
The Doctor then insulated a jar of three square feet, Principles
and upon an adjoining glass stand laid a heap of brass of Electri-
dust; and at the distance of seven or eight inches, a 'Mus-
brass rod communicating with the outside of the jar. ^ edment.
Upon bringing another rod communicating with the * t
inside, upon the heap of dust, the heap was dispersed
in a beautiful manner, but not one way more than the
other. It, however, presently reached the rod commu¬
nicating with the outside.
Making two heaps, about eight inches asunder, he
brought one rod communicating with the inside upon
one of them, and another rod communicating with the
outside upon the other. Both the heaps were dispersed
in all directions, and soon met; presently after which
the jar was discharged by means of this dispersed dust,
in one full explosion. When the two heaps were too
far asunder to promote a full discharge at once, a gra¬
dual discharge was made through the scattered particles
of the dust.
When one heap of dust was laid in the centre of the
stand, and the two rods were made to approach on each
side ot it, they each attracted the dust from the side of
the heap next to them, and repelled it again in all di¬
rections. When they came very near the heap, the
discharge was made through it, without giving it any
particular motion.
An experiment given by Mr Cavallo to prove the
direction of the electric power in the discharge of a
Leyden phial, will afford a good illustration of our pre¬
sent position.
Bend a card, length-ways, over a round ruler, so as
to form a channel, or semicircular groove (z) : lay
this card upon the circular board E of the universal
discharger, and in the middle of it put a pith-ball of
about half an inch diameter ; then at equal distances,
about half or three quarters of an inch from the pith-
ball, lay the two brass knobs DD. The card being
perfectly dry, and rather hot, if you connect, by means
of a chain or otherwise, the outside of a charged jar
with one of the wires C, and bring the knob of the jar
to the other wire C, you will observe, that on making
the discharge, which must pass between the knobs DD,
and over the card, &c. the pith-ball is always driven
in the direction of the electric power; i. e. it is pushed
towards that knob which communicates with the nega¬
tive side of the jar.
It must be observed, that in this experiment the
charge of the jar must be just sufficient to pass through
the interval in the circuit; the card, or piece of baked
wood, must be very dry and clean ; and, in short, the
disposition of the apparatus, and the performance of
this curious experiment, require a degree of nicety that
can only be obtained by practice. Without great pre¬
caution, it sometimes fails ; but when the operator has
once got it to succeed, and follows exactly the same
method of operating, he may be sure that the event of
the experiment will be constantly as above describ¬
ed.
Bij
(z) Instead of the card, a piece of baked wood may be cut in that shape, and painted over with lamp-black
and oil; which will answer better than the card, it being much more steady, and not so liable to attract
moisture.
ELECTRICITY. Part III, Sin
PriBei lcg By the electric explosion, paper, pasteboard, card,
of Electri- thin glass, and other non-conducting substances, may
«ity Ulus- fa perforated or broken.
txaied by Exper. I.—Take a cart), a quire of paper, or the
«*ix«ment.cover of a book, and keep it close to the outside coat-
ing of a charged jar; put one knob of the discharging
rod upon the card, quire of paper, &c. so that between
the knob and coating of the jar the thickness of that
card or quire of paper only is interposed $ lastly, by
bringing the other knob of the discharging rod near
the knob of the jar, make the discharge, and the elec¬
tric spark will pierce a hole (or perhaps several) quite
through the card or quire of paper. This hole has a
bur raised on each side, except the card, &c. be pressed
hard between the discharging rod and the jar. It this
experiment be made with two cards instead of one,
which however must be kept very little distant from
one another, each of the cards, after the explosion, will
be found pierced with one or more holes, and each hole
will have burs on both surfaces of each card. The
hole, or holes, are larger or smaller, according as the
card, Sec. is more damp or more dry. It is remark¬
able, that if the nostrils are presented to it, they will
be affected with a sulphureous, or rather a phospho-
real smell, just like that produced by an excited elec-
tric.
If, instead of paper, a very thin plate of glass, rosin,
sealing wax, or the like, be interposed between the
knob of the discharging rod and the outside coating
of the jar, on making the discharge, this will be bro¬
ken in several pieces : wafers will be dispersed in a
curious manner, and several of them broken in pieces.
If the explosion is sent over the surface of a piece of
glass, this will be marked with an indelible track,
which generally reaches from the extremity of one of
the wires to the extremity of the other. In this man¬
ner, the piece of glass is very seldom broken by the
explosion. But Mr Henley discovered a very remark¬
able method to increase the effect of the explosion upon
the glass $ which is by pressing with weights that part
of the glass which lies between the two wires (i.e. that
part over which the shock is to pass). He put first a
thick piece of ivory upon the glass, and placed upon
that ivory a weight at pleasure, from one quarter of an
ounce to six pounds : the glass in this manner is gene¬
rally broken by the explosion into innumerable frag¬
ments, and some of it is absolutely reduced into
an impalpable powder. If the glass is very thick,
and resists the force of the explosion, so as not to be
broken by it, it will be found marked with the most
lively prismatic colours, which are thought to be oc¬
casioned by very thin laminae of the glass, in part se¬
parated from it by the shock. The weight laid upon
the glass is always shook by the explosion, and some¬
times it is thrown quite off from the ivory. This ex¬
periment may be most conveniently made with the uni¬
versal discharger.
Exper. 2.—Place the extremities of two wires, one
above and the other below a card, so as to be about an
inch distance from each other, taking care that the
card be kept steady. Then, make the charge of a
Leyden phial pass from one wire to the other, and it
will be found, that a luminous track will pass from the
end of that wire which is connected with the positive
surface of the phial, to the extremity of the other
4
wire, where a hole will be pertorated through the Principle* 1
card. of Electri. ^
This experiment, to which we shall have occasion Clty l'l«- f
to refer hereafter, is by Mr Lullin of Geneva. expenmeat ^
Mr Symmer made some experiments on the perfora- ^ ^
tion of paper, which we shall mention here, as on them
he grounded a principal argument in favour of that
theory which he adopted, and of which we shall give
an account hereafter.
Exper. 3.—A piece of paper covered on one side
with Dutch gilding, and which had been left acciden¬
tally between two leaves in a quire of paper, in which
a former experiment had been made, was found to have
the impression of two strokes upon it, about a quarter
of an inch from each other; the gilding was stripped
off, and the paper left bare for a little space in both
places. In the centre of one of these places was a lit¬
tle round hole, in the other only an indenture or im¬
pression, such as might have been made with the point
of a bodkin.
Exper. 4—In the middle of a paper book, of the
thickness of a quire, Dr Symmer put a slip of tinfoil j
and in another of the same thickness, he put two slips
of the same sort of foil, including the two middle leaves
of the book between them. On passing the explosion
through the two different books, the following effects
were produced. In the first, the leaves on each side
of the tinfoil were pierced, while the foil itself remain¬
ed unpierced } but at the same time, it might be per¬
ceived that an impression had been made on each of its
surfaces, at a little distance from one another; and
such impressions were still more visible on the paper,
and might be traced, as pointing different ways. In
the second, all the leaves of the book were pierced,
excepting the two that were included between the slips
of tinfoil ; and in these two, instead of holes, the two
impressions in contrary directions were visible. The
double impression was considered by this experimenter
as an evidence of two fluids moving in opposite direc¬
tions ; but by the interposition of the tinfoil a double
interruption in the conducting circuit is produced, con¬
sequently the paper on each side of it was expanded,
causing a double depression in the leaf of tinfoil.
The following experiment shows how easily so bard a
substance as glass, may be pierced by the electric spark.
It is thus related by Mr Cavallo.
Exper. 5—Let a glass tube of any diameter, and
about five or six inches in length, be closed hermetical¬
ly, or by means of sealing-wax, at one end, and fill
about half of it with olive oil ; then stop the aperture
of it with a cork, and let a wire pass through the
cork, and come so far within the tube, as to have its
extremity below the surface of the oil. This end of
the wire must touch the surface of the glass, for which
purpose it must he bent nearly at right angles, which
may be easily done before the coik is put upon the
tube. Things being thus prepared, bend into a ring
the other extremity of the wire, and suspend it, with
the tube hanging to it, to the wire at the end of the
conductor. Then work the machine, and bring the
knuckle of a finger or the knob of a wire near the out¬
side of the tube, just opposite to the extremity of the
wire ; the consequence of which will he, that a spark
will happen between the wire and the knuckle, which
makes a hole through the glass.—By turning the wire
about
"hap. IX. ELECT
Principles about, or raising and lowering it, many holes may be
rity ill us-' success‘vely made in the same tube, after the manner
tirated by above described. The perforation is in this instance
mperioieat. rendered much easier by the confinement of the dis-
> charge to a single point, and by the obstacle which the
non-conducting matter, the olive oil, presents to dis¬
persion.
The same effect will take place when a large quan¬
tity of electricity is suddenly transferred to a very li¬
mited surface.
_ Exper. 6—Charge a very large jar $ connect its out-
si de with one only a tenth or twelfth part of its size.
Connect their inner coatings by the discharging rod,
and the small jar will be broken by the disproportionate
quantity of electricity thus transferred to it.
Exper. 7.—Roll up a piece of soft tobacco-pipe clay
in a small cylinder, and insert in it two wires, so that
their ends without the clay may be about a fifth part of
an inch from one another. If a shock be sent through
this clay, by connecting one of the wires with the out¬
side of a charged jar, and the other with the inside, it
will be inflated by the shock, i. e. by the spark, that
passes between the two wires, and, after the explosion,
will appear curiously expanded in the interval between
the wires. If the shock sent through it is too strong,
and the clay not very moist, it will be broken by the
explosion, and its fragments scattered in every direc¬
tion. To make this experiment with a little variation,
take a piece of the tube of a tobacco-pipe, about one
inch long, and fill its bore with moist clay ; then in¬
sert in it two wires, as in the above rolled clay ; and
send a shock through it. This tube will not fail to
burst by the force of the explosion, and its fragments
will be scattered about to a great distance. If, in¬
stead of the clay, the above-mentioned tube of the to¬
bacco-pipe, or a glass tube (which will answer as well),
be filled with any other substance, either electric or
non-electric, inferior in conducting power to metal, on
making the discharge, it will be broken in pieces with
nearly the same force. This experiment is the inven¬
tion of Mr Lane, F. R. S.
Exper. 8.—Place within a common drinking-glass,
nearly full of water, two knobbed wires, bent in such a
manner, as that their knobs may be within a little dis¬
tance of each other in the water. Connect one of
these wires with the outside coating of a pretty large
jar, and touch the other wire with the knob of it j on
making the discharge, the explosion which must pass
through the water between the two knobs, will disperse
the water, and break the glass with a surprising vio¬
lence. This experiment requires great caution.—Mr
Morgan broke green quart bottles filled with water,
when the distance from the wires that conveyed the
spark to the sides of the glass exceeded two inches.
Sig. Beccaria contrived a small mortar, into which a
drop of water was put, between the extremities of two
wires which went through the sides of the mortar, and
a wooden ball was applied over the drop of water $
then a charged jar being discharged through the wires
of the mortar, and consequently through the drop of
water, rarefied the latter, and drove the ball out with
considerable force. Mr Lullin produced a greater
effect by making the discharge through oil instead of
water. When passed through air in order to produce
an analogous effect, the body to be moved must be fix-
R I CITY. 7„
ed somewhat firmly. A cork may for this purpose be Principle*
fitted over a small column of air, and it will be driven of Electri-
out by the electric spark expanding the air. e'ty illus¬
trated by
Chap. IX. Of the Methods of estimating the De-€Xi}ei‘tIlt'*‘t'
gree of Accumulated Electricity in Jars and Bat¬
teries.
The only method of ascertaining the charge of a *97
Leyden phial or of a battery, which we have hitherto
mentioned, is that of observing the repulsive force of
the charge on the ball of Henley’s quadrant electrome¬
ter. But it was found {Vide 112.) that this was not
always a just criterion of the amount of the charge ;
as, even when the jar was insulated, and consequently
could receive no charge, the index of the electrometer
still rose as high as if the jar was fully charged. We
shall now proceed to describe two methods, which, par¬
ticularly the last, are much less liable to error. The
first depends on the following principle.
The distance of the ball of a discharged rod from the
knob of a charged phial or battery necessary to produce
an explosion, will be greater in proportion to the degree
of accumulated electricity which the jar or battery has
received.
Exper.—Take a Leyden phial, into the knob of
which is fixed a quadrant electrometer ; communicate
to it a small charge, so that the index of the electrome¬
ter may point, we shall suppose, at xo0. In making
the discharge, it will be found necessary to bring the
ball of the discharging rod almost in contact with the
knob of the jar. Now charge the jar to 20°, and it
will be found that the explosion will take place, when
the ball of the discharging rod is at a greater distance
from the knob of the jar, than before ; and thus, by
repeating the experiment with greater charges, it will
be observed, that the distance necessary to produce an
explosion will increase nearly in proportion to feite
charge. ^
On this principle Mr Lane constructed an electro-Lane’*
meter, which has been found extremely useful, whenelectrciIie’
it was required to discharge a jar or battery a number*er*
of times successively, with the same charge. This in¬
strument has been called Mr Lane’s discharging elec¬
trometer.
The principal part of it consisted originally of a brass
ball about an inch and a half in diameter, screwed to a
graduated brass rod, and adapted to a proper frame, so
that it might be set at any required distance from the
prime conductor of the knob of a Leyden phial. The
chief use of this instrument is to allow a jar to discharge
spontaneously through any proper circuit, without em¬
ploying a discharging X'od, or moving any part of the
apparatus, and also to produce successive explosions
nearly of the same strength, as observed above. If, for
example, the brass ball be placed at the distance of
about half an inch from the prime conductor, and a
Leyden phial be so situated as to have its knob in con¬
tact with the prime conductor, while its outside coat¬
ing communicates with the ball of the electrometer, it
is evident that the communication between the outside
and inside of the jar, is interrupted only between the
prime conductor and the brass ball, which are half an
inch asunder; therefore, in charging the jar, when the
charge is become so high as to strike through half an
inch .
712
ELECT
Plate
ext; i.
fig-. 67.
Principles inch of air, the jar will discharge spontaneously, and by
of Eiectri- keeping the brass ball at the same distance from the
city Ulus- pr;me conductor, and charging the jar successively, the
irated by wjU be nearj 0f the same strength.
experiment. ^ e,ectronieter 0f this kind, though not exactly
like the original one, is now commonly used by the
practitioners of medical electricity, and is delineated
in fig. 67. of Plate CXCI. It consists of a glass arm
B, which proceeds from the wire of the jar F, and to
the extremity E of which a spring socket, is cement¬
ed, through which a wire passes, which is furnished
with a knob B, towards the knob A of the jar, and
with an open ring C at its other extremity. Now, as
this wire may be slid backwards and forwards, the knob
B may be put at any required distance from the.knob
A, as far as the construction of the instrument will al¬
low. The wire BC is generally marked with divisions
which show the distance of the two knobs, when the
wire is so situated, as that the required division coincides
with the edge of the spring socket $ as, for instance,
one-tenth, or one quarter of an inch, &c. When the
jar F is set against the prime conductor G, as repre¬
sented in the figure, suppose that the ball B is set at
the distance of one-tenth of an inch from the ball. A,
and that a wire be fixed from the electrometer s ring,
to the outside coating of the jar, as shewn by the dotted
line CK $ then, when the machine is put in motion,
the discharge of the jar, as soon as this becomes suffi¬
ciently charged, will he made between the knobs AB,
and through the wire CK •, and it is evident that these
discharges will be of the same strength, as long as the
distance between AB remains the same.
This instrument is subject to the following inconve¬
nience, viz. that the force of the explosion, after a time,
roughens the surface of the brass ball, and thus, for a
reason to be explained hereafter, the instrument is use¬
less unless the polish of the ball be again renewed. It
is also found that this instrument is not accurate iu
shewing the exact charge of ajar.
Its principal imperfection arises from that occasional
intrusion of particles of dust, or other light conducting
matter between the balls rendering its indications falla¬
cious.
200 The charge of ajar or battery may be most accurate¬
ly determined by the weight which the repulsive force
of the accumulated electricity is able to raise.
Upon this principle Mr Brooke of Norwich construct¬
ed a very valuable electrometer, of which he has given
a long and accurate account in his Miscellaneous Expe¬
riments.
Our limits rvill not permit us to copy this long de¬
scription, for which we must therefore refer our readers
to Mr Brooke’s work. We have, however, the less
reason to regret this omission, because we shall present¬
ly describe an instrument invented by the late Professor
Robison, which appears to us superior to Mr Brooke’s
both in simplicity and utility.
Mr G. Adams has described an electrometer very
similar in principle to that of Mr Brooke, and we shall
201 here copy his description.
Electrome- “ Fig. 68. and 69. represent an electrometer, near-
tei- similar jy similar to that contrived by Mr Brooke. The two
k , instruments are sometimes combined in one, or used se-
Fi<T°6SS' parately, as in these figures. The arms YWfk, fig. 69.
and 69, when in use, are to be placed as much as possible out
R I C I T Y. Part HI.
of the atmosphere of a jar, battery, prime conductor, Principles
&c. The arm FH and the ball K are made of cop- of Electri-
per, and as light as possible. The divisions on the arm city ilius.
FH are each of them exactly a grain. They are as-
certained at first by placing grain weights on a brass _——J
ball which is within the ball L, (this ball is an exact
counterbalance to the arm FH and the ball K when
the small slide r is at the first division) and then re¬
moving the slide r till it, together with the ball K,
counterbalances the ball L and the weight laid on it.
A, fig. 69. is a dial-plate, divided into 90 equal
parts. The index of this plate is carried once round,
when the arm BC has moved through 90 degrees, or
a quarter of a circle. That motion is given to the in¬
dex by the repulsive power of the charge acting between
the ball I) and the ball B.
The arm BC being repelled, shews when the charge
is increasing, and the arm FH shews what this repulsive
power is between two balls of this size in grains, ac¬
cording to the number the weight rests at when lifted
up by the repulsive power of the charge : at the same
time the arm BC points out the number of degrees to
which the ball B is repelled ; so that by repeated trials,
the number of degrees answering to a given number of
grains, may be ascertained, and a table formed from
these experiments, by which means the electrometer,
fig. 69. may be used without that of fig. 68.
Mr Brooke thinks that no glass, charged (as we call
it) with electricity, will bear a greater force, than that
whose repulsive power, between two balls of the size he
used, is equal to sixty grains 5 that in very few instances
it will stand sixty grains weight ; and he thinks it ha¬
zardous to go more than 45 grains.
Hence, by knowing the quantity of coated surface,
and the diameter of the balls, we may be enabled to say,
so much coated surface, with a repulsion between balls
of so many grains, will melt a wire of such a size, or
kill such an animal, &c.
Mr Brooke thinks, that he is not acquainted with all
the advantages of his electrometer j but that it is
clear, it speaks a language which may he universally
understood, which no other will do ; for though other
electrometers will shew whether a charge is greater or
less, by an index being repelled to greater or smaller
distances, or by the charge exploding at different di¬
stances, yet the power of the charge is by no means
ascertained : but this electrometer shews the force of
the repulsive power in grains *, and the accuracy of the
instrument is easily proved, by placing the weights on
the internal ball, and seeing that they coincide with
the divisions on the arm FH, when the slide is re¬
moved to them.
With his electromete’f, Mr Brooke made a set of ex¬
periments, with a view to determine exactly the force
of batteries of an inferior power, in melting fine metal¬
lic wires of different kinds. The following is the sub¬
stance of these experiments. 201
x. With a battery of nine bottles, containing about Mr
16 square feet of coated surface, and charged to
grains of repulsion, a shock was eleven times sentiiients on
through a piece of steel wire twelve inches long and tbe force oi
-yU^-th of an inch thick; the wire was shortened an batteries,
inch and a half, being then about ten inches and a
half long ; by a twelfth shock, the wire was melted to
pieces.
2. A
ill!
frin'
jilE
ip
trite
3hap. IX. ELECT
[Principles 2. A shock from the same nine bottles charged to
nf Electri-the same degree of repulsion, being sent through a
1Ht?'dbv P‘ece °/ stee^ vv're» 12 inches long and T^th of an
!:perhnent. ^ncl1 thIck» t,ie ^rst t'me me^ed the whole of it into
• small globules.
3. A shock from the same nine bottles charged to
the same degree, being sent through a piece of brass
wire twelve inches long and tto^i of an inch thick,
melted the whole of it, with much smoke, resembling
that from gunpowder ; but the metallic part formed
itself, in cooling, chiefly into concave hemispherical
figures of various sizes.
4. A shock from only eight of the bottles charged to
•the same degree, did but just melt twelve inches of steel
wire °f an inch thick, so as to fall into several
pieces ; these pieces in cooling formed themselves into
oblong lumps, joining themselves to each other by a
very small part of the wire between each lump which
was not melted enough to separate, but appeared like
oblong beads on a thread at different distances.
5. A shock from the same eight bottles, charged to
the same degree, so perfectly heated twelve inches of
brass wire about xto'^Ii of an inch in diameter, soft¬
ening it so far as to make it fall down by its own
weight, from the forceps by which it was held at each
end, upon a sheet of paper placed below to catch it,
and when it fell down it was so perfectly flexible that,
by falling, it formed itself into a vermicular shape,
and remained entire its whole length, which when it
was put into the forceps was about 12 inches: but
after the shock was passed through it, it sagged so
much as to be stretched by its own weight to almost
fifteen inches, and by falling on the paper it was
flattened throughout its whole length so much, that
when it was examined by a magnifier of half an inch
focus, it appeared five or six times as broad as it was
thick.
6. A shock from nine bottles charged only twenty
grains, was sent through a piece of steel wire, of the
same length and diameter as in the former experiments,
and heated it sufficiently to melt it, so that it separated
in several places ; and the pieces were formed into
beads strung as in experiment 4.
7. A shock from the same nine bottles charged to
twenty grains was sent through ten inches of brass wire
Tx^th of an inch diameter ; the wire was heated red
hot so as to render it very flexible, but it did not sepa¬
rate. It was shortened, however, nearly three-eighths
of an inch.
8. A shock from the same nine bottles charged to
the same degree, being sent a second time through the
last piece of wire, melted it asunder in several places.
9. A shock from nine bottles charged to 30 grains,
sent through twelve inches of brass wire x^th of an
inch in diameter, acted on it nearly as in experiment 5,
except that it was separated in two places, and the
pieces when joined measured about sixteen inches and
a half long; it was perfectly flattened by its fall on the
paper as before.
10. A shock from nine bottles charged to 30 grains,
being sent through eight inches amf a half of brass
wire of the same diameter, wholly dispersed it in smoke
and left nothing remaining to fall on the sheet of paper
placed below it.
11. A shock from twelve bottles charged to ao
Vol. VIL Part II. ’ t
rt i c i t y. 7I3
grains sent through ten inches of steel wire, T£5th of princinles
an inch in diameter, made it red hot, but did not melt of Ekctri-
1t- city illus-
12. A second charge, the same as the last, bein^ lrated b3*
sent through the same piece of wire, heated it red hot exi)ei‘n>eilt;
as before, but did not cause it to separate j the wire
was now, however, shortened five-sixteenths of an inch.
13. A shock from the same twelve bottles charged
to 25 grains, being sent through the same piece of
wire, partly melted it into several pieces, and produced
many globules of oxidated metal.
14. With 15 bottles charged to 25 grains, a shock
was sent through ten inches of steel wire T^th of an
inch in diameter, which melted it at the first time, and
dispersed a great part of it about the room.
15. A shock from the same 15 bottles charged to
20 grains, just melted ten inches of steel wire of the
same diameter as before, so as to cause it to run into
several beautiful globules, nearly as in experiment 13.
16. A shock of 15 bottles charged to 15 grains, be¬
ing sent through ten inches of steel wire of the same
diameter as the last, made the wire barely red hotj but
shortened it one-tenth of an inch.
17. The last piece of wire having received a shock
from 15 bottles charged to 12 and a half grains, was
not made red hot.
18. A shock from the same 15 bottles, charged to
2J grains, was sent through the same piece of wire,
and seemingly tore the wire into splinters.
19. Four bottles charged to 30 grains, just melted
three inches of steel wire x^th of an inch in diameter,
. so as to make it fall into pieces.
20. Five bottles charged to 25 grains, melted three
inches of such wire as the last into large beautiful
globules.
21. With eight bottles charged to 15 grains, three
inches of steel wire, xts^1 °f an inch in diameter, were
melted as in the last experiment ; indeed the appear¬
ance and effect were so nearly alike in both cases, that
the metal after both experiments might have been said
to be the same.
22. 1 he force of ten bottles charged twelve grains
and a half rather exceeded experiment 19, but scarcely
came up to experiments 20 and 21.
23. Suspecting something wrong in experiment 19,
Mr Brooke found, that though his bottles hitherto
were as nearly of the same size as Ire could procure
them, yet some of them were a little larger than others
and, which was the case in experiment 19, one of the
four was smaller than the other three ; so that he re¬
peated the experiment with four bottles more equal in
size, charging them to 30 grains, and the fusion was as
perfect as in any.
24. A charge to 30 grains, with the last eight bot¬
tles, beautifully melted six inches of steel wireTfotk of
an inch in diameter.
25. A shock from two bottles charged to 45 grains,
was sent through one inch of steel wire, of the same dia¬
meter as the last, but only changed its colour.
26. With three bottles charged to 40 grains, a shock
sent through one inch and a half of steel wire of the
above diameter, dispersed it all about the room.
27..Mr Brooke considering that a steel wire of th
of an inch in diameter, contains nearly twice the quan¬
tity of metal which is contained in the same length of
4 X w;re
714
Prinoi|)le*
of Eteclri-
rit) illus¬
trated by
expeiiment
ELECT
wire of TT3-tIi of an Inch in diameter, took three inches
of the former, and sent through it a shock from ten
bottles, charged to 25 grains. This shock melted it
just as the shock from five bottles did in experiment 20.
' 28. With 20 bottles charged to 12 grains and a
half, he melted three inches of steel wire of -j^o-th of
an inch in diameter, exactly as in the foregoing ex¬
periment. . ,
29. As a steel wire of of an inch diameter con-
tains nearly twice the. quantity of metal m the same
length, as is contained in a steel wire of T^o-th, or jour
times the quantity contained in a steel wire of t-to^1
of an inch diameter *, it might from the foregoing ex-
R I C I T Y. Part Hi
into several pieces. After the first shock, the redness Principlei
VI ci.il    7 0 I 1
periments be expected, that 20 bottles charged ^to 2^
grains would melt three inches of steel wire of -jrVh ot
m rvi    — . 1
an inch in diameter: but on a great many trials he
could not procure 20 bottles which would hear the
discharge when charged to 25 grains ; for at the dis¬
charge, there was always one or more bottles broken
or perforated. He was now reduced to the necessity of
beincr content with bottles of any size, that would bear
the required charge, of from one to three gallons each,
or that contained from 150 to 300 or more square
inches of coated surface each, but all in vain, ihe
only resource left him, as be was not near a glasshouse,
was to increase the quantity of surface and not to
charge so high, and to proportion the one to the other :
it was therefore resolved to adopt a third expedient, i. e.
instead of employing about 36 square feet of coating,
he added a third, or twelve feet, which made it in all
48 feel j and instead of charging to 25_grains, or rather
24 for the sake of a more easy division by three, he
annulled one-third of the charge, leaving sixteen grains,
and thus he succeeded perfectly well j for by 48 feet of
coated surface charged to 16 grains, three inches of
steel wire °f an inch in diameter were as curiously
melted as in any of the former experiments.
These bottles, thus broken in large discharges, seem
always to break or to be perforated nearly in the thinnest,
hut never in the thickest place, which shows the neces¬
sity of the glass being of a considerable thickness.
30. As in experiments 19. and 20. where the coated
surface in the former is but half the quantity of that in
the latter, and the former is charged to 30, and the
latter to 15 grains, to know how high 48 feet of coat¬
ing must be charged to produce the same effect exact¬
ly"*, and as the coating in four bottles, consisting ot a
little more than six feet and a half, is contained in 48
feet a little more than seven times *, so Mr Brooke
tried, by charging 48 feet only to a little more than
four grains, or only about one-seventh part so high, as
four times seven is 28 *, that is, but two less than 30:
and this had exactly the same effect on the wire, which
was TTtft’1 an *nch ‘n diameter, and three inches
long, as it had upon the former.
31. As the last experiment agreed so exactly with
experiments 19. and 20. the next thing tried was to see
the effect of 48 feet of coated surface charged to a little
more than four grains upon six inches of steel wire, the
size of the last *, this was made very faintly red.
32. By a repetition of this last experiment, with the
same length of the same wire, to see how often the same
charge might be sent through it without melting it,
and to observe the appearance of the wire after each
shock, he found that by the eighth shock it was melted
produced became less every time, even the last time, ot'Electri,
when it was separated. By the first shock, though ^L'ht
made little more than fairly red, the wire became so
flexible, that by a small addition to its own weight, it
seemed to become almost perfectly straight when cool¬
ed : at about the third or fourth shock it began to as¬
sume a zig-zag appearance j after the sixth shock the
surface of it appeared rough 5 after the seventh shock
the surface was very roughly scorified or scaly ; and
some of the scales had fallen upon a piece of white pa¬
per placed at about half an inch distance below it.
The eighth shock melted it in three places j and at
these places where the angles appeared the sharpest or
most acute, a great number of the scales were driven
off about the paper, and appeared as in experiment 18$
some of them were almost one-tenth of an inch long,
and some of them about a third or fourth part of the
diameter of the wire in breadth, and very thin j after the
seventh shock it was shortened seven-sixteenths of an
inch 5 the wire was T^th of an inch in diameter.
33. Repeating experiment 31. again with the same
length of wire of the same diameter, and the same, bat¬
tery charged to the same degree, in order to observe
the method of the wire shortening, having fixed an in¬
sulated gauge parallel to it and at the distance of about
a quarter of an inch from it : after the first shock,
which made the wire fairly red, (holding it fixed at one
end, that the shortening might appear all at the other,
which was held so that it might either contract or di¬
late) he observed, that it shortened considerably as it
cooled *, repeating the shock, it did the same, and so on
till it was melted, which was by the eighth shock, as
before. At the instant when the shock passed through
the wire, it appeared to dilate a little*, and alter it was
at the hottest, it gradually contracted after every stroke,
as it cooled, about one-sixteenth of an inch each time j
the dilatation was so very trifling, as to bear but a very
small proportion to its contraction, and sometimes it
was doubtful whether or not it dilated at all £ but alter
all the observations it appeared oftener to dilate, than
not.
34. The same 48 feet, negatively charged to a little
more than four grains, melted three inches of steel wire
T^_th of an inch in diameter, the same as the positive
charge did in experiment 30.
31;. The same battery of 48 feet of coated surface,
charged to a little more than eight grains, melted three
inches of steel wire, T£ot!l of an inc,Vn diameter.
This is very nearly in proportion to experiment 27, hut
here the charge was negative, and Mr Brooke says the
fusion was the most pleasing he had hitherto had ; which
he attributes to the charge having been probably so well
adjusted as to be exactly sufficient to melt the wire and
no more : the heat remained for the longest time, and
the fused metal ran into the. largest globules *, probably
the long continuance of the heat was owing to the
charge being just sufficient, and to the size of the lumps
into which the fused metal was formed.
36. This was a repetition of experiment I. with
twelve inches of steel wire T4-oth of an inch in diame¬
ter, but with this difference, that as then only nine
bottles were employed, containing about sixteen feet
of coated surface, charged to 32 grains, he here used
18 bottles containing about 32 square feet of coating
charged,
tj
Chap. IX. ELECT
principles charged to only 16 grains. This was done to observe
*f iilectri- the progress of the destruction of the wire, as in experi-
trated lw n?ent 32* as well as to prove the similarity of the effect,
-ixperiment. wire being the same size, sort of metal, and length,
-y as recited just above j the first shock made it red hot
throughout its whole length, attended with smoke and
smell, changed its colour to a kind of coppensh hue,
and shortened it considerably ; the second shock made
it of a fine blue, but it did not appear red, and shortened
it more j at the third shock it assumed a zig-zag ap*
pearance, many radii were very visible at the bendings,
and the wire continued to shorten till the eleventh
shock, when one of the bottles in the second row of the
battery was struck through : the fracture was covered
over with common cement, and its pLce supplied by
changing place with one in the third row, supposing
the mended one to be the weakest j and with the bat¬
tery in this state he made the twelfth shock, which se¬
parated the wire as in experiment I. but shortened it
only one inch.
37. A shock from 48 feet of coated surface, charged
to eight grains, sent through three inches of copper
wire xToth inch in diameter, seven times, gave
it the zig-zag appearance, but did not make it much
shorter j the eighth shock separated it at one end close
to the forceps which held it, but it did not appear to
be made at all sensibly red hot, notwithstanding it must
have been often so at the place where it was melted ;
which space was so very small as barely to be percepti¬
ble, like as when a point is set upon any flat surface of
iron, and a shock from a pound phial sent through,
both the point and flat surface where the point rested,
it examined with a magnifying glass, will be found to
have been melted, and a speck may be seen j but the
redness of the metal will scarcely be visible.
38. A shock from 48 feet, charged to 16 grains, was
sent through six inches of lead wire xVth of an inch in
diameter, and melted it into many pieces.
39* A shock from 48 feet, charged to 15 grains,
was sent through six inches of wire like the last, which
did not separate it, but made it smoke.
40. A shock like the last, was sent through the same
piece of wire a second time, and melted it into several
pieces.
The law by which wires resist destruction, in propor¬
tion to the diameter of the wire, does not seem to be
nearly so equable in the lead as in the steel wire. For
a charge of four grains, in experiment 34. melted
three inches of lead wire -/^-th of an inch in diame¬
ter ; but it took a charge of about three times that
power, to destroy three inches of lead wire y^-th of an
inch in diameter j which is about double the quantity
of metal in the same length as in that of ^th of an
inch in diameter. Thus, it is easy to find what differ¬
ent resistance a wire of any of the preceding metals, of
equal size and length, will make to the electrical stroke.
Ihe length of the electric circuit, in which the dif¬
ferent wires were placed, in the foregoing experiments,
from the nearest part of the inside to the nearest part
R I C I T Y. 7,5
of the outside of the battery, exclusive of the length of principIcK
the said wires, was about eight feet. of Electri-
41. I wo gentlemen coming to see apiece of wire city illus-
melted by electricity, Air Brooke proceeded to shew it
them, by fixing twelve inches of steel wire T^th nfexPer“lltat-
an inch in diameter, and then (supposing the electro¬
meter, and all other things ready placed), to charge the
battery, but the electrometer did not move: neverthe¬
less, lie continued charging as he supposed ; but still
the electrometer remained as it was, although he had
been charging much longer than would have been ne¬
cessary, contrary to bis design, which was to take a
small wire, that a smaller charge might be sufficient.
Having been charging a long time, Air Brooke left off
to look about the apparatus, in order to see if all was
right: as he was looking, he found there was no com¬
munication between the battery and the electrometer,
and he heard a slight crackling in the battery, which
convinced him that it was charged. Accordingly he
made the discharge, expecting nothing unusual 5 but
the wire was dispersed seemingly in a very violent man-
ner. Ihe report was so very loud that their ears were
stunned, and the flash of light so very great, that Air
Brooke’s sight was quite confused for a few seconds.
Mr Cuthbertson has lately contrived an electrometer, Cnthbert*
which possesses all the advantages of Air Brooke’s, add- son’s corn¬
ed to those of Lane and Henley, with which he has in-Pound elec-
geniously combined it. trometer.
This valuable instrument is thus described by the in¬
ventor.
The electrometer is represented in Plate CXCI.
fig. 70. GH is a long square piece of wood, about
18 inches long, and six inches broad, in which are fix¬
ed three glass supports, DEF, mounted with brass balls,
a be. Under the brass ball a, is a long brass hook* the
ball c is made of two hemispheres, the under one being
fixed to the brass mounting, and the upper turned with
a groove to shut upon it, so that it can be taken off at
pleasure. The ball b has a brass tube fixed to it, about
three inches long, cemented on to the top of F ; and the
same ball has a hole at the top, of about one-half inch
diameter, corresponding with the inside of the tube.
AB is a straight brass wire, with a knife-edged centre
in the middle, placed a little below the centre of gra¬
vity, and equally balanced with a hollow brass ball at
each end, the centre, or axis, resting upon a proper
shaped piece of brass fixed in the inside of the ball c;
that side of the hemisphere towards c is cut open, to
permit the end c A of the balance to descend till
it touches the ball a, and the upper hemisphere C
is also cut open to permit the end c B to ascend ; i is a
weight, weighing a certain number of grains, and made
in the form of a pin with a broad head j the ball B has
two holes, one at the top, and the other at the bottom ;
the upper hole is so wide, as to let the head of the pin
pass through it, but to stop at the under one, with its
shank hanging freely in b ; a number of such pins are
commonly made to each electrometer of different
weights (a) ; A: is a common Henley’s quadrant elec-
4X2 trometer.
Plata
cxcr.
%• 7°'
(A) Instead of the pins, which are found inconvenient, Air Cuthbertson has lately constructed his electrometer
with a sliding piece of brass, so adapted to the arm of the balanced wire, as by sliding near to, or farther from,
the centre of gravity, to denote proportional weights.
716
electricity.
Part HI.
Principles
of Electri¬
city illus¬
trated by
experimeuti
troraeter, and when in use, it is screwed upon the top
It is evident, from the construction, that if the foot
stand horizontal, and the ball B be made to touch b, it
will remain in that position without the help ol the
weight i; and if it should by any means receive a very
low charge of electric fluid, the two balls b, B, will re
always be commanded. But the instrument which I Principles
have described, requires no attention or assistance ; of Electri-
for as soon as the separation takes place between B and city illus- ,
&, the ball A descends, and discharges the battery of^1’^/1 bl !
itself. _ experiment
By this combination and improvements, we possess
in the present instrument all that can ever be required
any small weight, be put into its place in B, it will
cause B to rest upon b, with a pressure equal to that
weight, so that more electric fluid must be communi¬
cated than before, before the balls will separate J and
as the weight in B is increased or diminished, a greater
With this electrometer Lieutenant Colonel Haldane Col. Hai-
has made some very ingenious experiments to determine ^
the exact charge of a battery required to produce cer" meaEUjjBg
tain changes in wires of the same kind. His method the charge
or leg's quantity of electVic fluid will be required" to ef- of estimating the force of the charge is by the number of a.bat-
1 ’ of explosions that it is capable of producing in ajartei7‘
connected with the outside coating of the battery. Thus,
if the battery while charging produces three explosions
of the jar, he says, it has received three measures of
electricity.
Mr Cuthbertson having observed thatwhen he breath¬
ed into a jar, it was thus rendered capable of receiving
feet a separation.
When this instrument is to be applied to a jar, or
battery, for which purpose it was invented, one end of
a wire L, must be inserted into a hole in &, and the other
end into a hole of any ball proceeding from the inside
of a battery, as M (b) : k must be screwed upon c,
with its index towards A; the reason of this instrument
being added, is to shew, by the index continuing to rise, a higher charge, made the following experiments to as
that the charge of the battery is increasing, because certain the effect of such increased charge.
till the
the other part of the instrument does not act
battery has received its required charge.
If this instrument be examined with attention, it will
be found to consist of three electrometers ; and answers
three different purposes, namely, a Henley’s electrome
ac5
Exper. i.—Prepare the electrometer in the manner
shewn in the plate, with the jar M annexed, which con-into a jar
tains about 168 square inches of coating (c) : put into make* h
B the pin marked 15; take two inches of watch-pen-,,ear a
dulum wire, fix to each end a pair of spring tongs, as^^
ter, Lane’s discharging electrometer, and Brooke’s steel- is represented at G m ; hook one end to m, and the other
yard electrometer } the first not improved, but the two
last, which were very defective when first invented, I
flatter myself are here brought to perfection. As the
only use of Henley’s electrometer to this instrument is,
as I have said before, to shew, by its continuing to in¬
crease in divergency, that the battery continues to re¬
ceive a still stronger charge, it required no improvement •,
but Lane’s electrometer, in its primitive state, could by
no means answer the required purpose for batteries, be¬
cause the hall intended to discharge the battery, was
necessarily placed so near to the ball of the battery, that
dust and fibrous particles were always attracted by and
adhered between the two balls, so as to retard the charg¬
ing, and often render a high charge impossible: where¬
as, in this, they are placed at four inches asunder 5 and
when the desired height of charge is obtained, and not
before, the ball of the electrometer moves of itself near¬
er to the ball which is connected with the outside of the
battery, and causes a discharge. The defects in Brooke’s
steelyard electrometer, were, 1st, that it could not cause
a discharge j and, 2dly, the difficulty of observing the
first separation of the balls caused great error. If it
were not placed in an advantageous light (which the
nature of the experiments could not always permit),
it would not be seen, without the attention of an
assistant, which is sometimes unpleasant, and cannot
to the wire N, communicating with the outside of the
jar ; let the uncoated part of the jar be made very clean
and dry j and let the prime conductor of an electrical
machine, or a wire proceeding from it, touch the wire
L : then, if the machine be put in motion, the jar and
electrometer will charge, as will be seen by the rising,
of the index of k, and when charged high enough, B
will be repelled by b, and A will descend and dis¬
charge the jar through the wire, which was confined
in the tongs, and the wire will he fused and run into
balls.
Exper. 2.—Put into the tongs eight inches of the
same sort of wire as before ; hang one pair ot tongs to the
hook ot, and apply the other to the wire which forms
the outside communication : take out the pin in B, and
put in its stead one marked 30 ; all the other part of the
apparatus remaining as before, and the uncoated part of
the jar being previously cleaned and dried : the machine
being then put in motion, the jar and electrometer will
charge, as is shewn by the rising ot the index as before y
but as soon as the jar has received a greater quantity of
electric power than before, a spontaneous explosion will
happen without affecting the balls B b, because the dis¬
charge will have passed along the uncoated part of the
jar from the inside coating to the outside : whence it
follows, that, while that jar remains in that clean state*
it
IFIat
he
(b) A chain, or wire, or any body through which the charge is to pass, must be hung to the hook at ot, and
carried from thence to the outside of the battery, as is represented by the line N.
(c) Take out the pin in B, and observe whether the ball B will remain at rest upon b; if not turn the adjust¬
ing scraw at C, till it just rema:ns upon A.
hap. IX.
rineiples it is incapable of receiving a charge high enough to af-
Sectri- feet the balls, or even a higher charge than it had re-
ntyillus- ceived in the first experiment. Let the uncoated part
Ineriment ^ie jar therefore rendered, in a slight degree,
■ damp: which is easily done, by breathing into the in¬
side, through a glass tube ; put the machine in motion,
and no spontaneous explosion will happen, but the balls
will repel, as in the first experiment, and the dis¬
charge will happen from A to «, and pass through the
wire placed in the circuit; and though it was eight
inches, it will be fused in the same degree as two
inches in the last experiment, namely, the wire seen red
hot the whole length, and then fall into balls.
Very different degrees of fusion are caused by elec¬
tric discharges, which may cause great mistakes, if not
well attended to. It is proper to adhere to the degree
above mentioned, and particular care ought to betaken
to lay the wire, intended for fusion, straight, without
any bendings or angles in it. The wire used in the two
last experiments, was that which is commonly called
watch-pendulum wire, which is flatted ; and as it ap¬
proaches very near to such a sharp edge as might be
supposed to affect the experiment, by permitting a dissi¬
pation of the electric fluid in its passage, round wires
were tried, and the result was the same.
„„ „ Ihe late Dr Eobison contrived an electrometer on
nparable similar principles with that of Mr Brooke, but much
• citronie- superior to it in simplicity of construction, and not
inferior to any which have been invented in point of
accuracy.
Fig. 71. exhibits a front view of this instrument,
which is thus constructed. A polished brass ball A,
a quarter of an inch in diameter, is fixed on the point
of a common needle about three inches long, and
as slender as can be procured of that length. On the
other end of the needle is fixed a ball of amber, glass, or
other solid non-conducting substance, of about half an
inch or three quarters of an inch in diameter. This ball
is fixed in such a way as that the needle does not quite
reach to its surface, though the ball F must fie com¬
pletely perforated. From the electric ball there passes
a slender glass rod, F, E, L, bent at right angles at E,
so that the part FE is about three inches long, and
the other extremity L is immediately opposite to the
centre of the ball A. A piece of amber C, cut so as to
have two parallel cheeks, is fixed on the extremity L
of the glass rod. For the principal part of the instru¬
ment, a strong dry silk thread is to be prepared by holding
it perpendicular in melted sealing-wax, till it shall be
fully penetrated by the wax, so as to retain a thin coat¬
ing of it. 1 he thread, thus coated, must be kept ex¬
tended, so that it may be quite straight, and it must be
made perfectly smooth by holding it before a clear fire
and rolling it on a smooth plane. It is then to be passed
through a small cube of amber, that has two holes drill¬
ed in two of its opposite faces perpendicularly about
half way to the stalk. By these holes the cube is sus¬
pended, so as to move readily, on two fine brass pins,
between the cheeks of the piece of amber at L. The
waxed thread is about six inches long, and is equally
divided by the amber cube. To one "end of it, B, is
fixed a ball of some conducting substance, as of very
thin polished metal, or gilt or burnished cork, a quar¬
ter of an inch in diameter. The other extremity, D,
ELECTRICITY.
717
106
bison
Plate
CXGI.
!g. 71-
passes through a cork hall, so as to move with some Principles
of Electri-
This part of the instrument is so constructed, that city i,tus-
when FE is perpendicular to the horizon, and the stalk lrat<:d by
BD, with its balls, is allowed to hang freely, the ball R cxPe»ment,
just touches the ball A. I his position is represented in
fi£; 71-
Ihe ball F is fixed to one end of a glass rod FI, Fig* 72.
made to pass perpendicularly through the centre of a
graduated circle DO, and furnished at its other ex¬
tremity I with a knobbed handle of boxwood. HK re
the stand of the electrometer, in the head of which is a
hole in which the rod FI moves smoothly but not easi¬
ly. Farther, there is adapted to the glass rod FI an in¬
dex NH that turns round it. This index is so placed
as to be parallel to a line LA drawn through the centre
of the ball A. Now, as the circle is divided into 360
degrees, o being marked above and 90 on the right
hand; the index will point out the angle which the
line LA makes with the vertical line. It is conveni¬
ent to have another index on the rod FI turning stiffly
round it, and extending considerably beyond the
circle.
The method of using this instrument will be shewn
wnen we speak of the law of electric action in the next
part.
Chap. X. O/'the Electrophorus.
T?e electrophorus is an instrument invented by Description
bigmor Volta of Como. It generally consists of twoof the elec-
parts; a round plate of metal, or of wood, made perfect-trophonis.
ly free from points and edges, and covered with tin-
foil) as A, fig. 73 : and another circular plate of any
conducting substance covered with a coating of some
resinous electric, generally of lac dissolved in alcohol,
melted sealing-wax, pitch, or of sulphur; as B. The
first plate is furnished with a glass handle, or with silk
strings, so that it may be occasionally insulated : to this
plate Volta has given the name of Scudo.
Sometimes the apparatus is made in parts, i. e;
the resinous electric is formed into a cake independent
of the plate B, and this is the most convenient method
for experiment. To these three parts Dr Robison has
given the following names ; viz. the resinous electric he
calls the cake, the plate B the sole, and the plate A the
cover; *m\ these names we shall adopt for the sake of
convenience. For the purpose of exihibiting the appear¬
ances which we are about to describe in the most bril¬
liant manner, the several parts may be made very thin in
proportion totbeircircumference; but for illustrating the
theory of the instrument, which we shall explain in the
following part, they should be made of considerable
thickness. The sole should be provided with an insula¬
ting stand.
The general appearances which have been observed
with this apparatus may be reduced to the following
heads.
1. If the cake, after being just formed, be suffered to
remain on the sole, till it be perfectly cool and hard)
while the sole is insulated; on examination, the whole
will be found negatively electric, and on applying the
finger to any part of it, especially the sole, a spark is
produced. If the apparatus be now suffered to remain
ate
7i3
Principles
of Electri¬
city illus¬
trated by
experiment.
ELECT]
at rest, its electricity gradually becomes weaker, and at
length’entirely disappears. It may, however, be again
produced by rubbing the cake with a piece of new flan¬
nel, or, what is better, a piece of hare or mole skin with
the fur on, made dry and warm. If after the cake has
been thus excited, the cover be placed on it, by means
of its insulating handle, and if it be again lifted off,
without being touched, no electricity whatever can be
observed in the cover. _
2. If, however, the cover while in contact with the
cpke, be’ touched with the finger, a smart pungent spark
will be obtained from the cover : and if, while the
finger touches the cover, the thumb is placed upon the
sole, a sensible shock will be felt between the finger
and thumb. .
3. After the above spark or shock has been obtain¬
ed, the electricity of the electrophorus disappears, and
the apparatus is said to be dead 5 no signs of electricity
appearing in either sole or cover, so long as the latter
remains in contact with the cake.
4. But if the cover be raised to some distance from
the cake, and in a direction parallel to it, and if the
cover be touched while held in this position, a smart
spark will appear between it and the finger, and will
even strike at some distance. This spark will be more
remarkable, if obtained from the upper surface ol the
cover, especially from its edge, which, if it has not been
well rounded, will even threw off sparks into the air.
The spark received from the cover under these circum¬
stances is, however, not so pungent as that mentioned
in N° 2. resembling a spark from any electrified con¬
ductor.
5. When the cover is thus raised from the cake, the
former is found positively electrified, and the latter, as
before, negatively.
6. But the electricity of both cover and cake, while
in contact, is negative.
7. The appearances above described may be repeated
for a considerable lime, with apparently undiminished
vivacity, without re-exciting the cake by friction j the
apparatus has been observed to retain its electric power,
even for several months. Hence it serves as a kind of
electrical magazine, and may be repeatedly employed
for charging jars, either positively, by imparting to the
jar the electric spark from the cover while raised from
the cake j or negatively, by receiving the sparks from
the cover in contact with the cake. From this pro¬
perty of retaining the electric power for so long a
time, Signior Volta denominated the apparatus elec¬
trophorus, or elettroforo perpetuo.
8. If before placing the cover on the cake, the sole
has been insulated, the same spark may be obtained
• from the cover, and the same shock may be felt on
touching both cake and cover at the same time j but
the spark, in this case, is by no means so pungent
as that obtained when the sole has not been insu¬
lated.
9. If, when the sole has been insulated, the cover
be again lifted to a considerable distance from the
cake, the sole will be found electrical, and its elec¬
tricity will be the same as that of the cake, or nega¬
tive.
10. If, after touching both sole and cover, the cover
be raised from the cake, by its insulating handle, and
*
* I C I T Y. Part III
again replaced upon the cake, without being touched Principles,
while separate, the whole apparatus is found to possess ofElectri.
no electricity. chy illus..
11. If both sole and cover be inactive after being tmed by
joined, they will, when separated, show opposite elec- ■ { mf>|
tricities j the cover being electrified jJosiVAf/y, and the
sole negatively.
12. If both cover and sole be rendered inactive
while separate, they will, when placed in contact, be
found to possess the electricity opposite to that of the
cake, i. e. they will together be in a state of positive
electricity. J0s
It is of little consequence what substance forms the Mr Cay*, j
basis to which the electric coating is applied j formerly'0’8 •
a glass plate was employed, and this was coated with
various resinous electrics. Mr Cavallo, who made se-p}!0rui *1
veral experiments on the construction and phenomena
of the electrophorus, found that the most convenient
electric was made with the second sort of sealing-wax
spread upon a thick glass plate. A plate made by
him after this manner, the diameter of which was no
more than six inches, was, when once excited, capable
of charging a coated phial so strongly, that by the ex¬
plosion, a card could be perforated $ this phial might
be charged several times successively, without again ex¬
citing the plate. Sometimes the cover, when separated
from the plate, was so strongly electrified, that it dart¬
ed strong flashes towards the table on which the elec¬
tric plate was laid, and even into the air. “ The
power of some of my plates,” says Mr Cavallo, “ is so
strong, that sometimes the electric plate adheres to the
metal when this is lifted up*, nor will they separate
even when the metal plate is touched with the finger,
or other conductor.
“ If, after having excited the sealing-wax,” conti¬
nues he, “ I lay the plate with the wax upon the table,
and the glass uppermost, i. e. contrary to the common
method, then, on making the usual experiment ol put¬
ting the metal plate on it, and taking the spark, &c.
I observe it to be attended with the contrary electrici¬
ty •, that is, if I lay the metal plate upon the electric
one, and while in that situation touch it with an insu¬
lated body, that body acquires the positive electricity,
and the metallic, removed from the electric plate,
appears to be negativewhereas it would become posi¬
tive if laid upon the excited wax. This experiment, I
find, answers in the same manner, if an electric plate
is used which has the sealing-wax coating on both
sides, or one of Mr Adams’s, which has no glass
plate.
“ If the brass plate, after being separated from, be
presented with the edge towards the wax, lightly
touching it, and thus be drawn over its surface, I find
that the electricity of the metal is absorbed by the seal¬
ing-wax, and thus the electric plate loses part of its
power ; and if this operation be repeated five or six
times, the electric plate loses its power entirely, so that
a new excitation is necessary to revive it.”
There is one part of Air Cavallo’s experiments upon
the electrophorus, which by no means accords with the
account of the phenomena given by us in Nos. 8, 9,
10, 11, 12.
“ If,” says he, “ instead of laying the electric plate
upon a table, it be placed upon an electric stand so a»
to
,*
Plate
CXCI.
%■ 73.
::hap. X. ELECT
iprineiples to be accurately insulated, then the metal plate set on
.f Ekctri- it acquires so little electricity, that it can only be dis-
trated'by covere^ an electrometer.
.tperiment. “ Upon an electric stand E, fig. 73, I placed a cir¬
cular tin plate, nearly six inches in diameter, which, by
a slender wire H, communicated with an electrometer
of pith-balls G, which was also insulated upon the elec¬
tric stand F. I then placed the excited electric plate
D, of six inches and a quarter in diameter upon the tin
plate with the wax uppermost, and on removing my
hand from it, the electrometer G, which communi¬
cated with the tin plate, i. e. with the under side of the
electric plate, immediately opened with negative elec-
Cavdllo's tricity, See. *.
Electricity, ft is somewhat extraordinary that so expert an elec¬
trician as Mr Cavallo should assert that an insulated
electrophorus shows weaker signs of electricity than one
uninsulated ; whereas, in fact, the electricity in the for¬
mer case is generally stronger than in the latter, and
always so strong as to afford sparks from some part of
109 the apparatus.
.Ir Mor- ]\fr Morgan has given us some valuable experi-
;«enupe me.nta* observations on the Insulated Electrophorus.
ig. 74* aPParatus consists of a rounded piece of wmod, AB,
74* with smooth edges and covered with tin-foil,
placed on an insulating stand CD. On this board or
sole is placed the electric plate or cake ; a £ is a wire
with a brass ball from which are hung the electrome¬
ter balls g h. G represents the scudo or cover. After
relating the usual appearances produced by friction,
he proceeds to describe those which arise from con¬
necting the cake with opposite sides of a Leyden
phial.
“ When the negative surface of a charged phial is
placed on the excited surface, by bringing the band
into contact with the opposite side of the phial, a spark
is instantly communicated, and the pith-balls g and h,
separate negatively.
If the phial be taken off, and the scudo placed in
its room, no change is observable on the subsequent re¬
moval of the scudo, provided that no communication
has been formed between it and the ground. When such
a communication is formed, a charge is communicated,
and the scudo and the balls are in opposite states of
electricity.
If the positive side of a Leyden phial be placed on
the excited surface, the pith-balls separate positively.
It must be observed that these experiments are made
with a resinous substance.
The appearances of the pith-balls and scudo are
materially varied, if the Leyden phial be applied to the
electrophorus while the scudo is in contact with its ex¬
cited surface. If the negative side of the phial be ap¬
plied, and a spark be taken from the positive, the pith-
balls immediately separate negatively ; but on taking
up the scudo, they immediately close, and as rapidly
separate again positivelv.
If after the phial is removed, the hand be applied to
the ecudo before it is raised, a small spark strikes into
the hand ; but on raising the scudo, the balls close and
separate instantaneously, and give signs of positive elec¬
tricity.—If the scudo and the brass plate be connected,
either by an insulated or uninsulated discharging rod,
the balls close and separate again, and the scudo, upon
being raised, receives a vigorous negative spark.
R 1 c 1 t y. 7j9
It is obvious that in all the preceding experiments, Piinciple*
the brass plate continues unchangeably adherent to the ot Electri-
lower surface, while the scudo only, or the conducting city
substance in connection with the upper surface, is im- ^
moveable. It is of importance that we should knoww^^Z,!
the consequences of making both the metallic surfaces
moveable.
But this is not an easy matter j it is very difficult to
get a lesinous substance thin enough, and at the same
time firm enough, for the purpose. I he perfect laminae
of talc, which I have been able to procure, are too
small to he used with any satisfaction ; I have therefore
had recourse to glass for the purpose. The result of
my repeated trials is the following.
Having substituted a glass plate, about twelve inches
in diameter, and one-fourth of an inch thick, in the
room of the resinous substance, and having rested it on
a ground metallic plate, five inches in diameter, and
well connected with the pith-balls g-and h, I exposed it
to the sparks of a conductor charged positively, and
kept my hand at the same time in connexion with the
wire a b. The plate took a considerable charge ; its
upper side was unequivocally positive, and its lower
side negative. I placed the scudo on the glass thus
charged, and approaching it with my hand, I received
a spark. I then approached ah with my hand, and
received another. By alternate approaches of this kind,
four or five times repeated, the sparks became weaker
and weaker till they disappeared j the scudo was then
raised, and was strongly negative ; but the pith-ball,
on the removal of the scudo, closed and separated posi¬
tively.
I then made the lower the upper surface j and placing
the scudo upon it, formed the communication, as in the
preceding part of the experiment ; but upon being
raised, the scudo was strongly positive, and the balls
negative.
But if, previous to the placing the scudo on the
glass, the pith-balls be carefully discharged of all ad¬
herent electricity, both the upper and lower sides of
the glass will be charged with positive electricity, or
will give signs of their being in the same state at the
same time.
It is observable that the succession of electrics, in
the preceding experiments, seems to vary according to
the priority of contact given to the wire or the scudo.
But though this happens most frequently, yet such
anomalies take place as not to justify us in considering
this singular connection of diversities as by any means ■
certain t.” f Morgan't
Lectures,
Chap. XI. Observations and Experiments on Exci-voL L
tation and Electrical Machines, with the descrip¬
tion of an Electrical Machine in which Silk is em¬
ployed instead of Glass.
Mr Nicholson published in the Phil. Trans, for
1789, some valuable observations on the best means of
excitation, which we shall here extract.
1. A glass cylinder was mounted, and a cushion ap-NichoWe
plied with a silk flap, proceeding from the edge of theexperi-
cushion over its surface, and thence half round the Cy_menls on
linder. The cylinder was then excited by applying anexoltaUoB*
amalgamed leather in the usual manner. The electri¬
city was received by a conductor, and passed off in
sparks.
720
Principles
at Electri-
«ity illus¬
trated by
experiment.
* 11
The silk
flap the
principal
eause of
sxeitalion
sparks to Inane’s electrometer.
these sparks, or by the number of turns required to
cause spontaneous explosion of a jar, the strength of
the excitation was ascertained.
2. The cushion was withdrawn about one inch from
the cylinder, and the excitation performed by the silk
only. A stream of fire was seen between the cushion
and the silk 5 and much fewer sparks passed between
the balls of the electrometer.
3. A roll of dry silk was interposed, to prevent the
stream from passing between the cushion and the silk.
Very few sparks then appeared at the electrometer.
4. A metallic rod, not insulated, was then interposed
instead of the roll of silk, so as not to touch any part
of the apparatus. A dense stream of electricity ap¬
peared between the rod and the silk, and the conductor
gave very many sparks.
5. The knob of a jar being substituted in the place
of the metallic rod, it became charged negatively.
6. The silk alone, with a piece of tinfoil applied
behind it, afforded much electricity, though less than
when the cushion was applied with a light pressure.
The hand being applied to the silk as a cushion, pro¬
duced a degree of excitation seldom equalled by any
other cushion.
7. The edge of the hand answered as well as the
palm.
8. When the excitation by a cushion was weak, a
line of light appeared at the anterior part of the cushion,
and the silk was strongly disposed to receive electricity
from any uninsulated conductor. These appearances
did not obtain when the excitation was by any means
made very strong.
9. A thick silk, or two or more folds of silk, excited
worse than a single very thin flap. He used the silk
which the milliners call Persian.
10. When the silk was separated from the cylin¬
der, sparks passed between them $ the silk was found
to be a weak negative, and the cylinder in a positive
state.
The foregoing experiments show that the office of
the silk is not merely to prevent the return of electri¬
city from the cylinder to the cushion, but that it is the
chief agent in the excitation j while the cushion serves
only to supply the electricity, and perhaps increase the
pressure at the entering part. There likewise seems to
be little reason to doubt but that the disposition of the
electricity to escape from the surface of the cylinder is
not prevented by the interposition of the silk, but by a
compensation after the manner of a charge ; the silk
being then as strongly negative as the cylinder is posi¬
tive 5 and, lastly, that the line of light between the
silk and cushion in weak excitations does not consist of
returning electricity, but of electricity which passes to
the cylinder, in consequence of its not having been
sufficiently supplied during its contact with the rubbing
surface.
II. When the excitation was very strong in a cy¬
linder newly mounted, flashes of light were seen to fly
across its inside, from the receiving surface to the sur¬
face in contact with the cushion, as indicated by the
brush figure. These made the cylinder ring as if struck
with a bundle of small twigs. They seem to have arisen
from part of the electricity of the cylinder taking the
/orm of a charge. This appearance yyas observed in a
ELECTRICITY. Part Hi
B, the frequency of o inch nml a 12-inch cylinder, and the property went Prineipfc
off in a few weeks. Whence it appears to have been ofElectr
chiefly occasioned by the rarity of the internal air pro- City ifltw
duced by handling, and probably restored by gradual
leaking of the cement.
12. With a view to determine what happens in the aia
inside of the cylinder, recourse was had to a plate ma-State of
chine. One cushion was applied with its silken flap.
The plate was 9 inches in diameter and x^ths of an ^
inch thick. During the excitation, the surface oppo- excitatioj
site to the cushion strongly attracted electricity, which detenuik-
it gave out when it arrived opposite to the extremity ofed.
the flap : so that a continual stream of electricity passed
through an insulated metallic bow terminating in balls,
which were opposed, the one to the surface opposite
the extremity of the silk, and the other opposite to the
cushion j the former ball showing positive and the lat¬
ter negative signs. The knobs of two jars being sub¬
stituted in the place of these balls, the jar applied to
the surface opposed to the cushion was charged nega¬
tively, and the other positively. This disposition of
the hack surface seemed, by a few trials, to be weaker,
the stronger the action of the cushion, as judged by the
electricity on the cushion side.
Hence it follows, that the internal surface of a cy¬
linder is so far from being disposed to give out electri¬
city during the friction by which the external surface
acquires it, that it even greedily attracts it.
13. A plate of glass was applied to the revolving
plate, and thrust under the cushion in such a manner
as to supply the place of the silk flap. It rendered the
electricity stronger, and appears to be an improvemenl
of the plate machine.
14. Two cushions were then applied on the opposite
surfaces with their silk flaps, so as to clasp the plate be¬
tween them. The electricity was received from both
by applying the finger and thumb to the opposite sur¬
faces of the plate. When the finger was advanced a
little towards its correspondent cushions, so that its dis¬
tance was less than between the thumb and its cushion,
the finger received strong electricity, and the thumb
none ; and, contrarywise, if the thumbs were advanced
beyond the finger, it received all the electricity, and
none passed to the finger. This electricity was not
stronger than was produced by the good action of one
cushion applied singly.
15. The cushion in experiment 12. gave most elec¬
tricity when the back surface was supplied, provided
that surface was suffered to retain its electricity till the
rubbed surface had given out its electricity. jij
From the two last paragraphs it appears, that no N0 aaY»i
advantage is gained by rubbing both surfaces } but thattage
a well managed friction on one surface will accumulate®
as much electricity as the present methods of excitationgjj#I 0f
seem capable of collecting j but that, when the exci-the plat®
tation is weak, on account of the electric matter notniachis*-
passing with sufficient facility to the rubbed surface,
the friction enables the opposite surface to attract or
receive it, and if it be supplied, both surfaces will pass
off in the positive state ; and either surface will give
out more electricity than is really induced upon it, be¬
cause the electricity of the opposite surface forms a
charge. It may be necessary to observe, that I am
speaking of the facts or effects produced by friction j
but hoyv the rubbing surfaces act upon each other to
produce
Chap. XI. ELECT
Principles of which the attra&ive powei* of the prifne condu&or is
Electricity rendered perceptible on a thread or other pendulous
’b^ex'peri- kocty j or, laftly, the explofion produced from a certain
^tnent. extent of coated furface. The firft of thefe methods is
W-y-—fubjedl to confiderable variation from the circumftances
mentioned in (88.), and the fecond is fubjeft to modi¬
fication both from the ftrufhire of the lefs effential parts
of the machine, and from the dimenfions and figure of
the apartment in which the experiments are made.
1 he laft method is therefore moll generally employed,
and according to this* Mr Nicholfon gives the follow¬
ing eftimate of the comparative power of Van Marum’s
two machines dcfcribed in N° 48, 49.
tite power ^ I-5° turns new machine, 90 jars, each con-
ofVanMa-ta5ning upwards of a fquare foot of coated glafs, were
rum’s ma- charged fo that the battery difcharged itfelf. The
chines. great Teylerian machine, with two plates of fixty-five
inches diameter, in its original ftate, before Dr Van
Marum’s improved rubbers were applied to it, never
charged the fame battery, in the moft favourable cir-
cumftances, in lefs than 66 turns. It follows, there¬
fore, that this fmall and fimple machine exhibited
Trljths, or about of the power of that great ma¬
chine in its firft ftate ; and probably, if the circum-
ftances had been alike favourable in each, it would
have amounted to one half. The dofloi* has grounded
a calculation upon thefe faffs; but as he ftates the rub¬
bed furfaces of thefe two machines, probably by fome
miftake in calculation, to be 1243 an^ 9636 fquare
inches refpe&ively, I lliall repeat the calculation in this
place.
The diameter of the plate is 31 inches, and the
length of the cuftiion 9 inches. Then 31.7854—
31—i-i8|1.7854—522 fquare inches rubbed by one cu-
fhion on one fide. And 522X4=2088 fquare inches
rubbed by the four cuthions. Again, in the great ma¬
chine, the two plates having a diameter of 65 inches,
and eight cuftiiens of 154- inches long, 6y|\7854—
65~311,-7854= 2410.4. And 2410.4 x 8=19283
fquare inches rubbed. But the intenfity of the ele&ric
721
R I C I T Y.
Nicholfon has been led to alter his opinion; and he Principles
now prefers a plate to a cylinder. Electricity
. From confidering the defedts of the ufual methods of llIuftrated
eftimating the power of machines, Mr Cuthbertfon byi^x^ri_
was led to propole the explofion of Heel wire as a pro- «
per meafure ; and he has made feveral experiments to 224
Ibew that this method is the leaft liable to error. Mr Cu^llbert-
Nicholfon has given an account of thefe experiments in ^fe"
his Journal for Auguft 1798 ; but they feem to require meafuring
a repetition and farther extenfion before they can be the power
received as conclufive. of ma-
As glafs, though preferable to all eledlrics that can clunes-
be employed for the purpofes of excitation, from itsSubftitutei
durability and unchangeable nature, is from its brittle-for glafs ia
nefs attended with confiderable expence, various expe- electrical
dients have been thought of to fubftitute in its piace machines,
fome other eledtric in the conftrudtion of eledlrical
machines.
Dr Ingenhoufz, the inventor of the plate machine,
made a variety of experiments for this purpofe. Pafte-
board thoroughly dried and heated, and then foaked
and varnifhed with a folution of amber in linfeed oil,
formed plates which were ftrongly eledlrified when
rubbed with a cat’s fkin or hare’s fkin. He tried baked
wood boiled in linfeed oil, but with lefs fuccefs. A
cylinder of ftrong filk velvet, formed by ftretching that
fubftance upon two circular wooden dilks, was found
to afford confiderable eledlrical force when caufed to
revolve againft a cuftiion covered with hare’s fkin *. * Phil.
power of a machine will be in the compound ratio in-
verfely of the furfaces and number of turns when the
charge is the fame ; or 150 x2088 : 66x19283 :: 1
rrthe intenfity of the larger machine : 4=the inten¬
fity of the fmaller.
To h ave increafed the power of fteady excitation
four-fold, is certainly an aftoniftiing acquifition. This
expreffion, however, of the intenfities appears to be lefs
generally ufeful than that of the ratio of the furface
rubbed, to that which is charged. This laft expreffion
becomes very fimple when the latter quantity is reduced
to r, or unity. Thus, in the two machines here men¬
tioned, the rubbed furfaces in inches for the battery
which are equal to
are
19283x66 ^oSSxi^o
and
*23
ate ma-
90 X144 ’ ”” 9OX144
the fimple numbers 90.5 and 24.0, which refpedlively
denote the number of inches rubbed to charge one inch
of coated glafs.
line Fr?m comPar‘nS t^ie of his own machines in
rabLfto" ^ie degree of excitation with thofe produced by
'ylindri. t5ie great machine at Haarlem, Mr Nicholfon had been
induced to give the preference to the cylinder. From
later experience, however, and the aecount of the ef-
feffls produced by Van Marum’s new machine, Mr
VOL. VII. Part It
* * T ~ w 1 l 11 nare b iKin " . x
And laftly, the fame philofopher contrived a portable
apparatus for charging a jar by means of a varnifhed 177i>'
filk ribband, expofed to the friftion of a rubber at¬
tached to the external coating, while the oppofite elec¬
tricity of- the filk was taken off by a metallic part com¬
municating with the infide.
It was at the beginning of 1784, that M. Walckiers
de St Amand undertook to conftruft a machine, in
which a piece of filk was made to revolve inceffantly,
and pafs between two pair of rubbers. He made one
of fmall dimenfions, and afterwards a larger one, in
which the filk was twenty-five feet in length, and five
feet broad. In the following year M. Rouland, Pro- ^t^nde^
feffor of natural philofophy in the univerfity of Paris, machines
conftrufted a machine of the fame kind f. As the eleElriquc
vantages and effedls of thefe machines appear to a taffetas
confiderable, we fhall here infert the defeription of the^f M‘
latter from Nicholfon’s Journal for December 1798. 0U<2 26'
A, B, fig. 80. is a wooden table four feet and a halfDefcnptio*
long, two feet nine inches wide, and fomewhat moreofalilk
than an inch and a half thick : its feet are 18 inches miich.1”e‘
long. Upon this table are faftened by ftrong wooden CXCIIV.
ferews, a b ed, two crofs pieces, each nine inches broad, fig. So,
which carry the uprights C, D, E, F, which laft are.27
inchesinheight. Atabouttwo-tbirds ormoreof the height
of thefe uprights, there are cut notches of an inch fquare
each, in which the axes of the two cylinders G and H
turn freely. Thefe axes are parallel to the table and to
each other, and are kept in their place by clamps of
wood ferewed over them. The cylinders G and H are
formed of light wood glued together, and covered at
the ends by a circular piece, wTofe rounded edges arife
half an inch above the furface of the cylinders them-
felves. Their diameter is eight inches ; the axes are of
box-wood, and are lefs than an inch in diameter, hav¬
ing a (boulder which prevents the ends of the cylinders
4 ^ freui
'22
ELECTRICITY.
illuftrated
by experi¬
ment.
Principles of from touching the uprights when turned round j and
Electricity laftly, the cylinders are covered with ferge.
The handle is copper, its radius being fix inches
long.
, K, L, is a piece of taffety covered with oily and re-
finous matter, of the fame kind as is ufed in France in
the conftruflion of air-balloons, which M. Rouland
fays, renders the filk very eleftrical: the breadth of the
filk is nearly one inch lefs than the length of the cy¬
linders, and it is wrapped round them with its ends
fewed together.
The whole breadth of the filk is taken hold of or
pinched between two flattened tin tubes oppofite each
other at M, and two of the fame kind at N : thefe are
the rubbers, and may be made to prefs againft each
other, more or lefs ftrongly,by means of fcrews. They
are retained by firings of filk fattened to the four up¬
rights of the machine, v v are two brafs chains hook¬
ed upon the rubbers, and communicating with the earth ;
o p and q r are four pieces of taffety, prepared in the
fame manner as the principal piece, fewed in the direc¬
tion of their length to the rubbers, and faftened to
each other by their correfponding corners by means of
threads of filk. The metallic tubes or rubbers are co¬
vered with cat’s fkin.
S reprefents the conduflor. It is a cylinder of brafs
three inches in diameter, 36 inches in length, including
the balls at the end, whofe diameters are four inches :
one of thefe balls has a ring, t, above it, which ferves
to form a communication between the conductor S and
any other conduftor.
The upper and lower parts of this cylindrical prime
condu6lor are armed with two plates of brafs yy, whofe
length is equal and correfpondent to the breadth of the
taffety, which is 26 inches, and 132 inches or II feet
long : the edges of the plates are about half an inch
diftant from the filk, and ferve inftead of the metallic
points that were ufed by M. Walckiers, but rejedled
by M. Rouland, becaufe they were apt to flick into the
filk and damage it.
The conductor S isfufpended by filk firings, faftened
to the uprights of the machine by the hooks and rings
ii: its fituation is parallel to the cylinders G, H, and
equidiflant from each. The aftion of this machine is
as follows: The cylinder H is moved rapidly on its
axis by means of the handle, and the cylinder G moves
of courfe in the fame direftion on the two extremities
of its axis, provided the taffety K, L, be properly
ftretched. This tenfion is eafily obtained j becaufe the
crofs pieces to which the uprights C, D, and E, F, are
fixed, may be moved nearer or further from each other,
and faftened by means of the fcrews a b and c d, which
pafs through holes cut in the direflion of the table.
The rotation of the cylinders neceffarily producing
a circulation of the taffety, it muft confequently be
rubbed in its paffage between the tin tubes covered
with cat’s fkin at M and N •, and by this fri£tion it ob¬
tains what is called the negative ele£lricity, which is
communicated from both parts of the filk to the com¬
mon condu&or S. But it may be made to ele£lrify
pofitively, by removing the rubbers to the middle of
the filk, fo that the prime conduftor may communicate
with them : or, if the two cufhions be removed to half
the diftance between the revolving cylinders and the
prime conductor, pofitive and negative electricity may
Part III.
be had at the fame time, the rubbers being in a nega- prmciplesof
live ftate, and the prime conduftor in a pofitive ftate. Eleftricity
The advantages of a machine of this conftrudtion ,lluftrated
beyond thofe of glafs are ftated by the inventor to be, ^J*1*"*
I. It is not brittle in any part. 2. Its excitation is * _j
more fteady, becaufe it requires no amalgam. 3. ItS'
dimenfions have no limit.
The power of excitation in this way appears to have
been very confiderable. The faCls are not related with
fo much detail as could be wilhed in the report of the
academy j but it appears that, the negative (parks from
the conductor of Walckiers, which was five feet long,
were from 15 to ly inches in length, very loud and
denfe, and very painful to the hand j that pointed bo¬
dies emitted very fenfible fparks to the conductor; and
that a battery of 50 fquare feet was charged by 30
turns of the machine, which gives 19 feet of filk rub¬
bed to charge one foot of glafs *. In another inltance,* See PhiH
however, it is faid, that a fquare foot was charged by Journal,
one turn of the machine, which anfvvered to 314 fquare1- 87‘
feet of filk. It is not laid whether the labour of turn¬
ing was confiderable or not.
M. Rouland made fevtral trials to fubftitute plain
filk inftead of that which was varniftitd j and he alfo
tried woollens and mixed cloth containing goat’s hair j
but none of thefe anfwered to his latisiaClion.
227
Chap. XII. Of the EleElric Properties of Air.
We have ranked air among the eleClrics, but it will Heated air
be feen by the table of eledric fubftances given in page fald 10 be ®
646. that it is but an imperfeft eleftric. We have ob-con u or,
ferved at the beginning of this part, that it may even
become a conductor by being impregnated with moif-
ture. It is alfo found that when air is heated to a con¬
fiderable degree, it becomes a conduftor j this, accord¬
ing to Cavallo, may be (hewn by the following experi¬
ment. Eleftrify a common ball eleClrometer, or the
prime conduCtor with Henley’s quadrant electrometer
placed upon it; the balls will, of courfe, feparate from
each other, or the index of the quadrant will denote
the degree of eleClricity communicated to the prime
condu&or. Now bring a red-hot iron within a fuffici-
ent diftance of the eleCtromeier or the prime conduftor,
and it will be found that they foon lofe their eleClricity,
it being condufted away by the heated air that fur-
rounds the iron : that the heated iron is the caufe of
the lofs of elearieity may be proved, by repeating the
experiment with the fame iron when cold, as in this cafe
it will be found that the elearometer of the conduaor
will not lofe its ekaricity fo foon, unlefs the iron be
brought very near.
Mr Read made the following experiment to prove
that hot air is not a conduaor. _ 218
“ It has been,” fays Mr Read, “ commonly faid, This denied
that hot air conduas ekaricity. With a view to af- by Mr
certain this matter, the following experiments wereRea
made. To one end of a long piece of wood (which
ferved as a handle), was fixed a glafs rod fifteen inches
long j to the remote end of the glafs was fixed a pith-
ball ekarometer. Having ekarified the balls, I held
them by the wood handle, and projeaed them into a
large oven, immediately after the fire was drawn out of
it j the confequence was, that when I performed the
operation (lowly, the balls loft their ekaricity j but
Chap. XII.
ELECTRICITY.
Principles of that when done quick, with as little delay as poflible*
Electricity their eleftric charge was not diminilhed. The lofs of
j" electricity in the firfl. cafe, was found to have efcaped
a^ong the glafs into the wooden handle, and fo to the
earth, owing to the great heat the glafs rod had acquir¬
ed, by which it became a conductor of the fluids $ for
Until it had cooled a little, the balls could not be char¬
ged again.
“ I lhall lay before the reader one circumftance more,
becaufe it may tend to throw light on what degree of
heat the oven was in at the time the obfervations were
made. The baker having pointed out to me the hot-
teft part of the oven j with a quick motion in and out,
I plunged the ele&rified balls into that part of it, by
which one thread ball was burned off, but the remain¬
ing ball ftiewed that it ftill retained its eleClric charge,
becaufe it was ftrongly attraCled on the approach of my
72.
finge
exciting
air.
I .
Fri&ion.
*3*
Evapora¬
tion.
* Read's
fummary
Dtevj of .
fpontaneoui Air, as an electric, may be eledtrified either by ex-
eleElncity. citation or by communication.
229 Ajr may be excited by any circumftance which tends
cans o pn)Cjuce motion among its particles j as by fridlion,
evaporation, heat and cold, expanfion and contradlion,
and by any chemical proceflcs in which thefe circum-
ftances are produced.
1. That air may be excited by fridtion was fufticient-
ly ftiown by the experiments related to demonftrate the
fenfibility of Bennet’s eledlrometer j by thefe experi¬
ments it appeared, that whenever a cloud of duft, or
powder was raifed in the air furrounding the eledtrome-
ter, the flips of gold leaf, by their feparation, manifefted
figns of eledfricity, which muft doubtlefs have been
produced by the attradlion of the particles of duft or
powder againft the particles of air.
2. Air may be rendered eledlrical by the vapour or
fmoke which rifes into it from evaporating or burning
fubftanccs. At the end of the firfl; part of this article,
we noticed, in a general way, Sig. Volta’s experiments
on the ele&ricity produced by evaporation ; we mull
'now confider this fubjedl rather more at large. The
produdlion of eledlricity by evaporation, may be ftiown
by the following experiments.
Exper. 1. Upon the cap of Bennet’s eledlrometer c,
fig. 81. place a metallic cup containing a little water j
drop into the water a red hot coal, or a red-hot piece
of clean iron ; a Vapour will arife from the water, and
the ftrips of gold leaf n n will diverge with ftrong ne¬
gative eledlricity. If, at the fame time, an iron wire p,
fixed to a rod of glafs or fealing-wax, with a common
ball eledlrometer hanging from its extremity, be held
by the glafs or fealing-wax in the air, at a little difi
tance above the cup, the balls d will be found to di¬
verge with pofitive eledlricity.
Exper. 2. Let there be two of the above eledlrome-
ters, as A, B, fig. 8 2.5 upon the cap of the eledlrometer
B, place a metallic cup d, as in the laft experiment,
and into the cap of the eledlrometer A, let there be
fcrewed a bent wire m, with a piece of tin s foldered
to its other extremity. If now, the eledlrometer B
with its metallic cup be placed immediately below the
tin r, and a cullender c, containing a few live coals,
be held over the cup, and if water be poured from the
jug upon the coals in the cullender, fo as to fall into
the metal cup, the flips of gold leaf in both eledlrome-
ters will diverge j thofe of the eledlrometer B, with
Plato
IXCIV.
%. *i.
jg. 82.
negative eleftricity, and thofe of the eledlrometer A, Prrncioles of
with pofitive eledlricityi Eiedldcity
1 he experiments on the eledlricity produced by eva- derated
poration, may be very conveniently made by heating ex')e“"
the fmall end of a pretty long tobacco pipe, and pour- m "t' f
mg water into the bowl of it j the water running down
to the heated part, which ftiould be held over the cap
of Bennet’s eledlrometer, is fuddenly expanded into va¬
pour, and the flips of gold leaf will feparate with ne¬
gative eledlricity.
In the a Dove experiment it has been feen, that theThedSc-
elettrometer from which the vapour arofe, was alwaystnCit>'of
eledlrified negatively $ from having obferved this to (Jg ®va?0rating
always the cafe in his experiments, Sig. M. Voltaalulys ncl
confidered it as a general law. Mr Cavallo, however,game,
mentions fome experiments made by a proteffor at Man¬
tua, and by himfelf, which leem to contradidl this fup-
pofition.
All the experiments, (fays Mr Cavallo), made on
evaporation for fome years after this difcovery, were at¬
tended with refillts conformable to the above-mentioned
general law ; but two remarkable exceptions have of
late been difcovered, which, befides their contradia-
ing the faid law, feem to point out a more intimate
conneaion between the elearic fluid and other bodies.
The firll of thefe exceptions was difcovered and pub-
liftied three years ago, by a learned profeffor of the
academy of Mantua 5 the fecond was very lately dif-
covered by rnyfelf.
The Mantuan profeffor obferved, that when water
was evaporated by being put in contadl with a red-hot
piece of rufty iron, it would leave the iron eletfrified
pofitively j whereas when the experiment was tried with
a clean piece of iron, the electricity acquired by the
metal would be of the negative kind.
Wnen I {hit attempted to repeat this curious experi¬
ment, the refult did by no means anfwer my expecta¬
tions j the electricity, which was produced being of
the negative, and not of the pofitive kind j but obferv-
mg that fometimes no fenfible degree of electricity was
produced, though the evaporation was very quick and
copious, I began to fufpect that the iron, which I had
employed, was not fufficiently covered wjth ruft, in
confequence of which two oppofite dates of electricity
might poflibly be produced, viz. the negative from the
clean, and the pofitive from the rufty part of the iron :
which two oppofite dates, by counteracting each other"
would leave the iron unelectrrfied. After various re¬
petitions of this experiment, in which the red.hot iron
was thrown into the infulated water, or the water was
poured upon the red-hot and infulated iron, I found
that this was actually the cafe.
I procured fome old iron nails, which had remained
expofed to the atmofphere for feveral years, and of
courfe had contracted a very thick coat of ruft ; and on
performing the experiment with them, I obtained pofi¬
tive electricity, agreeably to the affertion of the above-
mentioned gentleman. The fame nail very feldora
would anfwer for more than one experiment ; for the
action of the fire and of the water generally removed a
great deal of the ruft, and exhibited the naked metal,
which would afterwards acquire the negative electricity.
Here follows the manner of performing this remarkable
experiment.
Infulate a metallic or earthen plate, and pour a
4^2 fmall
724
electricity.
Part ill.
Princinlesoffmall quantity of water in It, and let a fenfible elearo-
Ele<5lricit> meter be connected with the water; ^ien <^ri°P ^ re
iiluftrated jlot; pjece 0f Jron into the plate, and it will be found,
by exptri- tl)at1 ;f very rufty iron he ufed, the elearometer will
. .m"nt be opened with pofitive ekaricity ; if the iron be clean,
or free from ruff, the elearometer will acquire the ne¬
gative elearicity ; and laftly, if the iron be partially
rufty, the elearometer will acquire little or no eleari¬
city, though in every cafe the evaporation may be equal¬
ly quick and copious. #
The other exception of the above-mentioned general
law is fhown by means of red-hot glafs, which I chan¬
ced to difcover very lately. The various degrees of
elearic power that are produced by the evaporation of
water from different fubftances induced me to diverfify
the experiments as much as I. could, in order to d*1*
cover, if poflible, the reafon why thofe different effedts
took place when the evaporation feemed to be equally
quick and copious. Among!! other lubftances, I tried
glafs, and found that it generally produced little or no
elearicity. The water was fometimes poured upon the
hot glafs, but in general the hot glafs was dropped into
the infulated water, which was contained in a tin cup.
However, the difference of effea was found not to be
occafioned by thofe two different modes of proceeding.
Having repeated this experiment a great many times, I
at laft found, that the effea depended on the different
nature of the glafs. If white and clean flint glafs be
made red hot, and in that ftate be dropped into the vef-
fel of water, a quick evaporation will enfue, and the
veffel is elearified pofitively. If the flint glafs be not
very clear, there will not be any elearicity generated
by the evaporation, &c. And laftly, if the experi¬
ment be tried with more impure glafs, as the glafs of
which wine bottles are made, the negative elearicity
will be produced. _ . . .
In performing this experiment, it is neceffary to take
care that no pieces of coal adhere to the glafs, which
will frequently happen when a piece of glafs is heated
in a common fire ; for in that cafe negative elearicity
will be produced by the evaporation, though the beft
flint glafs is ufed.
It has frequently happened, in the courfe of my ex¬
periments, that no elearicity whatever has been pro¬
duced by the evaporation of water from certain fubftan¬
ces ; however, as in thofe cafes the evaporation was
not very copious, I attributed the deficiency of eleari¬
city to the weaknefs of the evaporation. But a very
remarkable inftance of this fort is mentioned in the dif-
fertation of the above mentioned ingenious profeffor.
He flaked 25 pounds weight of quicklime with a fuf-
ficient quantity of water, and though a very copious
evaporation took place, yet it was not attended with
any elearicity. Should any perfon fufpect, that the
deficiency of electricity in this experiment was owing
to the want of burning coals or actual fire, he. fliould
confider, that in other fimilar proceffes electricity is
produced without any actual fire ; thus the evaporation,
which is occafioned by the effervefcence of iron filings
in diluted vitriolic acid, produces negative electricity.
After a careful examination of the above mentioned
experiments, the origin of the electricity, which is ob
fervtd in the evaporation of water and other evaporanle
fubftanees, whether folid or fluid, feems not to be re-
«oncileable to the general law already noticed, nor can
I form any plaufible theory that can be fufficient to ac- Principlesof
count for all the phenomena. If the production of Eiedlricify
electricity in thofe experiments depended upon the in- Lu^d
creafed or diminiflied capacity of water for holding the meilt>
electric fluid, it Humid feem to be immaterial whether  
the water be evaporated in one way or in another, pro¬
vided the evaporation be made with equal quickncfs
and in equal quantities. Were it not known that glafs
or iron made red-hot produces no electricity in cooling,
we might fufpeet, that the electricity, which is produ¬
ced by the evaporation of water, may be counteracted
by the contrary electricity, which is produced by tbe
cooling of glafs or iron ; but it has been obferved by
feveral ingenious perfons, that red-hot glafs and^red-
hot iron produce no electricity whatever when fuffered
to cool upon infulated ftaads.
It has been found that electricity promotes evapo¬
ration. This may be proved by the following _ *33
Exper. Upon the prime conductor of an electrical Evapora-
machine, place a (hallow metallic difh, as a pewter
plate, containing a fmall quantity of water ; and let a tricity,
fimilar di(h, containing fuch a quantity of water as that
the two difties may exactly counterpoife each other, be
placed on a table at a diftance from the machine. Now
fet the machine in motion, and after a certain time has
elapied, place the two difties again in the fcales, and it
will be found that the difli which flood on the prime
conductor is lighter than the other, evidently ihowing
that more of the water has been evaporated.
This experiment might with more propriety have
been given when defcribing the chemical effects of the
electric power. .
We (hall return to this fubject, under Atmofphsncal
E/eBricily, to which the confideration of the other cir-
eumftances effecting the electricity of air by excitation,
more properly belongs. ... 234
Air may be electrified by communication in two Method of
ways; by Jimple eleBrijication, as it is called, or by ekarifyinj
chareine a ftratum of it fituated between two conduct-the airot*
7 & a room,
ing luriaces.
Exper. 1.—Fix two or three pointed needles into
the prime conductor of an electrical machine, and fet
the glafs in motion fo as to keep the prime conductor
electrified for feveral minutes. If now, an electrome¬
ter be brought within the air that is contiguous to the
prime conductor, it will exhibit figns of electricity, and
this air will continue electrified for fome time, even af¬
ter the machine has been removed into another room.
The air, in this cafe, is electrified pofitively ; it may¬
be negatively electrified by fixing the needles in the
negative conductor while infulated, and making a
communication between the prime conductor and the
table, by means of a chain or other conducting fubftance.
The air of a room may be electrified in another way.
Charge a large jar, and infulate it; then connect two
or more fliarp pointed wires or needles, with the knob
of the jar, and connect the outfide coating of the jar
with the table. If the jar be charged pofitively, the
air of the room will foon become pofitively electrified
likewife ; but if the iar be charged negatively, the
electricity communicated by it to the air, will become
alfo negative. A charged jar being held in one hand,
and the flame of an infulated candle held in the other,
being brought near the knob of the jar, will alfo pro¬
duce the fame effect.
Chap. XIT.
Principie^of A ftratum of air may be charged in the fame man-
[Elednciry ner as a plate of glafs, when its oppofite furfaces are
Placed iri contaa with metallic plates which ferve as a
^ment. coating to the plate of air.
I' V   To perform this experiment, take two circular boards,
I 23S . each three or four feet in diameter, made perfedly
•hamnlt fmootlb and th^ir edges rounded ; coat one fide of each
charging- a ^ ^^‘-****-*'-u ? uiic uu
plate of air. ^oard with tinfoil, fo that it may be turned up over
the edge of the board, and let it be bumifhed fo as to
render it as fmooth as poflible. Thefe boards muft be
placed, with their coated fides parallel to each other,
horizontally, and fo that they may be fet at a greater
or fmaller diftance, and they muft both be infulated.
For this purpofe, it is moft convenient to fix one of the
boards on a ftrong fupport of glafs or baked wood, and
to fufpend the other by filken firings from the ceiling
of the room, from which it may be raifed or lowered
by a proper pulley, fo as to be placed at the required
diftance from the lower board.
The boards being thus placed in their fituation, at
the diftance of about an inch from each other, on their
being electrified, the ftratum of air, interpofed between
them, will prefent phenomena fimilar to thofe of a
plate of glafs under the fame circumftances. On con¬
necting one of the boards with the prime conductor,
while the other is infulated, the air will receive no
charge, agreeably to what was remarked of an infulated
Leyden phial. But if, while one of the boards is elec¬
trified from the prime conductor, the other be made to
communicate with the earth or other conducting bodies,
the plate of air will receive a charge, and when the*
communication between the boards is completed by
conductors, an explofion will take place. The explo,
fion in this cafe, however, is by no means fo remarkable
as that which is produced from an equal furface of
coated glafs, for reafons which will be explained here¬
after.
The experiment of charging a plate of air was firft
made by M. ./Epinus and M. Wilcke, who being at
Berlin together, jointly made feveral experiments.
Iwexpe- They made feveral experiments to give the electric
ide by ft hy means of aIr> and at length fucceeded by fuf-
pinus pending large boards of wood covered with tin, with the
I Wilcke. flat fides parallel to one another, and at fome inches
afunder ; for they found, that upon electrifying one of
the boards pofitively, the other was always negative.
But the difcovery was made complete and indifputable
by a perfon touching one of the ’plates with one bandj
and bringing his other hand to the other plate ; for he
then received a (hock through his body, exactly like
that of the Leyden experiment.
With this plate of air, they made a variety of curi¬
ous experiments. The two metal plates, being in op¬
pofite ftates, ftrongly attracted each other, and would
have rulhed together, if they had not been kept afun¬
der by firings. Sometimes the electricity of both
would be difcharged by a ftrong fpark between them,
as when a pane of glafs burfts with too great a charge;
A finger put between them promoted the difcharge,
and felt the (hock. If an eminence was.madfi on either
of the plates, the felf difcharge would always be made
*)■ . . through it, and a pointed body fixed upon either of
Xiamen. them Prevented their being charged at all *.
At the end of the table of conductors given in pacre
646. it was obferved that a Torricellian vacuum was a
ELECTRICITY. 725
non-conductor of ele£lricity. Some experiments were Principlesof
made by Mr Walfh, which proved the perfect imper-Eledlricity
meability of a vacuum by the eledlric light. But the ’Huftrated
moft complete experiments on this fubjedl are thofe of by experi“
Mr W. Morgan and Mr Cavallo. The following are ^ f
Mr Morgan’s experiments.
A mercurial gage B, fig. 83. about 15 inches long, Mr Mor-
carefully and accurately boiled, till every particle of air gan’s expe-
was expelled from the infide, was coated with tin foil,rimenU on
*3<J
five inches down from its fealed end (A), and being in-coiidudl'inff
verted into mercury through a perforation D, in the power of a
brafs cap E, which covered the mouth of the ciftern Perfedl va«
H; the whole was cemented together, and the air wascl!um-
exhaufted from the infide of the ciftern through a valve
C, in the brafs cap £ juft mentioned 5 which producing:
a peifefl; vacuum in the gage B, afforded an inftrument
peculiarly well adapted for experiments of this kind.
I hings being thus adjufted, a fmall wire, F, having
been previoufly fixed on the infide of the ciftern, to
form a communication between the brafs cap £, and.
the mercury G, into which the gage was inverted 3 the
coated end A was applied to the conductor of an elec¬
trical machine 3 and, notwithftanding every effort, nei¬
ther the fmalleft ray ot light, nor the flighteft charge,
could ever be procured in this exhaufted gage. It is
well known, that if a giafs tube be exhaufted by an
air-pump, and coated on the outfide, both light and a
charge may very readily be procured. If the mercury
in the gage be imperfe6My boiled, the experiment will
not fucceed 3 but the colour of the ele&ric light, which,
in air rarefied by an exhaufter, is always violet or pur¬
ple, appears in this cafe of a beautiful green 3 and what
is very curious, the degree of the air’s rarefaction may¬
be nearly determined by this means. There have been
inftances known, in a courfe of experiments, where a
fmall particle of air having found its way into the tube
B, the eleCtric light became vifible, and as ufual of a
green colour3 but the charge being often repeated, the
gage has at length cracked at its fealed end, and in con-
fequence the external air, by being admitted into the
infide, has gradually produced a change in the eleCtric
from green to blue, from blue to indigo, and fo
on to violet and purple, till the medium has at laft be¬
come fo denfe, as no longer to be a conductor of elec¬
tricity. There can be little doubt, from the above
experiments, of the non-conduCiing power of a perfeCl
vacuum 3 and this faCl is ftill more ftrongly confirmed
by the phenomena which appear upon the admiflion of
a very minute particle of air into the infide of the gage.
In this cafe, the whole becomes immediately luminous,
upon the flighteft application of eleCtricity, and a charge
takes place, which continues to grow more and more
powerful, in proportion as frefli air is admitted, till the
denfity of the conducting medium arrives at its maxi-;
mum, which it always does when the colour of the elec¬
tric light is indigo or violet. Under thefe circumftances,
the charge may be fo far increafed, as frequently to
break the glafr. In fome tubes, which have not been
completely boiled, they will not conduCt the eleCtric
fluid, when the mercury is fallen vary low in them j
yet upon letting in air into the ciftern H, fo that the
mercury (hall rife in the gage B, the eleCtricity, which
•was before latent in the infide, ftiallno.w become vifible,
and as the mercury continues to rife, and of confe-
quence the medium is rendered lefs rare, the light foalL
grow. /
726
ELECTRICITY.
Part HI.
433
Surprifing
eafe with
which an
exhaufted
tube may
Principles of niore and more vifible, and the gage fhall at laft
.Eledlricity be charged, notwithftanding it has not been near an
illuftrated eleftrical machine for two or three days. This feems
by experi- to prove> tiiat there is a limit, even in the rarefaction of
. ment air, which fets bounds to its condu&ing power ; or, in
* other words, that the particles of air may be fo far fe-
. parated from each other, as no longer to be able to
tranfmit the electricity j that if they are brought within
a certain diftance of each other, their conducting power
begins, and continually increafes, till their approach
alfo arrives at its limit, when the particles again be¬
come fo near, as to refilt the paffage of the eledtricity
entirely, without employing violence, which is the cafe
in common and condenfed air, but more particularly in
the latter.
It is furprifing to obferve, how readily an exhaufted
tube is charged with eledtricity. By placing it at ten
or twelve inches from the condudtor, the light may be
luue may ^een pervading its infide, and as ftrong a charge may
be charged fometimes be procured, as if it were in contadt with the
with elec- conductor. Nor does it fignify how narrow the bore of
tnsity. the glaf3 may be. for even a thermometer tube, having
the minuteft perforation poftible, will charge with the
utmoft facility ; and in this experiment, the phenomena
are peculiarly beautiful.
Let one end of a thermometer tube be fealed herme¬
tically *, let the other end be cemented into a brafs cap
with a valve, or into a brafs cock, fo that it may be
fitted to the plate of an air-pump. When it is exhauft¬
ed, let the fealed end be applied to the condudtor of an
eledtrical machine, while the other end is either held in
the hand, or conncdted to the floor. Upon the flighteft
excitation, the eledtricity will accumulate at the fealed
end, and be difcharged through the infide in the form
of a fpark ; and this accumulation and difcharge may
be inceffantly repeated, till the tube is broken. By this
means, a fpark 42 inches long may be procured ; and
if a proper tube could be found, we might have a (park
three or four times that length ; if, inftead of the fealed
end, a bulb be blown at that extremity of the tube, the
eledlrie light will fill the whole of that bulb, and then
pafs through the tube in the form of a brilliant fpark,
as in the foregoing experiment; though in this cafe, the
charge, after a few trials, will make a fmall perforation
in the bulb. If, again, a thermometer, filled with mer¬
cury, be inverted into a ciftern, and the air exhaufted
in the manner before defcribed for making the experi¬
ment with the gage, a Torricellian vacuum will be pro¬
duced ; and now the eledfric light in the bulb, as well
as the fpark in the tube, will be of a vivid green j but
the bulb will not bear a frequent repetition of charges
before it is perforated in like manner as when it has
been exhaufted by an air-pump It can hardly be ne-
celfary to obferve, that in thefe cafes the eledtricity
affumes the appearance of a fpark, (F) from the nar-
rownefs of the paffage through which it forces its way.
If a tube, 40 inches long, be fixed into a globe eight or
nine inches in diameter, and the whole be exhaufted,
the eledtricity, after palling in the form of a brilliant
fpark throughout the length of the tube, will, when it
gets into the infide of the globe, expand itfelf in all Principles of
diredtions, entirely filling it with a violet and purple Eledtricity
light, and exhibiting a itriking inftance of the vaft J)llueftxraet^
elafticity of the elearic power.
Mr Morgan conclude? his remarks with ar.know-. ^
ledging his obligations to Mr Brooke of Norwich
for communicating to him his method of making mer¬
curial gages. ... . , • *33
Mr Brooke’s method of making mercurial gages is Mr
nearly as follows : Let a glafs tube L (fig* 84.), lealed Brooke’s
hermetically at one end, be bent into a right angle with-^®^.° 0
in two or three inches of the other end. At the mercurial
of about an inch or lefs from the angle, let a bulb K, ofgages,
about three-fourths of an inch in diameter, be blown in
the curved end, and let the remainder ot this part of the
tube be drawn out /, fo as to befufficiently long to take
hold of when the mercury is boiling. The bulb A is
defigned as a receptacle tor the mercury, to prevent its
boiling over ; and the bent figure of the tube is adapt¬
ed for its inverfion into the ciftern: for by breaking off
the tube at M within an eighth or a fourth part ot an
inch of the angle, the open end ot the gage may be
held perpendicular to the horizon when it is dipped in¬
to the mercury in the ciftern, without obliging us to
bring our finger or any other fubftance into contadt with
the mercury in the gage, which never fails to render the
inftrument imperfeft. It is neceffary to obferve, that if
the tube be 14 or 15 inches long, it will be impoflible
to boil it effeftually for the experiments mentioned
above in lefs than three or four hours, although Mr
Brooke feems to preferibe a much ftiorter dme for the
purpofe •, nor will it even then fucceed, unlefs the
greateft attention be paid that no bubbles of air lurk
behind, which is frequently the cafe : but experience
has taught how to guard pretty well againlt this dilap-
pointment, particularly by taking care that the tube be
completely dry before the mercury is put into it ; for
if this caution be not obferved, the inftrument can ne¬
ver be made perfedt. There is, however, one evil which
it is fufticient to remedy j and that is, the incrodudtion
of air into the gage, owing to the unboiled mercury in
the ciftern : for when the gage has been a few times
exhaufted, the mercury which originally filled it be¬
comes mixed with that into which it is inverted, and in
confequence the vacuum is rendered lefs and lefs per-
fedf, till at laft the inftrument is entirely (polled.
Mr Cavallo’s experiments were made with an excel¬
lent air-pump, which is defcribed in the 73d volume of
the Philofophical Tranfadlions. _
The following is the refult of Mr Cavallo’s experi- f^r cavai.
merits, as given by himfelf. _ lo’s expert-
“ From thefe experiments it appears, firft, that inm^'t'011
the utmoft rarefadfion that can be effedted by the belt
air pump, which amounts to about one thoufand, both
the eledtric light and the eledtric attradlion, though
veiy weak, are ftill obfervable ; but, fecondly, that the
attradlion and rtpulfion of eledtricity become weaker
in proportion as the air is more rarefied, and in the
fame manner the intenfity of the light is gradually di-
minilhed. Now, by reafoning on this analogy, wt- may
conclude,
ut
llalel
ntuun
fair
®;e fc
aeobf
ms,
141
hod
iten-
pm
tend
■ n. i
t*n.
3
hl<
it in
rids
rietift
(dt,
(F) By cementing the firing of a guitar into one end of the thermometer tube, a (park may be obtained, *5
well as if the tuoe had been fealed hermetically.
[tiap. XIII.
ELECTRICITY.
mciples of conclude, that both the attra£Uon and the light will
)=£lricity ceafe in a perfedt abfence of air 5 but this will never
iL'ftrated acc0unt for this perfect vacuum ever becoming a non-
' expen- concju^or 0f eleftricity j however, the faft feems to be
‘ . fully afcertained by Mr Walfh and Mr Morgan, and
the only thing that remains to be done is to inveftigate
the caufe of fo remarkable a property.”
Experiments on the aftion of electrics in vacuo had
been long ago made by Mr Boyle and Mr Gray 5 but
as the vacuum that they were able to produce was very
imperfect, it is not furprifing that they could perceive
no difference whether the body was expofed in the open
air or confined within an exhautted receiver.
Chap. XIII. Of the means of afcertaining fmall de¬
grees of Electricity.
727
241
Hal elec-
timeters
mfiifti-
citiy de-
liu.e for
n4 dofer-
vriuns.
*. teier*/
yha. for
lT •
v 43
E*s n-
ffif s
whli led
to e in-
ve son of
Vr i’s
witnfer.
®W;ity of
toaauftors.
In the courfe of this part of our article we have al¬
ready defcribed many inftruments for afcertaining the
prefence of ele3:ricity ; and one of thefe, Bennet's Elec¬
trometer, has been (hewn to be exceedingly fenfible.
But on a nicer examination it has been found, that in
the courfe of experiments, as well as in obfervations on
natural eleftricity to be related hereafter, the quantity
or degree of electricity is fo minute, as not to be fenfi¬
ble by means even of this delicate inftrument, and is
yet capable of being rendered fufficientiy obvious by
other means. Thefe means we are now to defcribe.
Moft of the means which have been devifed for
rendering fenfible minute degrees of eledtricity have
been fuggefted by the effects of Volta’s eledtrophorus.
The firft procefs employed for this purpofe was in¬
vented by Profeffor Lichtenberg, and the fame thought
feems to have occurred to Dr Klincock of Prague.
It was performed by means of two refinous plates like
thofe of the common eleftrophorus, and one metallic
plate with an infulating handle. One of the refinous
plates was firft excited by flight friCtion, and it was
then employed to communicate eleftricity to the me¬
tallic plate, which was in its turn made to communi¬
cate eleiffricity to the other refinous plate. The elec¬
tricity poffeffed by this latter plate was now com¬
municated to the metallic plate : this was again con¬
veyed to the firft refinous plate, of which it increafed
the eleCtricity by communication. By repeatedly ap¬
plying the metallic plate to each of the refinous plates,
without bringing them in contaCt, the eleCtricity at firfi:
excited was accumulated till it became fufficientiy
fenfible to an ordinary eleCtrometer *.
The next method employed was that of the cele¬
brated Volta, or the condenfer. But before we de¬
fcribe the apparatus and the mode of ufing it, it is
neceffary that we ffiould give a brief account of the ex¬
periments which led to the invention.
Mr Volta found that conductors of the fame ffiape
were capable of containing more or lefs eleCMcity, as
their furfaces are left or more influenced by homologous
atrnofpheres; and that the capacity of a conductor of
the fame thape and furface was increafed, when, inftead
of bfdng infulated, they were, while infulated, pre-
fented to another conductor not infulated, and this in-
creafe became more confpicuous according as the two
conductors were larger, or approached nearer to each
other.
When an infulated conductor is thus prefented to Principles of
any other conductor, Signior Volta calls it a Conjugate Electricity
Conductor. > iiluftrated
In order to ffiew by experiment the above-mention-
ed property or increafe of capacity in a conductor, take „ ^ ,
the metal plate of an eleCtrophorus, and holding it by 244
its infulating handle in the air, eleCtrify it fo high, as Conjugate
that the index of an eleCtrometer annexed to it might t;ondu<^or°
be elevated to 6o°j then lowering this metal plate by
degrees towards a table or other conducting plain fur-
face, you will obferve that the index of the eleCtrome¬
ter will fall gradually from 6o° to 50°, 40°, 30°, Sec.
Notwithftanding this appearance, the quantity of elec¬
tricity in the plate remains the fame, except the faid
plate be brought fo near the table as to occafion a
tranfmiffion of the eleCtricity from the former to the
latter; at leaft the quantity of eleCtricity will remain
as much the fame as the dampnefs of the air, &c. will
permit. The decreafe, therefore, of intenfity is owing
to the increafed capacity of the plate, which is now con¬
jugate, viz. oppofed to another conducting furface. In.
proof of which, remove gradually the metal plate from
the table, and it will be found that the eleCtrometer
rifes again to its former ftation, namely to 6o°, except¬
ing the lofs of that quantity of eleCtricity, which du¬
ring the experiment muft have been imparted to the
air.
The two following experiments will throw more
light upon the reciprocal aCtion of the eleCtric atmo-
fpheres. Firft, fuppofe two flat conductors, eleCtrified
both pofitively or both negatively, to be prefented to¬
wards, and to be gradually brought near, each other $
it will appear, by two annexed electrometers, that the
nearer thofe two conductors come to each other, the
more their intenfities will increafe ; which ffiews, that
either of the two conjugate conductors has a much lefs
capacity now, than when it was fingly infulated, and
out of the influence of the other.
Secondly, let the preceding experiment be repeated^
with this variation only, viz. that one of the flat con¬
ductors be eleCtrified pofitively, and the other negative¬
ly : the effeCts then will be juft the reverfe of the pre¬
ceding ; viz. the intenfities of their electricities will
be diminiffied, becaufe their capacities are increaled,
the nearer the conductors come to each other.
Let us now apply the explanation of this laft expe¬
riment to that of bringing an eleCtrified metal plate to¬
wards an uninfulated conducting plane ; for as this
plane acquires a contrary eleCtricity by the vicinity of
the eleCtrified plate, it follows that the intenfity of the
eleCtricity of the metal plate muft be diminiftied, and
in the fame proportion its capacity is increafed $ con-
fequently the metal plate in that cafe may receive a
greater quantity of eleCtricity.
This property may be rendered ftill more evident, by
infulating the conducting plane whilft the eleCtrified
plate is very near it, and afterwards feparating them j
for then both the metal plate and the conducting plane
(which may be called the. inferior plane) will be
found eleCtrified, but poffeffcd of contrary eleCtricities,
as may be afcertained by electrometers.
If the inferior plane be infulated firft, and then the
eleCtrified plate be brought over it, then the latter will
caufe an endeavour in ihe former to acquire a contrary
eleCtricity, which however the infulation prevents from
taking
72$
merit.
Principles of taking place ; hence the intenfity of the electricity of
Eie<£tricity the plate is not diminithcd, at lead the eleCtrometer
illuftrated Qiew a very little and almoft imperceptible depref-
fcyjexperi- fion^ ;s ow;ng to the imperfedlimi of the infula-
. tion’of the inferior plane, and to the fmall rarefaCtion
and condenfation of the eleCtric fluid, which may take
place in different parts of the faid inferior plane.
But if in this fituation the inferior plane be touch¬
ed, fo as to cut off the inhalation for a moment,
then it will immediately acquire the contrary eleflri-
eity, and the intenfity in the metal plate will be dimi-
nifhed.
If the inferior plane, inflead of being infulated, were
jtfelf a non-condu£ling fubftance, then the fame pheno-
Kiena would happen, viz. the intenfity of the electrified
metal plate laid upon it would not be ditninifhed.
This* however, is not always the cafe •, for if the faid
inferior non-conduCting plane be very thin, and be laid
upon a conductor, then the intenfity of the eleCtrified
metal plate will be diminifhed, and its capacity will be
increafed by being laid upon the thin infulating itra-
tum, becaufe, in that cafe, the conducing fubftance
which ftands under the non-conduCting ftratum acquir¬
ing an eleCtricity contrary to that of the metal plate,
will diminifh its intenfity, &c. and the rnfulating ftra¬
tum will only diminifh the mutual aCtion of the two at-
mofpheres, more or lefs, according as it keeps them
more or lefs afunder.
The intenfity or eleCtric aCtion of the metal plate,
which diminiflies gradually as it is brought nearer and
nearer to a conducting plane not infulated, becomes al¬
moft nothing when the plate is neaVly in contaCt with
the plane, the cempenfation or accidental balance be¬
ing then almoft perfeCt •, hence if the inferior plane
only oppofes a fmall refiftance to the paffage of the
eleCtricity (whether fuch refiftance be occafioned by a
thin eleClric flratum, or by the plane’s imperfeCt con¬
ducing nature, as is the cafe with dry wood, marble,
Sec.) that refiftance, and the interval, however fmall,
that is between the two planes, cannot be overcome
by the weak intenfity of the eleCtricity of the metal
plate, which on that account will not dart any fpark
to the inferior plane (except its eleCtricity were very
powerful, or its edges not well rounded) and will
rather retain its eleCtricity j fo that, being removed
from tbe inferior plane,, its eleCtrometer will nearly re¬
cover its former height. Befides, the electrified plate
may even come to touch the imperfectly conducting
plane, and may remain in that fituation for fotue time,:
in which cafe the intenfity being reduced almoft to
nothing, the electricity will pafs to the inferior plane
exceedingly flow.
But the-cafe will not be the fame, if, in performing
the experiment, the electrified metal plate be made to
touch the inferior plane edgewife ; for then its intenfity
being greater than when laid flat, as it appears by
the electrometer, the electxicity eafily overcomes the
fmall refiftance, and paffes to the inferior plane, even
acrofs a thin electric ftratum •, becaufe the electricity
of one plane is balanced by that of the other, only in
proportion to the quantity of furface which they oppofe
to each other within a given diftance j whereby, when
the metal plate touches the other plane in flat and am¬
ple contact, its electricity is not diflipated.
Hitherto we have confidered in what manner the
ELECTRICITY. Part III.
action of electric atmofphercs touft modify the electri- Principles oil
city of the metal plate in various fituations. We muff Electricity
now confider the effects which take place when the >llu(tme^
• i i .11 1*1/1 dv expen-
electricity is “communicated to the metal plate whilft
{landing upon the imperfectly conducting plane j how- •—-y—.
ever the explanation of this eafily follows from what
has been faid above. Suppofe, for inftance, that a
Leyden phial or a conductor were fo weakly electrified,
that the intenfity of its electricity were only of half a
degree-, or even lefs j if the metal plate, when (land¬
ing upofi the proper plane, were touched with that
phial or conductor, it is evident that either of them
would impart to it a quantity of its electricity, propor¬
tional to the plate’s capacity, viz. fo much of it as
would make the intenfity of the electricity of the plate
equal to that of the electricity in the conductor or
phial, fuppofed of half a degree ; but the plate’s capa¬
city, now that it lies upon the proper plane, is above
ibo times greater than if it flood infulated in the air *
or, which is the fame thing, it requires loo times more
electricity in order to fhew the fame intenfity j there¬
fore, in this cafe, it mutt acquire uprvards of a hundred
times more electricity from the phial or conductor. It
naturally follows, that when the metal plate is after¬
wards removed from the proper plane, its capacity be¬
ing leffened fo as to remain equal to the hundredth
part of what it was before, the intenfity of its electri¬
city muft become of 50°; fince, agreeably to the fuppo-
fition, the intenfity of the electricity in the phial or
conductor was of half a degree *.
Having premiied thus much refpecting the capacity
of conductors, we (hall now proceed to deferibe Signi-
or Volta’s method of rendering fenfible minute degrees
of electricity. *45.
His method, in thort, is to communicate the other-DeferiptioB
wife unobfervable quantity of electricity to the metallic
plate of an electrophorus, while (landing on an imper¬
fectly infulating plane •, for the capacity of the metallic
plate being thus augmented, it will acquire a much
greater quantity of electricity than if it flood complete¬
ly infulated in the air, and when it is again feparated
from the plane its capacity will be diminiflied j confe-
quently, its electricity increafing at the fame time, the
intenfity of this vrill be rendered manifeft either by
fparks or by means of a delicate electrometer.
The particulars neceffary to be kept in view in this
method, are the following. The metal plate muft be
at lead fix inches in diameter, with the edge well
rounded, and having a varniftied glafs handle, or, in-
(lead of the glafs, three filken firings. The inferior
plane muft be of a very imperfedl conducing nature, as
dry marble, very dry and (lightly varniftied wood, a
common piece of wood covered with oiled filk, or (uch
like fubftance ; but let the fubftance be what it will, its
furface muft be very fmooth, and fuch as to coincide as
well as poffible with the furface of the metal plate , on
which account, if a marble flab be chofen for the infe¬
rior plane, it will be proper to fit the metal plate to
that of the iron, by grinding one againft the other.
What'Mr Cavallo found to be very fit for this»purpofe
was a paper drum, confiding of a common wooden
hoop, fuch as are ufed for barrels, over which a piece
of thick writing paper was pafted, and on the back of
which he pafted a piece of tin-foil, i he upper fur¬
face of the paper was varnifhed only once with fhell-lae
diffolved
Chap.
*41
Method of
Liehten-
ierg and
Klinccck.
:xpea-
sents
'hich led
the ia-
XIII. ELECT
principles C0lir£e of experiments, as well as in observations on
ofElectri- natural electricity to be related hereafter, the quantity
city ilins- or degree of electricity is so minute, as not to be sensi-
""riment bIe ^ means even.°f tllis delicate instrument, and is
t-tpenmen .yefc capa|J|e ren(lerej sufficiently obvious by
other means. These means we are now to describe.
Most of the means which have been devised for ren¬
dering sensible minute degrees of electricity have been
suggested by the effects of Volta’s eleptrophorus.
I he first process employed for this purpose was in¬
vented by Professor Lichtenberg, and the same thought
seems to have occurred to Dr Klincock of Prague.
It was performed by means of two resinous plates like
those of the common electrophorus, and one metallic
plate with an insulating handle. One of the resinous
plates was first excited by slight friction, and it was
then employed to communicate electricity to the me¬
tallic plate, which was in its turn made to communi¬
cate electricity to the other resinous plate. The elec¬
tricity possessed by this latter plate was now com¬
municated to the metallic plate : this was again con¬
veyed to the first resinous plate, of which it increased
the electricity by communication. By repeatedly ap¬
plying the metallic plate to each of the resinous plates,
f Roiier's "without bringing them in contact, the electricity at first
Fount, for excited was accumulated till it became sufficiently
j8o. sensible to an ordinary electrometer*.
*43 Ihe next method employed was that of the cele¬
brated Volta, or the condenser. But before we de¬
scribe the apparatus and the mode of using it, it is
necessary that we should give a brief account of the ex-
:ation of periments which led to the invention,
mdenser. i°un<i that conductors of the same shape
apacity of we^e caPable of containing more or less electricity, as
'Siluctors. their surfaces are less or wore influenced by homologous
atmospheres; and that the capacity of a conductor of
the same shape and surface was increased, when, instead
of being quite insulated^ they were, while insulated, pre¬
sented to another conductor not insulated, and this in¬
crease became more conspicuous according as the two
conductors were larger, or approached nearer to each
other.
When an insulated conductor is thus presented to
any other conductor, Signior Volta calls it a Co?ijugale
Conductor.
p-gaio In or<Jer to ^ew ty experiment the above-mention-
nductor. e(^ property or increase of capacity in a conductor, take
the metal plate of an electrophorus, and holding it by
its insulating handle in the air, electrify it so high, as
that the index of an electrometer annexed to it might
be elevated to 6o°; then lowering this metal plate by
degrees towards a table or other conducting plain sur¬
face, you will observe that the index of the electrome¬
ter will fall gradually from 6o° to 50°, 40°, 30°, &c.
Notwithstanding this appearance, the quantity of elec¬
tricity in the plate remains the same, except the said
plate be brought so near the table as to occasion a
transmission of the electricity from the former to the
latter j at least the quantity of electricity will remain
as much the same as the dampness of the air, &c. will
permit. The decrease, therefore, of intensity is owing
to the increased capacity of the plate, which is now con-
jngate, viz. opposed to another conducting surface. In
proof of which, remove gradually the metal plate from
the table, and it will be found that the electrometer
^ Vol. VII. Part II. f
, *44
'tijugate
R I C I T Y.
rises again to its former station, namely to 6o°, except¬
ing the loss of that quantity of electricity, which du¬
ring the experiment must have been imparted to the
air.
Ihe two following experiments will throw more
light upon the reciprocal action of the electric atmo¬
spheres. I irst, suppose two flat conductors, electrified
both positively or both negatively, to be presented to¬
wards, and to be gradually brought near, each other j
it will appear, by two annexed electrometers, that the
nearer those two conductors come to each other, the
more their intensities will increase j which shews, that
either of the two conjugate conductors has a much less
capacity now, than when it was singly insulated, and
out of the influence of the other.
_ Secondly, let the preceding experiment be repeated,
with this variation only, viz. that one of the flat con¬
ductors be electrified positively, and the other negative¬
ly : the effects then will be just the reverse of the pre¬
ceding j viz. the intensities of their electricities will
be diminished, because their capacities are increased,
the nearer the conductors come to each other.
Let us now apply the explanation of this last expe¬
riment to that of bringing an electrified metal plate to¬
wards an uninsulated conducting plane ; for as this
plane acquires a contrary electricity by the vicinity of
the electrified plate, it follows that the intensity of the
electricity of the metal plate must be diminished, and
in the same proportion its capacity is increased ; con¬
sequently the metal plate in that case may receive a
greater quantity of electricity.
This property may be rendered still more evident, by
insulating the conducting plane whilst the electrifie'd
plate is very near it, and afterwards separating them;
for then both the metal plate and the conducting plane
(which may be called the inferior plane) will be
found electrified, but possessed of contrary electricities,
as may be ascertained by electrometers.
If the inferior plane be insulated first, and then the
electrified plate be brought over it, then the latter will
cause an endeavour in the former to acquire a contrary
electricity, which however the insulation prevents from
taking place 5 hence the intensity of the electricity of
the plate is not diminished, at least the electrometer
will shew a very little and almost imperceptible depres¬
sion, which is owing to the imperfection of the insula¬
tion of the inferior plane, and to the small rarefaction
and condensation of the electric fluid, which may take
place in different parts of the said inferior plan®.
But if in this situation the inferior plane be touch¬
ed, so as to cut off the insulation for a moment,
then it will immediately acquire the contrary electri¬
city, and the intensity in the metal plate will be dimi¬
nished.
If the inferior plane, instead of being insulated, were
itself a non-conducting substance, then the same pheno¬
mena would happen, viz. the intensity of the electrified
metal plate laid upon it would not be diminished.
This, however, is not always the case ; for if the said
inferior non-conducting plane be very tbin, and be laid
upon a conductor, then the intensity of the electrified
metal plate will be diminished, and its capacity will be
increased by being laid upon the thin insulating stra¬
tum, because, in that case, the conducting substance
which stands under the non-conducting stratum acquir-
4 ^ ing
729
Principles
of Electri¬
city illus¬
trated by
experiment.
C T
730 E L E
Piinci ics an electrleity contrary to that of the metal plate,
ofElectri- will diminish its intensity, &c. and the insulating stra-
city illus- turn will only diminish the mutual action of the two at-
trated by m03pheres, more or less, according as it keeps them
experiment. more or less a3under.
The intensity of electric action of the metal plate,
which diminishes gradually as it is brought nearer and
nearer to a conducting plane not insulated, becomes al¬
most nothing when the plate is nearly in contact with
the plane, the compensation or accidental balance be¬
ing then almost perfect; hence if the inferior plane
onlv opposes a small resistance to the passage ot the
electricity (whether such resistance be occasioned by a
thin electric stratum, or by the plane’s imperfect con¬
ducting nature, as is the case with dry wood, marble,
&c.) that resistance, and the interval, however small,
that is between the two planes, cannot be overcome
by the weak intensity of the electricity ot the metal
plate, which on that account will not dart any spark
to the inferior plane (except its electricity were very
powerful, or its edges not well rounded) and will
rather retain its electricity j so that, being removed
from the inferior plane, its electrometer will nearly re¬
cover its former height. Besides, the electrified plate
may even come to touch the imperfectly conducting
plane, and may remain in that situation for some time :
in which case the intensity being reduced almost to
nothing, the electricity will pass to the inferior plane
exceedingly slow.
But the case will not be the same, if, in performing
the experiment, the electrified metal plate be made to
touch the inferior plane edgewise for then its intensity
being greater than when laid flat, as it appears by
the electrometer, the electricity easily overcomes the
small resistance, and passes to the inferior plane, even
across a thin electric stratum j because the electricity
of one plane is balanced by that of the other, only in
proportion to the quantity of surface which they oppose
to each other within a given distance ; whereby, when
the metal plate touches the other plane in flat and am¬
ple contact, its electricity is not dissipated.
Hitherto we have considered in what manner the
action of electric atmospheres must modify the electri¬
city of the metal plate in various situations. We must
now consider the effects which take place when the
electricity is communicated to the metal plate whilst
standing upon the imperfectly conducting plane j how¬
ever the explanation of this easily follows from what
has been said above. Suppose, for instance, that a
Hey den phial or a conductor were so weakly electrified,
that the intensity of its electricity were only of half a
degree, or even less j if the metal plate, when stand¬
ing upon the proper plane, were touched with that
phial or conductoi’, it is evident that either of them
would impart to it a quantity of its electricity, propor¬
tional to the plate’s capacity, viz. so much of it as
would make the intensity of the electricity of the plate
equal to that of the electricity in the conductor or
phial, supposed of half a degree ; but the plate’s capa¬
city, now that it lies upon the proper plane, is above
103 times greater than if it stood insulated in the air j
or, which is the same thing, it requires 100 times more
electricity in order to shew the same intensity j there¬
fore, ia this case, it must acquire upwards of a hundred
times more electricity from the phial or conductor. It
R I C I T Y. Part III,
naturally follows, that when the metal plate is after- priaciple!!
wards x’emoved from the proper plane, its capacity be- of Electri-
ing lessened so as to remain equal to the hundredth cityillui-
part of what it was before, the intensity of its electri-
city must become of 50*5 since, agreeably to the sup- . ^ J
position, the intensity of the electricity in the phial or
conductor was of half a degree *. * Cavallf.
Having premised thus much respecting the capacity
of conductors, we shall now proceed to describe Signior'0'1
Yolta’s method of rendering sensible minute degrees of
electricity. 24s
His method, in short, is to communicate the other- DeseriptiV
wise unobservable quantity of electricity to the metallic
plate of an electrophorus, while standing on an imper¬
fectly insulating plane j for the capacity of the metallic
plate being thus augmented, it will acquire a much
greater quantity of electricity than if it stood complete¬
ly insulated in the air, and when it is again separated
from the plane its capacity will be diminished $ conse¬
quently, its electricity increasing at the same time, the
intensity of this will be rendered manifest either by
sparks or by means of a delicate electrometer.
The particulars necessary to be kept in view in this
method, are the following. The metal plate must be
at least six inches in diameter, with the edge well
rounded, and having a varnished glass handle, or, in¬
stead of the glass, three silken strings. The inferior
plane must be of a very imperfect conducting nature, as
dry marble, very dry and slightly varnished wood, a
common piece of wood covered with oiled silk, or such
like substance 5 but let the substance be what it will, its
surface must be very smooth, and such as to coincide as
well as possible with the surface of the metal plate ; on
which account, if a marble slab be chosen for the infe¬
rior plane, it will be proper to fit the metal plate to
that of the iron, by grinding one against the other.
What Mr Cavallo found to be very fit for this purpose
was a paper drum, consisting of a common wooden
hoop, such as are used for barrels, over which a piece
ef thick writing paper was pasted, and on the back of
which he pasted a piece of tin-foil. The upper sur¬
face of the paper was varnished only once with shell-lac
dissolved in alcohol or spirit of wine. This sort of
plane has many advantages, viz. it is easily made, and
from its lightness is very portable ; its surface is per¬
fectly plane, excepting when the hoop is not very strong,,
for then the contraction of the paper has power sufficient
to warp it; and lastly, as the thickness of the paper and
of the varnish may he varied at pleasure, and very
easily, the plane may be rendered of any required de¬
gree of conducting power.
Having such a semi-conducting plane and metallic
plate properly constructed, the former is to be laid upon*
a table, and the latter is to be placed upon it, taking
care that the inferior plane be not excited by any de¬
gree of friction. If the surface of the inferior plane
should have acquired any electricity by accidentally
rubbing it, &c. the best way of freeing it of that elec¬
tricity is to pass it two or three times over the flame of
a candle. Now the metallic plate is to be struck five
or six times with the corner of a dry handkerchief, a
piece of dry flannel or papei‘, &c. ; then it is to be
raised from the inferior plane by means of its insulating
handle, and ^presented to an electrometer, when it will
be found sensibly electrified. If the metallic plate be
struck
Chap. XIII. ELEC'
principles struck while it is not in contact with the semi-conduc*
of Ekctri-ing plane, it will be found either to possess no elec-
eity Ulus tricity or an incomparably smaller degree than it ac-
x^riment (lu‘res ’n t^ie °ther mode.
u..—y i 1 By this means electricity may be obtained from sub¬
stances which could hardly be supposed electrified, and
that not only in sufficient quantity to ascertain its’qua-
lity, but even sufficient to afford sparks. Signior Volta
has given to this apparatus the name of condensing an-
*46 paratus.
Mr Caval- Mr Cavallo, observing that in stroking the metallic
Jo’s im- plate, in order to obtain electricity from various sub-
KTwn- St.anceS’ and esPecially froni the hand, the plate was
denser. often moved so as to occasion some friction on the infe¬
rior plane, whereby this was excited, and consequently
the result of the experiment rendered precarious,
thought of the following method of preventing such
motion.
Upon a varnished glass handle he cemented a brass
tube about six inches long, and three-fourths of an inch
in diameter, from the extremity ol which proceeded a
fine flexible wire about 14 inches long. Now, when
the metallic plate was situated upon the inferior plane,
he held the glass handle of the brass tube with his left
hand, in such a manner as that the end of the wire
might touch, the plate, the rest remaining in the air.
Sometimes, in order to make a better contact, the end
of the above mentioned wire was put into a hole pur¬
posely made in the edge of the plate. In this disposi¬
tion of the apparatus, the substances to be tried are
stroked upon the brass tube, and the electricity pro¬
duced by them is conveyed to the metallic plate by the
wire, which being fine and flexible, communicates no
motion to the plate.
Another improvement of Mr Cavallo’s consists in
rendering sensible degrees of electricity still more mi¬
nute than those which may be discovered by the con¬
densing apparatus.
Notwithstanding the great sensibility of Volta's con¬
denser, yet sometimes the electricity acquired by the
metallic plate from some substances was so small as not
to affect an electrometer sufficiently to ascertain its qua-
lity, or even its existence j hence it naturally occurred
to Mr Cavallo, that for the same reason for which the
metallic, plate of the condensing apparatus manifested
such minute degrees of electricity as could not be
otherwise observed, another smaller plate, or small con¬
densing apparatus, might be employed to render the
weak electricity of the large metallic plate sensible.
Accordingly, he constructed a small plate of about the
size of a shilling, having a glass handle covered with
sealing-wax 5 and when the large metallic plate seemed
to be so weakly electrified as not to affect an electrome¬
ter sensibly, he placed the small plate upon the inferior
plane, and touching it with the edge of the large plate j
then, after removing the small plate, he took up the
small one from the plane, holding it by the extremity
of the glass handle, and presenting it to the electrome¬
ter, which was generally so much affected by it as to
diverge to its utmost limits.
In this manner Mr Cavallo often obtained electricity
more than sufficient for ascertaining its quality, from
a single stroke of the corner of a handkerchief; viz.
the large plate being placed upon the proper plane, was
stroked once; then being moved and presented to an
'BICITY. 7jI
electrometer, it appeared not electrified ; but by touch- pr;ncjpIes
mg the small plate with the edge of it, that small plate of Electri-
acquired thereby electricity sufficient to make an elec- city illlls-
trometer diverge. trated by
V\ hen this secondary condensing apparatus is used
c.aie must be taken to hold the large plate almost ver¬
tically while the small plate is touched by it. There
is no need of having another inferior plane for the
small plate, the large one being sufficient for both ; for
immediately after taking up the large plate, weakly
electrified, with one hand, you lay down the small
plate, &c.
The small quantity of electricity that can be discover¬
ed by this means is really surprising, and there is hard¬
ly any substance, excepting the metals, or those which
cannot be subjected to trial, as water and other fluids,
which will not produce some electricity when rubbed
or stroked against the large plate of the condensing ap¬
paratus, and that electricity is afterwards condensed by
being communicated to the small plate.
The discovery of Volta’s condenser led to a discovery Beanet’s
no less important, the doubler, for which we were first doubler,
indebted to the Reverend Abraham Rennet of Wirks-
wortb, though the instrument has been much improved
by Mr Nicholson and Mr Read.
The doubler in its first and simplest form consisted
of three parts, which are represented at fig. 85. Plate Plate
CXCIV. viz. a polished brass plate A, with an in- CX^1V-
sulating handle fixed in its centre ; a similar plate B fis’ 85‘
with an insulating handle fixed in its periphery, and
the cap of Rennet’s gold-leaf electrometer C, which
serves as a third plate. The two plates A and B are
varnished on the under side, and the handles are made
of mahogany, fixed to the plates by means of glass nuts
covered with sealing-wax. J4S
The method of demonstrating the presence of‘Vanipuln-
electricity by means of this apparatus is as follows.tion of thc
Suppose that we have to examine the electricity of the doUbler‘
plate C.
1. Place B upon C, and communicate some electrici¬
ty to the latter, while the plate B is touched with the
finger. The consequence will be that C will receive a
greater degree of electricity than it would have been
capable of acquiring if B had not been present.
2. Remove the communication from C, and take
the. finger from off B, then raise this latter by its insu¬
lating handle, and B and C will exhibit the opposite
states of electricity more strongly than when they are
in contact.
3* Bl^c® A upon B, and touch A with the finger.
The consequence will be that A will receive a portion
of electricity of a state opposite to that of B, or A will
be in the same state of electricity with C.
4. Place B upon C, and touch B with the finger as
before, and at the same time apply A edgeways to C.
In this situation, A will communicate the greatest part
of its electricity to C.
5. Remove A, take the finger from B, and raise B
from C. The opposite states of electricity in B and C,
will now be stronger than before, on account of the ad¬
ditional electricity afforded by A.
6. Place A upon B again, as in the third stage of
the process, and repeat the subsequent manipulations.
In each of them the intensity of the electricity is sup¬
posed to be doubled, and by proceeding in this manner
4 Z 2 for
732
Priiciples
of Electri¬
city illus¬
trated l>y
expeduieut,
*49
Moveable
doubler by
Dr Darwin
250
Nicholson's
revolving
doubler.
Plate
(JXCV.
fig. 86.
rig.Sy.
ELECT
for a certain time, tlie electricity originally communi¬
cated to C, though at first too small to afiect the strips
of gold leaf, will at last become sufficiently sensible to
produce a considerable divergence of them.
Though the above process is sufficiently simple and
evident, vet it requires to be learned, and takes up a
certain time for its performance. It was therefore de¬
sirable that an instrument should he formed which
might complete this series of operations by a very simple
mechanical movement. The first instrument constructed
with this view was contrived by I3r Darwin, and was
shown to Mr Nicholson in the month of December
lySy. This instrument consisted of four metallic plates,
two of which were moveable by wheel-work into posi¬
tions which required them to be touched by the hand
in order to produce the effect. It appeared^ to Mr
Nicholson that the whole operation, including the
touching, might be done by a simple combination with¬
out wheel-work, by the direct rotation ot a winch.
This was soon afterwards effected, and communicated
by him to the Royal Society in 1788. Mr Nicholson’s
description of his revolving doubler, was first print¬
ed in the 78th volume of the Philosophical Transac¬
tions, and has been reprinted by Mr Nicholson in his
Philosophical Journal for May 1800, from which we
have copied it.
Fig. 86. represents the apparatus of the doubler sup¬
ported on a glass pillar 6f- inches long. It consists of
the following parts. Two fixed plates ot brass, A and
C, are separately insulated and disposed in the same
place, so that a revolving plate B may pass very near
them, without touching. Each of these plates is two
inches in diameter ; and they have adjusting pieces
behind, which serve to place them accurately in the re¬
quired position. D is a brass ball, likewise of two
inches diameter, fixed on the extremity ol an axis that
carries the plate B. Besides the more essential purpose
this hall is intended to answer, it is so loaded within
on one side, that it serves as a counterpoise to the re¬
volving plate, and enables the axis to remain at rest in
any position. The other parts may he distinctly seen
in fig. 87. The shaded parts represent metal, and the
white represent varnished glass. ON is a brass axis,
passing through the piece M, which last sustains the
plates A and C. At one extremity is the ball D al¬
ready mentioned ; and the other is prolonged by the
addition of a glass stick, which sustains tiie handle L
and the piece GH separately insulated. E, F, are pins
rising out of the fixed plates A and C, at unequal di¬
stances from the axis. The cross-piece GH, and the
piece K, lie in one plane, and have their ends armed
with small pieces of harpsichord-wire, that they may
perfectly touch the pins EF in certain points ol the
revolution. There is likewise a pin I, in the piece M,
which intercepts a small wire proceeding from the re¬
volving plate B.
The touching wires are so adjusted, by bending, that
when the revolving plate B is immediately opposite the
fixed plate A, the cross piece GH. connects the two
fixed plates, at the same time that the wire and pin at
I form a communication between the revolving plate
and the balk On the other hand, when the revolving
plate is immediately opposite the fixed plate C, the hall
becomes connected with this last plate, by the touching
al the piece K against F j the two plates, A and B,
3
R I C I T Y. Part 111.
have then no connection with any part of the appara- Prir.cip]«
tus. In everv other position the three plates and the of Ebeiri..
ball will he perfectly unconnected with each other. t at d b" 1
Mr Bennet and Mr Cavallo observed, soon after the
discovery of the doubler, that it never fails to exhibit 1 ^
an electric state by the mere operation, without any 251
communication of electricity being previously made.Defects0
Mr Bennet endeavoured to find out a method of de- e ‘5oalj!e
priving the doubler of this inherent electricity, and
after a number of trials, he considered the following as
the best mode of answering this purpose.
He connected the plates A and C together by a Mr Ben-
wire hooked at each end upon two small knobs on the net's mode
hacks of the plates, the middle of the same wire touch- tke0.^iat" ’
ing the pillar which supports the doubler. Another
wire was hooked at one end upon the back of the plate
B, and at the other end, to the brass ball which coun¬
terbalances this plate. Thus all the plates were con¬
nected with the earth, and by turning the handle of
the doubler, it might be discharged of electricity in
every part of its revolution.
After often trying this method of depriving the
doubler, Mr Bennet observed, that its spontaneous
discharge was almost always negative. He then touch¬
ed A and C with a positively charged bottle, and turn¬
ed the doubler till it produced sparks for a long time
together j and after this strong positive charge he hook¬
ed on the wires as above, and revolved the plate B
about a hundred times, which so deprived the doubler
of its positive electricity, that when the wires were
taken off, it produced a negative charge at about the
same number of revolutions which it required be-
fore. t , ~
The positively charged bottle was again applied, and
the wires being hooked upon the plates as before, B
was revolved only filty times, yet this was found suffi¬
cient to deprive it of its positive charge, and in many
experiments five or six revolutions were sufficient} but
he never thought it safe to stop at sc few, and therefore
he generally turned the handle 40 or 50 times between
every experiment.
Lest electricity adhering to the electrometer should
obstruct the above experiments, Mr Bennet did not
let it stand in contact with the doubler during its revo¬
lutions, but touched the plate A with the cap of the
electrometer, alter he supposed its electricity was be¬
come sufficiently sensible ; but lest even this contact
should communicate any electricity, he made a cap ol
shell lac for his electrometer, having a small tin tube
in the centre, to which the gold leaf was suspended
within the glass, and a bent wire was fixed to the top,
which might easily be joined to the plate A ot the
doubler, and thus the gold leaf was more perfectly in¬
sulated, and the electricity could not be diffused over^ ^
so large a surface. The glass which insulates the plates
and cross piece of the doubler was also covered with rlJnen{s,
shell lac *. . , ?53)
Dr Robison conceived that Mr Bennet’s original Robison s
doubler might be freed from error as far as was possible,
by employing a thin stratum of air as the intermedium^ errors
between the three plates. The method which he pro"ofthe
poses for effecting this is very ingenious. Stick on doubler,
one of the plates three very small spherules, made from
a capillary tube of glass or from a thread of sealing-
wax., The other plate being laid on them, rests on mere
points,
*54
Cavallo’s
Chap. XIII. ELECT
Principles points, and can scarcely receive any friction, which may
cfEleclri- disturb the experiment.
city illiis- Mr Cavallo, finding that Mr Bennet’s mode of ob-
Jjperiineiit. v*at*n8> inconveniences of the doubler did not suc¬
ceed with him, constructed a new instrument, which he
calls a collector oj electricity, and a description of which
was inserted in the 78th volume of the Philosophical
‘“'^^'Transactions. .It consists of a plate of tin, supported by
‘£C ' two upright sticks of glass j on each side of which plate
are two frames of wood covered with gilt paper, which
do not touch the tin-plate, but stand parallel to it at a
little distance. These frames are fastened to the plat¬
form of the instrument by hinges j so that if electricity
be communicated to the plate, it will receive a large
quantity without any considerable intensity, because its
capacity is much augmented by the vicinity of the
plane of gilt paper on each side. But if these planes
be thrown back into the horizontal position^ which is
easily done by means of their hinges, the electricity,
which before was compensated in the plate, will have
its intensity greatly increased. An electrometer con¬
nected with this plate will therefore show signs of elec¬
tricity, by means of a communication made between a
large stock of electricity, and the tin-plate in its first
position, though the intensity of that stock may have
been too small to have affected the electrometer without
this contrivance.
It does not appear, in the author’s description of this
instrument, that it removes the equivocal effect of the
doubler j for it is evident that it does not, in its simple
process, enter the province of the doubler in which this
effect takes place. The doubler requires six or seven
turns before it wdll exhibit spontaneous electricity \ at
which period the first charge is magnified above twelve
thousand times ; but his simple instrument will scarcely
exceed one hundred times, and therefore requires the
electricity to be one hundred and twenty times as strong
as that which causes the uncertainty of the doubler.
Whence it may be inferred, that the doubler would
have acted unequivocally with all such electricities as
this instrument is capable of exhibiting*.
Mr Cavallo has since constructed another instrument,
which he calls a multiplier of electricity, and which he
considers as quite tree from equivocal results.
“ The fige. 88. and 89. represent this new instru¬
ment, and they are about two-thirds of the real size.
QRS is the bottom board, upon which are steadily fix¬
ed on the glass sticks H, G, two flat brass plates A
and C.—B is a similar brass plate supported by a
glass stick I, which is cemented in a hole made in
the wooden lever KL, which moves round a steady
pin K, that is screwed tight in the bottom board.
By moving this lever backwards and forwards, the
plate B may be alternately put in the two situations
represented by the figures. ]M is a thick brass wire
fixed tight into the bottom board. There is a fourth
brass plate 1), similar to the other three, which is
supported not by glass, but a wire ; and this wire is
screwed fast to an oblong piece of brass FP, that
slides in a groove made for the purpose in the bottom
board QRS $ so that by applying a finger’s nail to the
notch on the end F, the sliding piece FP may be
drawn out to any length, and the plate D thus re¬
moved to any required distance from the fixed plate C.
I need not say any thing, particular respecting the
Nickel¬
in'» Jour
to, vol. i.
*55
lavallo’s
»ltiplier
I electii-
tjr.
88.
rnf $9.
It I C I T Y. 733
sockets of those brass plates, they being clearly indicat- Principles
ed in the figures, excepting only that the socket of the of Eledri-
plate A reaches as high as the top of it, and serves to dlus-
receive a wire, or other apparatus, on certain occa- trat^ by
Sions. expenmewt.
The parts of this instrument are so adjusted, as that
when the lever is in the situation of fig. 88. viz. is push¬
ed as tar toward Q as it can go, the plate B conies pa¬
rallel to the plate A, and about one-twentieth of an
inch distant. At the same time the extremity of the
wire OM just touches the fixed wire N, and of course
renders the plate B uninsulated. But as soon as the
lever begins to be moved towards S, the communica¬
tion of the plate B with the wire N, or with the
ground, becomes interrupted, and B remains insulated.
And when the lever has been moved as far as it can
go towards S, the wire M comes in contact with the
plate C, as shown in fig. 89. Then the twm plates B
and C communicate with each other, though they are
otherwise insulated. The fourth plate D being sup¬
ported by a wire, communicates with the ground ; and
when the sliding piece PF is pushed home, it stands
parallel to, and at about one-twentieth of an inch from
the plate C.
When the instrument is situated as in fig. 88. if an
electrified body be brought into contact with the plate
A, this plate will imbibe a great deal more of that
electricity than it would otherwise, because its capacity
is increased by the vicinity of the uninsulated plate B,
and therefore, if after the communication of that elec-
tricity, the plate B, by moving the lever, he removed
from that situation, and A be made to touch an elec¬
trometer, this will he electrified more sensibly by if,
than it would have been by the contact of the original
electrified body itself. So far the plate A acts like a
condenser, or collector of electricity. But let us now
consider the instrument as a multiplier.
When the plate A has received a small quantity of
electricity by the contact of any electrified body what¬
ever, and that body is removed, the plate being un¬
insulated and opposed to the electrified plate A, will,
like the metal plate of an electrophorus, acquire the
contrary electricity, by either receiving from, or giv¬
ing to, the ground some electric fluid, according as
the plate A happens to be electrified. Thus, suppose
that A has been electrified positively, B will become
negative, and vice versa. If now the lever be pushed
towards S, the plate B will remain electrified negative¬
ly, the communication with the ground being cut off;
and when B comes into the situation represented by
fig. 4th, at which time the wire M touches the plate
C, the negative electricity of B will go to C, because
the capacity of C for holding electricity is considerably
augmented by the vicinity of the uninsulated plate D.
If after this the lever be moved back again to its first
situation, B will be made negative a second time in
the same manner as before: and by pushing the lever
again towards S, that second charge of negative elec¬
tricity will be communicated from B to C j and thus,
by repeating the operation, which consists in merely
moving the lever backwards and forwards, a consider¬
able quantity of negative electricity will be accumula¬
ted upon C.
In fact, the action of this instrument resembles very
much that of an electrophorus ; rfor the plate A may re¬
present,
734 ELECT
Principles present the excited resinous plate, B may represent the
of Eleetri-metal plate of the electrophorus, and C is a kind of
city illus- re3ervo;r> into which the successive charges of the plate
experiment B are collected.—-When a number of those charges or
'^“’portions of electricity has been communicated to C, if
the sliding piece FP be drawn out about an inch, and
of course the plate D be removed to the like distance
from the plate C, the capacity of the plate C will
thereby be much diminished: and therefore it an elec¬
trometer be brought into contact with it, the electricity
will be manifested : whereas the electricity originally
communicated to the plate A, could not have affected
an electrometer in any sensible degree.
In using this instrument, 30 or 40 additions of elec¬
tricity are the utmost number practicable j for after
that number the augmentation of the charge.upon C
will not go any farther j the limit of which is, when
the charge of C is increased to such a degree, as to
leave a portion of electricity upon B, equal to that
portion which B can receive from the action of A.
In this case, let C touch an electrometer as mention¬
ed above, and if the electrometer does not diverge,
proceed to a second process ; for though its pendulums
do not diverge, yet some electricity remains in them,
which must not be disturbed, as it will help the effect
of the second operations, which is as follows : Push in
the slider FP, and go on moving the lever backwards
and forwards as before, by which means, after a cer¬
tain number of additions, the plate C will acquire,a
second charge, about as high as the former : and if
then the slider FP is pulled out, and C brought into
contact with the same electrometer, the divergency of
the pendulums, which before was either not at all or
hardlv perceptible, will thereby be rendered more con¬
spicuous : and thus it may be increased still farther by
a third and a fourth operation. But if, notwithstanding
those repeated operations, the electrometer should he
found not to diverge, the quantity of electi’icity may
still be augmented by another method, which is, by
communicating that little electricity of C to the plate
* Cavalk's ^ anotjier instrument of the same sort, and proceed-
^r^’ing with that in the manner described
256 In Nicholson’s Journal for September 1804, a
paper by Mr W. Wilson containing a description of
an instrument which Mr Wilson calls a compound con¬
denser of electricity, and which he considers as an im¬
provement on Mr Cavallo’s multiplier, answering the
purpose of a condenser, a single and double multiplier,
and a doubler. The instrument is very complicated,
containing no less than six plates. Like all complicat¬
ed instruments of this kind, it is of course subject to er-
ror from its own spontaneous electricity.
Nicholson’s Mr Nicholson has constructed an instrument for as-
spinning certaining small degrees of electricity, without, as he
condenser. sayS> a possibility of equivocal result. This instru¬
ment he calls the spinning condenser, and it is thus de¬
scribed in his Journal for April 1797*
Plate “ Fig 90. represents a vertical section of the instru-
CXCV. ment. A is a metallic vase, having a long steel axis
9°* which passes through a hole in the stand H at K, and
rests on its pointed end in an adjustable socket at C.
The use of the vase is, by its weight, to preserve, for
a considerable time, the motion of spinning which is
given by the finger and thumb, applied to the knob at
the top of the instrument. The shaded parts D and E
R I C I T Y. Part II
represent two circular plates of glass nearly 14 inch in Principle
diameter. The upper plate is fixed to the vase, andofElecti
revolves with it j the lower is fixed to the stand. In
the lower plate are inserted two metallic hooks, diame-experijnei
trically opposite each other, at F and G. They are >—
cemented into holes drilled in the edge of the glass,
which is near two-tenths of an inch thick. In the up¬
per plate are inserted in the same manner two small
tails of the fine flatted wire used in making silver lace.
These tails are bended down so as to strike the hooks
in the revolution, but in all other positions they remain
freely in the air without touching any part of the ap¬
paratus. At C is a screw, which by raising or lower¬
ing the vase keeps the faces of the glass plates from
each other at whatever distance may be required. The
faces of the glass plates which are opposed to each other
are coated with segments of tin-foil, as represented, fig.
91. and 92. the latter of which represents the upper
plate. Each of the tails communicates with the tin-
foil coating to which it is contiguous, as does also the
hook F with that coating of the lower plate nearest to
it. But the hook G is entirely insulated from the
whole apparatus, and is intended to communicate only
with the electrified body or atmospherical conductor L.
The lower coating nearest to G is made to communicate
permanently with the stand H, and consequently with
the earth.
“ In this situation, suppose the motion of spinning to
be given to the apparatus, and the effects will be these:
One of the tails will strike the hook G, by which
■Ji
it
Plate
CXCY1.
fig. 91
and 911
st
means the upper coating annexed to that tail will as¬
sume the electric state of L by communication. But
this state, on account of the proximity of the lower un¬
insulated plate, to which it is, at that instant, directly
opposed, will be as much stronger than that of L, as a
charge exceeds simple electrization. The tail G with
its plate or coating proceeds onward, and after half a
revolution arrives at the situation to touch the hook F.
The upper coating, the lower on the side of F, the
hook F itself, and tail V, must then constitute one
jointly insulated metallic mass, in which no charge sub¬
sists, but which is simply electrified by the whole charge
received at G. And of this mass the surfaces of the
plates themselves, constituting the electric well of
Franklin, will throw out all their electricity td the
hook and tail. But the coating and its tail instantly
pass round, leaving F electrified, and proceed to bring
another charge from G and deposit it as before. J he
balls at F are therefore very speedily made to diverge.
It is scarcely necessary to remark, that the two upper
coatings do nothing more than double the speed of the
operation j one of the tails being employed in collect¬
ing, while the other is depositing j and that the gold-
leaf electrometer may be advantageously substituted for
the cork-balls.
“ The instrument I caused to he made was five inches
high. The receiving side G was connected with a
coated jar of four square feet coating, and the giving
side F was connected with Bennet’s gold-leaf electro¬
meter. The electrometer was rendered as strongly
positive as it was capable of being, and the jar was
rendered negative, by giving it as much of that power
as was produced by drawing a common stick of seal¬
ing-wax once through the hand. In this state the jar
was incapable of attracting the finest thread. The vase
was
IChap. XIV. ELECT
Principles was then made to spin } and, the effect was, that the
of Electri- leaves of the electrometer first gradually collapsed, and
trated'by ^ien •*n ^ie satne manner gradually opened, and struck,
experiment. ^le s^e® the glass of the electrometer with negative
"■—' e^ctr‘city* ’l he experiment was renewed and repeated
with every requisite variation.”
Three ge- To conclude, the methods of ascertaining minute de-
neralme- grees of electricity may be reduced to three,
thods ofas- i. If the absolute quantity of electricity be small and
■mall de-i * 3 Pretty much condensed, as that produced by a small
trees of tourmalin when heated, or by a hair when rubbed, the
electricity; only effectual method of manifesting its presence, hnd
*59 ascertaining its quality, is to communicate it to a very
fate elec- delIciite electrometer, i. e. one that is very light and has
irometer; no great extent of conducting surface.
2$o _ 2* When we wish to ascertain the presence of a con-
>y the col- siderable quantity of electricity, which is dispersed, or
inlS ;rexPanded int0 a great space, and is little condensed, such
ondenwsr; as the C0I19tant electricity of the atmosphere in clear
weather, or such as the electricity which remains in a
large Leyden phial after the first or second discharge j
this may be best ascertained by means of Cavallo’s co/*
/ecfor or multiplier, or by the cotidenser with Cavallo’s
improvement of the same plate.
3. When the electricity to be ascertained is neither
vei7 considerable in quantity nor much condensed, such
oubler and as tlie electricity of the hair of certain animals, of the
delicate surface of chocolate, when cooling, &c. In this case
itctrorae- the best method is to apply a metallic plate furnished
with an insulating handle, such as one of the plates of
the doubler, to the electrified body, and to touch the
plate with a finger while it remains for some time in this
situation $ which done, the plate is to be removed and
brought near a sensible electrometer j or its electricity
may be communicated to the plate of a small conden¬
ser, by which it will be rendered more conspicuous. In
this operation care must be taken not to bring the plate
too near the body whose electricity is to be examined,
lest the friction, likely to happen between the plate
and the body, should produce some electricity, the
origin of which might be attributed to some other
causes.
The increased sensibility of the other instruments
now described, is unfortunately accompanied by a ten¬
dency to produce the electrical states spontaneously,
and thus afford equivocal results.
261
one of
he plates
if the
i6z
eliolson’
irove-
nt of
nnet’s
ctrome-
Chap. XIV. Miscellaneous and additional Expert
ments and Observations.
i Mr Ivicholson, in his Journal for September 1797,
proposes what appears to be a valuable improvement in
Bennet’s electrometer.
“ There are (says he) two particulars in which this
ex-cellent instrument appears capable of improvement:
the first to render it portable, without danger to the
gold-leaf, and the second to express its various degrees
of electrization by a scale of divisions.
I have reflected much on the probable means of se¬
curing the gold-leaf from fracture by carriage, but
hitherto with little prospect of success. There was some
hope that a single slip of this gold might be preserved
m a sheath or box, with its sides very nearly in contact;
but when I placed such a slip upon a gilded piece of
wood of the same superficial dimensions, to whifcb it was
Plate
CXCVL
fig* 93-
R I G I T If. 73-
fastened at one end, its flexibility was such that the leaf
very readily slided along the surface of the wood, and ef Electri-
became full of folds, by inclining the fastened end a very chy illus-
few degrees lower than the other extremity. There trat!d hy
was still less immediate expectation that the slips could expcnment:
be actually and repeatedly confined between two leaves
or cushions, as in the book of the gold-beaters, without
their being broke by continual agitation. To this,
however, my attention will probably be directed when
I may again .resume this object. In the mean time, I
recommend it to other philosophers, as a very desir¬
able improvement in the mineralogical apparatus, and
should rejoice to be anticipated by their successful re¬
searches.
“ The weight of one slip of gold-leaf, in the electro¬
meter of Bennet, is about 1-600th part of a grain $ but
this, as well as the sensibility of the instrument, must
vaiy not only from the figure and dimensions of the
piece, but the nature and thickness of the gold itself*. * PAit.
It seemed, therefore, unnecessary to endeavour to render J°urn.
two of these instruments comparable with each other. *• 333-
All that could be done was, to distinguish the different
intensities as shewn by the divergencies of the leaf j or,
as I have taken it, the distances at which they strike a
pair of uninsulated metallic bars. In Plate CXCVJ.
fig- 93- A represents the insulated metallic cap, from
which, at C, depend the two narrow pointed slips of
gold leaf. BB is the glass shade, which serves to support
the cap, and defend the leaves from the motion of the
surrounding air. DD are two flat radii of brass, which
open and shut by means of one common axis, like a pair
of compasses. By a contrivance of springs, they are
disposed to open when left at liberty; but the micro¬
meter screw E serves to draw a nut, which has two steel
bars, with a clavy at the end of each, that enters into a
correspondent slit, in two small cylindrical pieces to
which the radii are fixed respectively. This apparatus
is. seen in another position in fig. 94. KL represents a *,•
piece of brass, which serves as the frame for the work, *'g' 94#
and fits the lower socket of the electrometer, FF, fig. 3.
In . this the letters IU indicate the cylindrical pieces
which carry the radii, and are seen from beneath. On
the side of the nut G, one of the steel drawing pieces
is seen ; the other being on the opposite side, and con¬
sequently not visible. Towards L appear the two re¬
action springs. The other parts require no verbal de¬
scription.
“ In the common construction of the gold-leaf elec¬
trometer, there are two pieces of tin-foil pasted on op¬
posite parts of the internal surface of BB ; against
which the gold-leaf strikes when its electricity is at
the maximum. If the radii DD be left at the greatest
opening, our instrument does not then differ from
that in common use. But if the divergence produced
by the contact of an atmospheric conductor, or any 0-
ther source of electricity, be so small as to render it
doubtful whether the leaves be electrified or not, the
radii may then be brought Very gradually together by
means of the screw, until the increased divergency from
their attractive force be sufficient to ascertain the kind
of electricity possessed by the leaves. In this and all
other cases, the division on the micrometer-head, which
stands opposite the fixed index, at the time the leaves
strike.the radii, will shew the greater or less degree of
intensity.”
fit 9
736
Principles In his Journal for January 1799, he has the follow¬
er Electri- ing remarks on the glass case ot tins instrument,
city illus- “ Under all the uncertainties concerning the place
trated by occupjed by the electric charge of coated glass, though
experiment.k may seem unfair to make any inference respecting
263 glass which is uncoated, yet, upon the whole, there ap-
His obser- pears to be a probability that the interposition of naked
rations on g]ass may impede the action of electrified bodies. This
the glass qUestion m0re immediately points at the tube in which
instrument, the gold-leaf electrometer of Bennet is inclosed, lo
determine whether the tube of the electrometer does af¬
fect the electric state of the included leaf, either by
compensation or otherwise, I took a piece of window-
glass eighteen inches long, two inches wide, and one-
twentieth of an inch thick, which I cleaned very well,
and then passed it several times through the hot air over
the flame of a candle. In this state one end of the glass
was laid gently upon the electrified plate of Bennet’s
electrometer, and then suddenly raised by a turn of the
wrist. It was scarcely possible to discern that the leaves
were at all affected, but when the electrometei was in
the plus state a very slight collapsion was produced by
raising the glass, and the contrary effect was pioduced
when the electrometer was negative. Some days after¬
wards the experiment was repeated, after the gold-
leaf had been changed for other pieces, which were
very pointed and delicate in their movements. The
result was, that the glass was always shewn by the
electrometer to be in a weak positive state *, and,
when the electricity of the electrometer was made plus,
the collapsion was equal to the divergence when it was
minus.
“ In making these experiments I had previously sup¬
posed that the influence of the metallic state of the
electrometer would produce somewhat of the nature of
a charge upon the glass *, and consequently that the in¬
tensity of the leaves would have been diminished during
the existence of that charge 5 and also, that in such a
case the action of the metal through the glass would be
subject to the same diminution as in the series of jars.
But as the glass did not appear to act in this man¬
ner, it seems proper to conclude that clean glass
does not affect the electric state of bodies by its
vicinity, and that the divergence of the balls or the
gold-leaf in the electrometers of Cavallo and Ben-
net is not diminished by the tube which surrounds
them.
“ From a variety of experiments it was clearly ascer¬
tained that the metallic coatings, though by their vi¬
cinity they may diminish the intensity of the electric
state in the leaves, do nevertheless increase the angle
of divergence by their attraction.
« When the gold-leaf electrometer is made with a
very small tube, its sensibility is somewhat increased by
the nearness of the coatings ; but the chance of render¬
ing it unserviceable from casual friction, which excites
the glass, and causes the gold-leaf to stick to it, to¬
gether with the less perfect view of the divergence
through a tube of small curvature, afford reasons why
a diameter of less than an inch should be reject¬
ed. Other reasons of convenience indicate that the
diameter of the glass should not much exceed this
quantity.
“ I was once induced to think that the considerable
■magnitude of the cap of Bennet’s electrometer might
Part III,
render it less capable of being acted upon by small principle!
quantities of electricity. Experiment did not however ofEketri- j
give much countenance to this supposition. By trials city illus.
with heads of different size, the smallest were found t.%*^^ J
be rather more sensible to extremely minute electrici- . ^ _,!
ties, and less so to such as were greater. The influence
of very weak electricity may produce the opposite state
in the whole of a small head, but only in part of a lar¬
ger ; the remaining part of this last assuming the op¬
posite state, and robbing the leaves of part of their in¬
tensity. But in higher electricities the whole of the
large head may be urged to give electricity to the
leaves, in a quantity which the smaller bead could not
give without acquiring a higher degree of intensity, and
consequently more strongly resisting the desired process.
It appears therefore that the maximum of effect with
a given electricity, acting without communication, will
not be obtained but by a head of a definite figure and
magnitude.” _ 264
In N° 82. experiment 5. we described a method of Other me-
imitating the planetary motions by the motion com-jhodsof
municated by the current of air from electrified points
this may be done in various other ways, of which we lary mo
shall only add the following. _ tian*.
1. From the prime conductor of an electric ma¬
chine suspend six concentric hoops of metal at differ¬
ent distances from one another, in such a manner as
to represent in some measure the proportional distances
of the planets. Under these, and at the distance of
about half an inch, place a metallic plate, and upon
this plate, within each of the hoops, a glass bubble
blown very thin and light. On electrifying the hoop«,
the bubbles will be immediately attracted by them, and
will continue to move round the hoops as long as the
electrification continues. If the electricity is very
strong, the bubbles will frequently be driven off, run
hither and thither on the plate, making a variety of
surprising motions round their axis j after which they
will return to the hoop, and circulate as before 5 and
if the room is darkened, they will all appear beautiful¬
ly illuminated with electric light.
2. Provide a ball of cork about three quarters of an
inch in diameter, hollowed out in the internal part
by cutting it in two hemispheres, scooping out the in¬
side, and then joining them together with paste. Hav¬
ing attached this to a silk thread between three and
four feet in length, suspend it in such a manner that it
may just touch the knob of a charged electric jar, the
outside of which communicates with the ground. On
the first contact it will be repelled to a considerable
distance, and after making several vibrations will re¬
main stationary j but if a candle is placed at some di¬
stance behind it, so that the ball may be between it and
the bottle, the ball will instantly begin to move, and
will turn round the knob of the jar, moving in a kind
of ellipsis as long as there is any electricity in the bot¬
tle. This experiment is very striking, though the mo¬
tions are far from being regular ; but it is remarkable
that they always affect the elliptical rather than the
circular form.
In the table of conductors vve have placed Jlcwtc,
smoke, and the vapour of hot water. That these va¬
pours are conductors may be shewn from the following
experiments. _ l65
Exper. 1.—Bring the knobs of two metallic dis-Flame *
1 6 charging couduewr.
ELECTRICITY.
it
(,l
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J,
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■ii.
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Sir
i
as
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XIV.
ELECTRICITY.
i66
’ullibert-
on’s mode
f distm-
iiishing
he two
lectrici-
Nichol-
n’s Jour.
or. i So 2.
iet
iprinciples charging rods, communicating the one with the outside,
,f Electri-and the other with the inside of a charged phial, oppo-
citv dlus- sJte each other, each within an inch of the flame of a
Hated by cancj}e> so that the flame may be in the middle between
them. The flame will be seen to spread on each side
towards the knobs, and will produce the discharge of
the jar.
Mr Cuthbertson has proposed a method of distinguish¬
ing positive from negative electricity by the flame of a
candle. He places the flame of a candle exactly in the
middle between two metallic balls at the distance of
four inches from each other, so that the centre of the
flame is in a line with that of the balls. The balls are
about three-fourths of an inch in diameter, and commu¬
nicate by insulated wires, the one with the positive and
the other with the negative conductor. If the machine
be then put in motion, the flame will waver verv much,
but will seem to incline rather to the negative than the
positive ball. After turning the machine for about 50
revolutions (if the glass be a plate of two feet diame¬
ter), the negative ball will begin to grow warm, while
the positive still remains cold. After 200 revolutions,
the negative ball will become too hot to be touch¬
ed, while the positive will continue as cold as at
first *.
A charged phial may be gradually discharged by
passing it for some time backwards and forwards
through the flame of a large candle, so that the flame
may act alternately on the knob and the outside
267 coating.
joke and Expe?\ 2.—Suspend a cork-ball electrometer about
ham con- four or five feet above the prime conductor of an elec¬
trical machine ; then turn the winch very gently, and
it will be found that the balls do not diverge. Now
place a green wax taper just blown out in the prime
conductor, so that its smoke may ascend towards the
balls, and these will diverge a little with the same de¬
gree of motion communicated to the machine.
The same efiect, but in a less degree, will be pro¬
duced, if, instead of the taper, a vessel of hot water is
placed below the balls, thus shewing that steam is a
conductor, though inferior to smoke in its conducting-
power.
These experiments are by Mr Henley, and are among
several others related by him in the 64th volume of the
Philosophical Transactions. His reason for employing
a green taper, was, that on account of the verdigris
which it contained, it occasioned much smoke with lit¬
tle heat.
It has been remarked in the Introduction, that glass,
though one of the most perfect electrics when cold, be¬
comes a conductor when heated red hot. This is proved
by the following experiment, which also shews that
nmucb other electrics change their nature when heated.
Take a small glass tube of about one-twentieth of
an inch in diameter, and above a foot long5 close it at
one end, and introduce a wire into it, so that it may be
extended through its whole length : let two or three
inches of this wire project above the open end of the
tube, and there fasten it with a bit of cork ; tie round
the closed end of the tube another wire, which will
be separated from the wire within the tube only by the
glass interposed between them. In these circumstances
endeavour to send a shock through the two wires 5 i. e.
the wire inserted in the glass tube, and that tied on its
VOL. VII. Part II. f
737
268
iss and
ier eiec-
( be-
ue con-
tors
;'m n
1 ted,
outside, by connecting one of them with the outside, and Principles
touching the other with the knob of a charged jar, and of Ek-ctri-
you will find that the discharge cannot be made, unless c‘ty iHus-
the tube be broken ; because the circuit is interrupted Lratc3 b-
by the glass at the end of the tube, which is interposed
between the two wires. But put that end of the tube
to which the wire is tied into the fire, so that it may
become just red hot, then endeavour to discharge the
jar again through the wires, and you will find that the
explosion will be easily transmitted from wire to wire,
through the substance of the glass, which, by being made
red hot, is become a conductor.
In order to ascertain the conducting quality of hot
resinous substances, oils, &c. bend a glass tube in the
form of an arch CEFD, fig. 95. and tie a silk string Fig. 95.
CD to it, which serves to hold it by when it is to he
set near the fire; fill the middle part of this tube with
rosin, sealing-wax, &c. then introduce two wires, AE,
BF, through its ends, so that they may touch the rosin,
or penetrate a little way in it. This done, let a person
hold the tube over a clear fire, so as to melt the rosin
within it; at the same time, by connecting one of the
wires, A or B, with the outside of a charged jar, and
touching the other with the knob of the jar, endeavour
to make the discharge through the rosin, and you will
observe that, while the rosin is cold, no shocks can be
transmitted through it: but it becomes a conductor ac¬
cording as it melts, and when totally melted, the shocks
will pass through it very freely. ^
The electric power of glass may also be destroyed by Glass and
reducing the glass to powder. This was ascertained by other elec-
M. Wilckef, and Dr Priestley |; but it has been most Uics,wHu
satisfactorily proved by M. Van Swinden, in the follow-
ing experiments. conductors.
Exper. I.—He covered a case of white iron witht de
powdered glass, so as to form a cake about inch1'Acad‘de
thick, a foot long, and eight inches broad, and be pla- U0fX'
ced above this cake, another plate of iron so as to form Electricitu,
a coating. He then attempted to charge this coatedp-viii. s 4.
plate, but without success ; he could produce no shock.
Exper. 2.—Supposing that the conducting power of
the glass in the above experiment might arise from
some humidity which it had contracted, he dried it in
a crucible, and repeated the experiment. In this case,
it appeared slightly electric, so long as the machine was
worked, but when this was stopped the plate of powder¬
ed glass no longer affected the electrometer.
Exper. 3.—Into a jar, coated on the outside, he put? Van
a quantity of powdered glass, and having furnished it linden
in other respects like a Leyden phial, he proceeded to
examine whether it would receive a charge. He found/’jE/atfri.
that it could be completely charged, a proof that the cite et de
powdered glass acted the part of a conductor Magne-
By similar experiments M. Van Swinden found that47*7”*:
flowers of sulphur acted as a conductor, though more,, _ ’
imperfectly than powdered glass. 2^0
Soon after the discovery of the Levden phial and Velocity of
shock produced by it, it became a desirable object with1*16 e!ectl‘>c
electricians to ascertain how far the shock might bes*'oc^'
conveyed, and how long a time would be required to
convey it to any considerable distance.
The French philosophers were the first to appear in
this field, but they did little more than excite the Eng¬
lish to go far beyond them in these great undertakings.
A circuit was made by the former of 900 toises, con-
5 A listing
^ Q
/J0
ELECTRICITY.
priB«i„ie, »f mea l,oldms,ron ',:res bct"'ix,, Ti
£ ,‘Ju, through which the electric shock was sensibly felt. At
•it, illtu- another time they made tile shock pass through a wire
uated by two tl10USand toises in length, that is, near a I aris
txperiment.^^ or about two English miles and a half j though
v ' part of the wires dragged upon wet grass, went over
chasms, hedges, or palisades, and over ground newly
ploughed up. Into another chain they took the water
of the bason in the Thuilleries, the surface of which
was about an acre, and the phial was discharged
Mr Monnier the younger, endeavoured to deter¬
mine the velocity of the electric power, and for this
purpose made the shock pass through an iron wire of
o co toises in length ; but he could not observe that it
spent a quarter of a second in passing it. He also
found, when a wire of 1319 feet, with its extremities
brought near together, was electrified, that the electri¬
city ceased at one end the moment it was taken oil at
the other. _ i j 1
These attempts of the French were succeeded by
greater, more numerous, and more accurate experi¬
ments performed in this country. The names of the
English gentlemen, who, animated with a truly philoso¬
phical spirit, were indefatigable in this pursuit, deserve
to be honourably recorded.
The principal agent in this scene was Dr Watson.
He planned and directed all the operations, and never
- -- - ■ ■  : * His chief
a?1
F.xperi-
w.cnts on
thuTaquiiy failed to be present at every experiment.
k.v Hr
Wat ton
and his as-
ttcraie-s.
assistants were Martin Folkes, Esq. president of the.
Royal Society, Lord Charles Cavendish, Dr Bevis,
Mr Graham, Dr Birch, Mr Peter Daval, Mr Tremb-
ley, Mr Elliot, Mr Robins, and Mr Short. Many
other persons, and some of distinction, gave their at¬
tendance occasionally.
Dr Watson, who wrote the history of their proceed¬
ings, in order to lay them before the Royal Society,
begins by observing (what was verified in all their ex¬
periments^) that the electric shock is not, strictly speak¬
ing, conducted in the shortest manner possible, unless
the bodies through which it passes, conduct equally
well ; for that, if they conduct unequally, the circuit is
always formed through the best conductois, though the
length of it be ever so great.
The first attempt these gentlemen made,^ was to
convey the electric shock across the river Thames,
making use of the water of the river for one part of
the chain of communication. This they accomplished
on the 14th and 18th of July of 1747, by fastening a
wire all along Westminster bridge, at a considerable
height above the water. One end of this wire commu¬
nicated with the coating of a charged phial, the other
being held by an observer, who in his other hand held
an iron rod, which he dipped into the river. On the
opposite side of the river stood a gentleman who like¬
wise dipped an iron rod in the river with one hand,
and in the other held a wire, the extremity of which
might be brought into contact with the wire of the
phial.
Upon making the discharge, the shock was felt by
the observers on both sides of the river, but more sen¬
sibly by those who were stationed on the same side
with the machine *, part of the electric fire having gone
from the wire down the moist stones of the bridge,
thereby making several shorter circuits to the phial,
Part III
but still all passing through the gentlemen who were prjl>e- ,
stationed on the same side with the machine. This was, 0f EUe ^!
in a manner, demonstrated by some persons feeling a city itlu«..
sensible shock in their arms and feet, who only happen- Crated br
ed to touch the wire at the time of one of the dis-exPcr|niieiU
charges, when they were standing upon wet steps which
led to the river *. *
Upon this and the subsequent occasions, the gentle-Tram.
men made use of wires in preference to chains, for this, voh *.
among other reasons, that the electricity which wasp’349>&1
conducted by chains, was not so strong as that conduct¬
ed by wires. This, as they well observed, was occa¬
sioned by the junctures of the links not being sufficient¬
ly close, as appeared by the flashing and snapping at
every juncture, where there was the least separation.
These lesser snappings being numerous in the whole
length of a chain, very sensibly lessened the great dis¬
charge at the prime conductor.
Their next attempt was to force the electrical shock
to make a circuit of two miles, at the New-river at
Stoke Newington. This they performed on the 24th
of July 1747, at two places; at one of which, the
distance by land was 800 feet, and by water 2000: in
the other the distance by land was 2800 feet, and by
water 8000. The disposition of the apparatus was si¬
milar to what they before used at Westminster bridge,
and the effect answered their utmost expectations.
But, as in both cases, the observers at both extremities
of the chain, which terminated in- the water, felt the
shock, as well when they stood with their rods fixed in¬
to the earth 20 feet from the water, as when they were
put into the river; it occasioned a doubt, whether the
shock was formed through the windings of the river,
or a much shorter way by the ground of the meadow :
for the experiment plainly shewed, that the meadow
ground, with the grass on it, conducted the electricity
very well.
By subsequent experiments, they were fully convin¬
ced, that the electricity had not in this case been con¬
veyed by the water of the river, which was two miles
in length, but by land, where the distance was only one
mile ; in which space, however, the electric power
must necessarily have passed over the New-river twice,
have gone through several gravel pits, and a large
stubble field t. ■{■ Jt. p. 3
On the 28th of July they repeated the experiment
at the same place, with the following variation of cir¬
cumstances. The iron wire was, in its whole length,
supported by dry sticks, and the observers stood upon
original electrics ; the effect of which was, that they
felt the shock much more sensibly than when the con¬
ducting wire had lain upon the ground, and when the
observers had stood likewise upon the ground, as in the
former experiment.
Afterwards, every thing remaining as before, the ob¬
servers were directed, instead of dipping their rods into
the water, to put them into the ground, each 150 feet
from the water. They were both smartly struck,
though they were distant from each other above 500
feet.
The same gentlemen, pleased with the success of
their former experiments, undertook another, the ob¬
ject of which was to determine, whether the electric
power could be conveyed through dry ground ; and at
the same time to carry it through water to a greater
pliap. XIV.
hrincipJes distance than they had done before. For this purpose
VElectri- they pitched upon Highbury-barn, beyond Islington,
MtjriHus- t|iey carried it ;nto execution on the cth of^Au-
rated by * mi i . « . J
j iperinient. Susc I747* -They chose a station for their machine
    almost equally distant from two other stations for obser¬
vers, upon the New-river, which were somewhat more
than a mile asunder by land, and two miles by water.
They had found the streets of London, when dry, to
conduct very strongly, for about 40 yards j and the dry
road at Newington about the same distance. The event
of this trial answered their expectations. The electric
fire made the circuit of the water, when both the wires
and the observers were supported on original electrics
and the rods dipped into the river. They also both felt
the shock, when one of the observers was placed in a
dry gravelly pit, about 300 yards nearer the machine
than the former station, and 100 yards distant from the
river j from which the gentlemen were satisfied, that
the dry gravelly ground had conducted the electricity
as strongly as water.
The last attempt of this kind which these gentleman
made, and which required all their sagacity and address
in the conduct of it, was to try whether the electric
shock was perceptible at twice the distance to which
they had before carried it, in ground perfectly dry, and
where no water was near, and also to distinguish, if
possible, the comparative velocity of electricity, and of
sound.
For this purpose they fixed upon Shooter’s-hill, and
made their first experiment on the 14th of August
1747, a time, when, as it happened, but one shower
of rain had fallen during five preceding weeks. The
wire communicating with the iron rod, which made
the discharge, was 6732 feet in length, and was sup¬
ported all the way upon baked sticks 5 as was also the
wire which communicated with the coating of the phial,
which was 3868 feet long, and the observers were
distant from each other two miles. The result of the
explosion demonstrated, to the satisfaction of the gentle¬
men present, that the circuit performed by the elec¬
tricity was four miles, viz. two miles of wire,
and two of dry ground, the space between the ex¬
tremities of the wires, a distance which, without trial,
as they justly observed, was too great to be credited.
A gun was discharged at the instant of the explosion,
and the observers had stop watches in their hands, to
note the moment when they felt the shock ; but as far
as they could distinguish, the electric power performed
that vast circuit instantaneously.
In all the explosions where the circuit was made of
any considerable length, it was observed, that though
the phial was very well charged, yet that the snap at
the gun-barrel made by the explosion was not near
so loud as when the circuit was formed in a room 5 so
that a bystander, says Dr Watson, would not imagine
from seeing the flash and hearing the report, that the
stroke at the extremity of the conducting wire would
have been considerable, the contrary of which, when
the wires were properly managed, he says, always hap¬
pened.
Still the gentlemen, unwearied in these pursuits,
were desirous of ascertaining, if possible, the absolute
velocity of electricity through a certain space ; because
though in the last experiment, the time of its progress
was certainly very small, they were desirous of knowing,
electricity. 739
small as that time might be, whether it was measurable, Principle.*
and Dr Watson had contrived an excellent method for ofElectri-
that purpose. city illus-
Accordingly, on the 5th of August 1748, the gentle-, t,ated by
men met for the last time at Shooter’s-hill j when it y ^ .
was agreed to make an electric circuit of two miles, by
several turnings of the wire, in the same field. The
middle of this circuit they contrived to be in the same
room with the machine, ■where an observer took in each
hand one of the extremities of the wires, each of which
was a mile in length. In this excellent disposition of
the apparatus, in which the time between the explosion
and the shock could be observed with the greatest ex¬
actness, the phial was discharged several times ; but the
observer always felt himself shocked at the very instant
of making the explosion. Upon this the gentlemen
were fully satisfied, that through the whole length of
this wire, which was 12,276 feet in length, the velo¬
city of the electric power was instantaneous *. * Phil.
Some doubts however may be entertained of the ac- T'an*- Abr.
curacy of these experiments. They have not been re-™1, x‘
peated in the present improved state of the science,
when so much greater precision can be given to them.
Even metals, the most perfect conductors, oppose some
resistance to the motion of electricity, and a charge
will take a short passage through air in preference to
a circuit of 20 or 30 feet through thin wire. This
fact imparts a degree of uncertainty to the accounts of
a transmission of a small charge through a space of
four miles.
2 7 u
We have noticed the increased evaporation from li-How to
quids by means of electricity. The following experi-
ment, which is commonly exhibited by lecturers on '"S'™* .ir''
electricity, is usually considered of the same kind.
Stick a small piece of sealing-wax on the end of a
wire, and set fire to it. fhen put an electrical ma¬
chine in motion, and present the wax just blown out at
the distance of some inches from the prime conductor.
A number uf extremely fine filaments will immediate¬
ly dart from the sealing-wax to the conductor, on which
they will he condensed into a kind of net-work, resem¬
bling wool.
If the wire with the sealing-wax be stuck into one
of the holes of the conductor, and a piece of paper be
presented at a moderate distance to the wax, just after
it has been ignited, on setting the machine in motion, a
net-work of wax will be formed on the paper. The
same effect, hut in a slighter degree, will be produced,
if the paper be briskly rubbed with a piece of elastic
gum, and the melting sealing-wax be held pretty near
the paper immediately after rubbing.
If the paper thus painted, as it were, with sealing-
wax, be gently warmed by holding the hack of it to the
fire, the wax will adhere to it, and the result of the •
experiment will thus be rendered permanent.
A beautiful experiment of the same nature is made To mike
with camphor. A spoon holding a piece of lighted camphor
camphor'is made to communicate with an electrifieds}l0nt'"to
body, as the prime conductor of a machine ; while theriimififa"
conductor continues electrified by keeping fhe machinetl0nB‘
in motion, the camphor will throw out ramifications
and appear to shoot like a vegetable.
Soon after the discovery of the electrophorus by
Signior Volta, an experiment was made with that in¬
strument by Professor Lichtenberg of Gottingen, that
5 A 3 attracted
74°
Principles
et‘ Eleelti
city illus¬
trated by
experiment.
periicent of
Professor
Triclitcn-
berg.
-75
Method of
producing
Tarious con
figurations
by electri¬
city.
attracted considerable notice.
Mr Cavallo. „
The electrophorus, that is, a plate ol some resinous
substance, as sulphur, rosin, gum-lac, &c. is first ex¬
cited, either hy rubbing or otherwise j then a piece ot
metal of any shape, at pleasure, as, for instance, a three-
legged compass, a piece of brass tube, or the like, is
set upon tbe eiectrophorus, and to this piece of metal,
so placed, a spark is given, of tbe electricity contrary
to that of the plate j this done, the piece ot metal is
removed, by means of a stick ot sealing-wax or oilier
electric, and some powder ot rosin, kept in a linen bag,
is shaken upon the electrophorus : this powder will be
found to fall about those points upon the plate, which
the piece of metal touched, forming some radiated ap¬
pearances, much like the common representations ot
stars •, at the same time, upon the greatest part ot the
plate, that is, besides those stars, there is hardly any
powder at all. Now, it is to be remarked, that if the
plate be excited negatively, and the spark given to the
metal set upon it is positive, the appearance will he as
above described ; but if, on the contrary, the plate is
positive and the spark is negative, then the powder of
rosin will he found to fall upon those parts of the plate
which in the other case is left uncovered, and to leave
the stars clean : in short, it will do just the reverse of
what it did in the other case •, or, in other words, the
powder of rosin will be attracted by those parts only
of the electrophorus which are electrified positively. _
The configurations produced in the above expen-
ment of M. Lichtenberg appeared so curious that they
were soon imitated by various electricians, particularly
by Mr Cavallo and the Reverend Abraham Rennet,
inventor of the doubler. The directions given by this
last gentleman are as follows.
To make red figures, take a pound of rasped Brazil
wood : put it into a kettle with as much water as will
cover it, or rather more j also put in about an ounce of
gum arabic and a lump of alum about as big as a large
nut *, let it boil about two hours, or till the water is
strongly coloured \ strain off the extract into a bioad
dish, and set it in an iron oven, where it is to remain
till all the water be evaporated, which .with me was
effected in about twelve hours j but this depends on the
heat of the* oven, which should not he so hot as to en¬
danger its burning. Sometimes I have boiled the
strained extract till it was considerably inspissated be¬
fore it was placed in the oven, that it might be sooner
dry.
When it is quite dry but not burnt, scrape it out of
the dish, and grind it in a mortar till it be finely pul¬
verized. In doing this, it is proper to cover the mor¬
tar with a cloth, having a hole through, to prevent the
powder from flying away and offending the nose, and
also to do it out of doors if the weather he. dry and calm,
.1 4 j I _ * _    ^ A WWW f 11 V\ /■* rl Cj »•>>.
ELECTRICITY. Partin..
It is thus described by edges at least half an inch high, to confine the com- principles.
position whilst fluid : thus the resinous plate was half of Electri-
an inch thick, which is better than a thinner plate, the
figures being more distinct. After the composition is *
cold, it will be found covered with small blisters, w—
which may he taken out by holding the plates before
the fire, till the surface be melted *, then let it cool
again, and upon holding it a second time to the file,
more blisters will appear j but hy thus repeatedly heat¬
ing and cooling the surface, it will at last become per¬
fectly smooth. Some plates were made smaller, and
the resinous composition confined to the form of an el¬
lipsis, a circle, or escutcheon, by a rim ol tin half an
inch broad, and fixed upon a board.
The next thing to be done is to prepare the paper,
which is to he softened in water, either by laying the
pieces upon each other in a vessel of cold water, or first
pouring a little hot water upon the bottom of a large
dish, then laying upon it a piece of paper, so that one
edge of the paper may lie over the edge ot the dish, to
remain dry, that it may afterwards be more conve¬
niently taken up. Then pour more hot water upon its
upper surlace. Upon this place another piece in the
same manner, again pouring on more water, and thus
proceed till all the pieces are laid in. By using hot
water, the paper will he more softened in a few mi¬
nutes than if it remains in cold water a whole day.
When the figures are to be made, the resinous plate
must lie horizontally, whilst the electricity is communi¬
cated, if the experiment requires any thing to he placed
upon the plate : but it is convenient afterwards to hang
it up in a vertical position whilst the powder is project¬
ed, lest too much powder should fall where it is not re¬
quired.
A little of the powder may he taken between a
finger and thumb, and projected by drawing it over a
brush j or, which is better, a quantity of powder may be
put into the bellows and blown towards the plate.
When the figure is sufficiently covered with powder,
Jet the plate be again laid horizontally upon a table}
then take one of the softened papers out of the water
by its dry edge, and lay it carefully between the leaves
of a book, pressing the leaves together, and let it lie in
this situation about half a minute. 1 hen remove the
paper to a dry place in the book, and press it again
aboqt the same time, which will generally be sufficient
to take off the superfluous moisture. Then take up the
paper by the two corners of its dry edge, and place the
wet edge a little beyond the figure on the resinous plate,
lowering the rest of the piece gradually till it covers
the figure without sliding j then lay over it a piece of
clean dry paper, and press it gently j let it remain a
short time, and then rub it closer to the plate with a
cloth, or, which is better, press it down hy means of a
wooden roller covered w’lth cloth, taking care that the
also to (.0 it Out OI uOOFb li Uit vveauici uc ui y duu wuuucu xunti * v.. -- 0
that the air may carry away the powder necessarily paper be not moved from its first position
 :  ...LL.L nft.uroriaa tc i/prv ftisa«rr*»patilp. nanpr is Kiiffirifint!V nresseck let it be tal
escaping, and which otherwise is very disagreeable.
When ground fine, let it he sifted through mtislin or a
fine hair-sieve, returning the coarser part into the mor¬
tar to be ground again. When the grinding and silt¬
ing are finished, the powder is ready for use. The re¬
sinous plate I have mostly used was composed of five
pounds of rosin, half a pound of bees-wax, and two
ounces of lamp-black, melted together, and poured up¬
on a board sixteen inches square, with ribs upon the
«v.      r When the
paper is sufficiently pressed, let it be taken up by its
dry edge, and laid upon the surface of a vessel of water
with the printed side downwards ", by this means the
superfluous powder will sink in the water, and the
figure will not be so liable afterwards to spread in the
paper. After the paper has remained on the watei
during a few minutes, take it up and place it between
the leaves of a book, removing it frequently to a dry
place. If it be desired that the paper should be speed:-
ly
| Bcnnst's
Hew V.xpe
riments.
Chap. XIV. , ELECT
Principles ly dry, let the book leaves in which it is to be placed
ofElectri- be previously warmed, and by removing it to several
C 1 ^aceS dry mucli sooner than by holding it
expeHiuent.near a ^ire> and without drawing the paper crooked.
  By the above process, it is obvious, that leather, cali¬
co, or linen, as well as paper, may be printed with
these figures, and the effects of the diffusion ol'electri¬
city upon a resinous plate be exhibited to those who
have not leisure or inclination to perform the experi¬
ments f.
The figures represented in Plate CXGII. were form¬
ed much after Mr Bennet’s method.
The apparatus used for making them consisted only
of a common Leyden phial, and a plate of glass 15
inches square, covered on one side with a varnish of
gum-lac dissolved in spirit of wine, and several times
laid over. The other side is covered with tin-foil laid
on with common paste. When it is to be used, the
glass plate is put upon a metallic stand, with the tin-
foiled side laid undermost j the phial is to be charged,
and the knob drawn over the varnished side. Thus any
kind of figure may be drawn, or letters made, as repre¬
sented in the plate ; and from every figure beautiful
ramifications will proceed, longer or shorter according
to the strength of the charge. On some occasions,
however, the charge may be too strong, particularly
where we wish to represent letters, so that the whole
will be blended into one confused mass. The round
figures are formed by placing metallic rings or plates
upon the electrical plate ; and then giving them a spark
from the electrified bottle, or sending a shock through
them. The figures may be rendered permanent by
blowing off the loose chalk, and clapping on a piece of
black sized paper upon them ; or if they are wanted
of another colour, they may easily be obtained by
means of lake, vermilion, rose-pink, or any of the ordi¬
nary colours ground very fine. The easiest way of ap¬
plying them seems to be by a barber’s puff bellows.
We shall conclude this part of our article with no¬
ticing the effects produced by electricity on magnetic
needles.
These may be stated in the following proposition.
An electric shock communicates a magnetic power
to needles, andfrequently reverses or destroys that po¬
larity.
By electricity Dr Franklin frequently gave polarity
to needles and reversed them at pleasure. A shock
from four large jars, sent through a fine sewing needle,
he says, gave it polarity, so that it would traverse when
laid on water. What is most remarkable in these elec¬
trical experiments upon magnets is, that if the needle,
when it was struck, lay east and west, the end which
was entered by the electric blast pointed north : but
that if it lay north and south, the end which lay to¬
wards the north would continue to point north,
whether the fire entered at that end or the contrary j
though he imagined that a stronger stroke would have
reversed the poles even in that situation, an effect which
had been known to have been produced by lightning.
He also observed, that the polarity was strongest when
the needle was struck lying north and south, and weak¬
est when it lay east and west. He takes notice that
in these experiments the needle, in some cases, would be
V]6
speri-
ents on
e efl'ect
oduced
eleclri-
;y on
ignetic
cdles,
*77
Dr
anklin.
R I C I T Y.
finely blued like the spring of a watch, by the electric
flame ; in which ease, the colour given by a flash from
two jars only might be wiped off, but that a flash from
four jars fixed it, and frequently melted the needles.
I he jars which the doctor used held seven or eight
gallons, and were coated and lined with tin-foil 1'.
Dr \ an Marum made several experiments on com¬
municating polarity to needles with lus very powerful
machine. He and his coadjutor tried to give polarity
to needles made of watch springs from three to six
incites in length, and likewise to steel bars nine inches
long, front a quarter of an inch to half an inch broad,
and about a lute in thickness. The result was, that
when the bar or needle was placed horizontally in the
magnetic meridian, whichever way the shock entered,
the end of the bar that stood toward the north acquired
the north polarity, or the power of turning towards the
north when freely suspended, and the opposite end ac¬
quired the south. It the bar, before it received the
shock, had some polarity, and was placed with its poles
contrary to the usual direction, then its natural polarity
w'as always diminished, and often reversed ; so that
the extremity of it, which in receiving the shock look¬
ed towards the north, became the north pole, &c.
TV hen the bar or needle was struck standing perpen¬
dicularly, its lowest end became the north pole in any
case, even when the bar had some magnetism before,
and yvas placed with the south pole downwards. Cee-
teris paribus, the bars seemed to acquire an equal de¬
gree of magnetic pow'er, whether they were struck
whilst standing horizontally in the magnetic meridian,
or perpendicular to the horizon.
When the bar or needle was placed in the magnetic
equator, whichever way the shock entered, it never
gave it any magnetism j but if the shock was given
through its width, then the needle acquired a consider¬
able degree of magnetism, and the end which Jay to¬
wards the west became the north pole, and the other
end the south pole.
If a needle or bar, already magnetic, or a real mag¬
net, was struck in any direction, its power was always
diminished. For this experiment, they tried consider¬
ably large bars, one being 7,08 inches long, 0,26
broad, and 0,05 thick.
When the shock was so strong in proportion to the
size of the needle, as to render it hot, then the needle
generally acquired no magnetism at all, or very little.
The experiments wrere made with the extraordinary
power of a battery composed of 135 phials, containing
among them about 130 square feet of coated surface.
Iliese experiments, how'ever, prove nothing respect-
ing the nature of the electric fluid, and shew no pecu¬
liar relation between it and magnetism : for the very
same effects are produced when needles and bars of
iron are subjected to mechanical action, as by striking
with a hammer in the direction of the dipping needle,
the twisting of wires, and various other modes of me¬
chanical operation. The position in which iron re¬
ceives this magnetic power most readily, is that of the
dipping needle. A horizontal position in the magnetic
meridian was equally favourable as the vertical posi¬
tion, because both were nearly equally remote from
that of the dipping needle.
741
Principles
ot’ Kite tri¬
cky illus¬
trate.! by
experiment.
f Franklins
Letters.
27S
By Van
Manim.
PART IV. .
ELECTRICITY.
742
Theory of
Kleciricity,
PART IV.
Part IV.
Theory of
Electricity
THEORY OE ELECTRICITY.
Chap. I. A Concise View of the Principal Theories
of Electricity.
Sect. I. 0/ the Theories of Electricity before the Time
of Franklin.
»79 THE first electricians supposed, that electrical at-
Yheory of traction was performed by means of unctuous effluvia
the early em;ttec} by the excited electric. These were supposed
electricians. ^ attach t|,emselves to all bodies, and to carry back
wdth them those which were not too heavy. 1 or in
that age of philosophy all effluvia were supposed to re¬
turn to the body from which they had been emitted,
since no person could otherwise account for the substance
not being sensibly W'asted by the constant emission.
When these light bodies, on which the unctuous efflu¬
via had fastened, had arrived again at the excited elec¬
tric, a fresh emission of the effluvia was supposed to
carry them back again. But this effect of the effluvia
was not thought of, till electrical repulsion had been
sufficiently observed.
When the Newtonian philosophy had made some
progress, and the extreme subtility of light, and other
effluvia of bodies, was demonstrated, so that philoso¬
phers were under no apprehension of bodies being wast¬
ed by continual emission, the doctrine of the return of
effluvia was universally given up, as being no longer
necessary j and they were obliged to acquiesce in the
unknown doctrines of attraction and repulsion, as na¬
tural properties of certain bodies, the unknown cause
of which they scarcely attempted to explain.
180 Early in the 18th century, M. du Fay discovered
Hypothesis j]iat there were two states of electricity, or, as he sup-
Da Fay. e(^ two different kinds of electricity, produced when
different electrics were excited. “ Chance (says he)
has thrown in my way a principle, which casts a new
light upon the subject of electricity. The principle is,
that there are two distinct kinds of electricity, very dif¬
ferent from one another j one of which I call vitreous,
the other resinous electricity. The first is that of glass,
rock crystal, precious stones, hairs of animals, wool, and
many other bodies. The second is that of amber,
copal, gum lac, silk, thread, paper, and a vast number
of other substances. The characteristics of these two
electricities are, that they repel themselves, and attract
each other. Thus a body possessed of the vitreous elec¬
tricity, repels all other bodies possessed of the vitreous,
and, on the contrary, attracts all those possessed of the
resinous electricity. The resinous also repels the re¬
sinous, and attracts the vitreous. From this principle
one may easily deduce the explanation of a great num¬
ber of other phenomena ", and it is probable that this
truth will lead us to the discovery of many other
things.”
This discovery of M. du Fay was the origin of a
theory of electricity, which is commonly called the
theory of two fluids, and which we shall presently con¬
sider more at length.
Hitherto attraction and repulsion were the only elec- 281
trical phenomena which had been observed j and to the
explanation of these, the above general theories ap¬
peared sufficiently competent. But when electricity
began to shew itself in a greater variety of appearances,
and to make itself sensible to the smell, the sight, the
touch and the hearing 5 when bodies were not only at¬
tracted and repelled, but made to emit strong sparks of
fire, attended with a considerable noise, a painful sen¬
sation, and a strong phosphorical smell, electricians
were obliged to make their systems more complex, in
proportion as the facts accumulated. It was then ge¬
nerally supposed that the electric power, which now
began to assume the name of the electric fluid., was the
same with the chemical principle of fire 5 though some
thought it was a fluid suigeneris, which very much re¬
sembled that of fire; and others, with M. Boulanger at
their head, thought that the electric fluid was nothing
more than the finer parts of the atmosphere, which
crowded upon the surfaces of electric bodies, when the
grosser parts had been driven away by the friction of
the rubber.
During this time, it was imagined, that the electric£]ectric
matter was produced from the electric body by Iric-matter dii-
tion $ but by a discovery of Dr Watson’s, it became covered to
universally believed, that the glass globes and tubes^®^0™
served only to set the fluid in motion, and by no means
to produce it. He was led to this discovery by ob¬
serving, that, upon rubbing the glass tube, while he
was standing upon cakes of wax or rosin (in order, as
he expected, to prevent any discharge of the electric
matter upon the floor), the power was, contrary to his
expectation, so much lessened, that no snapping could
be observed upon another person’s touching any pait
of his body ; but that, if a person not electrified held
his hand near the tube while it was rubbed, the snap¬
ping was very sensible. The event was the same when
the globe was whirled in similar circumstances. For,
if the man who turned the wheel, and who, together
with the machine, was suspended upon silk, touched
the floor with one foot, the electric fire appeared upon
the conductor j but if he kept himself free from any
communication with the floor, little or no fire was pro¬
duced.—He observed, that only a spark or two would
appear between his hand and the insulated machine,
unless he at the same time formed a communication
between the conductor and the floor ; but that then
there wras a constant and copious flow of the electric
matter observed between them. From these, and some
other experiments of a similar kind, the Doctor dis¬
covered what he called the complete circulation of the
electric matter. When he found, that by cutting oft
the communication of the glass globe with the floor,
all electric operations were stopped, he concluded that
the electric fluid was conveyed from the floor to the
rubber,
Chap. I.
electricity.
Theory of rubber, and from thence to the globe. For the same
Liciririty. reason, seeing the rubber, or the man who had a com¬
munication with it, gave no sparks but when the con¬
ductor was connected with the floor, he as naturally
concluded, that the globe was supplied from the con¬
ductor as he had before concluded that it was supplied
horn the rubber. From all this he was at last led to
form a new theory of electricity, namely, that in
743
Dr Wat
sun’* theory If- • . ciceu icuy, namely, that in
of afflux yele"t,1C options, there was both an afflux of electric
oraraux ^ a.l a, \i i , , , ui eiecinc
and efflux. n^tter J° the g,obe and the conductor, and likewise an
efflux ot the same electric matter from them. Finding
that a piece of leaf silver was suspended between a plate
electrified by the conductor, and another communi¬
cating with the floor, he reasons from it in the follow¬
ing manner: “No body can be suspended in equili-
brio but by the joint action of two different directions
ot power ; so here the blast of electric ether from the
floor setting through it, drives the silver towards the
plate electrified. We find from hence, likewise, that
the draught of electric ether from the floor is always
m proportion to the c|uantity thrown by the globe
over the gun barrel (the prime conductor at that time
made use ol), or the equilibrium by which the silver is
suspended could not be maintained. Some time af¬
ter, however, the Doctor retracted this opinion con¬
cerning the afflux and efflux, and supposed that all the
electric phenomena might be accounted for from the ex¬
cess or diminution of the quantity of electric matter con¬
tained in different bodies. This is the theory that was
more fully explained by Franklin. It has been disputed
whether Dr Watson or Franklin was the original con¬
triver of this theory. It is possible that Watson may
have formed the idea independently of Franklin j but
certainly to this latter able and acute philosopher is due
the merit of having framed and applied the hypothesis
of positive and negative electricity, which, with some
modification, has been since almost universally adopted.
One great difficulty with which the first electricians
were embarrassed was to ascertain the direction of the
fluid. At first, all electric powers, as we have already
observed, were supposed to reside in the excited globe
or glass tube. The electric spark therefore was imagin¬
ed to proceed from the electrified body towards any
conductor that was presented to it. It was never
imagined that there could be any difference in this re¬
spect, whether it was amber, glass, sealing wax, or
any thing else that was excited. The progress of the
electric matter was thought to be quite evident to the
senses j and therefore the observation of electric ap¬
pearances at an insulated rubber occasioned the greatest
astonishment.— In this case the current could not be
supposed to flow both from the rubber and tire con-
due tor, and yet tbe first appearances were the same,
lo provide a supply of the electric matter, therefore,
philosophers were obliged to suppose, that, notwith¬
standing appearances were in both cases much the
same, the electric fluid was really emitted in one case
by the electrified body, and received by it in the other.
But now being obliged to give up the evidence from
sight for the manner of its progress, they were at a loss,
whether, in the usual method of electrifying bv excited
glass, the fluid proceeded from the rubbei-°to 'the con¬
ductor, or from the conductor to the rubber. It was,
however, soon found, that the electricity of the rubber
was the reverse ot that at the conductor, and in all re¬
4
184
bifflculty
oacernin;
be diree-
iou of (be
uid.
spects the same with that which had before been pro- Theory of
duced by the friction of sealing wax, sulphur, rosin, Electricity
etc. Seeing, therefore, that both the electricities^    
were produced at the same time, by one and the same
electric, and by the same friction, all philosophers were
naturally led to conclude, that both were modifications
ot one fluid ; though in what manner that fluid tvas
modified throughout the immense variety of electric
phenomena, was a matter not easy to he determined. *®5
On this subject the Abbe Nollet adopted the doc-,Ab,bo 1N*1*'
trine of afflux, and efflux already mentioned. He sup- Ct * *
posed, that, in all electrical operations, the fluid is
thrown into two opposite motions ; that the afflux of
this matter drives all light bodies before it by impulse
upon the electrified body, and its efflux carries them
back again. He was, however, very much embarrassed
in accounting for facts where both these currents must
be considered j as in the quick alternate attraction and
repulsion of light bodies by an excited glass tube, or
other excited electric. To obviate this difficulty, he
supposes that every excited electric, and likewise every
body to which electricity is communicated, has two
orders of pores, one for the emission of the effluvia, and
another for the reception of them. M. de Tour im¬
proved upon Nollet’s hypothesis, and supposed that
there is a difference between the affluent and effluent
current; and that the particles of the fluid are thrown
into vibrations of different qualities, which make one
of these currents more copious than the other, accord¬
ing as sulphur or glass is used., It is impossible, how¬
ever, that suppositions so very arbitrary could be at all
satisfactory, or received as proper explanations of the
electric phenomena.
About this time the Leyden phial was discovered j
dnd tbe extraordinary eftects of it rendered the in*-
quiries into the nature of the electric fluid much more
general than before. It would he tedious, and indeed
impossible, to give an account of all the theories which s86
were now invented. One of the most remarkable was Mr Wil-
that of Mr Wilson. According to this gentleman, theS0B’*
chief agent in all the operations of electricity, is Sirl*tr0ry‘
Isaac Newton’s ether ; which is more or less dense in
all bodies in proportion to the smallness of their pores,
except that it is much denser in sulphureous and unctu¬
ous bodies. To this ether are ascribed the principal
phenomena of attraction and repulsion : the light, thw
sulphureous or rather phosphoreal smell with& which
violent electricity ia always attended, and other sensi¬
ble qualities, are ascribed to the grosser particles of
bodies driven from them by the forcible action of this
ether. He also endeavours to explain many electrical
phenomena by means of a subtile medium at the sur¬
face of all bodies ; which is the cause of the refraction
and reflection of the rays of light, and also resists the
entrance and exit of this ether. This medium, lie says,
extends to a small distance from the body, and is of the
same nature with what is called the electric fluid. On
the surface of conductors this medium is rare, and easily
admits the passage of the electric fluid ; whereas, on
the surface of electrics, it is dense and resists it. The
same medium is rarefied by heat, which thus changes
conductors into non-conductors. By far the greater
number of philosophers, however, rejected the opinion
of Mr Wilson ; and as they neither chose to allow th®
electric fluid to fire wx. ether, they were obliged to
own.
74+ ELECT
Theory of own that it was a fluid suigeneris, i. e, one of whose
Electricity; nature they were totally ignorant.
Sect. II. Of the Theory of Positive and Negative
Electricity.
287
Dr Frank¬
lin’s theory
2S8
Difficulty
concerning
the reason
why bodies
negatively
electrified
repel one
another.
* Frank¬
lin's Let¬
ters.
2S9
Different
solutions
of this dif-
tficuity-
According to this theory, all the operations of elec¬
tricity depend upon one fluid suigeneris, extremely sub¬
tile and elastic. Between the particles of this fluid
there subsists a very strong repulsion with regard to
each other, and as strong an attraction with regard to
other matter. Thus, according to Dr Franklin’s hy¬
pothesis, one quantity of electric matter will repel ano¬
ther quantity of the same, but will attract and be at¬
tracted by any terrestrial matter that happens to be near
it. The pores of all bodies are supposed to be lull of
this subtile fluid j and when its equilibrium is not dis¬
turbed, that is, when there is in any body neither more
nor less than its natural share, or than that quantity
which it is capable of retaining by its own attraction,
the fluid does not manifest itself to our senses. The ac¬
tion of the rubber upon an electric disturbs this equili¬
brium, occasioning a deficiency of the fluid in one place,
and a redundancy of it in another. I his equilibrium
being forcibly disturbed, the mutual repulsion of the
particles of the fluid is necessarily exerted to restore it.
If two bodies be both of them overcharged, the electric
atmospheres repel each other, and both the bodies ic-
cede from one another to places where the fluid is less
dense. For as there is supposed to be a mutual at¬
traction between all bodies and the electric fluid, such
bodies as are electrified must go along with their at¬
mospheres. If both the bodies are exhausted of their
natural share of this fluid, they are both attracted by
the denser fluid existing either in the atmosphere con¬
tiguous to them, or in other neighbouring bodies j
which occasions them still to recede from one another
as if they were overcharged.
This is the Franklinian doctrine concerning the cause
of electric attraction and repulsion ; but it is evident,
that the reason just now given why bodies negatively
attracted ought to repel one another, is by no means
satisfactory. Dr Franklin himself had framed his hy¬
pothesis before he knew that bodies negatively electri¬
fied would repel one another ; and when he came af¬
terwards to learn it, he was surprised, and acknow¬
ledged that he could not satisfactorily account for it *.
Other philosophers therefore invented different solu¬
tions of this difficulty, of which that above mentioned
is one. But by some this was rejected. They said,
that as the denser electric fluid, surrounding two bo¬
dies negatively electrified, acts equally on all sides of
those bodies, it cannot occasion their repulsion. The
repulsion, according to them, is owing rather to an
accumulation of the electric on the surfaces of the two
bodies ; which accumulation is produced by the at¬
traction, and the difficulty the fluid finds in entering
them. This difficulty is supposed chiefly to be owing
to the air on the surface of bodies, which Dr Priestley
says is probably a little condensed there. This he de¬
duces from an experiment of Mr Wilson, corrected by
Mr Canton. The experiment was made in order to
observe the course ot the electric light through a I or-
ricellian vacuum. A singular appearance of light was
observed upon the surface of the quicksilver, at which
R I C I T Y. Fart IV.
the fluid was supposed to enter. Mr Wilson supposed Theory or
that this was owing to a subtile medium spread over Electricity,
the surface of the quicksilver, and which prevented '  
the easv entrance of the electric fluid. But this was
afterwards discovered by Mr Canton to be owing to
a small quanlity of air which had been left in the tube.
It is plain, however, that as the attraction is equal
allround, and likewise the difficulty with which the
fluid penetrates the air, bodies negatively electrified
ought not to repel one another on this supposition
more than the former. Nay, they ought to attract
each other ; because, in the place of contact, the resist¬
ance of the air would be taken oft, and the electric
fluid could come from all other quarters by the attrac¬
tion of the bodies. _ 290
This theory is evidently no solution of the difficul-Insufficient
tv 5 seeing it is only explaining one fact by another,
which requires explanation at least as much as the first.
We shall see hereafter how this difficulty may be ex¬
plained. 291
What gave the greatest reputation to Dr Franklin’s Dr Frank-
theory, was the easy solution which it afforded of thel!J“tj0^lfla'
phenomena of the Leyden phial. The fluid js supposed^ pheno
to move with the greatest ease in bodies which are con-mentl 0f tiie
ductors, but with extreme difficulty in electrics per se ; Leyden
insomuch that glass is absolutely impermeable to it. ItPhiaL
is moreover supposed, that all electrics, and particular¬
ly glass, on account of the smallness of their pores, do
at all times contain an exceeding great, and always an
equal quantity of this fluid ; so that no more can be
thrown into any one part of any electric substance, ex¬
cept the same quantity go out at another, and the gain
be exactly equal to the loss. These things being pre¬
viously supposed, the phenomena of charging and dis¬
charging a plate of glass admit of an easy solution. In
the usual manner of electrifying by a smooth glass globe,
all the electric matter is supplied by-the rubber from
all the bodies which communicate with it. If it be
made to communicate with nothing but one of the coat¬
ings of a plate of glass, while the conductor communi¬
cates with the other, that side of the glass which com¬
municates with the rubber must necessarily be exhaust¬
ed in order to supply the conductor, which must con¬
vey the whole of it to the side with vrhich it commu¬
nicates. By this operation, therefore, the electric fluid
becomes almost entirely exhausted on one side of the
plate, while it is as much accumulated on the other;
and the discharge is made by the electric fluid rushing,
as soon as an opportunity is given it by means of proper
conductors, from the side which was overloaded to that
which is exhausted.
It is not, however, necessary to this theory, that the
very same individual particles of electric matter which
were thrown upon one side of the plate, should make
the whole circuit of the intervening conductors, espe¬
cially in very great distances, so as actually to arrive
at the exhausted side. It may be sufficient to suppose,
that the additional quantity of fluid displaces and occu¬
pies the space of an equal pox-tion of the natural quan¬
tity of fluid belonging to those conductors in the cir¬
cuit which lay contiguous to the charged side of the
glass. This displaced fluid may drive forwards an
equal quantity of the same matter in the next conduc¬
tor; and thus the progress may continue till the ex¬
hausted side of the glass is supplied by the fluid natu-
Chap.
I- ELECT
Theory of rally existing in tlie conductors contiguous to it. In
Electricity, this case, the motion of the electric fluid, in an explo-
' sion, will lather resemble the vibration of the air in
sounds, than a current of it in winds.
It will soon be acknowledged (says Dr Priestley),
that while the substance of the glass is supposed to
contain as much as it can possibly hold of the electric
^luid, no part of it can be forced into one of the sides
without obliging an equal quantity to quit the other
side : but it may be thought a difficulty, upon this hy¬
pothesis, that one of the sides of a glass plate cannot
be exhausted, without the other receiving more than
its natural share ; particularly, as the particles of this
fluid are supposed to be repulsive of one another. But
it must be considered, that the attraction of the glass
is sufficient to retain even the large quantity of elec¬
tric fluid vyhich is natural to it, against all attempts to
withdraw it, unless that eager attraction can be satis¬
fied by the admission of an equal quantity from some
other quarter. When this opportunity of a supply is
given, by connecting one of the coatings with the rub¬
ber, and the other with the conductor, the two attempts
to introduce more of the fluids into one of the sides are
made, in a manner, at the same instant. The action
of the rubber tends to disturb the equilibrium of the
fluid in the glass ; and no sooner has a spark quitted
one of the sides, to go to the rubber, than it is supplied
by the conductor on the other; and the difficulty with
which these additional particles move in the substance
of the glass, effectually prevents its reaching the oppo¬
site exhausted side. It is not said, however, but that
either side of the glass may give or receive a small
quantity of the electric fluid, without altering the quan¬
tity of the opposite side. It is only a very consider¬
able part of the charge that is meant, when one side is
said to be filled while the other is exhausted.
It is a little remarkable, adds Dr Priestley, that the
electric fluid, in this and in every other hypothesis,
should so much resemble the ether of Sir Isaac Newton
in some respects, and yet differ from it so essentially
in others. rI he electric fluid is supposed to be, like
ether, extremely subtile and elastic, that is, repulsive of
itself; but instead of being, like the ether, repelled by
all other matter, it is strongly attracted by it: so that,
far from being, like the ether, rarer in the small than
in the large pores of bodies, rarer within the bodies
than at their surfaces, and rarer at their surfaces than
at any distance from them ; it must be denser in small
than in large pores, denser within the substance of bo¬
dies than at their surfaces, and denser at their surfaces
than at a distance from them.
To account for the attraction of light bodies, and
other electrical appearances, in air of the same density
with the common atmosphere, when glass (which is
supposed to be impermeable to electricity) is interpo¬
sed ; it is conceived, that the addition or subtrac¬
tion of the electric fluid, by the action of the excited
electric on one side of the glass, occasions, as in the
experiment of the Leyden phial, a subtraction or addi¬
tion of the fluid on the opposite side. The state of the
fluid, therefore, on the opposite side being altered, all
light bodies within the sphere of its action must be af¬
fected in the very same manner as if the effluvia of the
excited electric had actually penetrated the class, ac-
Vol. VII. Part II. * ’ f
295
29S
297
?92
traction
if repul-
tnigh
•ss ac-
mted
R I C I T Y. 745
cording to the opinions of all electricians before Dr 1 hcoiy of
Franklin. Electricity.
This hypothesis has been greatly improved by M. v—
iRpinus of St Petersburg!!, and by the Hon. Hrtfry. 253
Cavendish ; and we shall now proceed to an illustration men^of
of the theory as given by these gentlemen. Franklin’s
'r/ r tv • theory by
Theory of JEpinus. ^pin;us
Electrical phenomena are produced by a fluid of a^CaVen'
peculiar nature, which we call the Electric Fluid ; 294
which has the following properties. Hypothesis
1. Its particles repel each other with a force increas-01 ^Pin«4
ing as the distances decrease.
2. Its particles attract the particles of all other mat¬
ter with a force increasing as the distances decrease,
and this attraction is mutual.
3* Electric Fluid by reason of its extreme
subtility is capable of penetrating other bodies, but all
bodies are not penetrated by it with equal facility. In
those bodies which we call non-electrics, such as metals
and water, it moves very readily; but in those bodies
which have been called electrics per se, such as glass,
&c. it either does not move at all, or moves with great
difficulty.
4. E very body has a certain quantity of electric fluid
which is proper to it, and may therefore be called its
natural quantity ; this quantity is proportional to the
mass.
5. We say that a body is electrified positively when
the quantity of electric fluid which it has in any way
received is greater than its natural quantity ; and when
that quantity is less than its natural quantitv, we say
that the body is electrified negatively.
6. The phenomena which depend on the action of
the electric fluid may be reduced to two classes; the
first comprehending the cases in which the fluid re¬
moves from one body into another which has less of it;
the other those in which the bodies containing the fluid
are in motion, so as to approach or recede from each
other, or so as to attract and repel each other.
Such is the hypothesis of M. ^Epinus ; let us now in¬
quire what consequences may be drawn from it.
Let us suppose a body to contain a certain quantity
of the electric fluid, and let us examine the state of a
particle of the fluid, as P, near the surface of the body.
There is a mutual attraction between the particle P,
and the particles of matter in the body ; and there is
a mutual repulsion between it and the other par.ticles
of electric fluid in the body. The whole attracting
force may be equal or unequal to the whole repulsive
force. If they be equal, P is in equiiibrio, and has no
tendency to motion.
Now let us suppose the body to have received a
quantity ot fluid over and above its natural quantity ;
i. e. let the body be electrified positively. As, while the
body was in its natural state, the attractive and repul¬
sive forces were in equiiibrio, the increase of fluid will
augment the repulsive force, which will now exceed
the attractive force, and the particle P will be repelled
towards that surface to which it is nearest, till it at
length quits the body. The repulsive power will con¬
tinue to act upon other particles, which will be succes¬
sively pushed nearer the surface, so as to produce a con¬
stant efflux of the fluid till the equilibrium is re-establisli-
J B ed,
29s
299
3°^
74-6
Theory of
Elictrieity.
301.
Saturation
defined.
302
ELECT
eil, or till tlie boJy contains no more than its natural
quantity.
Let us now conceive that the body has lost a quan¬
tity of electric fluid, or that it is electrified negatively.
The repulsive force of the fluid upon the particle P
will then be less than the attractive force ol' the mat¬
ter contained in the body or the same particle, this at¬
traction will begin to act, and the particle will move
nearer the centre. The attraction continuing to act,
particles near the surface, and those of contiguous bo¬
dies, will successively move towards the centre ot the
body $ or a continual influx of fluid will take place till
the equilibrium is restored.
Definition.—When a body contains its. natural
quantity of electric fluid, we shall say that it is sa¬
turated.
It will be convenient for us to have general expres¬
sions for these several states of a body, in order the bet¬
ter to estimate the forces.
Let Q represent the natural quantity of fluid,
eq the attractive force of the other matter in the
body, which we shall hereafter call simply the
matter.
r, the repulsive force of the fluid ; and
f the redundant or deficient fluid.
Then in the case in which a body is saturated, a.—r
will represent the degree of force with which the par¬
ticle P is attracted ; and r—a the force with which it
is repelled. But here o=r; consequently a—r and
r—ii—0.
But let the quantity fh& added to Q, and uniformly
distributed through the body •, the fluid will now be
Q-{-/. As we must admit the repulsive force to be
proportional to the quantity ol fluid, we shall have
Q : Q+/=r : (Q+/)X-, or or r+-fr
R I C I T Y.
Q.
Q
repelled, is
Fart IV,
q 7 Q ' 1 Q
This quantity will represent the force with which P is
repelled by the whole fluid of the body. But it is also
attracted by the matter of the body, with the force a;
the whole force exerted on P will therefore be a—r +
fr
but a—rzx.o: the whole action exerted on P is
therefore'^-, or the torce with which the particle P is
To conceive this more readily, we are to remember
that when the quantity of fluid “Q, P is in equili-
brio •, it will therefore be necessary only to consider the
action of the superabundant fluid fl. Then to find the
repulsive force of this, we say Q :f=r : — as before j
but to this we must affix the sign —, as we must con¬
sider repulsive forces as negative, and attractive as po¬
sitive. The particle P then being repelled with this
foree -iX ;t will quit the body unless it be opposed by
Q
•£. will represent
force with which P is repelled. But it is attracted
with the force a; the whole action therefore exerted
(Q—f)xr
Then
P i
;s a r -p— : but a—rzro ; therefore the whole
Q
force = —, which represents the force with which P
Q
is attracted.
some obstacle, and the repelling force continuing to act
on other particles, an efflux of fluid will be produced.
The force will however be continually diminishing,
but will not entirely cease till /=o.
Now let the quantity of fluid / be subtracted from
When there is a deficiency of fluid there is a pro¬
portional redundancy of matter, and vice versa. Hence
we may deduce the following inference. .
The production 0felectrical p he nomen a depends entire- Electrical
hj on a redundancy of fluid or a redundancy of matter, phenomena
^ There are two causes which obstruct or prevent the"ePed“«_on
effects which we have been describing*, the one de-dancyo'f
pending on the nature of the body itself, the other on fluid or of
that of"the surrounding bodies. The first cause of ob-matter,
struction takes place when the bodies themselves are Cau3g°s6o^
those which are called electrics perse, in which the stnictin° ‘
fluid moving with considerable difficulty, its in t]jese ef.
the first case, and its influx in the second, will be alike feels,
retarded. The second cause acts when the surround¬
ing bodies are electrics per se, as very dry air ; as the
resistance which these oppose to the motion of the fluid,
will produce in the efflux, or the influx, a retardation
similar to that which arises from the electric nature of
the electrified body. We may hence conclude that a
body will continue to exhibit electrical phenomena for
a longer time, cceteris .according as the body
itself, or the bodies by which it is surrounded, approach
nearest to the nature of electrics per se, whence, we see
how electrics are useful in confining the electric fluid,
or in insulating electrified bodies. 307
The conductors of an electric machine will afford a Illustratioi
familiar illustration of the above principles as far as
they relate to non-electrics. In the ordinary machine,
in which a cylinder is employed, the cushion and silk
by which the cylinder is rubbed communicate to it a
portion of the fluid which they contain, the. loss.of
which they supply from the neighbouring bodies with
which they communicate, when the chain connects the
rubber with the earth, &c. Tlhe fluid is then commu¬
nicated from the cylinder to the prime conductor by
the points placed on the side of it, and the conductor
becomes electrified positively. The glass pillar by which
the conductor is supported, and which is an electric
per se, opposes the farther propagation of the fluid, ami
prevents its escape on one side, while the surrounding
air, if it be very dry, opposes its escape on the other ;
so that the conductor will retain for a moment the ex¬
cess of fluid which it has received. Now, if we pre¬
sent a fine metallic point to the prime conductor, a
small luminous star will appear at the point j indicat¬
ing, as we have before seen, a positive electricity.
This star is produced by the efflux of the electric fluid
from the conductor, the particles of the fluid being im¬
pelled by their mutual repulsion, and by the attraction
of the point to approach and penetrate this, as we shall
more fully see hereafter.
Wben the rubber is insulated, as it is perpetually
communicating a portion of its fluid to the cylinder,
without being able to procure a fresh supply from the
surrounding bodies, it is continually acquiring a nega-
Plate
CXCVI.
fig. 96.
Chap. I.
Theory of tive electricity. There will now be a continual efflux
Electncity^ 0f fluid from the conductor towards the cushion, and
v ^lJe conductor will, in its turn, be electrified negatively.
In this case, if we present a fine metallic point to the
conductor, there will issue from the point a luminous
pencil, which is produced by the efflux of fluid from
the point to the conductor, in order to restore the equi-
308 . Hbrium.
Effect of an We have hitherto considered the fluid as uniformly
junequal. diffused through the body. But it will often happen,
that there will be a redundancy of fluid in one part of
ni ' the body, while there is at the same time a deficiency
m another part. In order to simplify our formula, we
shall suppose the body BC (fig. 96.) divided into two
equal parts, AB, AC, and that the fluid in AB exceeds
its natural quantity, while that in AC is less than the
same quantity, the proportion of the fluid acquired on
one side to that lost on the other being variable at
pleasure. Let us examine the situation of two particles
P, p, placed towards the two extremities.
Let Q represent the quantity of fluid necessary for
the saturation of AB or AC,
a rr the attraction of the whole matter in AB
for the particle P or p,
r = the repulsion of the whole fluid uniformly
distributed in AB on the same particle,
= the repulsion of an equal quantity of fluid
in AC on the same particle,
f — the quantity of redundant fluid in AB,
and g = the deficient quantity in AC.
Now the force by which the particle P or is at¬
tracted by the matter of BC when saturated, will be
a—r—d, which when the body is in its natural state
will be equal to 0. But AB contains the redundant
fluid f, and AC the deficient fluid g. The whole ac-
(Q +/) X r
ELECTBICITY.
747
309
ction on
(ternal
mid.
tion exerted must therefore be a
(Q—g) X d
Q
conductor, or such as is permeable to the fluid, its state Theory „r
cannot be permanent till the fluid is uniformly distribu-Eleoiiicily,
ted between the two halves, unless it is acted on by v—>-
some external force. But in a non-conductor, or per¬
fect electric, this state may subsist, and it will be con¬
tinued for a longer or a shorter time, in proportion as
the electric may be more or less perfect.
. If we had supposed the part AC to be overcharged,
instead of AB, P would have been repelled with a
stronger force, which would be represented by^*^ 7
which is evidently greater than the repulsive
foice in the first case. Ihe particle1 * 3 p is also less at¬
tracted than before, when AB is undercharged instead
of AC.
The above remarks will equally apply to the case of 311
two conducting bodies AB and CL, fig. 99. separated 9?*
by an electric, Z;
It is proper to observe that the quantities/ and g, 31.3
were indefinite in the above reasoning. Their value
may be such that the tendency to influx or efflux may
cease, or may be reversed j for supposing g ^—//-—o,
or g :f=r : r’; and we shall have In this
r
case the attraction of the redundant matter balances
the repulsion of the redundant fluid, and P is neither
attracted nor repelled. Hence we have this important
fact, that a body may be neutral, even where it is re¬
dundant or deficient.
When one extremity of the body is thus rendered
inactive, the state of the other extremity is changed.
To find this state we must put^, in place of its
r' r
r _j
equal g, in the formula 1 i and we shall have
Q
action is
But a—r—r'rro,- therefore the whole
( Qr )'
gd—fr
Q
, or rather, since r is greater than r'.
Again, the forces may be so balanced, that there
shall be no tendency to influx at C, fig. 96. Makee—
f r
ZT, which expresses the action at C. The action at B,
the other end, will be obtained by putting in plf
i 310
1 :tiou on
.ernal
lid.
f r'
——, which will represent the force by which the
particle P is repelled. In the same manner,? ~~f7.
will represent the force by which p is attracted.
Now, let us suppose a particle p' in the middle of irii 
the body BC ; while the body is saturated, it will be /X (-.j- ), will express the repelling force at B
in equilibrio •, but as the one half of the body AB con- \ *’ /
of g in the formula
fr—g :
Q
as before, and the result
tains the redundant fluid f and the half AC the defi¬
cient fluid g, the particle p' will be repelled in the di-
• f •
rection AC by the force 7-. But it is repelled in the
direction AB by the force—therefore the whole re-
pulsive force by which it is impelled in the direction
3n AC will be or, -- .
uniform Q Q
UeV From what we have said above, it appears that so
i-edif10 as ^iere *s a redundancy of fluid in AB, and a
* re be no deficiency in AC, the redundant fluid has a tendency
traction, to flow from A to C 5 and if the body be a perfect
In order, the better to conceive the relative effects in
each of the above cases, we must observe that the re¬
pulsion of the part AB on the particle P must increase
in proportion as the quantity of additional fluid acquired
by AB is greater. On the other hand, the attraction of
the part AC for the same particle will increase accord¬
ing as the quantity of fluid subtracted from AC is
greater. Now, as we have supposed the quantities of
fluid in the two parts variable, we may suppose a case
to happen, in which, for instance, the quantity lost by-
AC may be such that the excess of its attraction on
P, thence resulting, may exactly counterbalance the
diminished attraction arising from its great distance,
compared to the repulsion of the part AB on the
J B 2 same
314
748
Part IV.
electricity.
Ih this case, P will remain immove- through electrics it meets with more or less resistance. ^Theory 0f
3!5
Theory of same particles.
Electricity, able. . „ „ .. . , ,
  v   If; on the contrary, the quantity of fluid lost by
be not sufficient to compensate for the greater di¬
stance, the repulsion of AB will prevail over the
attraction of AC, and the particle P will quit the
The particle p will also undergo certain changes in
these different cases. It the particle 1 remain im¬
moveable, for instance, the particle p will have a
progressive motion towards the body A, since this is
near the part AC of which the attractive force in
this case exceeds the repulsive force of AB. It the
particle P has already a tendency towards the body A,
the particle p will for a still stronger reason be attract¬
ed towards A.
In general, according to the different degrees ot force
exerted by the two parts of the body, it will happen
that the fluid will be attracted and repelled on both
sides by turns, or it will be attracted on one side, while
it is repelled on the other, and v. v. or, lastly, it may
remain immoveable on one side, while it is attracted or
repelled on the other. _ , ad*
If we suppose that the redundancy of fluid in AB is
exactly equal to the deficiency in AC, then the particle
p will have a tendency to penetrate the body A, while
the particle P will be repelled by it.
To prove this, let us suppose that the parts AB, AC
act by turns on the particle p placed at a determinate
distance; and let us conceive the repulsive force of the
part AB to be concentrated in a determinate point,
while the attractive force of the part AC must be sup¬
posed concentrated in a corresponding point on the other
side. For, whatever he the law, in proportion to the
distance which the repulsion of the particles of the elec¬
tric fluid follows, the attraction of the particles of mat¬
ter in the electrified body ought to follow the same
law *, since, without this, there could be no counterpoise
between the attraction and repulsion of the particles in
the ffatural state of the body. It follows then, that
the attraction exerted by AC upon the particle p must
he equal, in the present case, to the repulsion of AB
on the same particle. Since, on one side, the particle is
repelled by AB by reason of the excess of fluid in that
part, and on the other it is attracted by AC by reason
of the quantity of matter in that part, and which is pro¬
portional to the quantity of fluid which is supposed to
have passed into AB. In the present case, therefore,
where the particle p is nearer to AC than to AB, the
attraction will prevail over the repulsion, and the par¬
ticle will penetrate to AB, and pass through it to the
body A.
In the same manner we might prove that the particle
P would be repelled from A.
The equilibrium between the forces of the parts AB,
AC being disturbed, it is clear that there will be an
attempt to restore it, so that a portion of the redundant
fluid in AB will pass into AC, till the body be brought
back to its natural state. The return to this state will
be more or less slow, according as the body is a more or
less perfect electric ; but if it is a conductor, the fluid
will pervade it in an instant, and an equal distribution
will immediately take place.
It has been stated that the fluid does not move with
equal facility through all bodies, hut that in moving
3i<»
[7
Suture of
the ob4. ac¬
tions con-
tiiie red.
It wifi be proper, before we proceed farther, to con-Electricity
sider the nature of this resistance. It may either arise 1
solely from the inertia of the particles of the fluid, which
is the case in a perfect fluid ; or it may resemble the
resistance opposed by a parcel of grain to the descent of
small shot through it, or the resistance of a plastic or
ductile body, such as clay or lead, to the motion of a
body through its pores. In the first case, any inequality
of force, however small, is capable of producing a uni¬
form distribution cf the fluid, or at least such a distribu¬
tion as will make the excess of the mutual attractions
and repulsions equal to the degree of external force by
which an unequal distribution may be kept up. But in
the two last cases, before a particle of fluid can change
its place, it must overcome the tenacity of the adjoining
particles of the body, and, consequently, when an un¬
equal distribution has been produced by an external
force, it will not be rendered equable by a removal or
alteration of that force, but there will remain such an
inequality of distribution, as will cause the want of
equilibrium between the attractions and repulsions to
be counterbalanced by the tenacity of the body.
From the different states of the particle P, p, as de¬
scribed in the above cases, we may conclude, that, du¬
ring the return of a body to its natural state, the readi¬
ness with which the fluid flows from AB into AC must
depend much on the nature of the surrounding bodies,
and the greater or less facility with which these are
pervaded by the electric fluid.
If the fluid is not uniformly distributed throughout 318,
every part of the body, or if, though there be a uniform
distribution, the two parts of the body are unequal, we
shall always obtain results analogous to those which have
been given. There is an infinity of cases supposable,
relative to the different states of AB and AC; but as
each of these cases has a determinate relation to the
most simple case, which we have been considering, it
may always be reduced to this.
Let us suppose, for example, that the part AB is
double, triple, &c. the part AC, and that the portion
of fluid, which is superabundant in AB, is equal to that
which is deficient in AC : If we conceive the particle
p situated between these two parts, the point in whieh
we must suppose the repulsive force of AB to be con¬
centrated, will not be the same as that given in (315O;
hut the point in which p must be placed that it may be
attracted by AC and repelled by AB, will be between
the centres of action of AB and AC, though not at an
equal distance from these parts. 1 hen, in the case where
p is nearer to the centre of action of AC than to that
of AB, this particle will tend to penetrate into AC,
while the particle P will be equally repelled from it. 3i9
Having thus examined the action between the par-Aciicai ti
tides of fluid moving in a body, and the particles of electrical
matter in the same body, we shall proceed to consider
the action of electrified bodies on each other.
Let there be two bodies, A and B, in their natural
state.
Let M represent the common matter in A*
7M, the common matter in B.
F, the fluid required to saturate A.
yj the fluid required to saturate B.
5», the mutual action between a particle of fluid
and the correspondent matter. This action is represent¬
ed
Chap.
Theory of
(.Electricity
3*0
cntiency
the hy-
ithesis
pplicii.
r- ELECT
fd by an unknown quantity, because it is indeterminate ;
varying with every change of distance.
As the actions of these bodies on each other are re¬
ciprocal, it will be sufficient here to consider how the
body A is affected. I here are three circumstances to
be taken into consideration.
1. The particles of fluid in A attract the particles of
matter in B with the force z; so that the whole at¬
traction of A on B will be the product of F and m mul¬
tiplied by a or F mx; or
ist. F tends towards m with the force -f. Y m%.
2. The particles of fluid in A repel the particles of
fluid in B with the same force 25/ so that the whole re¬
pulsion of A on B will be F/z; or
2d. F tends to separate from f with the force —F/z.
3. The particles of matter in A are attracted by the
paitides of fluid in B with the same lorce z, so
that the whole attraction of B on A will be M f% ;
or, ,
3d. M tends to approach j with the force -f-Mf z.
The whole tendency of A to approach or to separate
from B may therefore be represented by the symbol
25 X F mM/—F/. But as, from the hypothesis, the
attraction of the particles of fluid in A for the particles
of matter in B is equal to the repulsion between the
particles of fluid in A and the particles of fluid in B,
which are competent to the matter attracted by the fluid
in A, the attraction F m z is balanced by the repulsion
F/s. We have, therefore, only to consider the re¬
maining attraction, or the attraction of the matter in A
for the fluid in B, or M/z, On the whole, therefore,
A will move towards B, and, as all action is equal
and contrary, B will move towards A with an epual
force.
This would be the necessary consequence of the hy¬
pothesis, as it stands ; but as we see no attraction be¬
tween bodies in their natural state, there must be some
defect in the hypothesis. To remedy this, iEpinus
brings another repulsive force into play, and supposes
that every particle of matter in A repels every particle
of matter in B, as much as it is attracted by so much
of the fluid in B as is necessary for its saturation. Now,
therefore, the whole action exerted by B on A will be
2! X F F/—M m+Mf so that as Fw z is balan-
R I C I T Y.
749
3*t
Ipinus <ie
idcd.
eed by F/z, and M m z byM/z, there will remain
no excess on either side, and consequently the bodies
will have no tendency to motion.
Great objection has been made to this additional part
of M. TEpinus’s hypothesis, and indeed .ZFpinus him¬
self acknowledges, that this circumstance appeared to
him hardly admissible ; it seeming inconceivable that a
particle in A shall repel a particle in B, or recede from
it electrically, while it tends towards it by planetary
gravitation. But more attentive consideration shewed
him, that there WfHS nothing in it contrary to the ob¬
served analogy of natural operations. We see innumer¬
able instances of inherent forces of attraction and repul¬
sion ; and nothing hinders us from referring this, lately
discovered power to the class of primitive and funda¬
mental powers of nature. Nor is it difficult to recon¬
cile this repulsion with universal gravitation ; for while
bodies are in their natural state, the electric attractions
and repulsions balance each other, and there is nothing
to disturb the phenomena of planetary gravitation j and
3*3
when they are not in their natural electrical state, it is Tfceor of
a fact that their gravitation is disturbed. Although we Electricity,
cannot conceive a body to have a tendency to another
body, and at the same time a tendency from it,
when we derive our notion ot these tendencies entire¬
ly Irom our own consciousness of effort, nothing is more
certain than that bodies exhibit at once the appear¬
ances which we endeavour to express by these words.
^ e bring the north poles of two magnets near each
other, and they recede from each other; if this be pre¬
vented by some obstacle, they press on this obstacle,
and seem to endeavour to separate. If while they are
in this state, we electrify one of them, we find that they
will now approach each other; and so we have a distinct
proof that both tendencies are in actual exertion by
vaiying their distances, so that one or other force may
prevail ; or by placing a third body, which shall be
aflected by one but not the other, &c. We do not
understand, nor can we conceive, how either force, or
how gravity, resides in a body. It must be granted,
therefore, that this additional circumstance of pin ns’s
hypothesis has nothing in it that is repugnant to the ob¬
served phenomena of nature.
In order to simplify the algebraic expressions which
we employ in considering the actions of these bodies,
we may remark, that, as in the natural state of the
bodies they do not affect each other, we need only, in
examining the action of bodies not 111 their natural
state, consider the action of the redundant fluid or the
redundant matter in them, that is, the fluid or matter
which is unsaturated: for we may consider an over*
charged body as one which contains a quantity of satu¬
rated fluid, and a quantity of unsaturated fluid addi¬
tional ; and an undercharged body as one containing a
quantity at saturated matter, and a quantity oi unsatu-.
rated matter in addition.
Suppose two bodies A and B overcharged, or con¬
taining each a quantity of unsaturated fluid, which we
shall call F' andy7. Their mutual action on each other
will be i'+y'+z;, and it is evident from what was
said before that this is a repulsion. Hence we have
the following general proposition.
1. Two overcharged bodies repel each other with the
force F'X y'-fz.
Now let these bodies be undercharged, or contain
each a quantity of unsaturated matter, M', m’. Their
mutual action will now be M'X^'-f-z. This action is
also repulsive, and hence
2. Two undercharged bodies repel each other with
the force M/Xm'-f*-
Again, let one of the bodies A be overcharged or
contain the unsaturated fluid P, and the other B
undercharged, or contain the unsuturated matter m'.
I heir mutual action will now be expressed by the sym¬
bol F'Xw'-f-z, and will be attractive; or
3. Two bodies which are, one overcharged, and the
other undercharged, attract each other with the force
F'X wa'-f-2-
Lastly, let one of the bodies he overcharged or un¬
dercharged, and the other in its natural state. We infer
from the above formulae, that they will neither attract
nor repel each other, or that they will be neutral; for
here either F' or f, or M' or m', one of the factors which
made part of the above products, is wanting. This mair
be inferred also, independently of the formulae, by con¬
sidering
3*3
3M
3*5
75o
electricity.
Part IV,,
Theory of
Electricity.
3*5
32*7
32S
Plate
cxcvr.
i]g. 97.
329
330
332
sidering that the redundant fluid or redundant matter m
one body, is as much repelled or attracted by the fluid
or matter in the other, as it is attracted or repelled by
the matter or fluid in this other. Hence,
4. If of two bodies, one be in its natural state, they
will neither attract nor repel each other.
The truth of the three first propositions will be evi¬
dent from the experiments related in the last Part,
Chap. I. where we found that bodies which were elec¬
trified both positively or both negatively,. repelled each
other, and that when one body was positively
and the other negatively, they attracted each other. But
the last proposition seems contrary to the phenomena j
and it certainly contradicts a part of the Franklinian
doctrine, which maintains that there is an attraction be¬
tween an electrified and a non-electrified body : we shall
presently, however, demonstrate the truth of the pro¬
position," but must now proceed in our explanation of
JEpinus’s theory.
Suppose the body BC, fig. 97. to be overcharged in
the half AC, and undercharged in the half AB, and
let us now represent the redundant fluid in the part
AC by the symboland the redundant matter in
AB by m'; let the body D near BC be overcharged
with the redundant fluid F7 ; lets; and.^ denote the
force of action exerted on D at the distances of this
body from the overcharged or undercharged parts of
BC. Now D is repelled by AC, with the force F'/'
but it is attracted by AB with the force F'm' %'; on
the whole, therefore,’D will be attracted or repelled by
BC, according as F m' % is greater or less than F'/' <z',
or (because F is common to both) as m' as' is greater or
less than/' %. But this will depend on the proportion
that/' bears to m', or » to »'. Now, the former of
these is regulated by many external circumstances
which may tend to produce a greater or less redundancy
or deficiency of fluid and the latter depends on the
law of electric action. Without inquiring at present
into this law, it is sufficient to recollect that the action
decreases with every increase of distance, and that the
attraction and repulsion at the same distance are equal.
Both, therefore, vary according to the same law, and
% is always greater than 2;'.
But the sensible action of BC on D, and (as action
and reaction are equal and contrary) of D on BC, may
vary with every new position of BC, and even in the
same position.
x. Let us suppose that BC contains on the whole its
natural quantity of fluid, but that part of it is taken
from AB, and crowded into AC. This, which is a very
common case in electricity, may be expressed in our
symbolic manner by making/'=rm'. Now, in this case,
F'/' % is greater than F'm! »', as ss is greater than 2;'.
A mutual repulsion will therefore take place between
BC and D, and this may be expressed by F'/'x
(K—«')•
2. If D were placed on the redundant side of BC, it
is evident that the action would be reversed, and the
above symbols will express the attraction between BC
and D.
Again, if instead of supposing D to be overcharged,
we make it undercharged, the actions will again be
changed : in its present situation it will be repelled j
on the opposite side of BC it will be attracted.
' 3. No action may be exerted between them ; for the
redundancy and deficiency in BC may be inversely pro- Theory 0|
portional to the forces, or we may have/' m' ; ; z. Electricity.
Now, multiplying extreme and mean terms, we have
/' 'z—m' and again m
In this case the ac¬
tions counterbalance each other, and when D is at the
present distance from the overcharged part AC, it is
neither attracted nor repelled. D, and that part of
BC that is contiguous to it, may both be overcharged,
and yet BC may exert no action on D, or may be neu¬
tral with respect to it.
Now suppose X) on the opposite side of BC j the ef¬
fects will be different*, for ,
33*
and /«' is' is now
become w! z, and/' 2s is changed into/V, the action
on D will be expressed by F' X (^,—-f
 ^(2
X  j of course D will be attracted.
Again, we may have f and m1 so proportioned as
that when D, which we suppose overcharged, is placed
at the undercharged end of BC, it shall be neither at¬
tracted nor repelled, or that at this exact distance BC
f
shall be neutral. In this case, m'zz.' . But if I)
2$
be on the opposite side of BC, it will be strongly re-
/g.* <zt*\
pelled with the force F'/' X ( ^—J*
333
334
Hence we see that when the overcharged end of an Bodies
electrified body becomes neutral with respect to anothertral atone
body that is also overcharged, the undercharged end«'ld.have.
strongly attracts that body j and when the underchar-
335
ged end becomes neutral to the body, this is strongly other jn.
repelled by the overcharged end, as we may deduce creased,
from this reasoning the following general conclu-
sion.
When an electrified body is neutral at one end, it is
rendered more active at the other.
One circumstance merits particular attention. In the
above paragraphs, the neutrality of BC has been con¬
fined to a particular distance of the body D, it being
f! jj
required that ml should —*—j j let I) be placed nearei
to BC, and both ss and 2i' are increased. Their in¬
crease may be in the same proportion ; or one may in¬
crease faster than another: in the former case, the value
of — remains the same, and the neutrality continues j
336
in the latter, if 2; increases faster than 2s',/' « becomes
greater than ml 2s', and D will be repelled : on the
other hand, if 2s' increases faster than 2:, D will be at¬
tracted. Let D be carried farther from the overcharged
end of BC, and the effects will be reversed.
We have been supposing that D is overcharged Effect of
throughout, but let us take two bodies AB, and CD,unequal
fig. 78. AB being overcharged in w B, and underebar-b£)
ged in z/A; and CD being overcharged in f D, andbo(lieSt
undercharged in v C. Fig- 9s
In the first place, let us have the overcharged end
of AB opposite the undercharged end of CD as in the
figure. Let F and/ be the fluid natural to each, F'
and/' the redundant fluid in B and v D, and M'
and m1 the deficient fluid in u A and v C. Let Z and
Chap. I. ELECT
Theory of Z' denote the intensity of action exerted by a particle
Eiceuicity. in u B on a particle in v D and v C •, and let 2; and
' y manner express the intensity of action of a par¬
ticle in tiA on a particle in vD and in v C.
ft will easily appear from the former examples that
the action of CD on AB will be
337
338
jig. 98.
1 g' too.
339
F m’ Z—F' f 7J
M' m! % M7 f> <z> %
~     5 in which for-
.
inula the attractions are denoted by —j—^ and the repul¬
sions by —,
'ihe attractive or repulsive power will prevail ac-
cording as the sum of the first and last terms in the nu¬
merator of the above fraction is greater or less than the
sum ot the two middle terms. Again the value of
each term will vary with the quantity of redundant
fluid or of redundant matter, and with the intensity of
the. electric action. As it would lead us into too long
a discussion were we to notice the numerous varieties
of .effect, we shall only state the most simple case, as
being the most frequent and most useful.
Bet us suppose that the overcharged part of each
body is as much redundant in fluid as the undercharged
part is deficient ; in which case we have FzrM;
~m'. The action will now be expressed by the formu-
F'/(Z—ZQ—s+a'
la
*v
It is evident that the ex¬
ternal effect produced on AB must depend on the law
of action j if Z.-fs;' be greater than Z'+s, AB will be
attracted, but if Z-j~zr be less than Z'-j-z, it will be
repelled.
It will be a considerable relief to the imagination to
express these abstract values by some sensible quanti¬
ties, such as lines, and this may be conveniently done
in the following manner. From a fixed point in a
straight line, measure off portions respectively equal to
BC, BD, AC and AD, between those points of the
bodies AB, CD, fig. 98. in which we suppose the forces
of the redundant fluid and matter to be concentrated,
and at the extremities of these portions erect ordinates
proportional to these forces. Though the law of action
be but imperfectly known, it will readily be seen of
what kind the movements of the bodies will be. Thus
in fig. 100. from C in the line CZ, make Cy?=BC : C q
=BD : C r—AC, and C ^=rAD ; and erect the ordi¬
nates P p, Q R r, and T t. If the action of electri¬
city be like other attractive and repulsive forces with
which we are acquainted, that is, decreasing with an
incresse of distance, and more slowly as that distance
becomes greater, the ordinates will be bounded by such
a curve as PQRfZ, that will have its convexity to¬
wards the axis C z.
In our construction, the pair of ordinates Q y
are evidently equidistant with the pair R T t; as are
P p, R ?*, with Q^, T t. It is also clear that the sum
of P/j and T t is greater than the sum of and R r.
Bisect C z and v, and draw V v perpendicular to it,
cutting PT and QR in x and y. Then # vis the half
of P /?-{-T t, and y v is the half of Qy-fRr. Again,
Qm and T ?? being drawn parallel to Cz, it is evident
that I m is greater than R r, and in general, if any pair
of ordinates be brought nearer to T, their difference in¬
creases ; and if two pairs he brought nearer to C, the
difference of the nearer pair will increase faster than
that of the more remote.
To apply what has been stated.
R I C I T Y. 75l
1. When the overcharged end of AB is towards the Theory of
undercharged end of CD, AB is attracted, as Pp+T t Electricity,
is greater than Qy-fRr. w—
2. The nearer the bodies are brought, the more the
attraction will increase, as the difference between P m
and Rr is thus made greater.
3. The greater the length of AB or CD, the dis¬
tance BC being the same, the more the attraction will
increase : for p r ov q t, (which represent the length of
AB) being increased, R v is diminished more than
T t.
But if the overcharged end of CD be opposite to the
overcharged end of AB, their mutual action will
-Pp + Qq + Pr—T t\
be represented by P' f
FJ
and AB will he repelled j the repulsion becoming
greater or less, as the attractions, by every change of
distance.
Having thus examined at some length the results of
a redundancy or deficiency of fluid, supposing it to he
immoveable, we must now proceed to consider the con¬
sequences of its mobility. , 1
Bet D, fig. 97. contain redundant fluid while BC is Effect of
supposed in its natural state, and let the fluid in D be the mobili-
fixed, but that in BC moveable. The redundant fluid
in i) will exert its repulsive power, and will drive the^.'
fluul of BC from the proximate end B towards the re- ^
mote end C, so that the fluid will be rarefied in AB,
and constipated in AC. W ithout examining here the
mutual actions of the redundant fluid and matter, it is
clear that we have a case similar to that described in
S°9‘ an(J sof'—m' and ta is greater than z', D will
be attracted by BC, with the force F'/' X
We may now solve the difficulty mentioned in N°
317* an<J perceive that the hypothesis agrees with the
fact even in the case in which it appeared so opposite.
Had the fluid been immoveable, no attraction would
indeed have taken place : hut as it is supposed move¬
able, the redundant matter in the vicinity of D pre¬
vails, and a mutual attraction ensues.
For the sake of greater simplicity, we have supposed
the fluid in D immoveable, but let as suppose it move-
able. In that case, as soon as the uniform distribu¬
tion on BC is disturbed, and it becomes overcharged in
AC, and undercharged in AB, certain forces begin
to act on D, tending to disturb its uniformity. The
redundant matter towards B attracts the fluid in D,
more than the redundant fluid towards C, which is more
remote, repels it y z1 being less than z. By this at¬
traction the fluid of D tends to be constipated in the
proximate extremity, and thus again AB is more un¬
dercharged, and AC more overcharged than before.
Thus the mutual action between the bodies is still more
increased. But it is still of the same kind $ for however
small the redundancy in D may be, it can never he
made deficient in its remote extremity by the irregular
disposition of the fluid in BC, unless BC contain more
or less than its natural quantity. By the change in the
disposition of fluid in D, it is clear that the similar
change in BC must he increased y the fluid will he still
more rarefied at B and condensed at C, and this will
go on till all is in equilibria. There are several forces
combining to hold in equilibria a particle in EC. The
redundant fluid in D impels it towards C y but the re¬
dundant fluid here again impels it towards B, while the
redundant
342
752
Theory of
Electricity.
ELECT
.343
344
Induced
eiectsicity.
Fis, xor.
343
Effect of
ofestrao-
Sions.
redundant matter at B attracts it the §ame way *, and
these two forces of BC must he supposed to balance the
action of D.
We may here conclude that the density ot the fluid
in BC increases gradually from B to C } at L it must
be less, and at C greater than the natural density, and
there will consequently he some point between B and C
where it is of the natural density. This point may be
called a neutral point ; though we do not mean to im¬
ply by this term that a particle situated at this point
is neither attracted nor repelled.
We have supposed the fluid in D redundant; but let
it be deficient. Then the attraction of the redundant
matter in D will change the disposition of the move-
able fluid in BC, and will constipate it in B, ami ra¬
refy it in C. Again, the redundant fluid at B will
act more strongly on the moveable fluid in D, and tend
to impel it towards the remote extremity *, and D will
thus become undercharged in its yi/twmmfe extremity,
and less undercharged at its remote end than if BC were
away. The unequal distribution of fluid in BC will
thus be increased ; but though both BC and D will be
farther from their natural state, the remote end of D
can never be overcharged. .
It is clear, that when things are in the state which
we have described, D and BC will attract each other
with the same force as when D was equally under¬
charged.
Let a body, A, (fig. ior.) that is overcharged, be
placed near the extremities of two oblong parallel con¬
ductors, B and C, that are in their natural state. By
the action of A, the fluid in B and C will be repelled to¬
wards their remote ends N and «, where it will be con¬
densed, while at their proximate ends, S and it will
be rarefied. Both B will attract and be attracted by A.
Now the redundant fluid in NB repels the redundant
fluid in n C, and in like manner the redundant matter
in SB repels the redundant matter in s C ; the bodies
B and C therefore repel each other, and will separate j
but they ought to approach each other, for SB attracts
n C, and NB attracts s C j but the repelling parts be¬
ing nearer each other than the attracting parts, the
forces of the former will prevail. If the body A were
undercharged, it is clear that the same sensible appear¬
ances would take place, though the internal motions of
the bodies would be the reverse of the former.
If another body in the same state with A be placed
near the opposite ends of B and C, their internal mo¬
tions will be diminished or prevented, and of course the
sensible appearances should diminish also.
If another conductor, as E, be placed near opposite
to A, it will be affected in the same manner with C,
and its proximate extremity/'will repel s ; but if it be
placed at the remote end, or in the position of F, this
remote end will be attracted. As the body A, when
redundant or deficient, affects every other body in its
vicinity, while these do not by themselves affect each
other, A is called the electrified body, and the others
are said to be electrified by it. The electricity of these
bodies is called Induced Electricity.
We have hitherto supposed the fluid moveable, ex¬
cept at first in A ; but let us suppose that there is some
obstruction to its mobility, and let us examine what
will be the consequences. We may state the obstruction
R I C I T Y. ' Part IV.
as uniform, and as being such that some small force is 'theory of
required to enable a particle of fluid to pass between Electricity
two particles of matter.
When an overcharged body is placed near an imper¬
fect conductor, it is clear that the fluid cannot be pro¬
pelled to the remote extremity of the conductor in so
great a quantity. We may conceive the distribution
of the fluid, by taking a constant quantity from the in¬
tensity of the force of the overcharged body at every
point of the conductor. This shows that the distribu¬
tion will not be so unequable between imperfect, as be¬
tween perfect conductors, and hence that the attraction
between the former will not be so strong as between
the latter. It will also be much longer betore an equi¬
librium can be brought about. rlhis leads us to an im¬
portant consequence j viz. that the neutral point will
not be so far from the other body when the fluid is of
its natural density, as it would be, were there no ob¬
structions. rl he advance of this point along the imper¬
fect conductor will also be very slow j and it is clear,
that the final accumulation at the remote extremity ot
an imperfect conductor will be less than if the conduc¬
tor were perfect, and the neutral point will be nearer
to the other extremity.
The obstruction we are considering will be attended
with another remarkable effect. The constipation of the
fluid at the commencement of the action will always be
greatest at a place much nearer to the disturbing cause
than the remote end of the conductor, and beyond that
point it will diminish. In the time that elapses during
the progress of this change, the condensed fluid tends
to repel the fluid beyond it, and thus some of this re¬
mote fluid may be displaced, and a part of the imper¬
fect conductor made deficient, while there is a small
condensation beyond it. By this again a rarefaction
and condensation may be produced in another part, thus
causing a very irregular distribution of the fluid.
The^effect of such a mode of action will be that there
may be several neutral points in an imperfect conduc¬
tor, and several overcharged and undercharged por¬
tions, and hence its action on distant bodies may be ex-
f r—g r* + h r"—i r"'
tremely various. The formula ‘   —
34s
Q .
where/, g, k, i, express the different portions in oppo¬
site states, and r, r', r" iJ", the repulsion at different
distances, may be conveniently employed to denote the
action in such circumstances. Hence, if another body
be placed in the direction of the axis, it will be at¬
tracted at one distance, repelled at a greater, again at¬
tracted at a still greater distance, and so alternately.
The obstruction may not be considerable, and then
the action of the neighbouring overcharged body will
produce a deficiency in the proximate part of the con¬
ductor, a redundancy faither on, then a deficiency,
and so on. Presently these will shift, and successively
disappear at the farther end, and the body will remain
with only one neutral point. A greater obstruction
will leave the body with more than one neutral point,
and the number of these will be in proportion to the 347
obstruction. . .
The removal of an overcharged body from the vic,"®j^be
nity of conductors will have different results accordingper
as the conductors are perfect or imperfect, that is, ac-n)alie„t i
cording as there is obstruction or not. In the former impel act
6 case, c^dmto
Chap. I. ELECT
TheoFy of c&se, the electricity induced by the vicinity of the over-
Electricity charged body will be instantly'destroyed on the removal
* pf the body. But where there is an obstruction act-
ing, though, on the removal of the body, the forces
that tend to restore the equilibrium in the conductor
begin to act, and restore it in part, they can never do
this completely ; for when the force by which a par¬
ticle is propelled from an overcharged part to one un¬
dercharged, is just sufficient to balance the obstruction,
it will remain in that state of distribution at which it
had arrived. We may expect, then, that imperfect
conductors will retain a part of their induced electri¬
city.
On the removal of the electrifying body, the elec¬
tric appearances induced by it in the conductor will
disappear in a contrary order to that in which they
were produced, and they will be left in a state of un¬
equal distribution, or with a degree of electric power
proportionate to their imperfection as conductors.
We have now given an account of the principal con¬
sequences of the theory of iEpinus, of which a very
lame and imperfect account is given by Dr Priestley
in his popular work on electricity. More justice has
been done to this theory by Mr Cavendish, who before
he saw M. iEpinus’s work had framed an hypothesis
of his own upon very similar principles. Mr Caven¬
dish’s paper, in which he has treated this subject in a
very able and learned manner, appeared in the 61st
vol. of the Phil. Trans.
To this paper we shall in a little be much indebted ;
in the mean time we shall only extract from it the hy-
pothesis, which is as follows.
arendish’s There is a substance which we call the electric fluid,
ypothesis. the particles of which repel each other, and attract the
particles of all other matter, with a force inversely as
some less power of the distance than the cube ; the par¬
ticles of all other matter also repel each other, and at¬
tract those of the electric fluid, with a force varying
according to the same power of the distances. Or, to
express it more concisely, if you look upon the electric
fluid as a matter of a contrary kind to other matter,
the particles of all matter, both those of the electric
fluid and of other matter, repel particles of the same
kind, and attract those of a contrary kind, with a
force inversely as some less power of the distance than
the cube.
For the future, he would be understood never to com¬
prehend the electric fluid under the word matter, but
only some other sort of matter.
It is indifferent whether we suppose all sorts of mat¬
ter to be endued in an equal degree with the foregoing
attraction and repulsion, or whether you suppose some
sorts to be endued with it in a greater degree than
others j but it is likely that the electric fluid is endued
with this property in a much greater degree than other
matter j for in all probability, the vreight of the elec¬
tric fluid in any body bears but a very small proportion
to the weight of the matter j but yet the force with
which the electric fluid therein attracts any particle of
matter must be equal to the force with which the mat¬
ter therein repels that particle j otherways the body
would appear electrical, as will be shown hereafter.
To explain this hypothesis more fully, suppose that
one grain of electric fluid attracts a particle of matter
at a given distance with as much force as n grains of
Vol. VII. Part II. 6 f
R I C I T Y.
753
any matter, lead for instance, repel it: then will one Theory of
gram of electric fluid repel a particle of electric fluid Electricity,
with as much force as n grains of lead attract it ; and -v——'
one grain of electric fluid will repel one grain of elec¬
tric fluid with as much force as n grains of lead repel
n grains of lead.
All bodies, in their natural state with regard to elec¬
tricity, contain such a quantity of electric fluid inter¬
spersed between their particles, that the attraction of
the electric fluid in any small part of the body in a
given pat tide of matter, shall he equal to the repulsion
of the matter in the same small part, in the same par¬
ticle. 1
A body in this state is said to be saturated with elec¬
tric fluid: if the body contains more than this quantity
of electric fluid, he calls it overcharged 5 if less, he calls
it undercharged.
The value, however, of both of these hypotheses, so
ingeniously illustrated and ably supported by their re¬
spective authors, is greatly diminished, when we consi¬
der that the existence of a repulsive power among the
particles of the electric fluid is a mere assumption, and
that all the known phenomena may be explained more
simply by the principles of attraction. On this account,
the simple view of the subject given by Mr Singer is
much more satisfactory. Bodies in different electrical
states exert an attraction for one another. Two bodies
in the same electrical state, and both differing in this re¬
spect from the ambient air, are attracted by the latter,
and therefore recede from one another j because in the
direction of their line of separation their own electrical
state presents a deduction from that attraction, in con¬
sequence of which, the preponderance in the opposite
direction is productive of motion when either of the
bodies is sufficiently light. The repulsion of the par¬
ticles of common matter to one another, which, accord¬
ing to these hypotheses, is necessary to explain nega¬
tive electricity, is, besides, contrary to experience.
Sect. III. Of the Theory of two Fluids.
This theory originated, as we have said, in M. du 349
Fay’s discovery of the different electricities produced
by rubbing glass and sealing wax.
Let us suppose that there are two electric fluids,
which have a strong affinity for each other, while, at
the same time, the particles of each are strongly repul¬
sive of each other. Let us suppose these two fluids in
some measure equally attracted by all bodies, and ex¬
isting in intimate union in their pores; and while they
continue in this manner to exhibit no mark of their ex¬
istence, let us suppose that the friction of an electric
produces a separation of these two fluids, causing (in
the usual method of electrifying) the vitreous electri¬
city of the rubber to be conveyed to the conductor,
and the resinous electricity of the conductor to be con¬
veyed to the rubber. The rubber will then have a
double share of the resinous electricity, and the conduc¬
tor a double share of the vitreous j so that, upon this
hypothesis, no substance whatever can have a greater
or less quantity of electric fluid at different times ; the
quality of it only can be changed.
The two electric fluids being thus separated, will be¬
gin to show their respective powers, and their eager¬
ness to rush into re-union with each other. With
5 ^ whichever
E L E G T
Theorv of whlcliever of tliese fluMs a number of bodies are
EkctricHy. charged, they will repel one another . t icy >e a
  V ' traded by all bodies, which have a less share of that
particular fluid with which they are loaded *, but will
he much more strongly attracted by bodies which are
wholly destitute of it, and loaded with the other. In
this case, they will rush together with great violence.
On this theory, the electric spark consists ol both
the fluids rushing in contrary directions, and making a
double current. When, for instance, the finger is pre¬
sented to a conductor loaded with vitreous electricity,
it discharges it of part of the vitreous, and returns so
much of the resinous, which is supplied to the body
from the earth. Thus both the bodies are unelectrihed,
the balance of the two powers being restored.
When the Leyden phial is presented to be charged,
and consequently the coating of one of its sides is con¬
nected with the rubber and that of the other with the
conductor', the vitreous electricity of that side which
is connected with the conductor is transmitted to that
which is connected with the rubber, which returns an
equal quantity of its resinous electricity so that all the
vitreous electricity is conveyed to one ol the sides, and
all the resinous to the other. These two fluids being
thus separated, attract each other very strongly through
the thin substance of the intervening glass, and rush
together with great violence, whenever an opportunity
is presented, by means of proper conductors. Some¬
times they will force a passage through the substance ot
the glass itself; and in the mean time, their mutual at¬
traction is stronger than any force that can be applied
to take away either of the fluids separately.
Dr Priestley gives the following view of the compa¬
rative merits ot this theory and that of Di Franklin.
“ In the first place (says he), the supposition itself
of two fluids, is not quite so easy as that of one, though
' it is far from being disagreeable to the analogy of na¬
ture, which abounds with affinities, and in which we
see innumerable instances of substances formed, as it
were, to unite and counteract one another.
“ The two fluids being supposed, the double current
from the rubber to the conductor, and from the con¬
ductor to the rubber, is an easy and necessary conse¬
quence. For if, on the common supposition, the action
of the rubber puts a single fluid into motion in one di¬
rection, we might expect, that if there were two fluids,
which counteracted each other, they would, by the
same operation, be made to move in contrary directions.
And a person that lias been used to conceive that a
single fluid may be made to move either way, viz. from
the rubber to the conductor, or from the conductor to
the rubber at pleasure, according as a rough or a smooth
globe is used, can have much less objection to this part
of the hypothesis.
“ Admitting then this'different action of the rubber
and the electric upon the two different fluids, the man¬
ner of conveying electric atmospheres, or powers, to
bodies is the same on this as on any other theory j and
it is apprehended that the phenomena of negative elec¬
tricity are more easily conceived by the help ol a real
fluid, than by no fluid at all. Indeed Dr Franklin
himself ingenuously acknowledges, that he was a long
time puzzled to account for bodies that were negative¬
ly electrified, repelling one another ; whereas M. du
Fay, who observed the same fact, had no difficulty
R I C I T Y. Part IV.
about it, supposing that lie had discovered another elec- Theory of
tricity, similar, with respect to the properties of elasti- Electricity,
city and repulsion, to the former.
“ By this double action of the rubber, the method of
charging a plate of glass is exceeding easy to conceive-.
Upon this hypothesis, all the vitreous electricity quits
its union with the resinous on the side communicating
with the conductor, and is brought over to the side
communicating with the rubber j which, by the same
operation, had been made to part with its resinous elec¬
tricity in return.
“ All the vitreous electricity being thus brought to
one side of the plate of glass, and all the resinous to the
other, the phenomena of the plate while standing
charged, or discharged, are perhaps more free from all
difficulty than upon'any other hypothesis. When one
of the sides of the glass is conceived to be loaded with
one kind of electricity, and the other with the other
kind j the strong affinity between them, whereby they
attract each other with a force proportioned to their
nearness, immediately supplies a satisfactory reason,
why so little of either of the fluids can he drawn from
one of the sides without communicating as much to the
other. Upon this supposition, that consequence is per¬
haps more obvious, than upon the supposition^ of one
half of the glass being crowded with the electric mat¬
ter, and the other half exhausted. In the former case,
every attempt to withdraw the fluid from one of the
sides, is opposed by the more powerful attraction of the
other fluid on the opposite side. On the other hypothe¬
sis, it is only opposed by the attraction of the empty
pores of the glass.
“ Lastly, The explosion upon the discharge of the
glass has as much the appearance of two fluids rushing
into union, in two opposite directions, as of one fluid
proceeding only in one direction. The same may be
said of the appearance of every electric spark, in which,
upon this hypothesis, there is always supposed to be two
currents, one from the electric, or the electrified bodj,
and the other to it.
“ I do not say, continues Dr Priestley, that the bur
which is usually seen on both sides of a quire ol paper
pierced by an electric explosion, and the current of air
flowing from the points of all bodies electrified negative¬
ly as well as positively, are material objections^ to the
doctrine of a single fluid. But upon the supposition of
two fluids and two currents, the difficulty of account¬
ing for these facts would hardly have occurred.
“ It is almost needless to observe, that the influence
of points is attended with exactly the same difficulty up¬
on this theory, as upon the other. It is equally easy,
or equally difficult, to suppose one fluid to enter and go
out at the point of an electrified conductor at different
times, as to suppose, that, ot two fluids, one goes out,
and the other goes in, at the same time.
“ That bodies immerged in electric atmospheres must
acquire the contrary electricity, is quite as easy to sup¬
pose upon this, as upon any other hypothesis, l or, in
this case, suppose the electrified body to be possessed of
the vitreous electricity, all the vitreous electricity of
the body which is brought near it will be driven back¬
wards to the more distant parts, and all the resinous
electricity will be drawn forwards. And, when the
attraction between the two electricities in these differ¬
ent bodies is so great as to overcome the opposition to
their
Theory of their union occasioned by the attraction of the bodies
Electricity, that contained them, the form of their surfaces, and
v " the resistance of the interposing medium, they will rush
together j an electric spark will be visible between
them ; and the electricity of both will appear to be dis¬
charged ; the prevailing electricity of each being satu¬
rated with an equal quantity of the opposite kind, from
the other body.
“ This hypothesis will likewise easily account for the
difficulty of charging a very thick plate of glass, and
the impossibility of charging it beyond a certain thick¬
ness } for these fluids, at a greater distance, will attract
one another less forcibly, and at a certain still greater
distance will not attract at all.”
jDr Priestley makes the following answer to the
principal objection that may be urged against this
theory.
“ 11 it be asked (says he), why the two fluids meet¬
ing on the surface of the globe, or in the electric ex¬
plosion, do not unite by means of their strong affinity,
and make no further progress ; it may be answered,
that the attraction between all other bodies and the
particles of both these fluids, may be supposed to be
at least as strong as the affinity between the fluids
themselves ; so that the moment any body is dispossessed
of one, it may recruit itself to its usual point of satu¬
ration from the other,
“ Besides, in whatever manner it be that one of the
electric fluids is dislodged from any body (since upon
every theory the two electricities are produced at the
same time) the opposite electricity will, by the same
action, be dislodged from the other substance. And
whatever it be that dislodges the fluid from any sub¬
stance, it will be sufficient to prevent its return j con¬
sequently, supposing both the substances necessarily to
have a certain proportion of electric matter, each may
be immediately supplied from that which was dislodged
from the other.
“ The rubber, therefore, at the time of excitation,
gives its vitreous electricity to that part of the smooth
glass against which it has been pressed, and takes an
equal quantity of the resinous in return. The glass be¬
ing a non-conductor, does not allow this additional quan¬
tity of electricity to enter its substance. It is there¬
fore diffused upon the surface, and, in the revolution of
the globe, is carried to the prime conductor. There it
repels the vitreous, and violently attracts the resinous
electricity ; (and the points of the conductor favouring
the mutual transition), the vitreous, which abounds up¬
on the globe, passes to the conductor ; and the resinous,
which abounds upon the nearest parts of the conductor,
rushes upon the globe. There it mixes with, and satu¬
rates what remained of the vitreous electricity on the
part on which it flows, and thereby reduces it to the
same state in which it was before it was excited. Every
part of the surface of the globe performs the same of¬
fice, first exchanging electricities with the rubber and
then with the conductor.
“ The solution of this difficulty will also solve that of
the electric explosion, in which there is a collision, as it
were, of the two fluids, while yet they completely pass
one another. For still each surface of the glass may be
supposed to require its certain portion of electric mat¬
ter, and therefore cannot part with one sort without re¬
ceiving an equal quantity of the other. It must be con¬
sidered also, that the air through which the fluids pass, Theory of
has already its natural quantity of electricity, so that Electricity.
being fully saturated, it can contain no more, and that 1 v" ■'
the two fluids only rush to the places from which they
had been forcibly dislodged, and where the greater
body of the opposite fluids waits to embrace them.”
Although, in our explanation of electrical phenome- Defence of
na, we shall adopt the theory of ./Epinus and Caven-the theory
dish, it is proper to observe that this theory does notoflwo
universally prevail among the electricians of the pre-fluids.by
sent day. The hypothesis of Du Fay, or the theory of^/^'
two fluids, is still maintained by several, especially on 'C ^
the continent. This theory has lately found two stre¬
nuous advocates in France, M. M. Hauy and Tremery.
Their principal objection to the theory of iEpinus
seems to be founded on that part of his hypothesis with
which ^Epinus himself was not perfectly satisfied, but
which (in N® 321.) we have attempted to defend, viz.
his introduction of a repulsive force among the particles
of matter in a body.
“ 1° fact> (say they), the supposition of a single fluid
of which the particles mutually repel each other, and are
attracted by the particles of matter in all known bodies,
gives rise to many distinct forces which cannot be in
equilibrio, and which, by their mode of acting, are
sneb, that two bodies which are in their natural state,
and which are not attracted by any other force besides
that of electricity, must tend towards each other.
“ Ihe supposition of a repulsive force among the par¬
ticles of matter 111 solid bodies becomes unnecessary if
we conceive the electric fluid as composed of two
fluids, of which one possesses the property which yEpinus
attributes to the particles of matter in the body. It is
much better to admit a repulsion at a distance among
the particles of two peculiar fluids, which, like ail
others, repel each other, even in contact, than to con¬
ceive such a repulsion to exist among the particles of
bodies that are in their nature solid. Those philoso¬
phers who endeavour to explain all the phenomena on
die principle of a single fluid, believed themselves that
its particles repelled each other at a distance, as from
one surface of the Leyden phial to the other ; and as
what we call action at a distance, is properly no more
than a fact on which we ground a theory, without in¬
quiring what is the cause which furnishes the point of
difference, it is sufficient that the manner in which we
conceive this fact enables us to adapt it to our theory.
“ iEpinus, who does not conceal his reluctance to ad¬
mit that such a force as that which we have mentioned
can take place, would doubtless, (say these gentlemen),
have adopted the hypothesis of two fluids, if in his time
the nature of the electrical phenomena had been bet¬
ter understood. But at that period, the means of ob¬
servation not being so perfect, experiments bad not been
made with that precision which characterize those which
we owe to M. Coulomb, and which have formed the
foundation of those important discoveries, by means of
which this celebrated philosopher, far exceeding the
point at which iEpinus rested, has carried the. science
to a high degree of perfection, in that beautiful series
of memoirs, in which we must admire the address with
which he has availed himself both of experiment and
calculation.
“ Almost all the phenomena of electricity, then, seem
to depend on the action of two peculiar fluids, which
5 C 3 act
756
electricity.
Theory of
Electricity.
35*
Experi¬
ments that
seem to mi
iitate a-
gainst this
theory.
353
Explained
by M. Tie-
aiery.
act in such a manner, that the particles of each mutual¬
ly repel each other at a distance, with a force which is
inversely as the square of this distance, and attract the
particles of the other fluid with the same foice.
It is of consequence not to confound these two fluids
with the two currents, the one of infuent and the other
of affluent matter, by which Nollet attempted to explain
the phenomena. These two currents belong to the
same matter* and proceed, one, from the conductor to¬
wards surrounding bodies, the otherfrom these towards
the conductor.
“ We shall now endeavour to apply the hypothesis
of two fluids to the explanation of some phenomena
which do not appear to agree with it, and which, by
the manner in which we are accustomed to view them,
seem to indicate that vitreous and resinous electricity
are only modifications of the same fluid.
“ The experiments which seem to militate against our
theory are very few, and may be reduced to the fol¬
lowing.
“ Exper. i.—If upon a cake of rosin we trace various
designs with the point of a conducting substance, which
'is at one time electrified positively, or by vitreous elec¬
tricity, and at another negatively, or by resinous elec¬
tricity 5 and if on this surface, thus electrified, we let
fall a powder (e) properly disposed } the designs thus
rendered visible will present characters peculiar to each
species of electricity ; thus shewing, according to the
followers of Franklin and ^pinus, a superabundance of
electric fluid on one side and a deficiency on the other.
“ Exper. 2.—W hen a conducting body terminating
in a point, is electrified positively or by vitreous elec¬
tricity, we perceive at the point a luminous brush.
And if, all other things being equal, we substitute
negative or resinous electricity, the point is illuminated
with a star or luminous point,
“ According to the theory of positive and negative
electricity, the brush indicates the transmission of elec¬
tric fluid from the body which is electrified positively,
and the star its entrance into the body which is nega¬
tively electrified.
“ Exper. 3.—When an electric explosion takes
place, all the electric fluid appears constantly to pass
from the body electrified positively to that which is
electrified negatively.'1'1
Here they cite the method of proving this, by pierc¬
ing a card placed between the conducting balls of the
universal discharger. (Yid. N° 196. Exp. 2.)
These experiments, to which the theory of positive
and negative electricity is happily applied, seem at first
sight inexplicable, according to the hypothesis of two
fluids. In fact, the particles of these two fluids being
subject to the same laws, it seems,
I. That the designs traced on a cake of rosin, or
other ideo-electric substance, with the point of a conduc¬
tor, electrified at one time positively and at another
negatively, should on the whole be similar.
Part IV.
2. That the luminous appearance observed at the Theory of
summit of a pointed conductor, ought always to be the Electricity,
same, whatever be the electrical state of the body. 1 
3. That when an electric discharge has taken place,
the vitreous and resinous electricities, which mutually
attract each other, ought to form a luminous train on
each surface of the card, and the card ought to be per¬
forated in a point equally distant from the two extre¬
mities of the balls of the discharger. ^4
The following is the maimer in which M. Tremery M. Tie-
undertakes to explain these appearances. mery’s ex-
“ The matter, (says he), to the action of which WePlanatl®p-*
attribute the electrical phenomena, being considered as
compounded of two peculiar fluids, we may conclude
that all bodies, considered in the relation which they
bear to these fluids, do not possess the same properties j it
is possible that vitreous and resinous electricity may be
of such a nature, that, on the one hand, certain bodies,
whether electrics or conductors, may have with respect
to them different conducting powers *, and on the other
hand, that the coercive power (r) of ideo-electrks may
vary according as they are opposed to the motion, of
particles proper to vitreous electricity, or to the motion
of particles proper to resinous electricity.
“If, for instance, the air of the atmosphere, in which
electrical phenomena usually take place, has an incom¬
parably greater coercive power with respect to the re¬
sinous electricity than it has to the vitreous, it would
be very easy to explain the experiments that we have
quoted. In this case, the resinous electricity, because
of the almost infinite resistance that the air would op¬
pose to the motion of its particles, might be regarded
as inherent in the surface of the bodieswhence it fol¬
lows, that the same circumstances would take place, as
if the body electrified resinously had the property of
exercising by itself an attraction for the vitreous or
positive electricity ; a property which bodies in the
negative state are supposed to have, according to the
theory of Franklin.
“ If now, the coercive power that we have supposed
the air to have with respect to the resinous electricity,
could diminish so as to become equal to that which it
has with respect to the vitreous, it would happen that
the signs which induce us to regard the vitreous elec¬
tricity as positive, and the resinous as negative, would
disappear, so that all the phenomena would seem to de¬
pend equally on the action of the two fluids that would
be subject to the same law. In this new circumstance,
we should observe aluminous pencil at the summit of a
pointed conductor electrified resinously or negatively,
and when an electric discharge took place, the vitreous
and resinous electricities would appear to approach
each other. .
“ If, under these circumstances, the coercive power os
the air with respect to the vitreous electricity should in¬
crease, so as in its turn to become incomparably greater
than what it had with respect to the resinous electricity,
it
(E) This powder should be composed of two substances, which, by their mutual friction against each other, are
capable of receiving opposite electricities.
(f) By coercive power our author understands that which idee-electrics or conductors oppose to the motion
the particles that are proper to each of the two fluids, that, according to this hypothesis, are supposed to form
by their union the electric fluid.
Z
Uhap
P- H. ELECT
Theoiy of it is evident, that the electric matter, acting in the midst
Jectricity. of such a substance, would produce phenomena exactly
' v similar to those with which we are acquainted j but, in
this case, the vitreous or positive electricity would per¬
form the office of the resinous or negative, and vice
versa, and they would mutually exchange signs. A
luminous pencil would appear at a point electrified ne¬
gatively or resinously, and a luminous star at a posi¬
tive or vitreously electrified point j and when two
conducting bodies, electrified differently, were placed
at a convenient distance, all the electric matter would
appear to mwz from the negative body towards the
Jou/hi. expositive
hytiqiic,
>1. liv. Chap. II. A theoretical Explanation of the Phenome~
na of Electricity.
R I C I T Ys
757
357-
Sect. I. Of the Nature and Distribution of the Elec¬
tric Fluid.
355
at me of Before we enter on a theoretical explanation of the
e electric phenomena of electricity, it will not be improper to in-
ld* quire somewhat more at large into the nature of that
subtile agent which we have distinguished by the
name of the electric fluid, and to notice some of the
more plausible opinions that have been hazarded on the
subject.
One of the first questions that naturally arises from
the very name oi fluid is, Whal proofs have-we of the
matet-iality of this power ?
Besides the properties of attraction and repulsion,
which are properties of matter, we have many other
evidences that are very persuasive, as being more dis-
^ tinctly the objects of our senses,
ofsofitg *• T*16 spark that appears when the electric power
eriality. Passes suddenly through the air or any other resisting
medium, and the snap, by which it is accompanied, are
strong evidences of the materiality of the power by
which they are produced. The noise of the spark is
occasioned by the sudden impression made on the air,
or some other elastic fluid, through which the spark
passes. When the air is confined in close vessels, as
in a tube above water, no very durable effect is in¬
deed produced on the water in the tube. But this is
owing to the rapidity with which the expansion and sub¬
sequent condensation take place. Again, it is objected,
that it is impossible to communicate motion to a very
delicate lever, nicely balanced, by throwing on it any
quantity of electricity. Some pretend to have done
this } but, however, the impossibility of doing it is no
argument against the materiality of the electric fluid j
and we might just as well say, that a musket ball is not
material, because it may be tired through a paper or
thin board delicately suspended, without imparting to
them any part of its motion.
2. The light and heat accompanying the spark, are
proofs of the materiality of the electric power. These
are chemical phenomena y and whether we consider
them as effects of the fluid as a simple, or as resulting
from its decomposition, we conceive that they prove the
materiality of the electric power, as completely as the
materiality of caloric and light have been proved.
We are aware that this reasoning will not satisfy
those philosophers who deny the materiality of caloric
and light $ we know that much stress is laid on the ex¬
periments of Count Rumford, as completely subversive Theory of
of the materiality of heat, experiments that could even Electricity,
stagger the opinion of a Robison. Without desiring in ' * 
the least to detract from the meritof that ingenious and
able experimentalist, for whom we entertain a very high
esteem, we must confess, that we do not consider his
experiments as warranting the conclusions that have
been drawn from them, and we are still disposed to
think the materiality of caloric and light as fully prov-
ed as can be expected, with respect to matter that is
not absolutely tangible. The fact, however, is, that the
question depends in some degree on the definition which
philosophers may choose to give of matter. If pomle-
i ability is conjoined to other active powers, we give
the substratum in which these concur the name of mat¬
ter. Where some of the powers and agencies coexist,
yet not accompanied by certain others, even when these
are the most readily appreciable, we may if we please
say that the substratum is not material. But this is a
question of words. All our knowledge of physical
powers, both in detail and in their permanent relations,
remains equally clear and unaffected, whatever modes
of expression we may adopt. The attractive power
which it possesses is one of the most steady properties
of matter; and the powerful mechanical agencies of
the electric spark give it the strongest claim to the
character of a material substance.
Irom the similarity of the chemical effects of the Elcculeit
electric fluid with those of elementary fire or caloric, supposed to
it was long ago (as we have shewn in the beginning of be the same
this Part) supposed, that they were the same, and this'!ith <:al0-
is still the opinion of some electricians. We cannotnc‘
here pretend to enter on a full discussion of this ques¬
tion, but we shall briefly state the arguments in favour
of the identity of caloric, and the objections that we
have to make to them.
Electricity is the same with caloric (say the advo¬
cates for their identity) because,
1. Both produce the same chemical effects, expan¬
sion, fluidity, inflammation, oxidation, &c.
2. Those bodies that are the best conductors of ca¬
loric, as the metals, are also the best conductors of elec¬
tricity j and glass, which is a very bad conductor of
caloric, is one of the most perfect non-conductors of
electricity.
To the first argument for their identity, we shall re- Arg^enu
ply in the words of M. Berthollet, who once consider- against this
ed them as the same, but from experiments was satis-supposition,
fied that their effects were different.
“ A wire of platinum was submitted to shocks which
were nearly strong enough to effect its combustion j
and to be satisfied of this, a shock was excited, by
which a great part of the wire was melted and dis¬
persed j afterwards the shocks employed were a little
weaker, and immediately after each, the wire was
touched to judge of the temperature it had acquired : a
heat was felt, which was dissipated in a few minutes,
and which, at the utmost, was estimated to resemble
that of the boiling point of water. If electricity lique¬
fied metals, and brought them into combustion by the
heat it excites, the platinum wire must after a shock,
which differed but little from that which would have
produced its dispersion and its combustion, have ap¬
proached the degree of temperature which occasions
its liquefaction : Now this degree, which is the most
elevated
758
Theory of
Electricity.
ELECT
elevated that can he obtained, would, according to the
valuation, more or less accurate, of Wedgwood, be
322770 of Fahrenheit.
“ When the shock is sufficiently strong to destroy
the aggregation of the platinum wire, it begins by de¬
taching molecules from its surface, which exhale like
•smoke0; if it is strong enough to produce combustion,
the remains of the wire appear to be torn into fila¬
ments. _
“ A thermoscope blackened with ink, and placed in
the stream of a strong electric spark, only experienced a
dilatation which was nearly equal to one degree of
Reaumur’s thermometer, and this slight effect might de¬
pend on the oxidation of the iron of the ink ; placed be¬
side the current, it did not show any dilatation, although
the air was necessarily affected by the electric action .
it was the same when it was placed in contact with a
metallic conductor, which received a stream less power¬
ful than in the preceding experiments.
“ A cylinder of glass filled with air, with an exciter
at each of its extremities, to one of which was fixed a
tube communicating with another cylinder filled with
water, produced an impulse at each shock, which rais¬
ed the water more than a diameter above its level, but
its effect was instantaneous.
“ These experiments seem to me to prove that elec¬
tricity does not act on substances, and on their combi¬
nations, by an elevation of temperature, but by a dila¬
tation which separates the moleculse of bodies. The
slight heat observed in the platinum wire, is only the ef¬
fect of the compression produced by the moleculae which
first experience the electric action, or which experience
it in a greater degree ; it must, therefore, be compared
to that excited by percussion or compression.
“ If the dilatation was the effect of heat, that ex¬
perienced by a gas, in the experiment related above,
would not have been instantaneous ; it would only have
experienced a progressive diminution by cooling, as
when its expansion is owing to heat.
“ In the experiment by which ammoniacal gas is de¬
composed, the gas undoubtedly receives the electric ac¬
tion, and nevertheless it is not heated ; and as soon as
the decomposition is finished, its volume remains un¬
changed, because the electric action which is employed
in this experiment, is not sufficiently energetic to cause
a perceptible dilatation. No sensible dilatation is pro¬
duced in a gas by a shock which is not very strong, be¬
cause the impulse not being gradual like the expansion
arising from caloric, and being excited instantaneously,
the resistance of the liquid becomes too great, and
cannot be overcome unless the dilatation has great
energy.
“ An experiment of Dieman and his learned associates
confirms this explanation ; they caused a shock to pass
through lead placed in a vessel filled with azotic gas,
which could not oxidate itit was reduced into powder
retaining all its metallic properties: if it had ex¬
perienced a liquefaction similar to the action of heat,
it would have cooled gradually, and would have con¬
gealed into one, or at least into several masses.
“ When a metal is submitted to the electric action,
the effects produced immediately by the electricity must
be distinguished from those which are owing to its oxi¬
dation! the first are limited to the diminution or destruc¬
tion of the effects of the force of cohesion, to removing
4
R I e I T Y.
Part IV,
and dispersing the moleculse (if by this a little heat is Theory of
disengaged, it is only owing to the compression sustain- Electricity
ed by some of the parts) ; but those which are occasion- y—-‘
ed by the oxidation, produce a high degree of heat, and
then the effects assume all the appearances of an ordinary
combustion : hence it arises that the most oxidable
metals are those which become red with the greatest
facility, and which must shew the properties of a metal
liquefied by heat.
“ Electricity favours this oxidation in as much as it
diminishes the force of cohesion: It is thus that an alkali
renders the action of sulphur on oxygen much more
powerful, by destroying the force of cohesion opposed
to it, and that a metal dissolved in an amalgam, is oxida¬
ted much more easily than when it is in a solid state.
It is only by destroying the effects of the force of cohe¬
sion that heat itself produces the oxidation of metals ;
but the expansive action of electricity will have a great
advantage over that of caloric, because its action is
confined°to the solid which it encounters in its course,
so that the gas itself will not experience a dilatation in
opposition to the condensation which accompanies the
combination ; To this circumstance may be applied
what is observed in the action of hydrogen gas, which
is capable of completely reducing an oxide of iron pla¬
ced in the focus of a burning glass, although water,
whose two elements receive the heat equally, is decom¬
posed by this metal * NictoL
To the second argument we shall answer, that though
in the instance of metals it is correct, in so far as that T0,
these bodies are the best conductors, both of caloric and
electricity, there are, however, bodies that conduct ca¬
loric very well, but either do not conduct electricity, or
do it very imperfectly.
Even in the case of metallic bodies, so far as can be
inferred from the imperfect experiments that have been
made on their comparative conducting power, it should
appear that the order of their conducting power, with
respect to caloric, is not the same as that with respect
to electricity.
Farther, caloric takes some time to pass through the
best conductors, while the electric fluid pervades the
longest with inconceivable velocity.
Again, if electricity were the same with caloric,
they should mutually produce the same effects, and
should exist simultaneously. But this is by no means the
case ; a body may be strongly electrified without being
sensibly increased in temperature, and so far is heat
from producing electricity (except in a lew instances),
that where the former is present in any considerable de¬
gree, the latter is destroyed. . .
Lastly, the mode in which electricity and caloric
pass along conductors is, we think, different. Calonc
seems undoubtedly to penetrate their substance, while
electricity appears not to extend beyond the surface,
except it meet with some resistance. The following
experiment is usually adduced to prove that electricity
pervades the substance of conductors. 359
Take a wire of any kind of metal, and cover part Whether^
of it with some electric substance, as rosin, sealing-t
ktii
liersfl
kt
Uric
ffroi
’>to.
'Ill
wax.
fn fluid per.
&c. then discharge ajar through it, and it )V111 va<jes the
be found that it conducts as well as without the elec-substa„ee
trie coating. This, says Mr Cavallo, proves that conduetot
the electric matter passes through the substance of
the metal, and not over its surface. A wire, adds
he,
phap. II.
"keory of he, continued through a vacuum, is also a convincing
'ecti. city, proof oF the truth of this assertion. Even here, however,
'" "v the proof, it impartially considered, will be found very
detective. It is a fact agreed upon by all philosophers,
that bodies which to us are apparently in contact,
do nevertheless require a very considerable degree of
force to make them actually touch one another. Dr
I riestley found that a weight ot six pounds was neces¬
sary to press 20 shillings into close contact, when lying
upon one another on a table. A much greater weight
was necessary to bring the links of a chain into con¬
tact with each other. It cannot be at all incredible,
therefore, that a wire, though covered with sealing-
wax or rosin, should still remain at some little distance
from the substance which covers it.
iVI. Coulomb proves that in an overcharged conduct¬
ing body, the fluid does not penetrate into its sub¬
stance, but diffuses itself merely over the surface.
% means of a very delicate electroscope, he examin¬
ed pits made in a conducting body of various depths,
and found that in the shallowest of them there was no
sensible electricity ; whence he naturally draws the
conclusion, that the electricity in such bodies does not
extend beyond the surface. The reader may see a de¬
scription ot the electroscope employed, and a detail of
the experiments, in the Memoirs of the French Acade¬
my for 1786, p. 72, or the Journal dc Physique, vol. ii.
(of the series by Delametherie), p. 236.
Dr Kobison repeated Coulomb’s experiments with
the same results.
Another opinion that has been maintained with re-
ELECTRICITY.
j 36°
Pictricity
4itrs from gard to electricity, is that it is the same with light.
PM
The principal argument for the identity of electricity
and light seems to be that bodies are impregnated with
the latter by means of the former, and indeed that light
commonly appears when the electric fluid passes in any
.quantity from one body to another.
Another reason given for their identity is, that both
move with inconceivable velocity.
A strong argument against the identity of light and
electricity, is that the former passes through glass and
other transparent electrics, which seem to be imper¬
meable to the electric fluid.
As to the impregnation of opaque bodies with light
by means of electricity, this is the effect of chemical de¬
composition, as will presently appear, and is really pro¬
duced by light itself.
M. Biot advanced the hypothesis, that the electric
spark arises from the compression of air by the rapid
motion of the electric fluid, in the same manner as light
is elicited by the compression of confined air, by the
sudden jerk of a condensing syringe.
What has been now said is, we think, sufficient to
proba- prove, that the electric fluid is neither caloric nor light,
com- JJut the appearance of caloric and light, in many cases,
shews that there is an intimate connection between them
and the electric fluid. In short, they seem to form part
of its composition j and there is some ground to consi¬
der it as a compound, containing caloric and light, and
probably some peculiar constituent, to which we give
the name of electricity. This opinion is not new j it
was the hypothesis of Mr James Russel, who filled the
natural philosophy chair at Edinburgh, above thirty
years ago.
Mr Russel considered the electric fluid as a com¬
6 1
; trie
pound of several others, containing particularly elemen¬
tary fire, from which it derived its great elasticity or
power of repulsion. Bhe elasticity of the electric fluid
he supposed to differ from that of air, in acting at a di¬
stance ; whereas the action of the air is only on adjoin¬
ing particles. Hence bodies that contain more electric
fluid than the spaces around them, have a tendency to
repel each other.
Mr Russel considered the characteristic ingredient
of the compound, i. e. the electricitv, as united to the
other constituents by chemical affinity, or, as it was
then called, Plective Attraction. 'Ihis attraction acts
at all distances, but not exactly according to the same
law, as the repulsive power of the elastic fluid 5 and
in general, while in this state of composition, coun¬
teracts the repulsion of the electric particles. Again,
the electricity attracts the particles of other bodies, but
with different degrees of affinity. Non-electrics or con¬
ductors are attracted by it at all distances, but elec¬
trics only at very small and imperceptible distances,
and at such distances only its own particles attract each
other.
Hence this compound fluid repels its own particles at
all considerable distances, but attracts them when very
near. It also attracts conductors at all distances, but
electrics only when very near. The appearances of
light and beat were considered by Mr Russel as proof's
of a partial decomposition, and as evincing the pre¬
sence of elementary fire: the peculiar odour of the
electric spark, and the effect produced in certain in.
stances on the. organ of taste, were also regarded as
pi oofs of chemical decomposition, and of the compound
nature of the electric fluid.
Again, conducting bodies containing electric fluid,
if forced very near, attract each other ; otherwise they
repel each other. Electrics contain the electric fluid
in consequence of the electricity existing in the com¬
pound j a part of this must be attached to the surface
of the electric, but not in its elastic state, since when
brought so near as to be attracted, its particles are sub¬
jected to their own mutual action, and hence the re¬
pulsion occasioned by its combination with the other in¬
gredient of the fluid is overcome by the redoubled at¬
traction j the electric fluid is thus partially decompo¬
sed, and the electricity attaches itself to the surface of
the electric. Thus the electric fluid may appear in two
states ; elastic when entire, and unelastic when partial¬
ly decomposed.
The electricity may be rendered unelastic in several
ways, as by friction, by which the electric fluid con¬
tained in the air is forced into closer contact, thus pro¬
ducing a decomposition of the fluid, and causing its
electricity to unite with the surface of the rubbed body.
This operation may be compared to the forcible wet¬
ting of a dry sponge, or of some powder, as that of the
puff ball, which, when dry, does not easily imbibe mois¬
ture ; but when wetted by mechanical compression, re¬
tains it very forcibly. The electricity unites with bo¬
dies in this way during several operations of nature, as
in the melting and cooling of some substances, in con¬
tact with electrics; and it may be thus forcibly united
to the surface of electrics by means of metallic coatings,
into which the fluid is forced by the skilful manage¬
ment of its mutual repulsions. This operation, again,
was compared by Mr Russel to the condensation of the
moisture
759
Theory of
Electricity.
362
Hypothesis
of Professor
Russel.
7^°
Theory of moisture of bumid air on a cold pane of glass ; and the
Electricity, evacuation of fluids from the other, side of the coated
■ ~v pane lie compared to the evaporation of the moisture
from the other side of the cold pane, in consequence of
the heat that was extricated from the condensed va-
pour. # . .
The analogy that exists between electricity and ca¬
loric, has induced some to apply to the former the
doctrine of capacity, in an acceptation analogous to
that of the capacities of bodies for caloric. This doc¬
trine seems to be one of the fundamental principles of
Mr Wilkinson’s theory of electricity, the substance of
which is contained in the following extract.
Mr Wilkin- “ From some experiments, I am induced to suppose,
sou’s hypo- that electricity is universally diffused, but not equally }
thesis. tf,at t|lose bodies are the best conductors which contain
the greatest quantity, and those the best non-conduc¬
tors which contain the least.—i bus metallic bodies are
the best conductors ; all fluids, except air and oil, are
also conductors. The disposition in the body to retain
electricity may be termed its capacity.
“ When conducting bodies undergo any change, if by
such change their capacities become altered, then signs
of electricity are evinced.
“ If the change should be of such a nature, that their
capacity for electricity becomes increased, the sub¬
stance will be in a state of abstracting it from sur¬
rounding bodies, and therefore will evince negative
signs ; in the same way as frigorific mixtures produce
negative signs of heat.
“ If, in the change it undergoes, the capacity of the
substance for electricity is diminished, it gives out a
portion of its natural quantity, and evinces positive
signs, or a state of superabundance.
“ When any substance, in the change it undergoes,
gives out electricity, it becomes proportionally dimi¬
nished in its conducting powers ; so, on the contrary,
when it acquires an increase, it increases also its powers
as a conductor.
“ Thus a metallic substance, which is a good conduc¬
tor, when oxidated is a very imperfect one. In the
change from its reguline state to a calx, electricity is
given out.
“ This capacity for electricity is not regulated by any
known laws, such as the densities or the specific gravi¬
ties of the bodies.
“ In many substances, the conducting power seems to
depend on the addition of other principles •, thus wood,
when a conductor, is so in consequence of the moisture
it contains j when deprived of it by drying, it resists
the passage of electricity.
“ What this peculiar change may be, is difficult to
conceive ; but when electric bodies become partial con¬
ductors, it seems to be effected by the agency of heat.
When the pressing action is very considerable, as in
Part IV
the case of metallic bodies, great quantities of heat are Theory of
extricated. Thus a nail, when struck violently, soon Electricity
exhibits signs of considerable warmth ; the caloricy—>—ill
contained in its interstices is exuded on the surface, in
consequence of the approximation of the constituent
particles of the iron.
“ Whether the caloric diffused in the interstices, or
combined with the body, is given out by pressure, is a
fact difficult to determine. Those substances which are
non-conductors, and consequently capable, from ex¬
citation, of giving out signs of electricity, do not all of
them lose their power, when freed from the rubbing
action. Those bodies which are usually termed resi¬
nous, when melted, continue for a certain space of* Wtlkin-
time in their conducting state, until they are equalized-E/f- >
with the surrounding air \ and, continuing in a disposi-^”^*
tion to abstract electricity from surrounding bodies, to] jj 'w‘
will therefore evince negative signs (g) . 364
The doctrine of bodies having different capacities Obsem-
for electricity was ingeniously employed by Mr G.^on*byM'
Morgan to account for the effects produced on elec-'3" orgRB"
tries by friction.
“ If (says he) we admit the corporeal nature of that
which is hence with accuracy called the electric fluid,
let us attend to the necessary consequences of what we
admit:—1st, That the electric fluid, like all other cor¬
poreal substances, is capable of attracting, and of being
attracted. 2d, That in consequence of this capacity,
it enters into an union with other bodies, and that as
the nature of the substances to which it is united may
vary, so the degree of force by which it is united may
show an equal variety. 3d, That when the electric
fluid is separated from any body, this separation must
be the effect of lessening the force by which it was
united to that body, and thus giving the attractive
force of another body the superiority $ or it must be
the effect of very much increasing the force of the
third body, and thus destroying the equilibrium.
“ Suppose that any body A, should be capable of unit¬
ing to itself, or suppose the law of its constitution were
such as to admit of its attaching, fifty particles of the
electric fluid to itself, when near or in ctjntact with
another body, B, which likewise has an attraction to
those particles $ now, in case any such change should
take place as would add twenty particles to B, and
leave thirty only in A, this change, it is evident, must
proceed either from a diminution of A’s attracting
force, or from an adequate increase of force in B.
Having deduced, from the corporeal nature of the elec¬
tric fluid, such consequences as show that when it is
separated from a body, it must proceed from a diminu¬
tion of attractive force in the body that yields, or an
increase of the same force in the body that takes j let
us now examine how friction is likely to he the cause
of Such changes.
“By ,
ELECTRICITY:
(g) Mr Coulomb endeavours to prove that the electric fluid is not distributed among conducting bodies in con¬
tact by chemical affinity, but merely by its repulsive motion.
When two bodies, equal and similar, placed in contact, are tolerably perfect conductors, such as the metals,
the electricity communicated from one to the other is in an instant divided equally between them ; but when one
of the bodies is an imperfect conductor, as a plain of paper, it will take some time before the paper receives the
half of the electricity of the metal. In all cases, however, the electricity is equally divided. Vid. Mem. de VAcad,
Roy. de Paris, pour 1786, p. 69,
Chap. II.
Theory of _ “ By attending to the nature of friction, rve shall find
Wectricity.it to be nothing more than a succession of pressure or
v contacts ot the difterent parts of different substances
against each other : and the question in the present
case is this ;—whether contact is necessarily attended
with a change of attractive force in the different sub¬
stances which are brought together ? or whether the
close union of a particle of silk, hair, leather, &c. to
a particle of glass, may he attended with a change of
capacity in those bodies to retain the electric fluid ? 
If this question be admitted, I think the particular
mode in which friction operates is easily discovered.
“ My idea of the manner in which friction operates,
is briefly this : when two electrics are pressed closely
together, while they continue together, they become ca¬
pable of taking more, or retaining less j and if this he
allowed, I think the various appearances of bodies in a
state of excitation are easily accounted for.
However, it may he asked, if the change produced
in the surfaces of two bodies he the effect merely of
bringing the bodies nearer together-, why,does not
contact alone produce the same effect ? I must answer,
that the several instances of spontaneous electricity enu¬
merated by Wileke, iEpinus, and others, appear to me
to be so many evidences of the preceding theory. In
these instances we see the excitation of surfaces take
place in such circumstances as will not rationally admit
of any other cause than simple contact.
“ ^ evident, I think, that contact alone is adequate
to the production of electricity. I would add, that in
the only case where contact may he applied most com¬
pletely, electricity is produced in a most remarkable
degree.—By Bennet’s new electroscope, we find that
the slightest evaporation (which is certainly the union
of watery with aerial particles) produces immediate signs
of electricity. How rationally all the electrical appear¬
ances of our atmosphere may be ascribed to the same
source, will be shown more fully hereafter.
“ Before I quit this subject, I would explain the rea¬
sons why, in many cases, agreeably to the preceding
hypothesis, friction is necessarily much move powerful
in its effects than pressure.
“ Suppose A to be a particle of silk, brought into
contact with a particle of glass, which I call B j by the
increase of attraction consequent upon the union, the
combined bodies become capable of attracting a por¬
tion of the fluid, which I say, is equal to five. Now
A is no sooner separated from B, than another particle
of silk comes in contact, and produces a simitar effect.
TThe portion accumulated is now ten. A third comes
into successive contact with B, and adds to the accumu¬
lation 5 and while the rubbing goes on, a series of suc¬
cessive effects is produced by a series of successive unions
and separations ; for A is no^sooner separated from B,
than it is brought into that state in which it was be¬
fore the union, and consequently disposed to part with
what it gained by the union. Now if you suppose A
and B, instead of being single particles, to he surfaces,
all of whose parts operate at the same time, you may
easily perceive how the effect would he increased.
“ In the preceding case, I described the capacity of
A and B to he enlarged by their union. If it had
been lessened, the subsequent effects would have been
sufficient ; for, in such a case, after the dissolution of
Vol. VII. Part II. f
ELECTRICITY. 76i
their contact, they would he disposed to receive or Theory of
retake what they had lost by their union. But I will Electricity.
speculate no longer on the consequences of friction, as ' 
e ucidated from the supposed corporeal nature of the
e ectric fluid, and from the changes supposed to take t *
place on the attractive force of different bodies when
brought into very close contact with each other*.”
Sig. Brugnatelh, from the chemical properties of the Erugnatdli
electiic fluid, and from several experiments which he sui,Poses
has made upon the subject, concludes that it should he the <‘leclrio
ranked among the acids. This fluid, says he, reddens^‘La1'
the tincture of turnsole, which as the fluid dissipates
returns again to a blue colour ; it penetrates the me-
talSj oxidates them, and produces hydrogen gas. In
fine, it possesses all the properties of an acid. He
therefore denominates it the e/ertr/c or oxi-electric acid,
and of course the salts which are formed by its combi¬
nation with salifiable bases, are called electrats. On
some of these he makes the folloiving observations.
1. The elcctrat of gold is formed of small, brilliant,
and transparent points.
2. The electrat of silver consists of small prismatic
crystals, terminated by six-sided pyramids, which are
limpid and transparent, and strongly reflect the li«ht.
They are tasteless and insoluble in water.
3. i he electrat of copper consists of cubical transpa¬
rent crystals, which dissolve in the acid with efferves-
cence. The crystals are of a beautiful green colour.
4* Fhe elect)ut of iron is of a reddish yellow colour
and opaque. ’
5* I he electrat of zinc is opaouc and of a grayish
colour. ° J
The electric acid, according to this'author, is not de¬
composed, when it oxidates the metals, but the oxygen
required for their oxidation, is derived from the water
employed in his experiments.
Having thus considered pretty fully the chemical na-Lairf ac-
ture ot the electric fluid, we shall return to its mechani-tion of the
cal properties, and endeavour to ascertain the law |)yelecliic
which its particles act on each other, and how it isid-
distributed in bodies of various figures, and in various
relations.
It was long a desideratum among electricians to dis¬
cover the law of action according to which the particles
of the electric fluid attract and repel each other. gE-
pinus, we have seen, states no other law than that the
action decreases according as the distance increases.
Mr Cavendish suspected, hut did not prove either by
demonstration or experiment, that the action of electri¬
city was, like that of gravitation, inversely as the square
of the distance.
Lord Stanhope attempted to prove that this was the
law of electric action, both experimentally and mathe¬
matically, and concluded, from the result of both his
experiments and reasoning, that the supposition was just.
But Dr Kobison did not consider the experiment of
Lord Stanhope as sufficiently accurate, or sufficiently
detailed, to warrant the conclusions that his Lordship
had drawn *. 1 * Mahon'*
That eminent philosopher, nearly 40 years as;o, made PrinciPles
a set of experiments for ascertaining this law, and Electri~
were attended with results similar to those of Lordi^v. and*
Stanhope. y-
Dr Robison’s experiments were made with the assis-
5 D t mee
762
Theory of
Electricity.
' 367
Ascertained
experimen¬
tally by Dr
Robison.
Plate
CXCI.
!*■
ELECT
tance of his excellent electrometer, which we have de¬
scribed in 1NP 206. The mode of using this instrument
is as follows.
The body whose electricity is to be examined is con¬
nected with the electrometer by a wire, the end of
which is inserted into the hole at F, fig. 72. and made
to touch the end of the needle. Now the index is to
be turned to the right by the handle I, till it come to
90. In this position LA, and consequently CB, is ho¬
rizontal } and the moveable hall B rests on A and moves
with it. The balls being now electrified, tbe handle
is turned hack till the index arrive at O, from which it
set out. If during this motion the balls be noticed, it
will he found that in some position of the index they
will separate. Bring them again together and again
separate them, till the exact point of separation be as¬
certained. This will give their repulsion when in con¬
tact, or at the distance of their centres. Then turn the
index still more to the vertical position, and the balls
will separate still more. Let an assistant now move
the long index till it become parallel to the stalk of the
electrometer, which will be known by its hiding the lat¬
ter from his view. If the stalk be poised, by laying a
weight of some grains on the cork ball D, till tbe stalk
become horizontal and nicely balanced, we know ex¬
actly the weight that denotes the degree of repulsion
that will cause the balls to separate when in the horizon¬
tal position, by computing for the proportional lengths
of BC and DC. Then, by a very simple computation,
we shall find the weight denoting the degree of repulsion
with which they separate in any oblique position of the
stalk, and again, by the resolution of forces, we find
the degree of repulsion with which the balls separate
when AL is oblique, and BC makes with it any given
angle.
The intention of Dr Robison’s experiments was to
ascertion the law of repulsion of two small spheres, as
whatever was the law of distribution of the particles
in a sphere, which we shall consider presently, the ge¬
neral action of its particles on those of another sphere
will not difi’er materially from the law of action be¬
tween two particles, if the spheres are very small in pro¬
portion to their distance.
The result of the experiments was, that the mutual
repulsion of two small spheres, electrified either posi¬
tively or negatively, was very nearly inversely as the
square of the distance of their centres, or a little great¬
er. Thus, if wre express the distance of x, the law of
repulsion was as nearly as possible
.a o <5*
One of the
Vails being much larger than the other appeared to
cause no difference in the results.
Repeating the experiment with balls electrified op¬
positely, and which of course attracted each other, the
results obtained were not quite so regular *, but the ge¬
neral result was a deviation from the above law rather
less than in the preceding case, this being in defect,
while that was in excess.
Sir Isaac Newton has demonstrated, (Princip. lib. i.
pr. 74.) that if particles of matter act on each other
with a force in the inverse duplicate ratio of the dis¬
tance, spheres composed of such particles, and of equal
density at equal distances, will act on each other ac¬
cording to the same law. He has demonstrated that
the same bolds in the case of hollow spherical shells,
3
R I C I T Y. Part IV.
and that these act on each other in the same manner Theory of
as if all their matter were crowded into their centres j Electricity,
and he has farther demonstrated, that if the law of v~"'w
action between the particles be different from what has
been stated, the action of spheres or spherical shells
will also be different.
M. Coulomb of the French academy made a num¬
ber of most valuable experiments for tbe purpose of
ascertaining this point, and obtained tbe same results.
This distinguished academician has published in the
memoirs of the Royal Academy at Paris for 1784,
1785, 1786, and 1787, papers which rank him very
high ’ among those who have contributed to advance
the science of electricity.
In the Memoirs for 1785 appeared the papers that
contain the experiments by which he proved the law of
electric action. These we cannot here pretend to de¬
tail, but the result is highly satisfactory. They w’ere
made with the assistance of a very delicate electrome¬
ter, the construction of which we shall describe under
the article Electrometer. 36s
The reader may satisfy himself very nearly of the Appioxi-
truth of this law by the following simple experiment,
A, fig. 102. is the convex extremity of an excited IOj]
surface. BC is a metallic rod, delicately suspended on
the point E. CF is designed to contain any weight
which may be applied to the extremity of the rod.
The apparatus should be as light as possible, and is
best made of reed and cork covered with tinfoil.
While the surface A is in an excited state, B is
brought within a certain distance of it, and the weight
moved by its influence is carefully observed. A simi¬
lar observation is then made at a second, a third, and
a fourth distance.
Varieties will be discovered in the result of these ob¬
servations, proceeding from the impossibility of keeping
the surface for any considerable time in the same state
of excitation. These varieties, however, are trifling *,
and in a vast number of experiments, the weight will
diminish very nearly in the duplicate ratio of the in¬
creased distance.
We may now safely conclude that the law of electric
action is like that of gravitation, so that electrified bo¬
dies attract or repel each otherjwith a force that is in¬
versely as the square of the distance. The ascertaining
of this important law is of infinite consequence. It af¬
fords us a full conviction of the truth of the proposi¬
tions respecting the action of bodies that are over¬
charged at one end, and undercharged at the other.
It renders certain what we could formerly infer only
from a reasonable probability. WTe now see that the
curve described in N° 338. must really have its con¬
vexity turned towards the axis, and that Z-j-a' will al¬
ways be greater than Z'-{- . . .... 3«5.
We now proceed to consider the manner in which j)istribu-
the electric fluid is distributed, when it is redundant ortionofthe
deficient in bodies; and for this purpose we cannot do®^tn0
better than lay before the reader the following series of
propositions, chiefly taken from Mr Cavendish’s paper,
but accommodated to the true law of action above laid
down.
Ip Lemma I.—Let the whole space comprehended b®'fu,1(iaiuen-
tween two parallel planes, infinitely extended each way, ta]propjsi-
be filled with uniform matter, the repulsion of whose tfon.
particles is inversely aa the square of the distance ; the
plate
Fi£. IOJ.
Chap. II. ELECT
Theory of P^a^e of matter formed thereby will repel a particle of
[Electricity, matter with exactly the same force, at whatever dis-
v' tance from it it be placed.
For, suppose that there are two such plates, of equal
thickness, placed parallel to each other, let A, fig. 103.
be any point not placed in or between the two plates j
let BCD, represent any part of the nearest plate ; draw
the lines AB, AC, and AD, cutting the furthest plate,
in 6, c, and r/,- for it is plain that it they cut one plate,
they must, if produced, cut the other : the triangle
BCD, is to the triangle b c d, ns AB* to A ; there¬
fore a particle of matter at A will be repelled with the
same force by the matter in the triangle BCD, as by
that in b c d. Whence it appears that a particle at A
will be repelled with as much lorce by the nearest
plate, as by the more distant 5 and consequently will
be impelled with the same force by either plate, at
whatever distance from it it be placed.
^ Cor. 1.—The same will be true of the action of
plates of equal thickness and equal density, or of such
thickness and density as to contain quantities of matter
or fluid proportional to their areas.
Cor. 2.— I he action of all such sections made by
parallel planes, or by planes equally inclined to their
axis, is equal.
Cor. 3.— The tendency of a particle to a plane, or
plate of uniform thickness and density, and infinitely
extended, is the same, at whatever distance it be placed
from the plate, and it is always perpendicular to it.
Cor. 4.-—This tendency is proportional to the den¬
sity and thickness of the plate or plates jointly,
sposition' Problem 1.—In fig. 104. let the parallel lines A a,
parallel B b, &c. represent parallel planes infinitely extended
*M- each way : let the spaces AD and EH be filled with
uniform solid matter : let the electric fluid in each of
those spaces be moveable and unable to escape : and let
all the rest of the matter in the universe be saturated
with immoveable fluid. It is required to determine in
what manner the fluid will be disposed in the spaces
AD and EH, according as one or both of them are
over or undercharged.
Let AD be that space which contains the greatest
quantity of redundant fluid, if both spaces are over¬
charged, or which contains the least redundant matter,
if both are undercharged j or if one is overcharged,
and the other undercharged, let AD be the overchar¬
ged one. Then, first, There will be two spaces, AB
and GH, which will either be entirely deprived of fluid,
or in which the particles will be pressed close together ;
namely, if the whole quantity of fluid in AD and EH
together, is less than sufficient to saturate the matter
therein, they will be entirely deprived of fluid ; the
quantity of redundant matter in each being half the
whole redundant matter in AD and EH together: but
if the fluid in AD and AH together is more than suf¬
ficient to saturate the matter, the fluid in AB and GH
will be pressed close together ; the quantity of redun¬
dant fluid in each being half the whole redundant fluid
in both spaces. 2dly, In the space CD the fluid will
be pressed close together j the quantity of fluid therein
being such as to leave just enough fluid in BC to satu¬
rate the matter therein. 3dly, The space EF will be
entirely deprived of fluid ; the quantity of matter there¬
in being such, that the fluid in EG shall be sufficient
to saturate the matter therein : consequently, the re-
R I C I T Y.
dundant fluid in CD will be just sufficient to saturate Theory of
the redundant matter in EF. And, 4thly, The spaces Electricity.
lib and ±G will be saturated in all parts.  v'-*—'
Cor. 1—If the tvvo plates be equally overcharged,
all the redundant fluid will be crowded on the remote
surfaces, and the adjacent surfaces will be in their natu¬
ral state.
Cor. 2 —If the redundant fluid in the one be just
sufficient to saturate the redundant matter in the other
the two remote surfaces will be in their natural state,
all tlie redundant fluid being crowded in the stratum
b c d D, and all the redundant matter being in E e /T. 37*
Lemma II.—Let BDE and/3^s, (fig. x0 r ) Disposition
be concentric spherical surfaces, whose centre is D • ifLn. a SPW
r> z. cii-j *.i * “Fig. 105.
371
ites.
S- 134
the space B b k filled with uniform matter, whose par¬
ticles repel with a force inversely as the square of the
distance, a particle placed anywhere within the space
C b, as at P, will be repelled with as much force in one
direction as another, or it will not be impelled in any
direction. This is demonstrated in Newt. Princip. lib.
1. prop. 70. It follows also from his demonstration,
that if the repulsion is inversely as some higher power
of the distance than the square, the particle P wilt be
impelled towards the centre •, and if the repulsion is in¬
versely as some lower power than the square, it will be
impelled from the centre.
Problem 2.—Let the square BDE, be filled with
uniform solid matter, overcharged with electric fluid ;
let the fluid therein be moveable, but not able to escape
fiom it*, let the fluid in the rest of infinite space be
moveable and sufficient to saturate the matter therein •
and let the matter in the whole of infinite space, or at
least in the space BB, whose dimensions will be given
below, be uniform and solid : it is required to deter¬
mine in what manner the fluid will be disposed both
within and without the globe.
Take the space B b, such that the interstices between
the particles of matter therein shall be just sufficient to
hold a quantity of electric fluid, whose particles are
pressed close together so as to touch each other, equal
to the whole redundant fluid in the globe, besides the
quantity requisite to saturate the matter in B 6,* and
take the space BB, such that the matter therein shall
be just able to saturate the redundant fluid in the
globe : then in all parts of the space B b, the fluid will
be pressed close together, so that its particles shall
touch each other: the space B/S will be entirely de¬
prived of fluid j and in the space C b, and all the rest
of infinite space, the matter will be exactly saturated.
Cor. i.—-If the globe BDE is undercharged, every
thing else being the same as before, there will be a
space B b, in which the matter will be entirely deprived
of fluid, and a space B /3 in which the fluid will be
pressed close together ; the matter in B b being equal
to the whole redundant matter in the globe, and the re¬
dundant fluid in B ^ being just sufficient to saturate
the matter in B b: and in all the rest of space the mat¬
ter will be exactly saturated, exactly similar to the
foregoing.
Cor. 2.—The fluid in the globe BDE will be dis¬
posed in exactly the same manner, whether the fluid
without is immoveable, and disposed in such a manner
that the matter shall be everywhere saturated, or whe¬
ther it is disposed as above described j and the fluid with¬
out the globe will be disposed in just the same manner
5® 2 whether
764
ELECTRICITY.
Theory of
I'.lectrictty.
373
General re¬
presenta¬
tion of the
disposition,
Plate
t CXCVJI.
106.
374
Distribu¬
tion in a
very small
canal near¬
ly uniform.
Fig. icy.
whether the fluid within is disposed uniformly, or whe¬
ther it is disposed as above described.
Let BC, fig. 106. be a cylindrical conducting body,
and A an overcharged body. Draw b c parallel to LG,
and draw B b, C c, P p, &c. perpendicular to BC to
represent the uniform density ol the fluid, when BL
is in its natural state *, and let B <7, C r, P s, &C. re¬
present the unequal densities at different points, while
it is opposed to the overcharged body A. Now these
ordinates will be bounded by a line dnr, cutting the
line £ c in n, a point in the line « N drawn perpendicu¬
lar to N, the neutral point of the conductor. Hie
whole quantity of fluid in BC will be represented by
the parallelogram be, CB 5 but this must be equal to
the space B C r « d; again, the redundant fluid in any
portion, as PC or PN, may be represented by the sp^es
p^rc, or tp n, and the deficient fluid in any portion BO
mav be represented by the space bdv q. Now, the ac¬
tion of BC on any body placed near it, will entirely
depend on the space contained between the curve line
and the axis b c. With respect to this curve, the only
circumstance that we can ascertain, is that variations of
curvature at every point are proportional to the forces
exerted by the spherical body A and are, therefore,
inversely as the squares of the distances from A, as will
he shewn presently. The exact place of the point n,
and the length of’the ordinates, will vary according to
the diameter of the conductor. We shall at present
consider only the simplest case, or that where the con¬
ductor is of no sensible diameter, like a very fine wire.
Let such a slender conducting canal be represented
by AE, fig. 107. and let B 6, C c, E e, &c. represent
the density of the contained fluid, this being kept in a
state of unequal density by its repulsion for some over¬
charged body. Now, a particle at G is impelled 111
the direction CE by all the fluid that is on the side of
A and it is impelled in the direction CA by all the
fluid on the side of E. The moving force will arise
from the difference of these repelling forces. When
the diam- ter of the canal continues the same, this will
arise from the difference of density only. Therefore, the
force of the element at E may be expressed by the ex¬
cess of DJ above Cc -{-the action at the distance
CD.
Draw /3 c 1 parallel to AE j then the force of the
d% •
element E may be expressed by tne formula ^ ^ -vr
and this is the force repelling the particle in the direc¬
tion CA.
Take CF=CD j the force at F will be expressed by
and this force also impels the par-
ccp2 c*
tide in the direction CA. The joint action of the two
js If bee were a straight line, d^-\-fq>
c
would always he proportional to c and might be ex¬
pressed by w-J-t S, m denoting some number that ex¬
presses what part of c 5 the sum of d'i and /"p is equal
to, suppose to, to. To. &c- .But ’n t,,e P»'esent case
is not always proportional to c5, for d% does
not increase so fast as c while f $ increases faster.
We may, however, without any sensible error, ex¬
press the accelerating force tending towards A, in the
w e 3
Part IV.
Theory of
neighbourhood of any point C, by ■ ^ ^ x, that is, by Electricity.
m—t which is the fluxion of the area of a hyperbola
x
HD'G, of which CC' and CK_ are assymptotes. The
whole action of the fluid between F and D may be ex¬
pressed by the area C'CDD'H. Hence, the action of
the smaller conceivable portion of the canal that ad¬
joins to C on either side, or the difference of the actions
of the two adjacent elements, is equal to the action of
all beyond it. The state of compression is therefore
scarcely affected by any thing at a sensible distance
from C, and the density of the fluid in an indefinitely
small canal is uniform.
Having thus found that the fluid in very small canals
is very nearly of an uniform density, we may now pro¬
ceed to examine the communication of electricity by
means of conducting canals j which forms one oi the
most important parts of the theory. . 375
Let us suppose that the body A communicates ^°tni"J)n"u
the canal EF, with another body D, placed on the con-
trary side of it from B, as in fig. 108, and let these cana]gi
two bodies be either saturated, or over or under-tig. 108.
charged } and let the fluid within them be in equili-
brio. Let now the body B be overcharged : it is
plain that some fluid will be driven from the nearer
part MN to the further part IIS 5 and also some fluid
will be driven from IIS, through the canal, to the
body D ; so that the quantity of fluid in D will be in¬
creased thereby, and the quantity in A, taking the
whole body together, will be diminished } the quanti¬
ty in the part near MN will also he diminished j but
whether the quantity in the part near lib will be dimi¬
nished or not, does not appear for certain 5 but proba¬
bly it will be not much altered.
Cor.—In like manner, if B is made undercharged,
some fluid will flow from D to A, and also from that
part of A near BS, to the part near MN. V*
Suppose now that the bodies A and D communicate
by the bent canal MPN n p in (fig. 109.) instead of pjg( ,3^,
the straight one EF: let the bodies be either saturated
or over or undercharged as before $ and let the fluid ue
at rest; then, if the body B is made overcharged, some
fluid will still run out of A into D ; provided the re¬
pulsion of B on the fluid in the canal is not too grear.
The repulsion of B on the fluid in the canal, will at
first drive some fluid out of the leg MBp in into A,
and out of NP pn into D, tjll the quantity of fluid in
that part of the canal which is nearest to B is so much
diminished, and its repulsion on the rest of the fluid in
the canal is so much diminished also, as to compensate
the repulsion of B : but as the leg NP pn is longer
than the other, the repulsion of B on the fluid in it
will be greater ; consequently some fluid will run out
of A into D, on the same principle that water is drawn
out of a vessel through a syphon : but if the repulsion
of B on the fluid in the canal is so great as to drive ail
the fluid out of the space GPHp-G, so that the fluid
in the leg MG pm does not join to that in Nil/???;
then it is plain that no fluid can run out of A into D
any more than water will run out of a vessel through a
syphon, if the height of the bend of the syphon above
the water in the vessel, is greater than that to which
water will rise in vacuo. ,
This
"hap. II. ELECT
Theory of ^ This is Mr Cavendish’s reasoning •, but Dr Robison
;iectnuity.objects to it, that in these cases the fluid does not move
  011 the principle of a syphon, and that there is nothing
to prevent the fluid from expanding in GPH. He was
therefore of opinion, that it would always move from A.
to D over the bend.
Cor.—II AB is made undercharged, some fluid will
run out of D into A j and that though the attraction
377 of B on the fluid in the canal is ever so great.
:tion of a We shall now consider the action of electrified bodies
raiaht1 & ?n ^ie ca,la^ communication, in some of the most
important cases. But, as we are confined in our limits,
and have much important matter yet to treat of, we
must content ourselves with enumerating facts without
proving them by rigid demonstration.
Let AC a (fig. no.) represent a thin conducting
plate, seen edgewise, to the centre of which the slender
canal CP is perpendicular. It is required to determine
the action exerted by the fluid, or matter, uniformly
disposed over the plate, on the fluid moveable in PC ?
I. To find the action of a particle at C on the fluid
in the whole canal. Join AP, and let CP be denoted
by x, AP by y, and AC by r. Also, let y represent
the intensity of action at the distance I of the scale
from which the lines are measured.
378
379
raiftht
: nal.
Hr. up.
The action of A t?i P is
f
R I C I T Y. '765
Cor.. 1.-—-If PC is very great compared with AC, Theory of
file action is nearly the same as it would be if the K,ectlicity.
column were infinitely extended. ‘—
Cor. 2. It, besides, another column p C is very
small when compared with AC, the action on PC will
be to that on p C, as p C to AC nearly.
The redundant fluid cannot be uniformly diffused
over the whole plate, as we have hitherto supposed,
since the mutual repulsion of its particles will render it
denser at the circumference. As it is difficult to de-
teimine the variation of density, we shall only state the
result of the extreme case, where the whole redundant
fluid is crowded into the circumference of the plate.
Jhe action of the fluid in the canal is now
fo. and the whole action of the fluid crowd¬
ed into the circumference will be f a r* X }
=/«>' \~y /* r^1‘s may ^1US represented geo¬
metrically. Describe the quadrant C b BE, crossing
AP in B, and Ap in b. Draw BD and b cl parallel
to PC. Now, PB is =ry—r, and DC^rr^HT). The
?8o
1/
a >
strated that the action of A on the whole of CP is
y-iMy)-
2. To find the action of the plate whose diameter is
A « on a particle at P.
Let a denote the area of a circle whose diameter is
— I* The action required will be expressed by the
fluent 2fa(^\—
Cor.—If PC be very small in comparison of AC,
the action will be nearly the same as if the plate was
infinite.
3. To find the action of the plate on the whole
column. This will be expressed by the fluent 2fa
(.r + r—y).
Our mathematical readers, who are familiar with
the method of fluxions, (and to no others will these
theorems be intelligible), will readily see the meanincr
of these expressions.
The following geometrical construction will render
the action of the plate for the whole column, or its
parts, more familiar, and more easily remembered.
Produce PC till CK is =CA, and with the centre
I, describe the arch A I, crossing CK in I. Then the
electrical action will be expressed by ija X IK ; and
this expression represents a cylinder whose radius is 1
of the scale, and whose height is ~ 2 IK.
Again, about the centre p, with the distance p A
describe the arch A /, cutting CH in f. Then we have
2/aXtiv, expressing the action of the plate on the
column Cp, and fax I expressing its action on P»
By the formula 2/a X IK, is meant, that the action
exerted by the whole plate on PC is the same as if all
the fluid in the cylinder expressed by cxalK were
placed at the distance Irom the acting particle denoted
by 1..
and it may be demon- expression/a /• ^^ j w;n therefore denote a cylin-
y
der whose radius is 1, and, height DC, multiplied by/
Again </C will be the height of the cylinder expres¬
sing the action on p C, and D d that of the cylinder
expressing the action on Pp.
Cor. I.—II CP be very great compared with CA,
D is very near to A, and I to C, and CD has to IK
very nearly the ratio of equality.
Cor. 2.—But if the column p C is very short, the
action of the fluid uniformly diffused over the plate, is
to the action of the fluid crowded into the circumference
nearly as 4 AC to p C.
Irom this corollary we see that the recess of the
fluid towards the circumference, has a much less effect
on short columns than on long ones, i. e. the action in
the former case will be much less diminished. Any
external force that tends to impel fluid along the canal,
and from thence to diffuse it over the plate, will impel
a greater quantity to the plate when the fluid of the
plate is crowded into the circumference, than if it were
uniformly diffused over the plate, and this difference
will be greater when the canal is short.
Lastly, When KL is equal to AP, or PL to KT,
the repulsion exerted by the whole fluid of the plate’
collected in K, on the fluid in the canal CL, is equal
to the repulsion of the same fluid, when crowded into
the circumference, on the column CP.
Cor. 1.—When CP is very long in comparison with
AC or KC, the actions of the two fluids in both the
above situations is nearly equal.
Cor. 2.—The action exerted by the whole fluid on
the column CP, when uniformly diffused, is to its action
when collected in K, as 2 IK to CD.
Cor. 3.—If CNO be a spherical surface, or a sphe¬
rical shell, of the same diameter and thickness with the
plate A a, and containing redundant fluid of uniform
density, the action exerted by this fluid on the column
CL is equal to twice the action of the fluid on the
columns
3S1
58*
383
384,,
766
ELECTRICITY.
Part IV.
Fi“. nr.
3S(I
Theory of column CP, when the fluid is uniformly diflused over
Electricity, the plate, and to four times its action on the same
1 v 1 ' column, when it is crowded into the circumfeience.
.3S5 Let there be two circular plates, represented edgewise
twoblates at DE, de, fig. Hi. or two spherical shells ABO,
or spheres abo, of the same diameters and thickness with the
connected plates, containing redundant fluid of uniform density,
by infinite an(j ]et t|iem communicate with straight canals OP, op,
canais. ;nfinitely extended, perpendicular to their surfaces and
passing through their centres, and let the fluid in these
canals be of uniform density and equally diflused.
It may be demonstrated that the repulsions exerted
by the fluid in the plates or spheres on the canals are
as the diameters of the plates or spheres.
Cor. I.—When the canals are very long compared
to the diameters of the sphere or plates, the repulsions
are nearly in the same proportion.
Cor. 2.—The more the length of the canals dimi¬
nishes when compared with the diameters of the plates
or spheres, the more the repulsions approach to equa-
lity.
Cor. 3.—When the density of the fluid in two sphe¬
rical shells is inversely as their diameters, the repul¬
sions of the contained fluid on a column of fluid infi¬
nitely extended, will be equal.
Cor. 4.—When tbe quantities of redundant fluid in
two spheres are proportional to their diameters, the re¬
pulsions exerted by them on a canal infinitely extended
are equal.
Cor. 5.—If there be two overcharged spheres, or
spherical shells, as ABO, oab, fig. H2. that commu¬
nicate by a conducting canal infinitely extended, the
quantities of redundant fluid they contain are propor¬
tional to their diameters 5 and they will be nearly so if
the canals be very long.
Cor. 6.—When the spheres of conducting matter
are in equilibria, the pressures exerted by the fluid on
their surfaces are nearly proportional to their diame¬
ters.
It follows from this corollary that (he tendency of
fluid to escape from such spheres is, cceterisparibus, in-
3gt versely as the diameters.
Important Let there be four circular plates, as HK, AB, DF,
cfse of f°ur LM, fig. 113. equal and parallel to each other, and
piates’ let two of them, AB and HK, communicate by an in¬
definite canal GC perpendicular to their planes and
passing through their centres ; let DT and LIVE com¬
municate in like manner by the canal EN, both canals
being in the same straight line : let HK be overcharg¬
ed, and LM just saturated. It is required to determine
the disposition of the fluid, and its proportion in the
plates, so that the above condition may be possible and
permanent, while all is in equilibria 2
As HK and AB communicate and are equal, as
HK is overcharged, AB will be so also, and in the
same degree, and the fluid will be similarly disposed in
both. HK and AB being in this situation, if DF and
LM he brought near them to within the distance CE,
as in the figure, the redundant fluid in AB will act on
the moveable fluid in DF, and force some of it along
the canal EN into LM, rendering this latter over¬
charged. Now, if this redundant fluid in LM be ta¬
ken off, the repulsion which LM was beginning to
exert on the canal NE, will be diminished or destroyed.
Itence more fluid will move from DF into LM, and
387
3SS
339
39°
Fig. 112
39*
Fig. 113.
this will again be overcharged. The redundant fluid Theory of
in LM may be again taken off, but in less quantity Electricity,
than before, and so on repeatedly, till no more can be'
taken off. DF will thus be rendered undercharged, or
will contain redundant matter. This will act on the
fluid in GC, and attract it from G, and consequently
the fluid will now move from AK into AB, by which
HK will be rendered less overcharged, and AB moie
so than at first. The thus increased redundancy of fluid
in AB will act more strongly on the moveable fluid in
DF, and repel a part of it into LM as before. DF
will thus be again rendered deficient, and by its re¬
dundant matter will again act on the canal GC. Thus,
by repeatedly touching LM to take oil’the fluid driven
into it from DF, or by allowing LM to communicate
with conducting bodies, an equilibrium will be produ¬
ced j and when this is the case, HK contains a certain
quantity of redundant fluid, AB contains redundant
fluid in a greater degree, DF contains redundant mat¬
ter, and LM is in its natural state. The problem may
now be reduced to this: To find what proportion the
redundant fluid in HK bears to that in AB, and what
proportion this latter bears to the deficient fluid in
DF?
To determine these proportions it is necessary that,
1st, The repulsion exerted by the redundant fluid in
AB on the fluid in EN be precisely equal to the at¬
traction exerted by the redundant matter of DF on the
same canal.
2dly, The repulsion exerted by the redundant fluid
in HK on the whole fluid of the canal GC, balances
the excess of the repulsion of the redundant fluid in AB
on GC above the attraction of the redundant matter of
DF on the same canal.
If we call the redundant fluid in AB, /; the redun¬
dant matter in DF, m; and the redundant fluid in
HK,/': as the fluid in HK and AB is similarly dis¬
posed, (they being equal), and as it is probable that
the redundant fluid in AB, and the redundant matter
in DF, are similarly disposed, it follows, that their ac¬
tions on the fluid in the canals will be similar, and pro¬
portional to their quantities nearly.
Let I be to n, as the repulsion exerted by the fluid
in AB on the fluid that would occupy CE, to the re¬
pulsion exerted by the fluid in AB on the fluid in EN
or CG.
AB acts on EN with the force/x («—0 j and OF
acts on EN with the force m n ; but these actions must
balance each other, as LM is inactive. Therefore
/X (n—i)=mn, and m=f X —- •
If/repels the fluid in CG with the force /n, m at¬
tracts the fluid in CG with the force /w X —0 j but
as , the attractive force of m for CG
J n
will be /X —— X(«—0 : Therefore the repul-
Jn
sion of /is to the attraction of m, as f n to /X -—^
—/n* : : n—1*.
Let r denote the repulsion of / and a the attraction
of m ; then r : o=»2 : («—1)* j and r : (r—:
n1—(n—1 )*=:»* : (222—1).
But
pap. II. ELECTRICITY.
Theory of But the repulsion of/'=?'—a; therefore :
Jleetricity. .  . \
(2 «—x) =/:/', and f'—f x J ; or /=/'
67
X
(—)■
\2«—1/
If we suppose n3 much greater than 2«—1, we shall
have the quantity of redundant fluid in AB much great-
^ er than that in HK.
I(rodigious "When EC is very small in proportion to AC, it will
;cum»la- appear, on referring back to N° 382. that 1 is to n
911 and
ssipation nearly as CE : CA j and consequently «——— nearly,
redmi- CE J
iiit fluid, When this is the case, » is a considerable quantity j
1 • • • 1 91*
and there is so little difference between — and 
2n 2n—1
that we may take the former for the latter without any
material error.
Now we have fzzf'X- very nearly.
Suppose AC to represent 6 inches, and CE ^th of an
inch, we shall have »—12 a and f=z6of', or more ex-
14,400
actly f= (
2 n-
239
\6o;
s ’^5
M ie of re
This, it will be remembered, represents the redundant
fluid in HK j hence it will appear how great must be
the redundancy in HK.
Again, when AB and DF are very near, n is a large
number, and the deficiency in DF is nearly equal to the
redundancy in AB. In the above example m is ffths
of/7, as m—fx («—1).
But though there is this great deficiency in DF, and
redundancy in AB, DF is not electrical on the side
next LM, nor is AB more electrical than HK ; in
short, this case affords another example of bodies being
neutral while redundant or deficient, in addition to what
^ was advanced in N°3I3, 314.
iout It will readily occur to the reader, that cases exact-
s sensiblely such as we have now stated never happen in the
qltrioal course of experiment: but when the canals are very
long in comparison of the diameters of the plate, and
when AB is very near DF, the proportion will not
greatly vary.
We have been very particular in the examination of
stfog the this case, because it is of great importance, and will
•ifubnum assj8t us Jn explaining some of the principal phenomena,
greca. To prepare for such an explanation of it, we shall here
state some simple consequences of this combination of
plates.
If AB be touched by any body, this body will re¬
ceive from it a part of its redundant fluid, but onlv a
part; for only so much fluid will quit AB as is suffici¬
ent to render it neutral, while the touching body com¬
municates with the ground. This will happen till the
redundant matter in DF attracts fluid on the remote
side of AB as much as the redundant fluid in AB re¬
pels it. The repulsion of AB on EN is now diminish¬
ed, the attraction of DF will therefore prevail, and this
will be no longer neutral. If now DF lie touched, it
may again be made neutral with respect to EN ; but
AB will again repel the fluid in CG, and being re¬
dundant on that side will again become electric. AB
being touched again, loses more fluid, and DF be¬
comes electric by deficiency. Thus by alternately
touching AB and DF, the redundancy in AB may be Theory of
exhausted, and the deficiency in DF supplied. Electricitj.
-But the equilibrium that is thus vvaduallij produced 1 v—1,1 ^
may be efiected at once. If we suppose a slender con-
ducting canal </Z» r/, brought very near the plates on *t jlKe*
the outside, so that the end a is near to A, and r/ to D ;
the first effect of the vicinity of a to A, will be to
cause the fluid in ah to re.cede a little from o, by rea¬
son of the repulsion of the redundant fluid in AB.
Thus, redundant matter will be left at a, and this will
strongly attract redundant fluid from A, and a may
receive a spark. Should the fluid approach still nearer
the surface at A, the corresponding part of DF will be
rendered more attractive, and by the fluid retiring from
a along ah, some of the natural fluid of this canal will
be pushed towards d; this increases the disposition of
A to part with fluid, and of d to receive it, while a is
disposed to give out and D to receive. Thus all con¬
tributes to favour the passage of almost the whole of the
redundant fluid in AB to rush from AB, by A, alontr
«£rfintoDF. J
It is also clear that, without the canal abd, there
is a strong tendency of the fluid in AB for the matter
in DF, and that, of course, these plates will strongly at¬
tract each other.
The theorems we have now given respecting the dis-.
position of the electric fluid are the result of mathema¬
tical reasoning, founded on the hypothetical nature o£
the fluid, and its assumed law of action. We shall con¬
clude this section with relating the result of M. Cou¬
lomb’s experiments on this subject, given in the Me¬
moirs of the Academy for 1786 and 1787. M. Cou¬
lomb gives the following general theorem.
In a body of any form, AFB de, fig. 114. which CoUi2b\
is supposed filled with fluid whose particles act on eachtxPer*-
other with a force that is inversely as the square of thements 0I!
distance, let there be raised a perpendicular a infinitely
small, and let a plane, perpendicular to a £ at the point in contact. .
£, divide the body into two parts; one dacb, infinite-Fig. 213.
ly small, the other b AFB c b, of any determinate di¬
mensions. Then the action of the particles composing
the thin slice, estimated in the direction ab, on the
particle b, must be equal to the action of the whole
fluid in the rest of the body, if b be supposed at rest.
Now, as whatever be the disposition of the fluid, the
law of continuity will be the same, it is evident that
if we take ab sufficiently small, the difference of the
density at a and at c may be infinitely small ; and that
the action oi deb e will be infinitely near to an equili¬
brium with that of daeb. Hence the action of the
fluid in the rest of the body will be reduced to nothing,
or will be infinitely small. But this cannot take place
when the action of the mass at a finite distance on a
particle of fluid, is infinitely small with respect to that
of a particle in contact on the same particle, unless we
suppose the quantity of fluid at a finite distance nearly
nothing. It follows that the whole redundant fluid
must be constipated on the surface, and the interior
parts be merely saturated.
M. Coulomb then proceeds to examine the density
of the electric fluid in different bodies that are in con¬
tact.
He first examines the density of two globes of dif¬
ferent diameters in contact.
After a number of experiments, he gives the result
in j
768
ELECTRICITY.
Part IV
Theory of in t!ie following table, representing the manner in g. ;n the middle one was
Electricity, which the fluid is distributed between the two globes. J
'—-v ' The first column shews the proportion of the radii ot
the globes, the second the proportion of their surfaces,
and the third the corresponding proportion of their den¬
sities. It must be remarked that this table shews only
the proportional density of the globes, when after be¬
ing separated, the fluid is universally diffused over their
surfaces.
—I— of that in the other
Electncit]
1
2
4
8
infinite
4
16
infinite
1
1,08
ij3°
1,65
2,00
Thus it appears, that the greater the proportion ot
the surfaces of the globes, the nearer the proportion of
their densities approached to 2, but never attained
this.
This ft very different from the proportions between
two spheres that communicate by a very long slender
canal, which, as was shewn in N0 39^* contained quan¬
tities of fluid proportional to their diameters, and that
the densities were inversely as the diameters 5 and this
M. Coulomb found to agree very exactly with experi¬
ment. , .
M. Coulomb next proceeds to examine the density
of the fluid in various parts of the surface of the globes
in contact, in order to ascertain the distribution.
His method of proceeding was this. He hung a
small circle of gilt paper to a thread ot lac, fixed to a
cylinder of glass or baked wood j the paper was varnish¬
ed with some electric substance. The body to be ex¬
amined was first touched with the paper circle, the
electricity of which was then examined by means of his
electrometer, and an estimation of the density ot the
spheres made on the supposition that the circle bi ought
off one half of the electricity of the touched point.
The result of numerous experiments made with two
globes in contact was as follows. The more unequal
the globes were, the more the density of the small globe
varied from the point ot contact to the distance of l8o°,
and the nearer it approached to uniformity in the large
globe, increasing rapidly from the point of contact,
where it was o, to 70 or 8° from that point. Thus,
when he placed a sphere of 8 inches in contact with
one of two inches, he found the density of the small
globe insensible till about 30° from the point of con¬
tact ; that at 450 it was nearly the one-fourth of what
it was at 90°, and hence it increased in the proportion
of 10 to 14 till 1800, where it was uniform. In the
larger globe, on the other band, the density was o till
about 40 or 50 ; hence it increased rapidly, and from
30° to 1800 it was nearly uniform.
From these results we may conclude that Mr Caven¬
dish’s mathematical demonstration of the uniform dis¬
tribution of the fluid in a globe that communicates
with another by a slender canal, is conformable to the
fact.
A small globe between two equal larger globes, was
found to possess the same electricity as the other two,
when the proportion of their radii was not more than
5 to 1 ; when it was greater, the small globe shewed
no electricity.
Three equal globes being placed in contact, the den-
4
two. When a small globe, after having been in con¬
tact with a larger one that was overcharged, was re¬
moved to a very small distance, the electricity of the
small globe in the fronting point was opposite to that
of the large one, at a little greater distance the small
globe was neutral, and still farther off, it was redundant.
When the diameters of the globes were II and 8
respectively, the small globe at the fronting point was
negative, till it was at the distance I, when it was neu¬
tral, and beyond this it was positive. WTen the diame¬
ters were 11 and 4, the neutral distance was 2, and when
they were 11 and 2, the distance at which the small
globe was neutral ivas 2\.
It is indifferent whether the globes be solid, or con¬
sist merely of a thin shell. This circumstance is an ad¬
ditional proof of the justness of the theoretical investi¬
gation, on the supposition of the fluid being diffused
over the surface, leaving the interior parts in a neutral
state.
393
SeCT. II. An Application of the Theory of JEpinus and
Cavendish to the principal Phenomena of Electricity.
On an attentive consideration of the phenomena that
have already passed under our review, and a careful
comparison of these with the theory of positive and ne¬
gative electricity, as improved by iEpinus and Ca¬
vendish, it will appear that this theory is at least ade¬
quate to the explanation of the facts.
The comparison of the theory with the experiments
may readily be made, and we have already hinted at
it in several cases. WTe cannot however, pursue this
to any extent, and must restrict ourselves in the remain¬
der of the chapter to the more important and interest¬
ing phenomena, leaving the rest to be supplied by the
reader, for which purpose we have furnished him with
ample materials.
We have already, in our illustration of the theory of
iEpinus, so fully considered the phenomena of elettric
attraction and repulsion in a general view, that little
more needs to be done, than to explain a few of the
more remarkable cases.
The phenomena of attraction and repulsion may be
reduced to the following simple propositions.
Prop. I.—If any body be electrified by any means, Electriu
and if another body be brought near it, this latter ^e"d|Ujlratc(
comes electrified by position.
We shall illustrate this proposition by the following
simple experiment.
Let there be provided three metallic conductors,
each supported on an insulating stand, such as A, B, C, IIt
fig. 115. Set these in a row, with their extremities
touching each other, and at one end ol the row, as at c,
place a stand, to which is hung a ball electrometer
with silk threads. On bringing an excited electric
near o, the opposite end ot the conductor, the pith ball
will approach the end c. Care, must, however, be
taken not to bring the electric so near c, as to make
the ball strike the opposite extremity } as in that case
the experiment would come under our second propo¬
sition. When the excited electric is removed, the ball
retires to its perpendicular situation. I he same effect
will be produced if the electrometer be placed at the
side
399
IChap. II.
Theory of side 01 the conductor, instead of its extremity, clearly
•Electricity.shewing that it is affected by the conductor, and not
— v immediately by the excited electric.
1 ids is an instance of induced electricity, and is easily
explained on the principles mentioned in ’N0 344. The
approach of the excited electric to the end a of the
compound conductor, renders this end deficient, if the
electric be overcharged, or redundant if it be under¬
charged ; and the opposite extremity is in the contrary
state, and hence attracts the ball of the electrometer.
Although the opposite extremities of the conductor
are in opposite states, the fluid is variously disposed in
various parts of the conductor j as may be proved in
the following manner. While the excited electric re¬
mains near a, take away the two extreme conductors,
A and C, or, if only two have been employed, take
away the remote one ; remove the excited electric, and
examine the parts of the conductor separately. The
part A will be found entirely negative ; if the electric
were overcharged, C will be entirely positive $ and if
three pieces have been employed, the middle piece B
will he faintly positive. If the pieces be again united,
they will be found devoid of electricity. The same ap¬
pearances will be more completely seen by forming a
conductor of a series of metallic balls, suspended by
silk threads, one of which will be found scarcely elec¬
trical.
400 Prop. II.—When an insulated body is brought very
near an electrified body, a spark passes between them,
and the insulated body becomes electrified permanently
by communication, while the electricity of the electri¬
fied body is diminished.
In this case the electricity imparted is of the same
kind as that of the electrified body, positive if this were
positive, and vice versa. The proposition may be il¬
lustrated by the same apparatus of the conductors and
electrometers, and scarcely requires an explanation.
When the electricity is in a small degree, the spark
is either very small or scarcely perceptible, but there is
no doubt, that it takes place in all cases. The spark
is owing to the sudden transference of a portion of the
fluid from the electrified body to the unelectrified body.
401 Prop. III.—When an electrified body has eom-
jpulsion municated part of its electricity to another body, this
[J g0‘lles in latter is repelled, unless it has communicated its acquir-
L me ed store to other bodies.
The flying feather, the cork balls,' and many other
experiments related in the first chapter of Part III.
amply illustrate this proposition, which expresses one of
the most general facts in electricity.
Before the electrified body has communicated part
of its electricity to the body presented to it, this latter
is in its natural state 5 but alter the communication,
both are either redundant or deficient, and consequent¬
ly repel each other, as appears from N*323, 324.
From these general propositions we may deduce the
following corollaries, an application of which will serve
still further to illustrate and explain the phenomena of
electric attracfion and repulsion.
402 Cor. 1.—The vivacity of the appearances produced
by a transference of fluid will be proportional to the
quantity of fluid transferred.
1Cor. 2.—The phenomena of communicated electri¬
city will be more remarkable, the greater the conduct¬
ing power of the bodies to which it is communicated.
Vol. VII. Part II. f
769
It will have appeared from numerous experiments re- Theory of
lated in Part III. especially that of the t/r/wcfwg-in Electricity.
N°94- that an’imperfect conductor, such asglass, permits v
the communication of electricity only in the point pre¬
sented to an electrified body j whereas when electricity
is communicated to one point of a tolerably perfect con¬
ductor, such as the prime conductor of a machine, the
whole, conductor is instantly pervaded, and becomes
electrical in every part.
.3*—When an electrified body has a free com- 404
munication with a perfect conductor, its electricity can¬
not apparently be communicated to a body touched
by it. J
l or the mass of the earth, with which the body com¬
municates, bears so great a proportion to the body it¬
self, that when the electricity of the latter is communi¬
cated to the former, it becomes imperceptible in both.
Cor. 4.—When an unelectrified body is presented 4°S
to an electrified body, the former is first attracted,
comes in contact with the electrified body, and is then
repelled.
Fins corollary has been illustrated by numerous ex¬
periments ; we may instance the dancing figures, &c.
and the appearances are easily explained. The unelec-
trified body becomes electrical by induction ; in con¬
sequence of this, it is attracted to the electrified body,
from which it receives a spark, becomes electrified by
communication, and being now in the same state with
the electrified body, is repelled by it.
It will probably have been observed, in making the
experiment of presenting a feather, or a pith ball^ sus¬
pended by a string, to the prime conductor, that they
cling to the conductor, and are not repelled for some
time. The reason of this is, that these bodies are im¬
perfect conductors, especially when very dry, and hence
their influence is not easily pervaded by the fluid ; when
this becomes equally diffused, they are repelled. The
same circumstance explains why the balls of the com¬
mon electrometer sometimes adhere together, and then
separate with a jerk.
Cor. 5.—Electrical attraction and repulsion are not 4°6
prevented by the interposition of unelectrified non-con¬
ducting substances.
A thin plate of glass may be interposed between the
conductor and the pith-ball in the experiment of N°
399. and still, though the plate be very extensive, the
electrometer will be affected.
Nay, an insulated electrified body may be covered
with a glass bell, and it will yet attract a ball present-
ed to it.
As this single circumstance affords one of the best Hypothesu
arguments against the hypothesis of material electricof electric
atmospheres, which has been maintained, and is stillat"10;
maintained, by some of our most eminent electricians 5S|’leres"
we shall take this opportunity of giving a brief account
of this hypothesis, and stating the reasons which induce
us to reject it.
It has been supposed, that the electric fluid is collec¬
ted around the surface of an electrified body, forming
a kind of atmosphere ; and that on these atmospheres
depended the action of these electrified bodies. If the
reader will examine the plates of Lord Stanhope’s Prin*
ciples of Electricity, he will see the figures of conduc¬
tors surrounded with a shining margin, like the line of
coasts and islands in a map.
5E
ELECTRICITY.
This
77°
ELECT
Thoo-v of This idea of electric atmospheres was first held at a
Electric.ty. very early period of the science by Otto Guericke, and
  v   afterwards by the academicians del Cimento, who con¬
trived to rentier the electric atmosphere visible, by means
of smoke attracted by, and uniting itselt to a pieceof am¬
ber and gently rising from it, and vanishing as the am¬
ber’cooled. But Dr Franklin exhibited this electric
atmosphere with great advantage, by dropping rosin
on hot iron plates held under bodies electrined, lioni
which the smoke rose and encompassed the bqdies, giv¬
ing them a very beautiful appearance. He made other
observations on those atmospheres : he took notice that
they and the air did not seem to exclude one another*,
that they were immoveably retained by the bodies from
which they issued *, and that the same body, in diderent
circumstances of dilatation and contraction, is capable ot
receiving and retaining more or less ot the electric fluid
on its surface. However, the theory ot electrical at¬
mospheres was not sufficiently explained and understood
for a considerable time ; and the investigation led to
many very curious experiments and observations. Mi
Canton took the lead, and was followed by Dr Frank¬
lin. Messrs Wilcke and iEpinus prosecuted the in-
quiry, and completed the discovery. The experiments
of the two former gentlemen prepared the way for the
conclusion that was afterwards drawn from them by the
latter, though they retained the common opinion ot
electric atmospheres, and endeavoured to explain the
phenomena by it. The conclusion was, that the electric
fluid, when there is a redundancy of it in any body, re¬
pels the electric fluid in any other body, when they are
brought within the sphere of each others influence, and
drives it into the remote parts of the body, or quite out
of it, if there be any outlet for that purpose..
By atmosphere, M. JEpinus says, no more is to be un¬
derstood than the sphere of action belonging to any bo¬
dy, or the neighbouring air electrified by it. Sig. Bec-
caria concurs in the same opinion, that the electrified
bodies have no other atmosphere than the electricity
communicated to the neighbouring air, and not with
the electrified bodies. And Mr Canton likewise, hav¬
ing relinquished the opinion that electrical atmospheres
were composed of effluvia from excited or electrified bo¬
dies, maintained that they only result from an alteration
in the state of the electric fluid contained in, or belong¬
ing to the air surrounding these bodies to a certain dis¬
tance •, for instance, that excited glass repels the elec¬
tric fluid from it, and consequently beyond that distance
makes it more dense 5 whereas excited was attracts the
electric fluid existing in the air nearer to it, making it
rarer than it was before.
It is perhaps a sufficient refutation of this doctrine
of material atmospheres, that electric attraction and
repulsion may take place, where these atmospheres can¬
not, according to the general opinion, be formed. .Thus,
in the instance given above, it is scarcely conceivable,
that the excited electric on one side of the glass pane,
or bell, should so speedily extend its atmosphere to the
other side of the pane, or, in the case of the bell, that
it should extend it at all, so as instantaneously to affect
an electrometer presented to the other side. Nay, it is
well known, that an electrified body will affect a con¬
ducting wire, so as to render it positive at one end, and
negative at the other, though the wire be completely
enveloped in sealing-wax, or some other electric sub-
Refuted.
R I C I T Y. Part IV.
stance. It therefore becomes a question, how, if the Theory oil
interposed body be impermeable to the electric fluid,Eleetriciqi
(and vve see no reason to think that glass and other pel- v
feet electrics are not so), the electric atmosphere can
be produced? '1 he one atmosphere can, in this instance,
produce the other only by acting at a distance on. the
particles of which this latter is to be formed. Even
supposing that the one atmosphere could produce the
other in this way, we should gain nothing by the sup¬
position. It only supposes innumerable attractions and
repulsions in place of one.
Dr Franklin whirled an electrified ball, suspended
by a silk thread, many times about bis head with great
rapidity, and found that its electricity was not sensibly
diminished by the motion. Now it is scarcely conceiv¬
able, that the electric atmosphere could remain attach¬
ed to the ball under these circumstances, or that it could
be so instantaneously formed, or renewed in every point
of its revolution, as to be capable of acting the moment
the motions were ended j for the electricity of the ball
must in this way have been greatly lessened, or nearly
exhausted ; whereas Dr Franklin found that, when the
air was very dry, the electricity of the revolving ball
was, when the ball was stopped, not less than that ol a
similar ball that had remained for the same time in a
state of rest. 4°9
We have said that we see no reason to think, that Permeabili
glass is permeable to the electric fluid. We are avyare, ty
that this permeability is supported by some electricians, so^
and that experiments have been related in proof of theii
opinion. Among the most plausible of these, are the
experiments of Mr Lyons ot Dover, which may all he
reduced to the following. A wire is brought from the
outside of a phial charged by the knob, and terminates
in a sharp point at a small distance from a thin glass
plate 5 it is commonly introduced into a glass tube, ha¬
ving a ball at the end, and the point of the wire reaches
to the centre of the ball; and another wire is connect¬
ed with the discharging rod, and also comes very near,
and frequently close to the other end ot the glass, oppo¬
site to the pointed wire. With this apparatus he ob¬
tains a discharge, and therefore says that the glass is
permeable to the electric fluid.
Dr Robison repeated most of Mr Lyons’s experi¬
ments, and found that, in the above way, he did indeed
procure discharges, but that these were very incomplete,
and very unlike the full and audible discharge usual¬
ly obtained *, they were always very faint, except when
the glass was perforated. . .
To terminate this long digression, it must be remark-Electric^
ed, that the impermeability of electrics supposed in olir p^cjall]
theory, shews that the redundancy or deficiency indu-PL
ced in an overcharged or undercharged electric, does
not extend beyond the surface j for when the surface is
rendered electrical by excitation in any way, the im^
permeability of the body prevents the redundant fluid
from penetrating to any depth, or from expanding to
supply the deficiency on the surface. Hence we find,
that an excited electric, when plunged into water,
quickly loses its electricity by communication with this
conducting medium.
We must now return to our corollaries, of which we
shall deduce one more.
41a
411
Cor. 6.—- As non-electrics are conductors,, and as^°t“^eeIf4
some electrics are excited by rubbing them with n>on*
electrics,
Chap. II. ELECT
Theory of electrics, it will follow, that if the non-electrics be in-
jile«triaty. sulated and separated from the electric, the former will
*v ' show signs of electricity as well as the latter, but that,
while they remain together, no signs of electricity can
be exhibited by either.
This corollary may be illustrated by numerous facts
that have been related in the preceding parts of this
article.
The sheets of paper in N® 19. showed no signs of
electricity while in contact with the table ; the sulphur
in the experiments of Wilcke and iEpinus, was not
electrical while within the metallic cups, &c.
When cases of this kind occur, in which two bodies,
that would, when separated after mutual contact, show
signs of opposite electricities, are, when united, said to
compensate each other, the circumstance is easily ex¬
plained.
In whatever w’ay excitation is produced by friction
or other means, which we do not pretend to explain, it
must happen that the adjoining surfaces of two bodies
rubbed together, must be in opposite states, and the
one overcharged in the same degree as the other is un¬
dercharged. When the bodies, which we shall suppose
to be two plates, are joined, so that the one exactly co¬
vers the other, they must be inactive \ because a par¬
ticle of moveable fluid in any part of one surface of the
overcharged plate, will be as much attracted by the un¬
dercharged surface of the farther plate, as it is repelled
by the overcharged surface of the nearer plate. As the
surfaces are supposed equal, coincident, and equally
electrical, their actions must balance each other. The
4n
ictrioal
11 ex-
ined.
^'•trifled
f and
«iin.
action of the united bodies will be expressed by FWx
(2;—2;') or Y'm! ; %—being here —o.
But now again, if the plates be separated, a consider¬
able part of the redundant fluid will fly back from the
one surface to the other, being impelled thither by the
repulsion of its own particles, and drawn by the attrac¬
tion of the redundant matter in the other surface. But,
as the electric is a non-conductor, it will retain a por¬
tion of fluid, or will remain deprived of a portion, in a
stratum a little way within the surface, the two plates
must, after separation, be in opposite states, and the
non-electric plate, if it has been insulated before sepa¬
ration, will, after separation, appear electrified.
We shall close our consideration of electrical attrac¬
tion and repulsion, by explaining two very beautiful
experiments of Dr Franklin j one of which, the elec¬
trical well, has been described in N° 79.; the other
shall be described presently.
It appears from Mr Cavendish’s account of the dis¬
position of fluid in a sphere, given in N° 372. that
when the sphere is overcharged, all the redundant fluid
is crowded into the surface, leaving the internal parts
in a neutral state. Now the vessel that represents the
electrical well is exactly in this condition j the electro¬
meter, therefore, when let down within the cavity of
the vessel, cannot be affected, because all that space is
neutral; but when the balls are raised above the
brim of the vessel, they are affected, because they
come within the sphere of action of the redundant sur¬
face.
The other experiment to which we allude, is that of
the electrified can and chain, which is thus made.
Insulate a metallic can, or any other concave piece
of metal, and place within it a pretty long metallic
H I C I T Y. • 77I
chain, having a silk thread tied to one of its ends. At Theory of
the handle of the can, or to a wire proceeding from it, Electricity,
suspend a cork-ball electrometer j then electrify the can,J1 v_r"
by giving it a spark with the knob of a charged phial,
and the balls of the electrometer will immediately di¬
verge. If, in this situation, one end of the chain be
gradually raised up above the top of the can, by the silk
thread, while the lower end of the chain remains in it,
the balls of the electrometer will converge a little, and
more or less in proportion to the greater or less eleva¬
tion of the chain above the top of the vessel. A similar
experiment was made by Mr Ronayne, which is as fol¬
lows :■—He excited a long slip of white flannel, or a
silk ribband, by rubbing it with his fingers ; then, by
applying his hand to it, took off as many sparks as the
excited electric would give) but when the flannel, &c.
had lost the power of giving any more sparks in this
manner, he doubled, or rolled it up) by which operation
the contracted flannel, &c. appeared so strongly elec¬
trical, that it not only afforded sparks to the hand,
brought near, hut it threw' out spontaneous brushes of
light, which appeared very beautiful in the dark.
To explain this experiment, we must have recourse
to an inference, that is easily deducible from the same
theorem of Mr Cavendish : namely, that in overcharged
bodies of all shapes, the redundant fluid will be much
more dense near the surface than in the more internal
parts; and that it will be also denser in all elevated or
protuberant parts of these bodies, as also near the ex¬
tremity of oblong bodies ; and in general, that the re¬
dundant fluid, or redundant matter, will bear a much
nearer proportion to the surfaces of bodies, than to their
quantities of matter. Hence we may perceive, that
when the chain, in the above experiment, is lifted up,
it will attract to itself a part of the denser fluid, leav¬
ing that of the surface of the vessel, to which the elec¬
trometer is attached, more rare; and consequently, the
divergence of the balls will decrease, in proportion
as the chain is more elevated above the rim of the cup.
Mr Ronayne’s experiment admits of a similar explana¬
tion.
The well known effects of points, in causing a quick Action of
discharge of electricity, seem to agree very well with points ex-
this theory. plained.
It appears from 391. that, if two similar bodies of
different sizes are placed at a very great distance from
each other, and connected by a slender canal, and over¬
charged, the force with which a particle of fluid placed
close to corresponding parts of their surface is repelled
from them, is inversely as the corresponding diameters
of the bodies. If the distance of the bodies is small,
there is not so much diflerence in the force with which
the particle is repelled by the two bodies; but still, if
the diameters of the two bodies are very different, the
particle will be repelled with much more force from the
smaller body than from the larger. It is indeed true,
that a particle placed at a certain distance from the
smaller body, will be repelled with less force than if it
be placed at the same distance from the greater body;
but this distance is in most cases pretty considerable. If
the bodies are spherical, and the repulsion inversely as
the square of the distance, a particle placed at any di¬
stance from the surface of the smaller body, less than
a mean proportion between the radii of the two bodies,
will be repelled from it with more force than if it
5 E 2
bo
772
Theory of be placed at
Fig. 115.
E L
the same distance from
Electricity, body. , . .c
 r—' We may probably, therefore, be well assured, that it
two similar bodies are. connected together by a slender
canal, and are overcharged, the fluid must escape faster
from the smaller body than from an equal surface of the
larger j but as the surface of the larger body is greatest,
it is not certain which body ought to lose most electri¬
city in the same time j and indeed it seems impossible
to determine positively from this theory which should,
as it depends in a great measure on the manner in
which the air opposes the entrance of the electric
fluid into it. Perhaps, in some degrees of electrifica¬
tion, the smaller body may lose most, and in others
the larger.
Let now ACB (fig. 116.) bo a conical point, stand¬
ing on any body LAB, C being the vertex of the
cone *, and let DAB be overcharged : Mr Cavendish
supposes, that a particle of fluid placed close to the sur¬
face of the cone anywhere between b and C, must be
repelled with at least as much, if not more, force, than
it would, if the part A a & B of the cone was taken
away, and the part a C 6 connected to DAB by a slen¬
der canal ; and consequently, from what has been said
before, it seems reasonable to suppose that the waste of
electricity from the end of the cone must be very great
in proportion to its surface ; though it does not appear
from this reasoning, whether the waste of electricity
from the whole cone should be greater or less than from
a cylinder of the same base and altitude.
All that has been here said relating to the flowing out
of electricity from overcharged bodies, holds equally
true with regard to the flowing in of electricity into
undercharged bodies.
The action of pointed or angular bodies seems to
consist in promoting the recession of the particles of
electrified air, by protruding a part of the electrical
atmosphere of the conductor into a situation more ex¬
posed to the action of the ambient unelectrified me¬
dium, and thereby producing a current of air from the
electrified point to the nearest uninsulating body. This
has been taken notice of in N° 8o. et scq. and is pro¬
duced in the following manner.
If a globular body ABD is overcharged, the air close
to it, ail round its surface, is rendered overcharged by
the electric fluid, which flows into it from the body ;
it will therefore be repelled by the body j but as the air
all round the body is repelled with the same force, it is
in equilibrio, and has no tendency to fly off from it.
If now the conical point ACB be made to stand out
from the globe, as the fluid will escape much faster in
proportion to the surface from the end of the point than
from the rest of the body, the air close to it will be
much more overcharged than that close to the rest of
the body : it will therefore be repelled with much more
force*, and consequently a current of air will flow along
the sides of the cone from B towards C ; by which
means there is a continual supply of fresh air not much
overcharged, that the electricity would have but little
disposition to flow from the point into it.
The same current of air is produced in a less degree,
without the help of the point, if the body, instead of
being globular, is oblong or flat, or has knobs on it,
or is otherwise formed in such a manner as to make the
E C T R I C I T Y. Part IV.,
the larger electricity escape faster from some parts of it than the Theory of
rest. Electricity,,
In like manner, if the body ABD be undercharged, v~'
the air adjoining to it will also be undercharged, and
will therefore be repelled by it *, but as the air close to
the end of the point will be more undercharged than
that close to the rest of the body, it will he repelled
with much more force *, which will cause exactly the
same current of air, flowing the same way, as if the
body was overcharged j and consequently the velocity
with which the electric fluid flows into the body, will
be very much increased. We believe, indeed, that it
may be laid down as a constant rule, that the faster
the electric fluid escapes from any body when over¬
charged, the faster will it run into that body when un¬
dercharged.
Points are not the only bodies which cause a quick
discharge of electricity } in particular, it escapes very
fast from the ends of long slender cylinders j and a
swift current of air is caused to flow from the middle of
the cylinder towards the end ; this will easily appear by
considering, that the redundant fluid is collected in
much greater quantity near the ends of the cylinders
than near the middle. The same thing may be said,
but we believe in a less degree, of the edges of thin
plates.
What has been just said concerning the current ot
air, serves to explain the reason of the revolving mo¬
tion of Dr Hamilton’s and Mr Kinnersley’s bent
pointed wires, (N° 8i.) for the same repulsion which
impels the air from the thick part of the wire towards
the point, tends to impel the wire in the contrary di¬
rection.
It is well known, that if a body B is positively elec¬
trified, and another body A, communicating with the
ground, be then brought near it, the electric fluid will’
escape faster from B, at that part of it which is turned
toward A, than before. This is plainly conformable to
theory j for as A is thereby rendered undercharged, B
will in its turn be made more overcharged, in that part
of it which is turned towards A, than it was before.
But it is also well known, that the fluid will escape
faster from B, if A be pointed, than if it be blunt,
though B will be less overcharged in this case than in
the other; for the broader the surface of A, which is
turned towards B, the more effect will it have in in¬
creasing the overcharge of B. The cause ol this phe¬
nomenon is as follows.
If A is pointed, and the pointed end turned towards
B, the air close to the point will be very much under¬
charged, and therefore will be strongly repelled by A,
and attracted by B, which will cause a swift current ol
air to flow from it towards B *, by which means a con¬
stant supply- of undercharged air will be brought in
contact with B, which will accelerate the discharge of
electricity from it- in a very great degree } and. more¬
over, the more pointed A is, the swilter will be this
current. If, on-tlie other hand, that end of A which
is turned towards B is so blunt, that the electricity is
not disposed to run into A faster than it is to run out of
B, the air adjoining to B may he as much overcharged
as-that adjoining to A is undercharged*, and therefore
may, by the joint repulsion of B and attraction of A,
be impelled from B to A, with as much or more force,
r than
'Chap. II. ELECT
Theory of than the adjoining air to A is impelled in the contrary
[Electricity, direction ; so that what little current of air there is,
» 1 may flow in the contrary direction.
_ ^ e niight here give an account of Coulomb’s expe¬
riments on the dissipation of electricity into the air,
and along imperfect conductors. But we must defer
this to the article Electrometer, under which we
shall describe the instrument with which they were
made. We must now proceed to the theory of the
Leyden phial.
Phenomena In the 4th, 6th, and 7th chapters of the third part,
of charged we have related a considerable number of experiments,
traled1. US" illustl'Htlng tIie phenomena of charged electrics. Before
we examine the theory of the Leyden phial, it will,
therefore, be necessary to consider the phenomena only
in a simple case, and for this purpose we shall give an
experiment, by which the late Dr Robison used to il¬
lustrate the theory of charged glass,
pxrvm Eig. 117. represents the professor’s-apparatus. G is
g ' the extremity of a prime conductor, on which is fixed a
7' quadrant electrometer H. AB represents a round plate
of tin-foil, pasted on a plate of glass, the edges of which
extend beyond the tin-foil about two inches. The
plate of glass is fixed to a wooden stand, so that it may
be placed upright, and at any required distance from
the conductor. DF is another plate of equal dimen¬
sions with AB, having a wire EN fixed in its centre,
with its extremity N, terminating in a small ball, from
which is hung a common ball electrometer. The wire
also passes through a wooden ball O, which is fastened
to the insulating-stand P. It is necessary that the
glass plates be very clean and dry, and a little warm.
The conductor G is to be connected with the plate
AB, by a wire reaching to the centre C. Now move
the electrical machine slowly, till the index of the qua¬
drant rise to 30° or 40°» ar>d mark the number of turns
required to produce this effect. Take off the electricity,
and having removed the connecting wire GC, turn the
machine again slowly, till the index be in the same
situation. The difference in the number of turns in this
latter case, from the former, will shew pretty nearly the
expenditure of fluid necessary to electrify only the plate
of tin-foil. This difference will be found very trifling,
when a low degree of electricity is employed j and to
this it is necessary to confine the electrification, to pre¬
vent too great a dissipation from the edges of the plate.
Now replace the wire, and cause the index of the elec¬
trometer to point again at 30° ; bring forward the plate
DI, taking care to keep it just opposite and parallel to
AB without touching it. No sensible change will be
produced on the index, till the plate DF come within
four or five inches of AB, and it may even be brought
much nearer, without making the index sink more than
two or three degrees, unless a spark pass between AB
and DF. Remove DF again to the distance of two or
three feet, and fasten to the ball N a piece of chain, or
metallic thread, so that it may lie on the table. Now
raise the electrometer again to 30°, and advance DF
gradually towards AB. The index will gradually fall
as DF advances, but will rise,again to its former height,
if DI be carried back to its original situation.
These appearances are easily explained on the prin¬
ciples laid down in N° 392, 393. For as DF advances
towards AB) the redundant fliikl in the-latter repels a
R I C I T Y. 773
part of the fluid in DF towards the remote end of the Theory of
wire i\N, as is shewn by the separation of the balls at Electricity.
N; hence an accumulation commences in AB, and the ——v—
index of the electrometer FIG falls just as if part of the
fluid in the prime conductor were communicated to
FVhen DF is made to communicate with the
floor, much more electricity is repelled from DF', ac¬
cording as it approaches nearer to AB ; but, by reason
of the communication, the electrometer at N gives no
signs of electricity.
If, instead of connecting AB with the prime conduc¬
tor, we adapt to the wire GC, at the extremity G, a
metallic plate of the same dimensions as AB, with an
electrometer attached to it next AB, and if this appa¬
ratus be any how electrified,, and the separation of the
balls at II be noted, before DF, which communicates
with the floor, be approached, on. attending to the
charges, it will be seen, that the divergency of the balls
corresponds very nearly to the distance of DF, as is re¬
quired by the theory.
Now, while the plates are near each other, especially
if DF communicates with the floor, if we suspend a
pith ball by a silk thread between AB and DF, the
ball will be strongly attracted by either of these plates
that is nearest to it, suppose DF j and, having touch¬
ed this, it will be immediately repelled, and drawn to¬
wards AB, by which it will be again repelled to DFj
and it will thus be driven backwards and forwards like
the electrified spider described in N° 126. as long as
any electricity remains in either of the plates. In the
mean time, the index of the electrometer at H will
gradually descend, till the motion of the pith ball
ceases.
All these appearances are more remarkable, ac¬
cording as the plates are nearer to each other j and
when they come in contact, the phenomena are the most’
complete.
If, when the plates are charged, we approach one
end of a bended wire, (having a downy feather at each
end), to the plate DF, and bring the other to AB, we
shall observe the feathers spread out their fibres to the
plates, and then the equilibrium will be restored, or the
plates will be discharged.
In the simpler theory, by which repulsion is excluded
as an original property of the electric fluid, it is main¬
tained, that when a charged coated electric is brought
near to an uninsulated conductor, its electricity disap¬
pears, because the attraction of the fluid for the sur¬
rounding air is now compensated by the greater attrac¬
tion between it and the exhaustless store of unexcited
conducting matter constituting the earth. As the whole
of it receives that direction, it does not make its ap¬
pearance as existing in the air, which has more of an
insulating quality; and as electrical attraction is in¬
versely as the square of the distance, the action of this
principle of compensation is greater as the distance of
the opposite surfaces is less.
Having, by means of this experiment, brought again
into view the phenomena of charging and discharging
a coated electric, we are prepared to explain the theory
of the Leyden phial, which can easily be done by re¬
curring to the important theorem of the disposition and
actions of four, parallel plates, so fully detailed in
N°39*
The
774
Theory of
'Electricity
416
Theory of
the Leyden
phial
ELECTRICITY.
The following observations will also afford some idea
of the manner in which the fluid is disposed in the sub¬
stance of the glass.
It fully appears from what has been said m JN1 409,
that the electric fluid is not able to penetrate a plate
of olass without breaking it j and yet it seems able
to penetrate to a very small depth within the surface
of the glass. , . r ,
Ffa 1 iS. Let ACGM, fig. 118. represent a flat plate of glass,
or any other substance which will not suffer the electric
fluid to pass through it, seen edgeways and let 13 bdl),
and E e/F, or B d and E/, as we shall call them for
shortness, be two plates of conducting matter ot the
same size, placed in contact with the glass, opposite to
each other j and let B rf be positively electrified ; and
let E /'communicate with the ground ; and let the liuid
be supposed either able to enter a little way into the
glass, but not to pass through it, or unable to enter it
at all; and if it is able to enter a little way into it, let
£ B $ or 6 $ as wTe shall call it, represent that part 01
the bias’s, into which the fluid can enter from the plate
B and e <p that which the fluid from Eycan enter.
By the above-mentioned proposition, N° 134. it ap¬
pears that if b e, the thickness of the glass, is very small
in respect of b d, the diameter of the plates, the quan¬
tity of redundant fluid forced into the space B d or B 3,
(that is, into the plate B d, if the fluid is unable to
penetrate at all into the glass, or into the plate B d,
•and the space b 5, together, if the fluid is able to pene¬
trate into the glass) will be many times greater than
what would be forced into it by the same degree ot
electrification, if it had been placed by itself; and the
quantity of fluid driven out of E <p will be nearly equal
to the redundant fluid in B J. u \ j
If a communication be now made between B d and
E ® by the canal NRS, the redundant fluid will run
from B $ to E ? ; and if jn its way it passes through the
body of any animal, it will, by the rapidity of its mo¬
tion, produce in it that sensation, called a shock.
It appears from N° 392. that, if a body of any size
was electrified in the same degree as the plate B d, and
a communication was made between that body and the
ground, by a canal of the same length, breadth, and
thickness as NRS ; that then the fluid in that canal
would be impelled with the same force as that in NRS,
supposing the fluid in both canals to be incompres¬
sible ; and consequently, as the quantity of fluid to be
moved, and the resistance to its motion, are the same in
both canals, the fluid should move with the same rapi¬
dity in both : and there seems no reason to think that
the case will be different, if the communication is made
bv canals of real fluid.
" Therefore, in the opinion of Mr Cavendish, as great
a shock would be produced by making a communica¬
tion between the conductor and the ground, as between
the tivo sides of the Leyden phial, by canals of the
same length, and same kind. This seems a necessary
consequence of this theory ; as the quantity of fluid which
passes through the canal is, by the supposition, the same
in both ; and there is the greatest reason to think, that
the rapidity with which it passes, will be nearly, if not
quite, the same in both.
It may be worth observing, that the longer the ca¬
nal NRS is, by which the communication is made, the
less will be the rapidity with which the fluid moves
R I C I T Y. Part IV.
along it; for the longer the canal is, the greater is the Theory of
resistance to the motion of the fluid in it; whereas die Eleclric»^
force with which the whole quantity of fluid in it is im¬
pelled, is the same whatever be the length ol the canal.
Accordingly it is found in melting small wires, by di¬
recting a shock through them, that the longer the wire,
the greater charge it requires to melt it.
As the fluid in B 5, is attracted with great force by
the redundant matter in E <p, it is plain that if the fluid
is able to penetrate at all into the glass, great part of
the redundant fluid will be lodged in b df and in like
manner there will be a great deficiency of fluid in e$.
But in order to form some estimate of the proportion ol
the redundant fluid, which will be lodged inbi: let
the communication between E^/ and the ground be
taken away, as well as that by which B d is electrified ;
and let so much fluid be taken from B as to make
the redundant fluid therein equal to the deficient fluid
in E If we suppose that all the redundant fluid is
collected in b and all the deficient in E <p, so as to
leave B d and E/saturated ; then as the electric repul¬
sion is inversely as the square of the distance, a particle
of fluid placed anywhere in the plane b df except near
the extremities b and d, will be attracted with very
near as much force by the redundant matter in e Q, as
it is repelled by the redundant fluid in b Hence it
follows, that if the depth to which the fluid can pene¬
trate is very small in respect of the thickness of the
glass, but yet is such that the quantity of fluid
naturally contained in i 3 or £ is considerably more
than the redundant fluid in B $; then, as the repulsion
is inversely as the square of the distance, almost all the
redundant fluid will he collected in b$, leaving the
plate B d not very much overcharged; and in like
manner E /will be not very much undercharged : if the
repulsion were inversely as some higher power than the
square, B d will be very much overcharged, and E/
very much undercharged : and if the repulsion were in¬
versely as some lower power than the square, B d will
be very much undercharged, and E/ very much over¬
charged.
It is a part of Dr Franklin’s theory, that no electric 417
fluid can be thrown into one side of a coated plate, un¬
less an equal quantity be at the same time abstracted
from the other side; and that consequently the charged
plate contains no more fluid than before it was char¬
ged. We find, indeed, that one side of the plate will
not receive a charge, unless the other side at the same
time communicate with the ground. He infers the
same consequence from the circumstance, that if a jar
be discharged through a person when insulated, the per¬
son is not found electrified; the necessary consequence
of which is, according to Dr Franklin, that any num¬
ber of jars may be charged by the same turns ol a ma¬
chine, provided that the outside of one jar communi¬
cates with the inside of the next successively, while the
outside of the last has a communication with the ground.
He found, however, by experiment, that a greater
number of turns was necessary, than his theory requir¬
ed ; but he attributed this circumstance to the dissipa¬
tion of the fluid into the air. But we learn from our
theory that the redundant matter in the plate that com¬
municates with the ground is less than the redundant
fluid in the other plate, in the proportion of n—1 to n:
and that the proportion of redundant fluid in the next
plate
Chap. IT. ELECT
theory of plate or jai' Is no greater. If we have any number of jars,
Lectxicity. ~
p—v—' the charge of the ??Jth jar in the series, will be —
41S
istake of
ilcke.
419
ithod of
ifying
tlieory.
I endisli’
6 hod of
insuring
large.
*11
It the charge of tiie first jar or 11—60, that of the 10th
will =51 nearly.
Though a coated plate will not receive a charge, un¬
less one side communicate with the ground, it may how¬
ever be rendered electrical, as appears when we attempt
to charge it while insulated. For when we attempt to
electrity one side, the other gives a spark which proves
this to be electrified also. Again, when a charged
phial is discharged by means of an insulated discharger,
it always remains electrical, positively or negatively,
according as the body from which it was charged was
positive or negative.
It was supposed by Wilcke, that when a jar is char¬
ged by connecting one side of it with the prime con¬
ductor, and the other with the rubber, it is neutral on
both sides. But if this were the case, it could not be
discharged \ and in fact, it will be found by experiment
to be equally active on both sides.
It is scarcely necessary to remark, that the theory of
the Leyden phial, and that of a coated plate, are the
same ; and hence we have an easy method of compar¬
ing the theory with experiment, by taking two plates
of the same kind of glass, and of an equal thickness,
but different in the extent of coated surface. If we
charge both plates, by means of very long conducting
wires attached to both sides, we are to measure how
often the charge of the lesser plate is contained in the
greater, which is easily done by the following method of
Mr Cavendish.
When a jar is charged, observe the electrometer that
is connected with it, and immediately communicate
the charge to another equal jar, the perfect equality of
which has been previously ascertained by the methods
which will presently appear. Again, note the elec¬
trometer. This will give the elevation, that indicates
one half, independent of all theory. Now electrify a
jar, or a series of equal jars, to the same degree as the
first, and communicate the charge to a coated plate of
mirror glass, discharging the plate after each communi¬
cation, till the electrometer reaches the degree that in¬
dicates one half. This shows how often the charge
of the plate is contained in that of the jar or row of
jars.
Let the charge of the plate be to that of the jars as
# to 1. Then bv each communication, the electricity is
diminished in the proportion of i-j-» to I. If m com¬
munications have been made, it will be reduced in the
proportion of to 1. Therefore — and
I ■j-xz=ms/2, and 2—1.
When x is small in proportion to I, we shall come
very near the truth, by multiplying the number of
communications by 1,4441 subtracting 0,5 from the pro¬
duct. The remainder shows how often the charge of
the plate is contained in that of the jars or —.
The important discovery of Franklin, that the charge
of coated glass resided in the glass and not in the coat¬
ing, led Beccaria to a no less important discovery;
namely, that in a charged plate of glass, and probably
R I C I T Y.
of any other electric, there are several strata, incon¬
ceivably thin, that are alternately in a positive and ne¬
gative state, and that the number of these strata in¬
creases as the electrification is continued.
This disposition of the surfaces of electric plates ex¬
plains many phenomena ; particularly the experiments
with charged plates described in N° 151. and some cu¬
rious appearances observed by Beccaria, and ranked by
him under the head of vindicating electricity.
They are thus described by Mr Cavallo.
1. AB, ab, fig. 119. represents a plate of glass,
coated on both sides with the two metallic coatings,
CD, c a, which are not stuck to the plate, but only
laid upon it.
From the upper coating CD, three silk threads pro¬
ceed, which are united at their top H, by which the
said coating may be removed from the plate in an insu¬
lated manner, and may be presented to an electrified
electrometer as represented in fig. 120. in order to ex¬
amine its electricity. FG is a glass stand, which insu¬
lates and supports the plate, &c.
2. Let the plate AB, a b, be charged in the com¬
mon manner, by means of an electrical machine, so
that its surface AB may acquire one kind of electricity,
(which may be called K) and the opposite surface a b
may acquire the contrary electricity, (which we shall
call L). Then, if the coating CD be removed from
the plate, and be presented to an electrified electrome¬
ter, as represented in fig. 120, it will be found posses¬
sed of the electricity K, viz. of the same kind with
that which was communicated to the surface AB of the
glass plate ; from whence it is deduced, that the surface
AB has imparted some of its electricity to the coating.
Now, this disposition of the charged plate to give part
of its electricity to the coating, is what the learned
F. Beccaria nominates the negative vindicating electri¬
city.
3. If the coating be again and again alternately
laid upon the plate and removed, its electricity K will
be found to decrease gradually, till after a number of
times (which is greater or less, according as the edges
of the plate insulate more or less exactly), the coating
will not appear at all electrified. This state is called
the limit of the two contrary electricities ; for if now
the above-mentioned operation of coating and uncoat¬
ing the plate be continued, the coating will be found
possessed of the contrary electricity, viz. the electricity
L. This electricity, L, of the coating is weak on its
first appearance j but it gradually grows stronger and
stronger till a certain degree; then insensibly decreases,
and continues decreasing until the glass plate has en¬
tirely lost every sign of electricity.
By this change of electricity in the coating, it is de¬
duced, that the surface AB of the glass plate changes
its property ; and whereas at first it was disposed to part
with its electricity, now, (viz. beyond the limit of the
two contrary electricities) it seems to vindicate its own
property, that is, to take from the coating some elec¬
tricity of the same kind with that of which it was
charged : lienee this disposition was by F. Beccaria
called the positive vindicating electricity,
4. This positive vindicating electricity never changes,
though the coating be touched every time it is re¬
moved. It appears stronger, and lasts a very consider¬
able
775
Theory of
Electricity.
42.2
Beccaria’s
vindicating
electricity,
fig. lit).
Fig 120.
77<5
ELECT
Theoiy of able time after the plate has been discharged ; which is
Electricity, a very surprising property ot glass, and probably of all
* good and solid electrics.
5. If, soon after the discharge of the plate, the coat¬
ing be alternately taken from th(| .plate, and replaced,
but with the following law, viz. that when the coating
is upon the plate, both coatings be touched at the same
time, and when the coating is cut oft, this be either
touched or not: then the surface AB of the plate, on
being uncoated every time, takes a quantity of elec¬
tricity, which it alternately loses every time it is coat¬
ed.
6. On removing the coating in a dark room, a flash
of light appears between it and the glass, which is still
more conspicuous if the coating be removed by the
fingers being applied immediately to it, viz. not in an
insulated manner, because when the coating is not in¬
sulated, the glass plate can give to, or receive from it,
more of the electric fluid, and that more freely, than
otherwise.
7. It is observable, that in the negative vindicating
electricity, the glass loses a greater or less portion of
electricity in an inverse proportion of the charge given
to the plate, viz. the part lost is greater when the charge
has been the weaker for in the positive vindicating
electricity, the force of receiving electricity is the
stronger, when the charge has been stronger, and con-
trarywise.
8. If, after every time that the coating CD is re¬
moved, the atmospheres E, e, that is, the air conti¬
guous to the surface of the glass plate, be examined,
they will be found electrified as in the following table,
viz. the threads of an electrometer, brought within one
or twro inches, or more, ot the surfaces AB, a b, will
diverge with electricities contrary to those expressed in
the table.
11 luJ pJ; f L-
""I] SCS” I moderately K.
*■ the air e Is electrified L.
dicating Elec
tricity.
During the
time of the po¬
sitive vindicat¬
ing Electrici¬
ty
f tlic air E1
t the air e ‘
are electiified L.
In the simpler theory of compensation, as above
stated, the effect of the glass is to retain the electric
excitement on its surface, and by acting as a resisting
medium to prevent the transmission of the electric fluid
from the one surface to the other, while it oilers no re¬
sistance to the production of the phenomena arising from
the simple attraction of the fluid for other matter.
The fluid on the positive side is retained by the attrac¬
tion of the matter of the negative side, while the glass
prevents the efficiency of this attraction in the form of
an explosion, or the establishment of an equilibrium.
Theory of ^ ^ie tlie0I7 °f coated glass naturally leads us to that
the clectrc-of the electropborus $ for though this apparatus is not
phorus, exactly similar to a charged plate, as has been suppo¬
sed by some, there is yet a considerable resemblance
in the phenomena.
We have given a description of the electrophorus,
and of its effects, in Chap. X. of Part III. where we al¬
so stated, that, for illustrating the theory, it was proper
3
R I C I T Y. Part IV.,
to make the several parts of the apparatus of considera- Theorv of
ble thickness, as the more instructive but minute changes Electricity,
are thus greatly increased, though the showy and bril-—v——'
liant phenomena are not so remarkable. Fig. 121. re-Fig. m.
presents a section of the three parts of the apparatus in
contact, where ABCD is the electric cake, CDEF the
sole, and ABHG the cover. They are here represent¬
ed lying horizontally on each other j but for experi¬
ment, it will be most convenient to have them fixed
vertically to glass supporters, furnished with leaden feet
to keep them steady.
We might here give a mathematical explanation of
the phenomena of the electrophorus ; and the actions of
every part of the apparatus might easily be stated by
means of the propositions in N° 308 to 314, and the
corresponding ones in N° 228—335, taking into con¬
sideration the true law of action. But as this would
be going over again much of the ground that we have
already trodden, where our readers might not be pleas¬
ed with being obliged to follow us, we shall treat the
subject in a manner somewhat more popular, the result,
however, of strict mathematical reasoning. ^
Having related the general phenomena in N° 207, Disposition <
we have now to consider only the disposition of fluid in of fluid in l
the various parts of the apparatus in various situations,1*’6 electro*
and the mutual forces that operate between them. P101“S'
We shall consider the instrument under various
states. 435
I. When the cake is left to cool after being made, itt. Itspri-
becomes negative by cooling 5 and if it were by itself,mitive
the surface on both sides would be negative to a consi-slale'
derable thickness near the edges j and the fluid would
probably grow denser by degrees towards the middle,
where it would have its natural density. This disposi¬
tion may be inferred fromX° 371, 372. But as it cools
in conjunction with the sole, the attraction of the re¬
dundant matter in the cake for the moveable fluid in
the sole, must disturb its uniform diffusion in the sole,
and cause it to approach the cake. And as this pro¬
bably happens while the cake is still in a conducting
state, the disposition of its fluid w'ill be different from
what is described above, and the final disposition of the
fluid in the cake and sole will resemble that given in
N° 371. where the plates may represent the cake and
sole. It will be sufficient at present to consider the
cake and sole as divided into only two strata ; one con¬
taining redundant fluid, and the other deficient, ne¬
glecting the neutral stratum interposed between them
in each. The cake then consists of a stratum A Bier A,
containing redundant matter, and a stratum ab CD con¬
taining redundant fluid j and the sole of a stratum DC
n vt containing redundant fluid; that is, all that be¬
longs naturally to the space DC FE, and of a stratum
m n FE, containing redundant matter. We may call
this the primitive state of the cake and sole ; and if
this is once changed by communication with unelectri¬
fied bodies, it can never be recovered without new ex¬
citation.
2. If the sole is touched by a body that communi-2. toxinofl
cates with the ground, fluid will enter it, till the repul-state,
eion of the redundant fluid in the sole for a superficial
particle is equal to the attraction of the redundant
matter in the cake for the same particle. What we
have said concerning infinitely extended plates rendered
neutral on one side, may suffice to give a notion of the
present
Chap
4*7
P’ lr- ELECT
Tlieory of present disposition of the fluid in the sole. The infe-
ZleSt_riClty: ri.0^ furface will he neutral; and the density of the fluid
* will increase towards the surface DC. The sole con¬
tains more than its natural quantity of fluid, but is
neutral by the balance of opposite forces. Let it now
be insulated. 1 his may be called ^'common state of
the electrophorus.
3. Place the cocer GHBA on the cake. A particle
, at the upper surface of the cover, must be more at¬
tracted by the redundant matter in the stratum AB ba
than it will be repelled by the redundant fluid in the
remoter strata; for the fluid in the cake is less than
when it is m its natural state, and therefore Z is at¬
tracted by the cake. . The redundant fluid which has
enteudK the<Je!110te Slde of the sole is less than what
would be sufficient to saturate the redundant matter of
the cake, because it only balances the excess of the re¬
mote action of this matter above the nearer action of
the compressed fluid in the sole, and this smaller quan¬
tity of redundant fluid acts on Z at a greater distance
than that of the redundant matter in the cake. There-
fore the particle Z, lying immediately within the sur-
race CtH, is on the whole attracted ; some fluid will
move towards the cake, and its natural state of uniform
diffusion in the cover will be changed into a violent
istate, in which the fluid will be compressed on the sur¬
face AB, and abstracted from the surface GH. There
will now be a stratum G gp H, containing redundant
matter, and another ^ BA containing redundant
fluid. But this disposition will disturb the arrangement
that had taken place in the sole, and had rendered it
neutral on the inferior surface. The particle Z situated
in that surface, will be more repelled by the compressed
fluid m the stratum gp CA than it will be attracted by
the equivalent mc'-e remote redundant matter in GH
pg. Fluid is now therefore disposed to quit the sur¬
face Lfl, and the sole will appear positively electric, but
m a small degree only, if the cover be thin. All this
may be observed by attaching a small ball electrometer
to the lower surface of the sole, or touching the sole
with it, and then trying its electricity by excited glass,
or sealing-wax. 6 ’
4. A particle of fluid Z, placed immediately with¬
out the surface GH, is more attracted by the deficient
stratum GH^ and by AB ba, than i/is repefled by
the redundant strata beyond them, and hence the cover
must be sensibly negative. This is the common state
ot the whole apparatus after setting on the cover.
Ihe lower surface of the sole is slightly positive, and
the upper surface of the cover more sensibly negative.
A smart spark will be seen between the apparatus and
the finger, and fluid will enter till the attraction of
the redundant matter in AB ba balances the repulsion
of the redundant fluid in DCFE.
. 5* A 8Paik may now be obtained from the sole; for
it was faintly positive before, and there is now the ad¬
ditional action of the fluid that has entered into the
C°jer* a ^>ar<' t^ie ,n ^ie s<de ,s therefore dispo¬
sed to fly to any body that is presented to it. But when
this transference has taken place, the equilibrium at the
surface GH is destroyed, and this surface again becomes
negative, and will attract fluid, although the cover con¬
tains already more than its natural quantity. A small
spark will therefore ba seen between the cover and any
conducting body presented to it. By touching it, the
\ol. VII. Part II. +
R I C I T Y.
777
4*8
4*9
< neutral
He,
neutrality or equilibrium may be restored at GH: but n, ,
“ w'11 k dwtroved again at EF, from wl.icl, a po«itive£k«,kiS.
spaik may be obtained, leaving GH negative in its' v——'
turn. I his would go on for ever in a series of com¬
munications continually diminishing, so as at last to be¬
come insensible, if the three parts of the electrophorui
be thin. Ibis shows the necessity of making them
otherwise, if the instrument be intended for illustrating
the theory. 0
The equilibrium is at length completed at the sur¬
faces GH and EF, both of which are neutral with re¬
spect to surrounding bodies, although both the cover
and sole contain more than their natural share of elec¬
tric fluid. Ihis state of the apparatus may be called
its neutral state ; and it may be produced at once, in-
stead of doing it by these alternate touches of GH and
, • IfL ^e,touch at once both ^ese surfaces, we shall Us A3° .
have a bnght, pungent spark, and a small shock. Ifstau. ^
tins be the object of the experiment, the state N° 428.
which gives occasion to it may be called the cbareed
state or the electrophorus.
When the apparatus has been thus rendered neutral
with respect to surrounding bodies, it may continue in
this state for any length of time, without its capability
of producing the other phenomena being diminished,
provided that no fluid pass from the cover to the
cake.
6. Now, if the cover be removed to a distance, both lls charg-
parts of the apparatus will exhibit strong marks of elec-inS slate*
tricity. For the cover contains much redundant fluid,
and must therefore appear strongly positive ; it will give
a brisk spark, which may be employed for any purpose,
particularly for charging a jar positively by the knob,
if we just touch the cover with the knob. Again, the
sole vyill attract fluid, or it will be negative, though it
contains more than its natural quantity of fluid ; it will
therefore take a spark. The sole, therefore, in the ab¬
sence of the cover, may be employed to charge a jar
negatively by the knob. By being touched with the
finger, or with the knob of a jar held in the hand, it
will be reduced to the common state described in N°
426.; and now all the former experiment may be re¬
peated. We may call this the active or the charging
slate of the electrophorus.
7* If electrophorus be not insulated, a shock may 431
however be obtained, by touching first the sole, and
then the cover, without taking off the finger; but will
not be so smart as when the negative cover is touched
at the same time with the sole. The difference will,
however, be scarcely perceptible when the pieces are
thin.
8. It the apparatus has not been insulated, the cover 43^
when put on will afford a spark, in the manner already
mentioned, and this will be rather stronger than when
it is insulated ; for the fluid being allowed to escape
from the sole, does not obstruct the entry of fluid into
the cover. If then, without removing the finger from
the cover, we touch the sole, we feel nothing; but if
we first touch the sole, and then, without removing the
finger from it, touch the cover, we shall obtain a shock.
By this series of alternate touches, the period of the
electrophorus is completed. For it is first charged or
rendered neutral, by touching the plates in contact;
then, by touching both when separate, the whole is re¬
duced to the common state. When after having been
5 F in
778
Atmo¬
spherical
Electricity,
4,34
Method of
renewing
its activity
ELECT
in the neutral stale they nre separate.1 they hnvew.-
site electricities, the sale having that otll ”ak'-J^y"
bronchi together, each in the common state they have
opposite electricities, the cover having that ol
Ca q6.* By being long exposed to the air without the
cover, the electrophorus gradually loses its activity.
•This may however be again restored in several way .
One of the most obvious methods is, to produce a fie
excitation of the resinous cake > and tins is best done by
rubbing it with a piece of new flannel, of cat or hare
skin, or, what answers still better, apiece of mole skin.
This friction renders the cake negative. It may also
be electrified negatively, by placing it on a jar charged
neaatively in the inside, and then touching the knob of
R I C I T Y. Part V’
the iar with any conducting body that communicates Atmo-
with the ground. By this means it may be very strong-
ly excited, if the jar be large, and it the cake be cover- , 
ed with a piece of tin-foil that comes closely in contact
with its whole surface. But one of the most expedi¬
tious and effectual methods of restoring the energy of
the cake, will be to electrify it by means of an electri¬
cal machine, while the surface ot the cake is connected
with the rubber.
' The only important part of the theory of electricity
which we have yet to consider, is that of the con¬
denser, but as this will be greatly elucidated by an
application of Coulomb’s experiments on insulators, we
shall delay it till we give an account of these in the
article Electrometer.
PART V.
atmospherical electricity.
THE phenomena of electricity, that we have hither-
to described, are sufficiently curious, and many of them
extremely interesting } but they are trifling, w icn com
pared with those that are now to come under our con¬
sideration. In the present part of our article, we are to
view the electric fluid as one of the principal agents, em¬
ployed to produce some of the most remarkable and
astonishing phenomena of nature. We are about to
prove, by a series of the most satisfactory experiments,
that thunder and lightning are merely the effects ot a
vast explosion of accumulated electricity in the atmo¬
sphere.
Chap. I. Of Thunder.
Sect. I. Of the Identity of Electricity and Lightning.
Identity of It is not surprising that the experiments in which
electricity electric spark is made to produce the effects which
and light- we ]iave reCounted in the third part of this article,
mng' should have led philosophers to conceive a similarity
4-,6 between these effects, and those produced by lightning.
Conjectnr- Dr Wall and Mr Grey seem to have fancied a re¬
ed by Wallggrobiance between thunder and the snapping noise pro-
stnd Grey, by applying the fingers to an excited electric :
but how such a resemblance should strike them, is not
easy to conceive } and indeed it seems to have been
4„ merely a bold conjecture. . , -
By the ab- The abhe Nollet appears to have formed the first
be Nollet. rational idea of their similitude, and expresses himself
on the subject in the following remarkable manner.
“ If any one should take upon him to prove from a
well connected comparison of phenomena, that thunder
is in the hands of nature what electricity is in ours ;
that the wonders which we now exhibit at our pleasure,
are little imitations of those great effects that frighten
us, and that the whole depends upon the same mecha¬
nism : if it can be demonstrated that a cloud prepared
by the action of the winds, by heat, by a mixture of
exhalations, &c. is opposite to a terrestrial object j that
this is the electrified body, and at a certain proximity
to that which is not: I avow that this idea, if it was
well supported, would give me a great deal of pleasure j
and in support of it, how many specious reasons present
themselves to a man who is well acquainted with elec¬
tricity ! The universality of the electric matter, the
readiness of its action, its inflammability, and its acti¬
vity in giving fire to other bodies, its property of stri¬
king externally and internally even to their smallest
parts, the remarkable example we have of this effect in
the Leyden experiment, the idea which we might truly
adopt in supposing a greater degree of electric power,
&c. all these points of analogy which I have been
some time meditating, begin to make me believe, that
by taking electricity for the model, one might form to
one’s self, in respect to thunder and lightning, more
perfect and more probable ideas than have hitherto
been offered.” - _ ^.
But the first electrician who formed a plan for a^cer- Suppose
taining the truth of this hypothesis, was Dr Franklin,
who truly realized the fable of Prometheus in bringing
down fire from heaven.
Before we relate Dr Franklin’s experiments, we
shall state the points of resemblance which led him to
think of making them. , ,
He begins his account of the similarity of the elec¬
tric fluid°and lightning, by cautioning his readers not
to be staggered at the great difference of effects in
point of degree j since that was no argument of any
disparity in their nature. It is no wonder, says he, 1
the effects of the one should be so much greater than
those of the other. For if two gun-barrels electrified
will strike at two inches distance, and make a loud re¬
port j at how great a distance will 10,000 acres of
electrified cloud strike and give its fire, and how loud
must be the crack!
I. Flashes of lightning are generally seen crooked
and waving in the air. The same is the electric spar |jg[ltning
always, when it is drawn from an irregular body at an(j eje8tfi.
some distance. He might have added, when it is city,
drawn by an irregular body, and through a space in
which the best conductors are disposed in an irregular
manner.
Chap. I. ELECT
Atmo- manner, which is always the case in the heterogeneous
spherical atmosphere of our globe.
Elfotncity. 2. Lightning strikes the highest and most pointed
^"~'1 object in its way, preferably to others ; as high hills
and trees, towers, spires, masts of ships, point of
spears, &c. In like manner, all pointed conductors
receive or throw oft' the electric fluid more readily than
those which are terminated by flat surfaces.
3. Lightning is observed to take the readiest and
best conductor j so does electricity in the discharge of
the Leyden phial.
4. Lightning sets fire to inflammable bodies $ so does
electricity.
5. Lightning, as well as electricity, fuses metals.
6. Lightning rends some bodies. The same does
electricity j and both show various other expansive ef¬
fects.
7. Lightning has often been known to strike people
blind. And a pigeon, after a violent shock of electri¬
city, by which the Doctor intended to have killed it,
was observed to have been struck blind likewise.
8. Lightning destroys animal life. Animals have
likewise been killed by the shock of electricity. Tur¬
keys of 10 pounds weight were killed by an electrical
shock in the experiments of Dr Franklin.
9. Magnets have been observed to lose their virtue,
or to have their poles reversed, by lightning. The
same effect has been produced by electricity.
Franklin's Reasoning on the similarity of these effects, which
proposal for differ only in degree, he formed the bold attempt to
»erifyianr draw down lightning from the clouds, and examine
by experiment whether he could produce effects simi¬
lar to those of nature. Having observed the effects
of pointed conductors in attracting the electric fluid
more easily than those of any other form, he conceiv¬
ed that pointed rods of iron, fixed in the air, when the
atmosphere was loaded with lightning, might draw
from it the matter of thunderbolts, without noise or
danger, into the body of the earth. His account of
this supposition is given by himself in the following
words : “ The electric fluid is attracted by points. We
do not know whether this property be in lightning ;
but since they agree in all the particulars in which we
can already compare them, it is not improbable that
they agree likewise in this. Let the experiment be
made.”
In the year 1752, while waiting for the erection of
a spire in the city of Philadelphia, not imagining that
’ring down a pointed rod of a moderate height could answer the
purpose; at last it occurred to him, that, by means
of a common kite, he could have readier access to the
higher regions of the atmosphere than any other way
whatever. Preparing, therefore, a large silk handker¬
chief, and two cross sticks of a proper length on which
to extend it, he took the opportunity of the first ap¬
proaching thunder-storm to take a walk into a field
where there was a shed proper for his purpose. But
dreading the ridicule which too often attends unsuccess¬
ful attempts in science, he communicated his intention
to nobody but his son, who assisted him in raising
the kite. A considerable time elapsed before there
was any appearance of success. One very promising
cloud had passed over the kite without any effect; when,
just as he was beginning to despair, he observed some
R I C I T Y.
779
these con-
jectuies.
441
Hi* experi¬
ments to
iAtning
10111 the
ilouds.
loose threads of the hempen string to stand erect, and Atmo-
avoid one another, just as if they had been suspended spherical
by the conductor of a common electrical machine. OnE1<:Ctricit)r
this he presented his knuckle to a key which was fasten- v
ed to the string, and thus obtained a very evident elec¬
tric spark. Others succeeded, even before the string
was wet ; but when the rain had begun to descend, lie
collected electric fire pretty copiously. With these
sparks spirits were fired, phials charged, and the usual
electrical experiments performed. We are told, that
when he saw the fibres ol the string erect themselves,
he uttered a deep sigh, and wished that moment to be
his last, feeling that by this discovery his name would
be immortalized. He had afterwards an insulated
iron rod to draw the lightning into his house ; and
performed almost every experiment with real lightning,
that had before been done with the artificial representa¬
tions of it by electrical machines. That he might lose
no opportunity of making his experiments, he connect¬
ed two bells with his insulated rod ; and these by their
ringing, gave him notice whenever his apparatus was
electrified by the lightning.
Although we have recounted Dr Franklin’s experi¬
ments first, he was not, however, the first who verified
his own hypothesis. This was done in France, about
a month before Dr Franklin’s experiments with the
kite. 4
The most active persons were two French gentlemen, The i<tcn-
Messrs Dalibard and Delor. The former prepared hisbty of
apparatus at Marly la ville, situated above five or sixbghtning' _
leagues from Paris; the latter at his own house, which^
was on some of the highest ground in that capital, discovered
Mr Dalibard’s apparatus consisted of an iron rod, 40111 Ffai,c«.
feet long, the lower extremity of which was brought
into a sentry box where the rain could not enter; while,
on the outside, it was fastened to three wooden posts,
by silken strings defended from the rain. This ma¬
chine was the first that happened to be favoured with a
visit from the ethereal fire. Mr Dalibard himself was
not at home; but, in his absence, he had intrusted the
care of his apparatus to one Coisier a joiner, who had
served 14 years among the dragoons, and on whose
courage and understanding he could depend. This ar¬
tisan had all the necessary instructions given him ; and
was desired to call some of his neighbours, particularly
the curate of the parish, whenever there should be any
appearance of a thunder-storm. At length the long-
expected event arrived. On Wednesday the 10th of
May 1752, between two and three in the afternoon,
Coisier heard a pretty loud clap of thunder. Immediate¬
ly lie ran to the machine, taking with him a phial fur¬
nished with a brass wire ; and presenting the wire to
the end of the rod, a small spark issued from it with a
snap like that of a spark from an electrified conductor.
Stronger sparks were afterwards drawn, in the presence
of the curate and a number of other people. The cu¬
rate’s account of them was, that they were of a blue
colour, an inch and a half in length, and smelled
strongly of sulpher. In taking them, he received a
stroke on his arm, a little below the elbow ; but he
could not tell whether it came from the brass wire in¬
serted into the phial, or from the bar. He did not at¬
tend to it at the time; but the pain continuing, he un¬
covered his arm when he went home, in the presence
5 F 2 of
'tSo
ELECT
443
of Coisier. A mark was perceived round it, such as
spheral might have been made with a blow of the wire on his
Electricity.naked skin.
"V—' Eight days after, Mr Delor witnessed the same ap¬
pearances at his own house, though only a cloud passed
over, without either thunder or lightning. His appa¬
ratus differed little from that of Mr Dalibard, except
that his rod was 99 feet high, and answered rather bet¬
ter than that of the other gentleman. As it was found
that only a small quantity of electric fluid could be col¬
lected by a single pointed rod, these experimentalists
added to this apparatus a number of insulated iron bars,
communicating with the pointed iron conductor, con¬
stituting what they called a magazine of electrici-
ty. ....
Dr Franklin having proved the identity of lightning
and electricity, was desirous of ascertaining whether the
electricity produced from the clouds was positive or
negative. The first time he succeeded in making an
experiment for this purpose, was on the 12th of April
I753> when the lightning appeared to be negative.
Having found that the clouds electrified negatively for
eight successive thunder-gusts, he concluded that their
electricity was always negative, and set about forming
a theory to account for this. But he afterwards found
he had concluded too soon. For on the sixth of June
following, he met with one cloud which was electrified
positively j upon which he corrected his former theory,
but did not seem able perfectly to satisfy himself with
any other. The Doctor sometimes found the clouds
would change from positive to negative electricity
several times in the course of one thunder-gust, and he
once observed the air to be strongly electrified during
a fall of snow, when there was no thunder at all.
The experiments of Dr Franklin and M. Dalibard,
were soon known over all Europe, and the electricians
of every country were eager to participate in the glory
and satisfaction to be derived from such grand under¬
takings. M. M. Mazeas, Monnier, and de Romas in
France, Canton aud Wilson in England, and above all,
Beccaria in Italy, made a number of interesting expe¬
riments on the electricity to be drawn from the clouds.
De Romas constructed a kite seven feet high, which
was raised to a height of 550 feet by a string contain¬
ing a metallic wire, by which electric sparks, or rather
badls, were darted to the earth, an inch in diameter
and ten feet long, accompanied with other phenomena
equally terrific. These different experimenters soon
discovered that signs of electricity might be obtained,
not only during thunder-storms, but almost at all times,
and in every kind of weather. But before we relate
these observations, we must conclude our present sub¬
ject. We shall only here describe Dr Priestley’s me¬
thod of constructing a thunder-rod for making such
observations. .
On the top of any building, which will be the
more convenient if it stand upon an eminence, erect a
pole as tall as a man can well manage, having on the
top of it a solid piece of glass or baked wood a foot in
length. Let this be covered with a tin or copper ves¬
sel in the form of a funnel, to prevent its ever being-
wetted. Above this let there rise a long slender rod,
terminating in a pointed wire, and having a small wire
twisted round its whole length, to conduct the electri¬
city the better to the funnel. From the funnel make a
Z.
R I C I T Y. Part V.
wire descend along the building, about a foot distance Atmo-
from it, and be conducted through an open sash, into spherical
any room which shall be most convenient for making ylectncity,
the experiments. In this room let a proper conductor
be insulated, and connected with the wire coming in at
the window. This wire and conductor, being com¬
pletely insulated, will be electrified whenever there is a
considerable quantity of electricity in the air : and no¬
tice will be given when it is properly charged, either
by Mr Canton’s balls hung to it, or by a set of
bells
ley's Hist.
Sect. II. Of the Phenomena and Effects of Light- partv. sect.
ning. I-
• r 1 443
A thunder-storm commonly commences in the fol- Progress
lowing manner. At first a low dense cloud begins to°fa'l1UE-'
form in a part of the atmosphere which was previously ei s WliB,
444
Method of
construc¬
ting thun¬
der rods.
clear $ this cloud increases fast, but only from its upper
part, and spreads into an arched form, appearing like
a large heap of cotton wool. Its lower surlace is ge¬
nerally level, as if it rested on a smooth plane. The
wind is all this time very gentle, and frequently it is
imperceptible.
Numberless small ragged clouds, like teazled flakes
of cotton, soon begin to make their appearance, moving
about in various directions, and perpetually changing
their irregular surface, appearing to increase by gradual
accumulation. As they move about, they approach
each other, and appear to stretch out their ragged arms
towards each other *, they do not often come in contact,
but after approaching very near each other, they evi¬
dently recede, either in whole, or by bending away their
ragged arras.
While this irregular motion continues, the whole
mass of small clouds gradually approaches towards the
large cloud which first appeared, and with which they
nally coalesce j frequently, however, uniting with each
other into larger masses, before the general coales¬
cence takes place. The upper cloud often increases
b.y accession of fresh vapour, without any assistance from
the smaller masses. When this happens, its lower sur¬
face, which was before level and regular, becomes rag¬
ged, and stretches out its irregular tatters towai’ds each
other, and towards the earth. The clouds now thick¬
en fast, moving about swiftly in all directions, and
flashes of lightning are seen to dart from one cloud to
another j the wind now rises or increases, generally
blowing in squalls. The lightning becomes more fre¬
quent, striking between the clouds and the earth, often
in two places at once j flashes of various shapes and
various brilliancy are produced, and frequently a vast
expanse of horizon appears in one blaze of light.. Ihe
thunder is now heard to roar at a distance, gradually
approaching nearer, and soon succeeded by heavy
ram ^
The circumstances to be noticed as attending a thun-
der-storm, chiefly respect the form and colour of then
lightning, the sound of the thunder, and the devasta¬
tions produced when an explosion takes place between
a cloud and some imperfectly conducting body on the
surface of the earth. 446
The form of the flash is various, hut in ordinary Form of
lightning it is generally angular, or •zig-%ag; this zig-tbe ttasb.
zag is sometimes larger than at others, and in some in¬
stances the flash is divided into several distinct currents.
These
Chap-1-  ELECT
Atmo- Ihese diversities might he expected from the heteroge-
spherical neous nature, and various conducting power, of the se-
Electridty. veral substances which float in our atmosphere. As
these substances are placed in no certain order, the elec¬
tric spark, in passing through the air, and striking suc¬
cessively from one of these bodies to another, as so
many stepping stones irregularly placed, can seldom
observe the same track, and hence its zig-zag appear¬
ance.
Sometimes the flash appears as one dense ball of
lire, especially when it strikes from a cloud to any part
of a building, when it is generally described as a globe
of fire falling on the building.
T he colours of the flash are also various ; pale straw
colour, vivid yellow, and various shades of blue, are the
most prevailing tints. These various colours probably
depend on the different density of the air through which
the light has passed, or perhaps, on its different nature.
In the experiments of Mr Morgan, already related,
on the appearance of the electric light in
air, its colour varied with the degree" of rarity pro¬
duced in the exhausted receiver; and from the ex¬
periments on passing the electric spark through vari¬
ous gases, we found that the colour of the light varied
considerably with the nature of the gas through which
it passed.
Lightning very often appears without being suc¬
ceeded by thunder, but there is scarcely an instance
eded by a where. the ,atter is not Preceded by the former. We
dshof I,ave indeed on record in the 77th volume of the Phi-
{htning. losophical Transactions, an account of a thunder-storm
that happened on the banks of the Tweed in 1785, in
which an explosion took place that killed a man and
two horses, though not preceded by any flash. The
respectable recorder of this account, Mr Brydone, was
not himself a witness of this accident, but could not
learn from the persons whom he interrogated, (two
Scotch peasants), who had seen the accident, that there
was any preceding flash of lightning. In such singular
circumstances, and such doubtful authority, we should
suspend our belief, and, until some similar instance bet¬
ter authenticated shall occur, take it for granted, that
a clap of thunder is always preceded by a flash of
449 lightning.
and of . The sound which attends the explosion of the light-
e explo- ning, varies according to the distance from which it is
heard, and the nature of the country where the storm
takes place. At a little distance, it is generally a
hoarse grumbling noise, which appears to extend through
a considerable part of the atmosphere, and gradually
dies away. If it be heard very near, the crash is in¬
stantaneous, and exactly similar to the explosion of a
cannon, when we are very near it at the time of its be¬
ing fired.
When the explosion begins very near, the snap be¬
gins with great smartness, and for some time resembles
the violent tearing of a piece of strong silk ; but it be¬
comes more mellow as it proceeds to a greater dis¬
tance.
If the country where the storm happens be high and
irregular, where there are numerous objects capable of
revei’berating the sound, the explosion consists of a long
and. broken succession of claps, the loudness of which
varies more according to the nature and circumstances
of the reverberating objects, than according to the
447
Colonrs of
hhe flash.
448
'lap of
■Hinder al
*ays pre
R 1 G I T Y. 7gl
length of time which intervenes between the claps. In Atmo-
1 1 I* v vv v v. 14 vHv7 v- i tt 'y» Ail Atmo-
level and low country, where there is no diversity of spherie.il
reverberating objects, and particularly at sea, the series EItctricitJ
ot explosions is regular, and their loudness decreases as     
the length of time increases.
The explosion of thunder differs from the snap pro¬
duced by the electric spark, or even the explosion of a
jar or a battery, not only in its degree of loudness, but
in its nature; it is a long-continued, rumbling, un¬
equable noise. The long-continued roar of thunder, is
certainly owing to the commencement and termination
ot the explosion reaching our ears at different periods
ot time ; and the unequally loud rumbling noise is ow¬
ing to the different parts of the explosion striking the
ear in a different manner.
It will not be improper here to mention the method Method of
by which the distance of a thunder-stroke may be as-measuring
scertainerL nKaowrrn«• »f-i^i- j
scertained. By observing the flash, and counting, bythedis-
mpnns nf* o wrCtl*   — i 7 7.1 '»t2iiicc of
means of a watch with * second hand, the number o'flf,lce of
seconds which elapse between the appearance of the ^oeneXpl°*
flash and the commencement of the roar, this may be
easily efiected ; for we know that sound travels at the
rate of 186,768 feet in a minute : by reducing the time
observed between the flash and the report, into seconds,
and allowing for each its proper number of feet, we ob¬
tain, with sufficient accuracy, the distance of the stroke
from the place of observation.
lo understand the manner in which the explosion of Manna in
thunder is produced, we must observe, that the air ofwllich the
the atmosphere is often arranged in strata, and these explo^’io,,
strata are bounded by clouds. That the clouds are stra-lakC*rlaS'‘
tified, is very evident. From various causes, to be ex¬
plained hereafter, these strata, or the opposite surfaces
of a particular stratum, are possessed of opposite states
of electricity, or the stratum becomes charged as the
plate of air between the two coated boards, described
in Is0 235. Numberless experiments have proved,
that during a thunder-storm, there is a contemporane¬
ous accumulation and deficiency of the electric fluid, or
that there are two parts in the atmosphere, that are in
the opposite states of positive and negative electricity.
Hence we may easily conceive the nature of the explo¬
sion ;. for when the accumulation and deficiency on the
opposite surfaces of the stratum of air have attained a
certain height, a discharge must take place, similar to
the spontaneous discharge of a Leyden phial.
The explosion commonly takes place in the heavens, Centrally
and is merely the restoration of the equilibrium between confint'd to
opposite clouds. These are accompanied with no dan-tlle hea*
ger; but, in some instances, the explosion happens vens‘
between the clouds and the earth. In this latter case,
it is believed by some electricians, that the earth is in
the negative state; but Mr G. Morgan is of opinion,
that the deficiency is never in the earth, but in some
other cloud to which an easier passage is found through
so good a conductor as the wet earth, than through the
air, which is an imperfect conductor. Mr Morgan
brings a great many arguments in support of his opi¬
nion, but for these we must refer to his lectures. It is
of little consequence to our present purpose, whether
the deficiency is in the earth or in some adjacent cloud;
it is sufficient to know, that lightning sometimes strikes
from the cloud to the earth, or from the earth to the
clouds. When this happens, and when the accumu¬
lated fluid comes in contact with any body that is an
imperfect
7S2 ELECT
‘ a,„- imperfect conductor, such as trees, buildings, &c. it
spherical produces tliose devastations tvllicb are sometimes the
Electricity.attencjants of severe thunder-storms', these, theretore,
^ "" we are now to consider. <• i *
ntcciAro. Irigl.tning, tvben it strikes a building, for tlie most
diced b? part attacks the highest part of it, as the chimneys, or
lightning Spires, especially if these are surmounted by any me-
on a build- taj|jc wolk) which is always the case with spires ot
UiS' churches, and not unfrequently on chimney-tops, where
iron machines have been placed to prevent smoking.
In most of the cases which have been recorded ot
bouses being damaged by lightning, it has entered y
the chimney, down which it seems to be conducted by
the smoke and soot. Having entered the house, it
commonly proceeds to the best and nearest conductors
in its passage, particularly bell-wires, gilt cornices,
frames of pictures, and other gilded furniture ', these
it commonly destroys, fusing, and very often oxidating,
the metal as it passes along. Some very remarkable
instances are related of the power of lightning in losing
metals j we have heard of the fusion ol bells, of large
chains, and of iron conducting rods near an inch in dia¬
meter”, but the authority on which these facts are re¬
lated does not seem worthy of our implicit confidence.
There are instances, however, sufficiently credible,
where the pointed end of a conductor has been rounded,
parts of leaden spouts melted, and the edge and point
of a knife completely fused. But in general the bell
wires of a house suffer the most: these are always short¬
ened, and very commonly melted in some parts j while
in others, they are entirely dissipated in oxide, marks
of which are very commonly visible on the walls.
It has been disputed, whether the fusion of metals by
liohtniny be such a chemical fusion as is occasioned by
454 f^e, or what is called a cold fusion. Dr Franklin was
of the latter opinion ; the principal arguments for which
liguuiuig are, that money has been melted in a person’s pocket,
not a cold and a sword within its scabbard, without the pocket or
ftwiou. £jie gcahbard being destroyed. It is not easy to con¬
ceive what is meant by a co/d fusion, as .we have no
idea of a metallic body being lused at all, i. e. reduced
into those globular forms which metals that have been
subjected to the action of lightning and electricity
usually assume, hut by the power of a degree of heat,
which would, when applied to bodies sufficiently inllam-
mable, set them on fire.
I.i huun That the explosion ot lightning frequently does this,
sets fire to is sufficiently certain. In the ordinary cases, indeed,
Fusion of
metals by
lightning
in2am-
niable
bodies.
456
Tears such
bodies as
resist its
passage.
of a building’s being struck by lightning, inflammation
does not ensue, because the parts of the building through
which the fluid passes, either have in their nature very
little inflammability, or are so hard and dense in their
texture, that they are not easily inflamed. But when
the building attacked contains matter of a very com¬
bustible nature, such as hay, straw, and more especi¬
ally gun-powder, a fire is very commonly the conse¬
quence 5 and accordingly, we every now and then hear
of instances of stables being burned, and powder maga¬
zines blown up by lightning.
When the lightning in its course meets with any ob¬
struction, as in passing through a body which is an im¬
perfect conductor, it overcomes this obstruction by for¬
cing a passage through the resisting body: hence we very
commonly find large beams shattered, and stones and
4
R I C I T Y. Part V.
bricks either driven from their places, or split and per- Atm»-
forated in an unequal manner. Frequently, the light- spher cal
ning will forsake one conducting body, as the handle of ^ectricity
a bell-wire, and strike through the wall of the room, at- '
tracted by some conductor, either of greater power or
larger dimensions, such as a kitchen grate, on the other
side. This effect of lightning is exactly similar to the
perforation and rending of bodies by electricity, as we
related when treating of the mechanical effects of that
power j it is undoubtedly owing to the sudden expansion
of the air or moisture contained within the pores of the
resisting body. . . . 457
We have seen that animals are destroyed by lightning; Destroy*
but the effects of this power on the animal body come animal lift
to be explained with more propriety in a future part
this work, where we shall treat of the effects of electri¬
city on vegetable and animal life.
We shall here only relate the unfortunate death of Death of
the celebrated Professor Rich man of St Petersburgh. Professor
This happened on the 6th of August 1753, as he was
making experiments on lightning drawn into his own ^
room. He had provided himself with an instrument for
measuring the quantity of electricity communicated to
his apparatus ; and as he stood with his head inclined to
it, Mr Solokow an engraver, who was near him, observed
a globe of blue fire, as big as his fist, jump from the
instrument, which was about a foot distant, to Air Rich-
man’s head. The professor was instantly dead, and
Air Solokow was also much hurt. The latter, however,
could give no particular account of the way in which
he was aft’ected ; for, at the time the professor was
struck, there arose a sort of steam or vapour, which en¬
tirely benumbed him, and made him sink down to the
ground, so that he could not even remember to have
heard the clap of thunder, which was a very loud one.
The globe of fire was attended with an explosion like
that of a pistol; the instrument for measuring the elec¬
tricity (called by the professor an electrical gnomon) was
broken to pieces, and the fragments thrown about the
room. Upon examining the effects of the lightning in
the professor’s chamber, they found the door-case half
split through, and the door torn off and thrown into
the room. They opened a vein in the body twice, but
no blood flowed ; after which, they endeavoured to re¬
cover life by violent friction ; hut in vain : upon tinn¬
ing the corpse with the face downwards during the
rubbing, an inconsiderable quantity of blood ran out
of the mouth. There appeared a red spot on the fore¬
head, from which spirted some drops ot blood through
the pores without wounding the skin. I be shoe be¬
longing to the left loot was burst open, and uncovering
the"foot at that part, they found a blue mark; from
whence it was concluded, that the electric matter Hav¬
ing entered at the head, made its way out again at
the foot. Upon the body, particularly on the left side,
were several red or blue spots, resembling leather
shrunk by being burnt. Alany more also became vi¬
sible over the whole body, and particularly over the
back. That upon the forehead changed to a brownish
red, but the hair of the head was not singed. In the
place where the shoe was unripped, the stocking was
entire : as was the coat everywhere, the waistcoat on¬
ly being singed on the fore flap where it joined the
part behind: but there appeared on the back of Mr So-
* lokow’u
phap. I. ELECT
lokow’s coat long narrow streaks, as if red-hot wires
lUit be
aagerous.
460
(organ’s
i5«rT(t-
iUt.
Atmo- „  ,    
spherisal had burned oiF the nap, and which could not well be ac-
j;ie«f.ricity counted for.
When the professor’s body was opened next day, the
cranium was very entire, having neither fissure nor con¬
tra-fissure : the brain was sound ; but the transparent
pellicles of the windpipe were, excessively tender, and
easily rent. There was some extravasated blood in it,
as also in the cavities below the lungs. Those of the
breast were quite sound 5 but those towards the back, of
a brownish black colour, and filled with more of the
blood above mentioned. The throat, the glands, and
the small intestines, were all inflamed. The singedjea-
ther-coloured spots penetrated the skin only. In 48
hours the body w-as so much corrupted, that they could
^ scarcely get it into a coffin,
liiiance at Irom the dangers to which persons and buildings are
hich the exposed from lightning, it becomes an object of im-
tplosiou p0rtance t0 ascertain the distance at which they may
be considered as secure from its influence. The fol¬
lowing observations of Mr G. Morgan on this subject
are replete with ingenuity and good sense.
“ The greatest danger of a thunder-storm lies between
the two nearest extremities of the correspondent parts
of the charged atmosphere, or in that interval of un¬
electrified air which is always found to separate the po¬
sitive from the negative portion of the loaded cloud :
but on either side of this interval, the further you get
into the positive or the negative, the more does the
power of injuring diminish.
“ The idea which I now wish to impress, will be illus¬
trated by the following circumstances of fact.
“ Take a Leyden phial, five inches in diameter, and
thirteen or fourteen inches in height. On the inside,
let the coating rise till its upper edge be two inches and
a half from the rim of the vessel. On the outside, let
the coating rise no higher than one inch from the bot¬
tom. When the phial is thus coated, let it be charged,
and a spark will pass from the tin-foil on the outside to
that on the inside; but its form will resemble that of a
tree, whose trunk will increase in magnitude and bril¬
liancy, and consequently in power, as it approaches the
edge, owing to ramifications which it collects from all
parts of the glass. Within two inches of the edge it
becomes one body or stream, and along that interval its
greatest force acts.
“ When two clouds, or the two correspondent parts of
a cloud, have their equilibrium restored by a discharge,
the appearances are exactly similar to those of the pre¬
ceding experiment. Each extremity of the flash is
formed by a multitude of little streams, which gather
into one body, whose power is undivided in that in¬
terval only which separates the positive from the nega¬
tive.
“ In this country these appearances are frequently
seen ; but they are most commonly hidden by interven¬
ing clouds. While I was passing over Mount Jura, one
night during a thunder storm, the flashes succeeded
each other so rapidly, that about thirty struck within
each minute, but owing to the height of my situation
at that time, not one of them appeared otherwise than
partially or generally, according to the description I
have just given. Sometimes a lower cloud would hide
one of the two charged parts, and in this case the light¬
ning assumed the form of a tree, whose trunk and
R I C I T Y.
brandies only appeared. Sometimes tile trunk was
bidden, and then the ramifications on each side were
alone visible. Frequently intervening clouds would
bide all but the trunk, and the lightning then ap¬
peared as it commonly does to a spectator in a low si¬
tuation.
. <4 must fJe obvious from the preceding statement of
circumstances, that the greatest devastation of lightning
must take place in that interval through which the
whole body of the fluid passes, and that as you penetrate
further and further into the cloud, the stream that is
formed becomes less and less, like a river which dimi¬
nishes by entwisting itself as you approach its fountain.
Hence to us placed on the ground, no danger can ever
occur, till the clouds are so low, that the striking dis¬
tance through air, or the aerial interval between the
charged parts, resists the passage more powerfully than
the body of earth, and any additional portion of atmo¬
sphere vvhich may lie in the direction of the earth from
the striking interval.
“ I* t*16 charged cloud lies in contact with the ground,
its passage to the earth will be that of several streams,
and the danger will be great, in proportion to the mag¬
nitude of that separate stream which passes through any
given part of the earth ; any! several distinct situations
may be Urns unequally endangered at the same time.
Hence it happens that the same stroke will frequent¬
ly injure several distinct buildings, which are very near
to each other, and that different degrees of injury are
always observed in the different tracks.
“ I h® striking distance, or the length of the interval
of greatest danger, will vary with the height of the
charge, and not with the dimensions of the charged bo¬
dy. This is clear from a multitude of facts already il¬
lustrated and applied. We may hence safely conclude
that the longer any charged cloud is in the vicinity of
the wet ground, the more will the length, and con¬
sequently the danger, of its striking distance be dimi¬
nished, provided the points and prominences, which
are active on the ground, discharge the fluid more
abundantly that it is accumulated by the producing
cause.
“ Irom what I have already said, it is clear that all
the parts of the circuit, through which a thunder cloud
may discharge its contents, are not equally dangerous,
and that the maximum of danger is confined within,
much narrower limits than those of the interval within
which it may be felt in one inferior degree or another.
You must however perceive, that as the cloud en¬
larges, the number of additions increases, by which the
great body of the flash is formed, and that the length of
the most dangerous interval will always increase with,
and bear a certain proportion to, the diameter of the
cloud. In our attempts to estimate this diameter, we
may follow two methods, which have been recommend¬
ed ; but I cannot say that either of these methods has
any great pretensions to accuracy.
“ 1st, If you measure the space on which the thunder¬
shower falls, it is said that you measure what is com¬
mensurable with the dimensions of the thunder-cloud.
In a mountainous country this measurement is very
possible ; for the body of the shower may be seen at a
small distance, well described upon the elevated grounds
whose parts it separates from the eye. Its diameter
therefore, may be correctly estimated from the di¬
stance:
783
Atmo¬
spherical
Electricity.
which it is
784
Atmo- stance of those well-known objects by
spherical bounded. Those thunder-showers, which I have ob-
Electricity, served^ have varied in their diameter, from five hundred
 v ' yards ’to two miles. It is, however, to be observed,
that the partial vacuum, produced by the collapse at¬
tending the removal of the electric fluid, may extend its
influence to a greater distance, and cause the fall of rain,
by rarefying the atmosphere, far beyond the bounds of
the charged cloud.
“ 2dly, The velocity of a cloud may be known by
measuring its height, and the time which any fixed ap¬
pearance in it takes to describe a certain angle. This
may be done in a very small portion of time, and when
it is done, you are next to watch the moment at which
it begins to affect your elevated conductor, and with
equal accuracy you are to mark the evanescence of its
signs. The knowledge of these circumstances, united
with that of the cloud’s velocity, will correctly deter¬
mine its dimensions.
“ From a diary in my possession, made by Mr Brook,
it does not appear that the same electricity ever lasted
more than fifteen minutes. When the symptoms of ap¬
proaching thunder were decisive, the opposite elec¬
tricity generally lasted as long, and the interval of
time between the two electrics seldom exceeded one-
tenth of the whole.
“ If we allow, that the cloud in this case moved at the
rate of eight or ten miles in an hour, its diameter must
have been four miles. However, in many instances, all
the above-mentioned changes of electricity took place
in two minutes. This happened several times succes¬
sively, and each series of changes terminated by a flash
of lightning. In all instances of this kind, to make
the diameter of the cloud half a mile, we must suppose
that it moves at the rate of thirty miles an hour; and
in such a case, one-tenth of the whole, or the interval
of greatest danger, would not exceed a hundred and
eighty yards. But on the supposition that the size of
the cloud were such as to strike over the distance of
two miles, many are the circumstances which, cn its
descent towards the ground, will encroach upon its offen¬
sive powers, change its direction, or decrease and per¬
haps altogether annihilate its violence.
“ 1. Innumerable points and prominences rise from
the whole surface of the earth over which it hangs.
These act as so many channels, through which its con¬
tents will find a rapid evacuation. In the power of
carrying off the fluid gradually, I have been able to dis¬
cover but little difference between partial and metallic
conductors. It should be added, that the torrent through
an elevated wire is such, when the cloud approaches it,
as would discharge a battery, whose surface equalled
four or five acres, in twenty or thirty seconds. When,
therefore, millions of other conductors are acting with
equal effect at the same moment, that must be an im¬
mense cloud indeed, whose striking distance in such cir¬
cumstances is not much lessened, or whose striking
powers are not altogether exhausted.
“ 2. Metals alone conduct the fluid better than
charged surfaces. If a plate of glass, coated on one side
with tin-foil, be charged and placed in a circuit, so that
the contents of a jar may pass over the other side un¬
coated, the luminous striking distance will he quadru¬
ple what it is in air. Such a combination of changes
as that which I have now described must frequently
ELECTRICITY. Part V.
occur in the upper regions of the atmosphere ; for the Atmo.
charged clouds must lie in strata above each other •, and spherical
in the varieties of their motions, produced by their mu--E^ctT‘c'tY.
tual attractions, and by the innumerable causes which ,~''J
affect their different currents, they must be perpetually
serving as discharging-rods to one another. W^e con¬
sequently find that nine hundred and ninety-nine flashes ,
out of a thousand, strike from cloud to cloud through
the intervening air f.” ^61
Severe shocks have been sometimes experienced from Danger
a flash of lightning, when the person or building struckfrom
has been at a very considerable distance from the cloud^nt
in which the discharge appeared to take place. A per¬
son at Vienna received a terrible shock from a thunder-
rod, on which his hand rested during an explosion that
happened at the distance of three miles from the place
where the conductor was erected j and it is supposed
that a shock might be felt, or even a person killed, at
a distance, “ prodigiously greater.” It is certain that
daring a thunder-storm, the insulated conductor is af¬
fected at every explosion, however great, so as to emit
sparks.
It is supposed by most electricians that no direct
stroke is adequate to the production of these effects, and
they have therefore had recourse to what Lord Stanhope
calls the returning stroke. The following is an abridge¬
ment of this theory.
Let DC, fig. 122. represent a conductor charged posi-Lord Stan-
lively ; and AB a conductor in its natural state, placed h0Pe’s
so that one of its extremities, A, may just enter the a^'^e°rrJt„rtt
mosphere of DC. In this case Lord Stanhope says, gtro^et
that the superabundance of DC will cause some of thejFjg. na.
natural share of AB to pass from A to B, where it is
stopped and accumulated. By this change A is left in
a different or negative state, and B by the addition it
has received becomes positive. But when the supera¬
bundance at B is taken off, the positive fluid at B rushes
back to its natural place at A, and this restoration is
called the returning stroke.
Again, let us suppose DC to be negative; and A
placed as before just within its atmosphere. Now part
of the fluid in AB will rush from B to A, and there
being stopped will produce an accumulation j but when
BC is discharged, this accumulation will disappear, and
the returning stroke will be from A to B *. * Mahon'*
To apply this to the present case. Let us suppose PrjndfU*
A-f- —B
a— -j-^
two clouds horizontally distant, A and
B (in the annexed diagram), the one A
electrified positively and the other B
negatively, to be incumbent over the
surface of the earth at a and b; they
will here tend to produce the opposite states, or the part
of the surface a will he negative and b positive. If
now a discharge take place between the clouds A and
B, the fluid will rush back from £ to a; and if conduc¬
tors are fixed at these places, the fluid will rush down
the conductors at &, and up that at a. The same ef¬
fects, though in a less degree, will be produced, if we
suppose the negative cloud B placed above the positive
cloud A. By this theory, Lord Stanhope undertook to
explain how the man and two horses were killed in the
thunder-storm described by Mr Brydone, and his Lord-
ship presented a very able paper on this subject to the
Royal Society t.
of Electri¬
city, p.
f Phil.
Tran*.
This theory of Lord Stanhope has been well receiv-^ jxX?"
ed,
vol. ii
p. I7I-
4^3
Effects of
Chap. II.
Atrcio- ecN a 13 no small testimony in its favour that it has
spherical obtained the support of so able a philosopher as Profes-
Electricity.sor Robison. Mr G. Morgan, however, strenuously
objects to this theory, on the very serious grounds that
its principle is erroneous, its effects overrated, and its
* Morgan's application unnecessary*. Our limits will not permit
Lectures, us to detail all Mr Morgan’s objections, but we must
confess they do not convince us of the fallacy of the
theory, although they certainly tend to invalidate the
effects attributed to the returning stroke.
  “ I'et us allow (says Mr Morgan), that the force
the return- required by the theory is rendered active in the manner
in*'-rated0 which I have just described, what reason have we for
believing that it would be active to the degree sup¬
posed? Lord Stanhope has estimated, that what is se¬
parated from our natural share without injuring us,
and what may be absent for hours without being felt,
is so great in quantity as to destroy us by its motion in
returning. But what are the grounds of this estimate ?
As yet it has been justified by no appeal, either to fact
or experiment; and the person who could say, that the
greatest possible loss from our natural share is little or
nothing, would certainly stand .upon equal, I think
rather better, grounds, than those who would make it
adequate to the fusion of metals and the destruction of
life. I would add, that when the power of the return¬
ing stroke is magnified as it is in this theory, the ra¬
tionale of this bold estimate is not only neglected, but
it is neglected where it might have been made without
much trouble.
“If the returning stroke of a thunder-cloud will de¬
stroy large, edifices, surely artificial electricity could
produce a similar stroke which would destroy a bird or
a mouse, or act on some scale analogous to that which
it is said to resemble. If I say, the returning stroke
in nature will melt the irons of a waggon wheel, sure¬
ly, with the grand machines which we are now able to
construct, such a returning stroke might be caused as
would melt a capillary thread of metal. But nothing
of this kind has ever been done or attempted by those
who support the theory, and I am bold enough to pro¬
phesy, from the details of my own experience, that no-
f Morgan thing of the kind ever will be done f.”
ibi supra,
■ ’ a79* Sect. III. Of the means of preventing Accidents from
Lightning.
Invention No m.an ever exemplified better than Dr Franklin,
ifconchic- the maxim, that knowledge is valuable chiefly in pro¬
ofs against portion as it is useful. No sooner was the real nature
igluniug 0f lightning ascertained by experiment, than it was na-
•fanklin. turally suggested that this grand discovery might be
rendered beneficial to mankind, by affording means of
security from the dangers accompanying a thunder¬
storm, particularly to buildings and ships. Here too,
the genius of Franklin led the way ; and as he certain¬
ly deserves the greatest share of the merit due to the
discovery of the identity of lightning and electricity,
we are also chiefly indebted to him for the means of ap¬
plying this knowledge to advantage. He was led to
propose the use of pointed metallic conductors attached
to the building, as a security against the effects of
lightning ; and this proposal, like most of Dr Frank¬
lin’s ingenious contrivances in electricity, was the re-
Voe. VII. Part II. -f-
ELECTRICITY. 78;
suit at once of acute reasoning and accurate observa- Atmo-
^on* _ spherical
Dr Franklin considered the earth as performing the^k-ctricity.
office of a conductor, in restoring to the atmosphere the '
electrical equilibrium, that had been disturbed by the His
causes which tend to produce atmospherical electricity.tioas for
In its course, he observes, that the lightning will com- tbeir con-
monly strike the best conductors; and accordingly, ass^1Hc^01J‘
a metallic rod is a much more perfect conductor than
the stones, bricks, &c. of which buildings are chiefly
composed, the lightning will strike the rod in prefer¬
ence to the materials of the building. He therefore '
advised, that a metallic rod should be fixed to some
part of the building, continued to the ground, and even
penetrating for some distance into the moist earth; and,
as lightning does not in every case strike the highest
parts of a building, that the rod should extend for
some feet above these, in order, as it were, to solicit
the lightning. As lightning has been found to destroy
metallic rods of a considerable diameter, he advises,
that these conductors should be at least half an inch
thick, that they may the better resist the destructive
power of the lightning.
From a comparison of numerous experiments and oh-Requisite#
servations, the following rules have been laid down forto be ‘'h’
the construction of conductors. served.
1. That the rods be made of such substances as are should7be
in their nature the best conductors of electricity. of the best
It is found that all metals do not conduct equally conductors,
well, and that lead and copper are the best fitted to
serve as conductors against lightning ; but as lead is
exceedingly destructible by electricity, and therefore
would require to be of a very considerable diameter,
copper is to be preferred, as well on account of its
greater conducting power, as from its being less liable to
contract rust than iron, which is commonly employed. ^6g
2. That the rods be of a sufficient diameter. Should b<t
3. That they be perfectly uninterrupted, or, if form- of sufficient
ed of several pieces, that their junctions be as close as diameters,
possible. alld
The effect of interruptions in conductors, as well as
the effects of lightning in general on buildings, may be«0iitinuous.
illustrated by the following experiments.
Exper. I.—Fig. 123. shews an instrument repre-Ti1Under-
senting the side of a house, either furnished with a house,
metallic conductor, or not; by which both the bad Fig. 123.
effects of lightning striking upon a house not proper¬
ly secured, and the usefulness of metallic conductors,
may be clearly represented. A is a board about
three-quarters of an inch thick, and shaped like the
gable end of a house. This board is fixed perpen¬
dicularly upon the bottom board B, upon which the
perpendicular glass pillar CD is also fixed, in a hole
about eight inches distant from the basis of the board
A. A square hole, ILMK, about a quarter of an
inch deep, and nearly one inch wide, is made in the
board A, and is filled with a square piece of wood,
nearly of the same dimensions. We say nearly of the
same dimensions, because it must go so easily into the
hole, that it may drop off by the least shaking of the
instrument. A wire, LK, is fastened diagonally to
this square piece of wood. Another wire, I H, of the
same thickness, having a brass ball, H, screwed on its
pointed extremity, is fastened upon the board A ; so
J G - a}so
786
Alaw>-
spUerieal
Electricity
electricity.
471
Powder-
tiuusc.
Fig. 124
also Is the wire MN, which is shaped in a ring at O.
From the upper extremity of the glass pillar LD, a
crooked wire proceeds, having a spring socket i’,
through which a double-knobbed wire slips perpendicu¬
larly &the lower knob G of which falls just above the
knobH. The glass pillar DC must not be made very
fast Into the bottom board j but it must be fixed s° aS
to be pretty easily moved round its own axis, by which
means the brass ball G may be brought nearer or farther
from the ball H, without touching the part ot
Now when the square piece of wood LMIK (which
may represent the shutter of a window or the like) is
fixed into the hole so, that the wire LK stands in the
dotted representation 1M, then the metallic communi¬
cation from H to O is complete, and the instrument re¬
presents a house furnished with a proper metallic con¬
ductor •, but if the square piece of wood LMIK. is
fixed so, that the wire LK stands in the direction LK,
as represented in the figure, then the metallic conduc¬
tor HG, from the top of the house to its bottom, is in¬
terrupted at IM, in which case the house is not proper¬
ly secured.
Fix the piece of wood LMIK, so that its wire may
be as represented in the figure, in which case the me¬
tallic conductor HO is discontinued. Let the ball G
be fixed at about half an inch perpendicular distance
from the ball H, then, by turning the glass pillar DC,
remove the former ball from the latter: by a wire or
chain connect the wire EF with the wire Q of the jar
P and let another wire or chain fastened to the hook
o, touch the outside coating of the jar. Connect the
wire Q with the prime conductor, and charge the jar j
then, by turning the glass pillar DC, let the ball G
come gradually near the ball H, and when they are
arrived sufficiently near one another, you will observe
that the jar explodes, and the piece of wood, LMIK
is pushed out of the hole to a considerable distance from
the thunder-house. Now the ball G, in this experi¬
ment, represents an electrified cloud •, which, when it
is arrived sufficiently near the top of the house A, the
electricity strikes it, and, as this house is not secured
with a proper conductor, the explosion breaks part of
it, i. e. knocks off the piece of wood IM.
Hepeat the experiment with only this variation, viz.
that this piece of wood IM is situated so, that the wire
LK may stand in the situation IM j in which case the
conductor HO is not discontinued j and you will ob¬
serve, that the explosion will have no effect upon the
piece of wood LMj this remaining in the hole unmoved}
which shews the usefulness of the metallic conductor.
Further: Unscrew the brass ball H from the wire
HI, so that this may remain pointed, and, with this
difference only in the apparatus, repeat both the above
experiments j and you will find that the piece of wood
IM is in neither case moved from its place, nor any
explosion will be heard ; which demonstrates the pre¬
ference of conductors with pointed terminations to those
with blunted ones.
Exper. 2.—This apparatus is sometimes made in the
shape of a house, as represented fig. 124. where, for the
sake of distinctness, the side and part of the roof next
the eye are not represented. The gable end AC re¬
presents that of the thunder-house, and may he used in
the same manner with that above described, or more
2i
Part V,
readily by the following method. Let one ball of the Atmo-
discharging rod touch the ball of the charged jar, and spherical
the other the knob A of the conductor AC of the ^Icciricity.
thunder-house j the jar will then of course explode, and ‘
the fluid will act upon the conductor just mentioned.
The conducting wire at the windows hh must be placed
in a line. The sides and gable AC of the house are
connected with the bottom by hinges ; and the build¬
ing is kept together by a ridge on the roof. To use
this model, fill the small tube a with gunpowder, and
ram the wire c a little way into the tube ; then connect
the tube e with the bottom of a large jar or battery.
When the jar is charged, form a communication from
the hook at C, on the outside, to the top of the jar, by
discharging the rod ; the discharge will fire the powder,
and the explosion of the latter wijl throw off the roof,
with the sides, back and front, so that they will all fall
down together. The figures f and g in the side of
the house represent a small ramrod for the tube a, and
a pricker for the touch-hole at C. .
Exper. 3—Fig. 125. represents a wooden pyramid, of
made in several pieces, with a wire through each, sobreaksin
that their ends may touch, as at s s s. Let one cornertonductors,
of the pedestal d he loose, and have the safety wire pass’b1^1*trate^
almost but not quite through it. Let the wire passing^ pyra’
through the rest of the pedestal join by a chain the out- plate
side coating of a Leyden phial. If the cloud a? be sup- CXC1X.
ported by a Avire from the prime conductor, and hang fiS*125*
half an inch from the knob q of the pyramid j when
the phial is discharged, a flash will take place between
x and g ; the spark will pass along the wires s s &, till
it comes to the break at d; there an explosion will take
place that will drive out the corner-stone c?, and over¬
throw the fabric.
Abundant observation has proved the danger of hav¬
ing discontinuous conductors either attached to a build¬
ing, or forming part of the materials. About the mid¬
dle of the last century, the steeple of St Bride’s church
in London was struck by lightning, and greatly injured.
In the construction of this steeple a great deal of iron
work had been employed j the stones having been fast¬
ened together in many places by iron cramps, the ends
of which were covered with small stones. I he light¬
ning seems first to have struck the vane of the spire,
from which it was safely conducted down the shait by
which the vane was supported ; from the extremity of
this shaft, it leaped to two cross iron bars which were
at the base of the obelisk, shattering the obelisk in its
way. Hence it passed to one of the above-mentioned
cramps, and thus from cramp to cramp, throwing out or
demolishing the stones as it passed along. ^
The principles of electricity aflord us an easy expla.£g-ect 0fsn
nation of the manner in which the interruption of con-interrup-
ductors acts. We know that at the extremity ot all tion ex-
long rods there is a considerable accumulation of elec-Pain£
tricity, and this lias here a tendency to fly off witu
great force, especially if there is another conductor at
hand. This other conductor also assists the accumula¬
tion in the former, by acquiring at its adjacent extremi¬
ty the opposite electricity. Supposing a positive cloud
to be over the upper conductor, this conductor will be
electrified positively at its lower extremity, and this ac¬
cumulation being increased by the negative electricity
of the upper end of the lower conductor, will tend to
fly
Chap. I. ELECT
Atmo- fly off with great violence into the air, or if. any ob-
Ekculcitr *truftion. °PP0Sei.its Passage, this will be removed by
iueomcity. the bursting or displacing the resisting body.
474 4* ls necessary that the connection between the
Should be conductor and the common stock, or the earth, be as
properly complete as possible.
She d , 11 ha? been Said’that the lovver extremity of the con-
earth ductor should be inserted some feet below the surface of
the ground : it is also proper that it should be turned
in a direction away from the foundation ; and as mois¬
ture is one of the best conductors, it would be advise-
able, where this can conveniently be done, to connect
the extremity of the metallic rod with some neighbour-
4-s ing piece of paper.
Shouldbe . S’ That the rod be carried from the top of the build-
as straight ing to the common stock in the shortest convenient di-
ai possible, rection.
It is also of some importance that they should not be
connected with other masses of metal in the building,
which might chance, by occasional contiguity to other
conducting matter, to change the direction of the fluid.
The rods may be connected to the wall by iron or co'p-
per staples, larger than the rod themselves; and in this
case, that part of the rod which passes through the
staple ought to be covered with some folds of woollen
cloth dipped in melted pitch.
Should be 6• That the upper extremity he finely tapered, and
pointed. terminate in a sharp smooth point.
There is no question in electricity, that has been ar¬
gued with more keenness, than whether thunder-rods
should terminate in a sharp point, or in a round ball.
Dr Franklin, we have seen, decidedly gave the prefer¬
ence to a pointed conductor, and he has been followed
by most of the electricians of Europe ; Dr Wilson
standing almost alone in support of the round ball. This
controversy was renewed with great warmth on the oc¬
casion of a house at Purfleet, belonging to the board of
ordnance, having been struck by lightning, although
guarded by a pointed conductor. A set of very inge¬
nious experiments were made, both by Mr Nairne and
Dr Wilson, to estimate the comparative merits of point¬
ed and obtuse conductors ; but by these the question
was not decided ; MrNairne’s experiments always con¬
cluded in favour of pointed conductors, while those of
Dr Wilson as constantly favoured the obtuse termina¬
tion. Most electricians, however, still prefer the point¬
ed conductor, as it is difficult to make the charge pass
this with an explosion. It is in general either trans¬
mitted silently, or with greatly diminished force.
Fig. 1*6. ^et B (%• I 260 represent the position of a charged
cloud ; A, the part that is oppositely charged, or that is
connected with it; FG a pointed wire. In this case,
the electric fluid must pass either through the series of
partial conductors, a, b, c, &c. or through the body of
earth, AF.
Now when, on the one hand, we consider the dry¬
ness of that soil which is generally selected for the
foundation of buildings, the probability there is that
nothing but the soil, thus dry, may separate A from
the wire FG, and the certainty that if water should
connect A and FG, its resistance is very considerable;
when, on the other hand, we take into consideration,
the nails, bolts, iron bars, strips of lead, bell wires,
and metallic utensils that are scattered through all
building?, we shall, I think, perceive the much greater
E t C t T Y. 787
probability there is of the lightning’s passing through Atmo-
a, b, c, d, &c. to the cloud, than of its passage through spherical
the ground. * Electricity.
2. Let us erect another wire, HI, and still the dan- v ^
ger is almost as great; for now the possible circuits of
the lightning are four, and of these, that leading through
the house appears to be the easiest : If HI convey it
harmless, then it must pass through the body of the
air IG, or over the roof of the house. We well know
from past experiments, that the insulating power of the
air makes the resistance in the direction IG very consi¬
derable ; and even on the supposition that j were wet,
the resistance over the roof of the house is not much
considerable. If the house were covered or coped with
lead, the probability of a stroke would then be dimi¬
nished, but not taken away; for, suppose the easiest
circuit should lie in the direction KM, then, rather
than pass through the body of earth HK, or FK, it
might find an easier passage through the house than ei¬
ther of the conductors. This would not be the case, if
a strip of lead, or metallic substance of any kind, ex¬
tended from K to H, and from K to F. “ I hence
thought, (says Mr Morgan), at one time, that a house-
would be perfectly safe, if a strip of lead were carried
around the top, and all the bottom of the building, and
then connected by two or three metallic strips extend¬
ing from the one to the other.
Let us suppose that a house were erected over a
stratum of moisture, or any other conducting substance,
which dipped Considerably, at a little distance from the
house, and then suddenly rose just below it; in that
case, if the stratum became the circuit of a charge, the
stroke would rise immediately in the centre or body of
the house, and in all directions would force its way
with devastation, towards the conductors on' the out¬
side.”
lo prevent all possible danger, Mr G. Morgan pro-Mr Mor-
poses, that, while the house is building, the foundation gan’s pro¬
of each partition wall be laid on a strip of lead, orPosalfor
that such a strip be fastened to the sides of these parti-1)f,eventi.ngJ
tion walls. The strips should be two inches wide, and *[!,!,
at least a quarter of an inch thick, and they should be ^
closely connected with each other. A perpendicular
strip on each side of the house, should rise from this
bed of conductors, to the surface of the ground ; whence
a strip should be continued round all the house, and
carefully connected with water-pipes, &c. The strips
on the sides of the house, should then be continued to
the root, which should be guarded in the same manner
as the foundation. Ihe top should be surrounded by a
strip, whose connection should spread over every edo,e
and prominence, and should continue to the summit of
each separate chimney. It is particularly necessary to
guard the chimneys ; for Mr Morgan was witness to a
case, in which a house that had been guarded, in most
respects, according to the foregoing directions, except
that the chimneys were unprotected, was struck with
lightning, which entered by one of the chimneys : here
it spent its fury; but the chimney falling on the roof,
did considerable damage.
The conductors for powder magazines are placed at
a short distance from the building. In this case' the
rods should rise eight or ten feet above the highest part
of the magazine, and penetrate as much below its foun¬
dation.
' 5 G 2 The
788
Atmo¬
spherical
like ricity,
47s
Means of
protecting
ships, and
carriages.
479
Means of
preventing
personal
danger.
480
Signs of
approach¬
ing danger,
' ELECT
The principal objection to this method, is the ex¬
pence attending it j but this may be, in a great measure
avoided, by making proper use of the leaden pipes,
gutters, and copings, which belong to most houses.
" Ships, from the height and construction ot their
masts, and from their being such insulated conducting
objects as must necessarily attract the lightning from
a cloud that is very near, are peculiarly exposed to dan¬
ger. It is, therefore, still more necessary to guard ves¬
sels by proper conductors. Chains are very commonly
employed for this purpose, from their being more con¬
veniently disposed among the rigging ; but it is found,
that from the want of continuity in the links, chains
are very imperfect conductors, and have not unfrequent-
ly been broken by a severe shock. They are also apt
to be occasionally laid aside. Strips of lead aie,
therefore, to he preferred, both as they are cheaper,
and less liable to be injured by the weather and salt
water, than iron chains. One strip should surround the
deck, and another the bottom or side of the keel, and
these should be connected with other strips, embracing
the ship in various parts. If the ship he copper-
bottomed, it will only be necessary to connect the
copper with the deck $ but in every case a strip should
pass on each side from the rest ot the strips to each
mast. The mast may he protected by extending a me¬
tallic body along the stays to as great a height as pos¬
sible, and connecting this with the top of the mast, and
with the rest of tlie conductors surrounding the ship.
Those parts of the ship which are intended to be move-
ablo should be connected by spiral wire, which is a
better conductor than a chain, and admits of equal ac¬
commodation.
Carriages may also be rendered secure, by having
their metallic fillets all connected together, and con¬
nected with the iron hoops of the wheels.
The principles of electricity, applied to the explana¬
tion of the phenomena of lightning, also afford us some
useful hints for our personal security during a thunder¬
storm. These naturally divide themselves into two
heads ; first, the consideration of the signs of approach¬
ing danger, and, secondly, the rules to be observed,
when we find ourselves within the striking distance ol
the cloud.
x. Approaching danger may be dreaded from the
following circumstances.
a. A rapid approach of the charged clouds. The
longer time any given portion of charged air remains
over a certain space, the more it is affected by points
and prominences j but when a cloud seems to be over
our heads almost as soon as it is formed, we are exposed
to the utmost of its fury. When a cloud grows darker
and darker while it is near us, it is also a mark of
great danger, for we may be certain the accumula¬
tion is not materially lessened by an exhaustion, and
that the charge must soon attain its striking height.
b. The perpendicular direction of the flashes. This
is a certain evidence that the charged cloud* are at that
height from which they can strike into the ground.
The appearance of two flashes at the same time, has
been considered as an evidence, that the earth is acting
as a discharging rod ; but this may often happen, as
the two extremities of the flash, when passing behind a
cloud which partly hides it, may often give out the
same appearance ^ the sign, therefore, is not sufficiently
3
RICITY: Part V.
accurate, and cannot be considered as denoting more Atroo-
than a certain degree of probable danger. spherical
c. In making experiments with the kite, if very Pkectncuy.
strong sparks are emitted from the string, or if a sen- ' '
nation like a cobweb passing over the face be felt, it is
time to desist. This will he fully illustrated in the ex¬
periments which we are about to relate on atmosphen-
cal electricity.
(1. hi wiGkitiQf experiments with on insulated conduc-
tor, if a torrent of sparks should flow from its inter¬
ruptions, or if such a torrent, after having continued
for some time, should suddenly stop, and soon after re¬
commence with an opposite electricity, there is consider¬
able danger in being near the conductor..
2. Having ascertained, that we are within the limits
of danger, our next object is to seek protection ; it is
therefore necessary to know how the threatened dan¬
ger may be avoided.
In a house, it is necessary to place one’s self at aRu]eg for
distance from all good conductors, such as chimney protection
places, gilt mirrors or pictures, lustres, or burning in various
candles/It is therefore proper, to withdraw into the siluat!ons-
middle of a room, where,no metallic body is suspended
from the ceiling, and here, according to Dr Franklin,
almost all possible danger may be avoided, by bring¬
ing a bed or mattress, and placing on it the chair on
which we sit.
If we are in the open air, and overtaken by a thun¬
der-storm, it is proper to avoid taking shelter under
high and pointed objects, as houses and trees. The
most eligible situations are at a distance of 20 or 30
feet from tall trees or houses, as these bodies are the
most likely to receive any discharge that is made in
their neighbourhood. It is particularly necessary to
avoid rivers and brooks, as these are excellent con¬
ductors, and are likely to determine the course of
an electrical discharge.
If overtaken in a storm, it is safer to be completely
wet than dry. In the interior of a house the most
secure situation is the middle of a room, and the secu¬
rity is increased by standing on an insulating sub¬
stance, such as a hair mattress, or even a thick woollen
hearth-rug. The fire-place should be carefully avoided,
as the charry matter forming the soot readily conducts
the lightning downward. Gilt furniture, bell wires,
and other metallic bodies of moderately extensive sur¬
faces, should for the same reason be avoided. In a
carriage, the precaution of keeping at a distance of
some inches from the sides and back should be observed.
48-2
Chap. II. Experiments and Observations on the Spon¬
taneous Electricity of the Atmosphere.
The first person who observed the spontaneous elec- E*peri-
tricity of the atmosphere, was M. Monnier, who found menu on
that even when there was no appearance of lightning, »tniosp^
some degree of electricity might generally be observed by
in the atmosphere. His experiments were made at otMonnjer.
Germaine en Laye, and published in a memoir read at
the Royal Academy of Sciences at Paris in 1752* 483
But more accurate experiments were made upon the ^ja.
electricity of the air by the abbe Mazeas, at Chateau geas.
de Maintenon, during the months June, July, and
October, of 1753, and communicated to the Royal
Society in a letter to Dr Hales.
Ihe
Cliap. II. ELECT
Atmo- T. lie abbe s apparatus consisted of an iron rod, 370
spherical feet long, raised 90 feet above the horizon. It came
Electricity, down from a very high room in the castle, where it
was fastened to a silken cord six feet long y and was
carried from thence to the steeple of the town, where
it was likewise fastened to another silk cord of eight
feet long, and sheltered from rain. From the extremi¬
ty of this rod, a large key was suspended to receive
the electric fluid.
When he began his experiments, viz. on the 17th of
June, the electricity of the air was sensibly felt every
day, from sunrise till seven or eight in the evening,
except in moist weather, when he could perceive no
signs of electricity. In dry weather, the rod attracted
minute bodies at no greater distance than three or four
lines. He repeated the experiment carefully every
day, and constantly observed, that in weather void of
storms, the electricity of a piece of sealing-wax of two
inches long, was above twice as strong as that of the
air. This observation inclined him to conclude, that
in weather of equal dryness, the electricity of the air
was always equal.
It did not appear to him that hurricanes and tempests
increased the electricity of the air, when they were not
accompanied with thunder ; for that during three days
of a very violent continual wind in July, he was obliged
to put some dust within four or five lines of the con¬
ductor, before any sensible attraction could be per¬
ceived.
No sensible alteration in the electricitv of the air
was observed under different directions of the winds,
except when these were moist.
Ke could observe no electricity in the air during the
driest nights of summer, but it returned in the morn¬
ing with the sun, disappearing again soon after sun¬
set.
The strongest common electricity of the atmosphere
during that summer, was observed in July, on a very
dry, clear, warm day.
On the 27th of June, about noon, he perceived some
stormy clouds rising above the horizon, and observed
that the electricity of the atmosphere occasioned by
them, was increased as the clouds reached the zenith.
He at this time drew considerable sparks from his ap¬
paratus, though there was neither thunder nor light-
ning.
The electricity observed during the appearance of
these stormy clouds, was not diminished by a very hea¬
vy rain, till the clouds began to dissipate*.
Mr Kinnersley observed, that when the air was in
its driest state, there was always a quantity of electri¬
city in it, and which might be easily drawn from it.
This, he says, may be proved by a person in the nega¬
tive state of electricity extending his arm into the air
in the dark while holding a pointed needle in his hand :
this, however, can only be observed when the air is
very dry.
Whether the electricity in the air, in clear dry
weather, be of the same density at the height of two
or three hundred yards, as on the surface of the earth,
Mr Kinnersley thought might be easily ascertained by
Dr Franklin’s old experiment with the kite. The
twine, he says, should have throughout a very small
wire in it, and the ends of the wire, where the several
R I C I T Y.
789
Phil.
'runs.
>1. Klviii
4S4
r Kin-
I ‘rsley.
lengths are united, ought to be tied down with a wax- Atmo-
ed thread, to prevent their acting in the manner of splicrical
points +. -Electricity.
Mr Canton made several ingenious experiments on . ,., y 7,
atmospherical electricity, by means of his pith-ball elec- ,oL {-y '
trometer, described in N° 66. According to this phi- 485
losopher, desiccated atmospheric air, when heated, be-Canton,
comes negatively electric, and when cooled, the elec¬
tricity is of the positive kind, even when the air is not
pei milted to expand or contract 5 and the expansion or ^
contraction of atmospheric air occasions changes in its V° r*™1'
electrical state J. ^x^-
But no electrician, in the earlier stage of the science, Etctaiia.
conducted his observations in this way with greater ac¬
curacy, or pursued them farther, than Sig. Beccaria.
He observed, that during very high winds, his appa¬
ratus gave no signs of being electrified. Indeed he
found, that in three different states of the atmosphere,
he could find no electricity in the air : viz. in windy
and clear weather; in weather when the sky was co¬
vered with distinct and black clouds, that had a slow
motion ; in moist weather, not actually raining. In a
clear sky, when the rveather was calm, he always per¬
ceived signs of a moderate electricity, but interrupted.
In rainy weather without lightning, his apparatus was
always electrified a short time before the rain fell, and
during the time of the rain, but it ceased to be affected
a little before the rain was over.
Hie higher his rods reached or his kites flew, the
stronger signs they gave of electricity. Also longer
strings and cords, extended and insulated in the open
air, acquired electricity sooner than those which were
shorter. A. cord 1300 Paris feet long, stretched across
the river Po, was as strongly electrified during a shower
without thunder, as a metallic rod, employed to bring
lightning into the house, had been in any thunder¬
storm.
Having two rods for bringing the lightning into his
house, 140 feet asunder, he observed, that if he took a
spark from the higher of these, the spark from the
other, which was 30 feet lower, was at that instant
lessened ; but its power again revived, though he kept
his hand upon the former.
He imagined that the electricity communicated to
the air might sometimes furnish small sparks to his ap¬
paratus j since the air parts with the electricity it has
received very slowly, and therefore the equilibrium of
the electric fluid in the air, will not be restored so soon
as in the earth and clouds.
Among the effects of a moderate electricity in theRajn \K\\t
atmosphere, Signior Beccaria considers rain, hail, and and snow,
snow. supposed ef*
Clouds that bring rain, he thought, were produced ^ct*
in the same manner as thunder-clouds, only by a more6
moderate electricity.
He notes several circumstances attending rain with¬
out lightning, which make it very probable, that it is
produced by the same cause as when it is accompanied
with lightning. Light has been seen among the clouds
by night in rainy weather; and even by day, rainy
clouds are sometimes seen to have a brightness evident¬
ly independent of the sun. The uniformity with which
the clouds are spread, and with which the rain falls, he
thought were evidences of a uniform cause, like that of
electricity.
750
ELECTRICITY.
Part V,
r
i
electricity. Tire j0" tt gen^Jy eterittTn'a 1“ aSt! Z 1
S. '^ 4 ? S both day and night, L principally in winter {]j
Sometimes all the phenomena of thunder, lightning,
hail, rain, snow and wind, have been observed at one
time; which shows the connection they all have with
some common cause.
Signior Beccaria supposes, therefore, that previous to
rain, a small quantity of electric fluid escapes out of the
earth, in some place where there was a redundancy of
it ; and in its ascent to the higher regions of the air,
collects and conducts into its path a great quantity of
vapours. The same cause that collects will condense
them more and more, till in the places of the nearest in¬
tervals they come almost into contact, so as to foim
small drops, which uniting with others as they fall,
come down in rain. The rain will be heavier in pro¬
portion as the electricity is more vigorous, and the
cloud approaches more nearly to a thunder cloud. .
He imitated the appearance of clouds that bring rain,
bv insulating himself between the rubber and conductor
of his electrical machine, and with one hand dropping
colophonium into a spoon fastened to the conductor, and
holding a burning coal, while his other hand communi¬
cated with the rubber. In these circumstances, the
smoke spread along his arm, and by degrees all over
his body, till it came to the other hand that communi¬
cated with the rubber. The lower surface of this smoke
was everywhere parallel to his clothes, and the upper
surface was swelled and arched like clouds replete with
thunder and rain. In this manner, he supposed, the
clouds that bring rain diffuse themselves from over those
parts of the earth which abound with the electric fluid,
to those parts that are exhausted of it; and by letting
fall their rain, restore the equilibrium between them.
This ingenious philosopher supposes hail to be form-
   cd in the higher regions of the air, where the cold is
onfaif10" intense, and where the electric fluid is very copious.
° ! In these circumstances a great number of particles ol
water are brought near together, where they are frozen,
and in their descent collect other particles, so that the
density of the substance of the hailstone grows less and
less from the centre; this being formed first in the
higher region, and the surface being collected on the
lower. Agreeable to this it is observed, that in moun¬
tains, hailstones, as well as drops of rain, are very
small; there being but small space through which to
fall and thereby increase their bulk. Drops of rain
and hail also agree in this circumstance, that the more
intense is the electricity that forms them, the larger
they are.
Clouds of snow differ in nothing from clouds of rain,
but in the circumstance of cold which freezes them.
Both the regular diffusion of snow, and the regularity
in the structure of its particles, shew the clouds of snow
to be actuated by some uniform cause like electricity.
AH these conjectures about the cause of hail and snow
were confirmed by observing, that his apparatus never
failed to be electrified by snow, as well as by rain.
A more intense electricity unites the particles of hail
more closely, than the more moderate electricity does
those of snow. In like manner, we see thunder clouds
# Lett iell more dense than those that merely bring rain, and the
FJettricis. drops of rain are larger in proportion, though they
mo. often fall not from so great a height*.
4S8
Beecam’s
idea of the
seldom in summer, except from positive clouds or cool ^
fogs. The electricity of the air in a frost or fog is al- Observa-
way positive. He says, that he has often observed, tions by Mr
during what seemed the passing of one cloud, successive Rouayne.
changes from negative to positive, and from positive to
negative. It may be remarked that most fogs have a
smell like an excited glass tubef.
Mr Henley has shewn, that fogs are more strongly
electrified in or immediately after a frost than at other V0'49"*
times ; and that the electricity of fogs is often the By Mr
strongest soon after their appearance. Whenever there Henley,
appears a thick fog, and at the same time the air is
sharp and frosty, that fog is strongly electrified posi-
tively. # .
Though rain is not an immediate cause, yet Mr
Henley is inclined to consider it as a remote consequence
of atmospherical electricity; and he generally found
that in two or three days after he had discovered the air
to be strongly electrified, there was either rain or snow.
If in clear weather, a low cloud, which moves slow¬
ly and is considerably distant from any other, passes
over the apparatus, the positive electricity generally
grows very weak, but does not become negative ; and
when the cloud is gone, it returns to its former state.
When many whitish clouds keep over the wire, some¬
times uniting with and then separating from each other,
thus forming a body of considerable extent, the positive
electricity commonly increases. In all the above cir¬
cumstances the positive electricity never changes to ne¬
gative.
The clouds which lessen the electricity of the ex¬
ploring wire, are those which move; though those that
are low, seem also to have the same effect. 4s)I
Mr Cavallo has considerably improved our know-ByMrca,
ledge with respect to atmospherical electricity, and, by vallo.
his apparatus, has greatly facilitated the means of
making experiments. His first experiments were made 4p2
by means of a kite ; and after bestowing much pains in Construc-
constructing kites of various dimensions, &c. he found lion of hit
that a common school-boy’s kite, about four feet high,
and two wide, answered as well as any other. The
string of his kite was formed by twisting together two
threads of common twine, and one of copper thread,
such as is used for trimmings. When a kite construct¬
ed in this manner was raised, he always found the
string give signs of electricity, except once, when the
weather was ivarm, and the wind so very weak, that
the kite could scarcely be raised, and could be kept up
only for a few minutes. Afterwards, however, when the
wind increased so that he could easily raise the kite, he
obtained, as usual, pretty strong signs of electricity.^ 49i
As making experiments on atmospherical electricity Means of
is often attended with more or less danger, it is neces-avoiding
sary to observe the following directions given by Mroai5ger-
Cavallo.
“ In raising the kite when the weather is very cloudy
and rainy, in which time there is fear of meeting with
a great quantity of electricity, I generally use to hang
upon the string AB, fig. 127. the hook of a chain C, pig, U7*
the other extremity of which falls upon the ground.
Sometimes I use another caution besides, which is,
to stand upon an insulating stool; in which situation
r
L ,
Chap. II. ELECT
! Atmo- I think, that if any great quantity of electricity, sud-
spherical denly discharged by the clouds, strikes the kite,'it can-
Eleotneuy. not mnch affect my person. As to insulated reels, and
such-hke instruments, that some gentlemen have used
to raise the kite, without danger of receiving any
shock $ fit for the purpose as they may appear to be
in theory, they are yet very inconvenient to be
managed. Except the kite be raised in time of a
thunder storm, there is no great danger for the opera¬
tor to receive any shock. Although I have raised my
electrical kite hundreds of times without any caution
whatever, I have very seldom received a few exceed-
ingly slight shocks in my arms. In time of a thunder¬
storm, if the kite has not been raised before, I would
not advise a person to raise it while the stormy clouds
are just overhead ; the danger at such time being very
great, even with the precautions above mentioned : at
that time, without raising the kite, the electricity of
the clouds may be observed by a cork-ball electrometer
held in the hand in an open place ; or, if it rains, by
my electrometer for the rain ; which will be described
hereafter.
“ When the kite has been raised, I generally intro¬
duce the string through a window in a room of the
house, and fasten it to a strong silk lace, the extremity
of which is generally tied to a heavy chair in the room.
Fig, J2S. In fig. I28. AB represents part of the string of the
kite which comes within the room ; C represents the
silk lace; DE, a small prime conductor, which, by
means of a small wire, is connected with the string of
the kite $ and F represents the quadrant electrometer,
fixed upon a stand of glass covered with sealing-wax,
which I used to put near the prime conductor, rather
than to fix it in a hole upon the conductor, because the
string AB sometimes shakes so as to pull the prime con¬
ductor down ; in which case the quadrant electrometer
remains safe upon the. table : otherwise it would be
broken, as I have often experienced before 1 thought
of this method. G represents a glass tube, about
eighteen inches long, with a knobbed wire cemented
to its extremity 5 with which instrument I use to observe
the quality of the electricity, when the electricity of
the kite is so strong that I think it not safe to come
very near the string. The method is as follows:—I
hold the instrument by that extremity of the glass tube
which is the farthest from the wire, and touch the
string of the kite with the knob of its wire, which, be¬
ing insulated, acquires a small quantity of electricity
from it j which is sufficient to ascertain its quality
when the knob of the instrument is brought near an
electrified electrometer.
“ Sometimes, when I raise the kite in the night-time,
out of the house, and where I have not the convenience
of observing the quality of its electricity by the attrac¬
tion and repulsion, or even by the appearance of the
electric light, I make use of a coated phial which I
can charge at the string, and, when charged, put it in¬
to my pocket j wherein it will keep charged even for
several hours. By making use of this instrument, lam
obliged to keep the kite up no longer than is necessary
to charge the phial, in order to observe the quality of
the electricity in the atmosphere; for after the kite has
been drawn in and brought home, I can then examine
the electricity of the inside of the phial, which is the
&ame as that of the kite.
R I C I T Y. v 7gI
“ When the electricity of the kite is very strong, I Atmo-
fix a chain, communicating with the ground, at about spherical
six inches distance from the string; which may carry Electricity,
off its electricity, in case that this should increase so 11 v
much as to put the by-standers in danger.
Besides the above-described apparatus, I have oc¬
casionally used some other instruments, which I have
often varied, according as some particular experiments
required ; but, as they are of no great consequence, I
shall omit to describe them. It is only necessary, to
give an idea of the standard of my quadrant electrome¬
ter ; which may, very probably, shew the same intensi¬
ty of electricity under a number of degrees different
from the other instruments of the same kind. When
the kite is flying, and the apparatus is disposed as in
fig. 128. I bring, under the extremity E of the prime
conductor, a little bran, held upon a tin plate, and ob¬
serve, that when the index of the electrometer is at ten
degrees, the prime conductor begins to attract the bran
at the distance of about three-fifths of an inch : when
the index is at twenty degrees, the prime conductor at¬
tracts the bran at the distance of about one inch and a
quarter ; when the index is at thirty degrees, the bran
begins to be attracted at the distance of two inches
and one-fifth. These distances vary, as the weather
changes its degree of dryness; but in frosty weather I
observe them constantly as above.”
Mr Cavallo has given copious extracts from a jour-instlnt;e of
nal which he kept of his experiments with the kite ; great dan-
from these we shall give his account of one experiment, ger*
which is pecnliarly interesting, from the danger to which
the experimenters appear to have been exposed.
“October the 18th. After having rained a great
deal in the morning, and night before, the weather be¬
came a little clear in the afternoon, the clouds appear¬
ing separated, and pretty well defined. The wind was
west, and rather strong, and the atmosphere in a tem¬
perate degree of heat. In these circumstances, at three
P. M. I raised my electrical kite with three hundred
and sixty feet of string. After that the end of the
string had been insulated, and a leather-hall, covered
with tin-foil, had been hung to it, I tried the power
and quality ot the electricity, which appeared to be po¬
sitive, and pretty strong. In a short time a small cloud
passing over, the electricity increased a little; but the
cloud being gone, it decreased again to its former degree.
The string of the kite was now fastened by the silk
lace to a post in the yard of the house wherein I lived,
which was situated near Islington, and 1 was repeated¬
ly charging two coated phials, and giving shocks with
them :—while I was so doing, the electricity, which
was still positive, began to decrease, and in two or
three minutes time it became so weak, that it could be
hardly perceived with a very sensible cork-ball elec¬
trometer. Observing at the same time that a large and
black cloud was approaching the zenith (which, no
doubt, caused the decrease of the electricity) indicating
imminent rain, I introduced the end of the string
through a window, in a first-floor room, wherein I
fastened it by the silk lace to an old chair. The qua¬
drant electrometer was set upon the same window, and
was, by means of a wire, connected with the string of
the kite. Being now three quarters of an hour after
three o’clock, the electricity was absolutely unper-
ceivable; however, in about three minutes time, it
becama
792
ELECT
Atma- became again perceivable, but now UP°" tr'*1
spherical found to be negative j it is therefore pbun, that its
Electricity. st0ppjn2 was nothing more than a change trom positive
  *   to negative, which was evidently occasioned by the ap¬
proach of the cloud, pait of which by this time had
reached the zenith of the kite, and the rain also had
begun to bill in large drops.—The cloud came farther
on 5—the rain increased, and the electricity keeping
pace with it, the electrometer soon arrived to I5 • bee'
ing now, that the electricity was pretty strong, I began
again to charge the two coated phials, and to give
shocks with them *, but the phials had not been charged
above three or four times, before I perceived that the
index of the electrometer was arrived at 35 , and was
keeping still increasing. The shocks now being very
smart, I desisted from charging the phials any longer j
and, considering the rapid advance of the electricity,
thought to take off the insulation of die string, in case
that if it should increase farther, it might be silently
conducted to the earth, without causing any bad acci¬
dent, by being accumulated in the insulated string.
To effect this, as I had no proper apparatus near me,
1 thought to remove the silk lace, and fasten the string
itself to the chair-, accordingly I disengaged the wire
that connected the electrometer with the string 5 laid
hold of the string-, untied it from the silk lace, and
fastened it to the chair ; hut while I effected this,
which took up less than half a minute of time, I re¬
ceived about a dozen, or fifteen, very strong shocks,
which I felt all along my arms, in my breast, and legs j
shaking me in such a manner, that I had hardly power
enough to effect my purpose, and to warn the people in
the room to keep their distance. As soon as I took my
hands off the string, the electricity (in consequence of
the chair being a bad conductor) began to snap between
the string and the shutter of the window, which was
the nearest body to it. The snapping®, which were au¬
dible at a good distance out of the room, seemed hrst
isochronous with the shocks which I had received, but
in about a minute’s time, oftener j so that the people of
the house compared their sound to the rattling noise of
a jack going when the fly is off. "I he cloud now was
just over the kite j it was black, and well defined, of
almost a circular form, its diameter appearing to be
about 40°; the rain was copious, but not remarkably
heavy. As the cloud was going off, the electrical
snapping began to weaken, and in a short time became
inaudible. I went then near the string, and finding
the electricity weak, but still negative, I insulated it
again, thinking to keep the kite up some time longer }
but observing that another larger and denser cloud was
approaching apace towards the zenith, as I had then no
proper apparatus at hand, to prevent every possible bad
accident, I resolved to pull the kite in j accordingly a
gentleman, who was by me, began pulling it in, while
.1 was winding up the string. The cloud was now very
R I C I T Y. PartV.
nearly over the kite, and the gentleman, who was pul- Atmo-
ling in the string, told me, that he had received one or sphciical
two slight shocks in his arms, and, that if he were to ^Imncitv.
feel one more, he would certainly let the string go -, y~"~'
upon which I laid hold of the string, and pulled the
kite in as fast as I could, without any farther observa¬
tion ; being then ten minutes after four o’clock.
“ N. B.—There was neither thunder or lightning Efe“™!loi
perceived that day, nor indeed for some days before or^^™^
afterwards*.” , 495
From his experiments with the kite, Mr Oavallo de- Cavallo’s
duces the following conclusions. _ # skUu''"
1. The air appears to be electrified at all times-,
its electricity is constantly positive, and much stronger
in frosty, than in warm weather j but it is by no means
less in the night than in the day-time (h).
2. The presence of the clouds generally lessens the
electricity of the kite; sometimes it has no effect upon
it j and it is very seldom that it increases it a little.
3. When it rains, the electricity of the kite is gene¬
rally negative, and very seldom positive.
4. The aurora borealis seems not to allect the electri¬
city of the kite.
5. The electrical spark taken from the string of the
kite, or from any insulated conductor connected with
it, especially when it does not rain, is very seldom long¬
er than a quarter of an inch ; but it is exceedingly pun¬
gent. When the index of the electrometer is not high¬
er than 20°, the person that takes the spaik will feel
the effect of it in his legs-, it appearing more like the
discharge of an electric jar, than the spaik taken fiom
the prime conductor of an electrical machine.
6. The electricity of the kite is in general stronger
or weaker, according as the string is longer or shorter;
but it does not keep any exact proportion to .it: the
electricity, for, instance, brought down by a string of a
hundred yards, may raise the index of the electrometer
to 200 5 when, with double that length of string, the
index of the electrometer will not go higher than 250..
7. When the weather is damp, and the electricity is
pretty strong, the index of the electrometer, after taking
a spark from the string, or presenting the knob of a
coated phial to it, rises surprisingly quick to its usual
place) but in dry and warm weather, it rises exceed¬
ingly slow. 1 i. • 495
Mr Bennet observed with his electrometer, that in Applicatioi
very clear weather, when no clouds were visible, on ap-oi Bennet'
plying the instrument to the insulated string ol ^jfes
without metal, their positive electricity caused the slips kite.
of gold-leaf to strike the sides of the glass ; but when a
kite was raised in cloudy weather, with a wire in the
string, and when it gave sparks about a quarter of an
inch long, the electricity was sensible by the electrome¬
ter, at the distance of about ten yards from the string-,
but when placed at the distance ot six leet, the gold-
leaf continued to strike the sides of the electrometer for
more
(h) In all his experiments, it happened only once that the string of the kite gave no signs of e,.eJ:trici!y ’ ^
was one afternoon, when the weather was warm, and the wind so weak, that the kite was ra,sec with d fficuUy
and could hardly be kept up for a few minutes j in the evening, however, the wind, which in the day-time a
been north-west, shifted to the north-east, blowing a little stronger : he then raised the kite again, being
-past ten o’clock, and obtained, as usual, a pretty strong positive electricity.
Chap. II.
ELECT
Atmo- more than an hour together, with a velocity inci’easing
spherical and decreasing with the density or distance of the un-
Electricity. egUa} c]?U(is that pasged over/
Sometimes the electricity of an approaching cloud has
been sensible without a kite, though in a very unfavour¬
able situation for it, being in a town surrounded with
hills, and where buildings encompassed the wall on
which the electrometer was placed. A thunder cloud
passing, caused the gold leaf to strike the sides of the
glass very quick at each flash of lightning.
Mr Bennet relates the following instance of the dan¬
ger sometimes incurred in making experiments with the
kite. Having on ihe jth of July 1788, raised a kite
with two hundred yards of string j when it had been
flying for about an hour, a dark cloud appeared at a
great distance, and changed the electricity from posi¬
tive to negative. The electric power increased till the
cloud became nearly vertical, when some large drops of
rain fell j and Mr Bennet attempting to secure the
string from wet, received such a strong shock in his arm,
as deprived it for a lew seconds of sensation. The ex¬
plosion was heard at the distance of forty yards, like
the loud crack of a whip.
Curious 1 he following curious phenomenon was observed by
phenome- Mr Loammi Baldwin, while raising an electrical kite
efn>rbMrV"1,1 I^7I» duri»g the approach of a severe thunder-
flaldwim stor‘T1‘ observed himself to be surrounded by a rare
medium of fire, which, as the cloud rose nearer the ze¬
nith, and the kite rose higher, continued to extend itself
with some gentle faint flashes. Mr Baldwin felt no
other effect than a general weakness in his joints and
limbs, and a kind of listless feeling ; all which, he ob¬
serves, might possibly be the effect of surprise, though
it was sufficient to discourage him from persisting in any
farther attempt at that time. He therefore drew in his
kite, and retired to a shop till the storm was over, and
then went to his house, where he found his friends much
atmosphe¬
rical elec¬
trometer.
Fig. 129.
more surprised than he had been himself; and who, after
expressing their astonishment, informed him, that he
appeared to them (during the time he was raising the
* MetnotVsk**-6) to he in the midst of a large bright flame of fire,
of the attended with flashings; and, that they expected every
1cm ACa~ moment t0 see ,lira fal1 a sacrifice to the flame. The
vobf.’ same was observetl by some of his neighbours, who lived
498 near the place where he stood *.
Cavallo’s I29- represents a very simple instrument, con¬
trived by Mr Cavallo for making experiments on atmo¬
spherical electricity, and which, on several accounts,
seems to be the most convenient for that purpose.
AB is a common jointed fishing-rod, without the last
or smallest joint. From the extremity of this rod pro¬
ceeds a slender glass tube C, covered with sealing-wax,
and having a cork D, at its end, from which a pith-ball
electrometer is suspended. HGI is a piece of twine fas¬
tened to the other extremity of the rod, and supported
at G by a small string FG. At the end I of the twine
a pin is fastened, which when pushed into the cork D,
renders the electrometer E uninsulated.
When he would observe the electricity of the atmo¬
sphere with this instrument, he thrusts the pin I into
the cork D, and holding the rod by its lower end A,
projects it out from a window of the upper part of the
house into the air, raising the end of the rod with the
electrometer, so as to make an angle of about 50° or
6o° with the horizon. In this situation he. keeps the
VOL. VII. Part II. f
R I C I T Y. 793
instrument for a few seconds, and then pulling the twine Atmo-
at H, disengages the pin from the cork I) ; which opera- spherical
turn causes the string to drop in the dotted situation ^hctrieity.
IvL, and leaves the electrometer insulated and electri- v”
fied, with an electricity contrary to that of the atmo¬
sphere. Ibis done, he draws the instrument into the
room, and examines the quality of the electricity, with¬
out obstruction either from wind or darkness.
W ith this instrument he made observations on the
electricity of tbe atmosphere, several times in a day for
several months, and from them he deduces the follow-
xng general observations, which seem to conincide with
those made with the electrical kites.
1. lhat there is in the atmosphere, at all times, a
quantity of electricity ; for, whenever he used the
above described instrument, it always acquired some
electricity.
2. J hat tbe electricity of the atmosphere, or fogs, is
always of the same kind, namely positive ; for the elec-
tiometer is always negative, except when it is evident¬
ly influenced by heavy clouds near the zenith.
3* lhat in general, tbe strongest electricity is obser¬
vable in thick fogs, and also in frosty weather ; and the
weakest when it is cloudy, warm, and very near rain¬
ing : but it does not seem to be less by night than in
the day time.
4* lhat in a more elevated place, the electricity is
stronger than in a lower one ; for having tried the at¬
mospherical electrometer, both in the stone and iron
gallery on the cupola of St Paul’s cathedral, Mr Caval¬
lo found that the balls diverged much more in the lat¬
ter than in the former less elevated place ; hence it ap¬
pears, that, if this rule takes place at any distance from
the earth, the electricity in the upper regions of the at¬
mosphere must be exceedingly strong.
Mr Cayallo has also contrived an instrument, which
he calls his electrometer for the rain; this is merely an trometer
insulated instrument to catch the rain, and, by means offor rain*
a pith-ball electrometer, to show the degree and quality
of its electricity.
.At fig. 130. is represented an instrument of this Fig. 130.
kind, which Mr Cavallo frequently used, and after
several observations, found to answer very well. ABC!
is a.strong glass tube about two feet and a half long,
having a tin funnel, HE, cemented to its extremity,
which funnel defends part of tbe tube from tbe rain.
The outside surface of the tube from A to B is covered
with sealing-wax; so also is the part of it which is co¬
vered by the funnel. FD is a piece tf cane, round
which several brass wires are twisted in different direc¬
tions, so as to catch the rain easily, and at the same
time to make no resistance to the wind. This piece of
cane is fixed into the tube, and a slender wire proceed¬
ing from it goes through the bore of the tube, and com¬
municates with the strong wire AG, which is thrust in¬
to a piece of cork fastened to the end A of the tube.
The end G of the wire AG is formed into a ring, from
which is suspended a more or less sensible pith-ball
electrometer, as occasion requires.
This instrument is fastened to the side of the window-
frame, where it is supported by strong brass hooks at
CB, which part of the tube is covered with a silk lace,
in order to adapt it better to the hooks. The part FC
is out of the window, with the end F a little elevated
above the horizon. The remaining part of the instru-
J H ment
794
Alma-
tpherical
Ekctncity.
ELECTRICITY.
Part V.
500
Use of his
multiplier.
501
Observa¬
tions by
Mr Read,
ment comes through a hole In one of the lights of the
sash, within the room, and no more of it touches the
side of the window than the part CB.
When it rains, especially in passing showers, this in¬
strument, standing in the situation above describe^, is
frequently electrified j and, by the diverging ot the
electrometer, the quantity and quality of the electricity
of the rain may be observed, without any danger of a
mistake. With this instrument, he observed, that the
rain is generally, though not always, electrified nega¬
tively, and sometimes so strongly, that he has been able
to charge a small coated phial at the wire AG.
This instrument should be fixed in such a manner,
that it may be easily taken off from the window, and
replaced again, as occasion requires ; for it will be ne¬
cessary to clean it very often, particularly when a shower
of rain is approaching. . .
Mr Cavallo has also shewn how the electricity of the
atmosphere may be observed by means of his multiplier,
described in N° 255. . . „ , .
In order to examine the electricity of the atmosphere,
he at first used to fix a long pointed wire into the socket
of the plate A, and then exposed it to the open air.
But he has lately used a much better method of accom¬
plishing that object. He exposes, out of the window,
an insulated stick of about five feet in length, and co¬
vered with tin-foil 5 and while he holds this apparatus
by the extremity of its insulating handle, he touches
with the other hand, for about two or three seconds,
the lower part of the stick. By this means, the stick
being free from points, acquires an electricity contraiy
to that of the surrounding air. Mr Cavallo then brings
it within the room, and communicates that electricity
to the plate A of the multiplier, &c. But the electri¬
city so acquired by the insulated stick, is generally
sufficient to affect an electrometer without the use of
the multiplier. To examine the electricity of the rain,
snow, hail, &c. the same apparatus must be exposed
out of a window, but the stick must not be touched, for
in this case, it acquires the same sort of electricity as
that of the rain, snow, &c. and not the contrary sort,
as when exposed to the air.
MrRead, in his “ Summary "View of the Spontaneous
Electricity of the Earth and Atmosphere,” observes,
that the electricity of the atmosphere, in moderate wea¬
ther, was always found to be positive 5 in storms and
disturbed states of the air frequently negative ; and
suddenly and repeatedly changing from the one state
to the other. Warm small rain was found to he very
slightly electric ; large drops, strongly j hail showers,
the most intensely of all. In an easterly wind of long
continuance, the electricity was so faint, as to require
the nicest of all known tests for discovering its exist¬
ence. The vapour of water, as soon as it had attained
the height of five or six inches of insulation in the air,
was found to be permanently and positively electrified •,
and the surface from which it evaporated, negatively.
According to Mr Head, vapour has a greater capacity
for electricity, or absorbs and requires more of fluid,
than water in its denser state ; and, therefore, rarefac¬
tion must diminish, and condensation increase, the
sensible electric charge of the vapour. Hence, in se¬
rene weather, the atmosphere is subject to a regular
flux and reflux, or increase and diminution of electri¬
city twice in every twenty-four hours, depending on
;ci
By M.
Sawsswre.
5C3
Observa¬
tions oa
atmosphe¬
ric electri¬
city.
the action of the sun, and the consequent evaporation Atmo-
and state of the vapours. This diligent observer fur- spherical
ther remarks, that a limited portion of the earth’s sur- Electricity.
face is often sensibly electrified j over it, there is al- “'Y—
ways a proportionate state of the contrary electricity
in the atmosphere ; and when an electrified cloud is
carried forward by wind, an equal and opposite electric
change keeps pace with it on the earth, till the two
charges, becoming more augmented or approaching
nearer to one another, or meeting with some conduct¬
ing eminence, rush together and produce an explosion.
Valuable experiments on atmospherical electricity,
were made by M. Saussure in his excursions among
the Alps. The instrument employed by M. Saussure
is a modification of Cavallo’s atmospherical electrome¬
ter, and is described under the article ELECTROMETER
in the next volume.
The following are M. Saussure’s observations on the
electricity of the atmosphere.
Aerial electricity varies according to the situation ;
it is generally strongest in elevated and insulated situ¬
ations } not to be observed under trees, in streets, in
houses, or any inclosed places ; though it is sometimes
to be found pretty strong on quays and bridges. It is
also not so much the absolute height of the places, as
their situation : thus a projecting angle of a high hill
will often exhibit a stronger electricity than the plain
at the top of the hill, as there are fewer points in the
former to deprive the air of its electricity.
The intensity of the atmospheric electricity is varied
by a great many circumstances, some of which may be
accounted for, others cannot. When the weather is
not serene, it is impossible to assign any rule for their
variation, as no regular correspondence can then he
perceived with the different hours of the day, nor with
the various modifications of the air. Ihe reason is
evident; when contrary and variable winds reign at
different heights, when clouds are rolling over clouds,
these winds and clouds, which we cannot perceive by
any exterior sign, influence however the strata of air
in wdiich we make our experiments, produce these
changes of which we only see the result, without be¬
ing able to assign either the cause, or its relation.
Thus, in stormy weather, we see the electricity strong,
then null, and in a moment after rise to its former
force j one instant positive, the next negative ; without
being able to assign any reason for these changes. M.
Saussure says, that he has seen these changes succeed
with such rapidity, that he had not time to note them
down.
When rain falls without a storm, these changes are
not so sudden j they are however very irregular, parti¬
cularly with respect to the intensity of force ; the qua¬
lity thereof is more constant. Rain, or snow, almost
uniformly gives positive electricity.
In cloudy weather, without rain or storms, the
electricity follows generally the same laws as in serene
weather.
Strong winds generally diminish its intensity ; they
mix together the difterent strata of the atmosphere, and
make them pass successively towards the ground, and
thus distribute the electricity uniformly between the
earth and the air ; M. Saussure has observed a strong
electricity with a strong north wind {la bise).
The state of the air, in which the electricity is
strontrest*
Atino-
tpherical
Electricity.
Chap. IT. ELECT
strongest, is foggy weather : this is always accompa¬
nied with electricity, except when the fog is going to
resolve into rain.
The most interesting observations, and those which
throw the greatest light upon the various modifications
of electricity in our atmosphere, are those that are made
in serene weather. In winter, (during which most of
M. Saussure’s observations were made) and in serene
weather, the electricity was generally weakest in an
evening, when the dew had fallen, until the moment of
the sun’s rising ; its intensity afterwards augmented
by degrees, sometimes sooner, and sometimes later j but
generally before noon, it attained a certain maximum,
from whence it again declined, till the fall of the dew,
when it would be sometimes stronger than it had
been during the whole day ; after which, it would
again gradually diminish during the whole night j but
is never quite destroyed, if the weather is perfectly
serene.
Atmospherical electricity seems, therefore, like the
sea, to be subject to a flux and reflux, which causes it
to increase and diminish twice in 24 hours. The mo¬
ments of its greatest force are some hours after the ris-
504
Pe nodical
flag and re-
flax obser-
yable in
the electri-
city of the
atmosphere.
R I C I T Y. 795
ing and setting of the sun j those when it is weakest, Atmo--
precede the rising and setting thereof. This will be rpherieai
farther explained in the following pages. Electricity.
M. Saussure has given an instance of this periodic ‘
flux in electricity, on the 22d of February, 1785, (one
of the coldest days ever remembered at Geneva) j the
hygrometer and thermometer were suspended in the open
air, on a terrace exposed to the south-west; the elec¬
trometer, from its situation, indicated an electricity
equal to what it would have shewn if it had been pla¬
ced on an open plain. The height of the barometer is
reduced to what it would have been if the mercury had
been constantly at the temperature of 10 degrees of
Keaumur’s thermometer. The place of observation was
elevated 60 feet above the level of the lake. The ob¬
servations of the day preceding and following this great
cold, are inserted in the following table ; because it is
pleasing to have the observations which precede and fol¬
low any singular phenomena. There was a weak south¬
west wind during the whole three days •, and it is rather
remarkable, that most of the great colds, which have
been observed at Geneva, were preceded by, or at least
accompanied with, a little south-west breeze.
TABLE.
h. in.
Feb. 2ist, 9 15 M
11 j o M
2
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
22(1, I
2
6
10 E
E
E
E
E
E
E
E
E
M
M
15 M
7 20 M
8 10 M
9 10 M
10 1 o M
11 1 o M
1
2
3
5
6
7
8
Barometer
feet in height.
10 E
20 E
30 E
E
£
E
E
23^ ° 45 M
8 5M
10
3
5
6
7
8
12
7M
45 E
E
E
E
E
E
26
26
26
26
26
26
26
26
26
26
Thermometer. Hygrom. Electrom.
26 5 15
26 6 o
6
5
5
5
26
26
26
26
26
26
26
26
4 J5
4 I3
4 3
4 °
26 3 14
26 3 13
26 3 13
26 3 14
26 3 14
26 3 13
26
26
26
5 °
5 5
6 8
26 6 14
26
26
7 3
7 9
26 714
26 9 1
+
+
8
4
o
2
5
6
10
10
9
12
12
H
M
I5
*4
10
8
4
4
o
o
4
4
6
5
4
i
0
o
o
o
I
3
3
89
83
69
77
85
89
95
97
95
99
hi oar frost
Idem
Id.
Id.
Id.
Id.
Id.
Id.
Id.
Id.
82
81 (
89
91 ^
94
Id.
Id.
81 •
76
76
75 3
74
79 :
87 2
92
o
1
o
I
I
1
2
I
I
I
I
1
2
I
3
1
1
o
Id.
1
o
2
I
O
o
6
1
1
o
8
o
8
2
5
2
9
2
8
2
1
6
2
8
7
4
1
2
2
7
*7
1
o
2
8
o
8
2
7
5
Pale sun, cloudy.
Bright sun.
The same.
Setting sun.
Cloudy in the S. W.
Perfectly clear.
Idem.
Idem.
Little cloud at horizon S.
Idem more to S. W.
Idem.
Idem.
Clouds increase and approach.
Clear.
Light fog.
Idem.
Idem.
Thicker fog.
Idem.
Idem.
Weak fog, pale sun.
Cloudy pale sun.
Less cloudy.
More so.
Idem.
Cloudy, foggy in S. W.
Cloudy with more fog.
Idem.
Idem.
Cloudy pale sun.
Cloudy.
Idem.
Very clear.
Cloudy.
More so.
M for Morning, E for Evening.
5H2
From
796
Atmo¬
spherical
Electricity.
5°S .
Electricity
weaker in
summer
than in
winter.
£06
Electricity
of the air
in serene
weather
naturally
positive.
5C7
ELECT
From the first 18 observations of this table, when
the sky was quite serene, we see that the electricity was
pretty strong at nine in the morning ; that from thence
it gradually diminished till towards six in the evening,
which was its first minimum ) after which it increased
again till eight, its second maximum ; from whence it
again gradually declined till six the next morning,
which was the time of its second minimum ; after which,
it again increased till ten in the morning, which was
the first maximum of the following day: as this was
cloudy, the electric periods were not so regular.
The electricity of serene weather is much weaker in
summer than in winter, which renders it more difficult
to observe these gradations in summer than in winter .
besides a variety of accidental causes, which at the same
time render them more uncertain. In general, iri sum¬
mer, if the ground has been dry for some days, and
the air is dry also, the electricity increases, from
the rising of the sun till three or four in the after¬
noon, when it is strongest: it then diminishes till the
dew begins to fall, which again reanimates it •, though
after this it declines, and is almost extinguished during
the night.
But the serene days that succeed rainy weather >n
summer, generally exhibit the same diurnal periods or
states of electricity, as are to be observed in winter.
The air is invariably positive in serene weather, both
in winter and summer, day and night, in the sun or in
the dew. It would seem, therefore, that the electrici¬
ty of the air is essentially positive, and that whenever
it appears to be negative, in certain rains or in storms,
it probably arises from some clouds, which have been
exposed to the pressure of the electric fluid contained
in the upper part of the atmosphere, or to more ele¬
vated clouds, that have discharged a part of their fluid
upon the earth, or upon other clouds.
In order to find out the cause of these phenomena,
M. Saussure instituted a set of experiments on evapo¬
ration, avoiding the use of Volta’s condenser.
To produce a strong evaporation, he threw a mass of
red-hot iron into a small quantity of water, which was
contained in a coffee-pot, with a large mouth, and sus¬
pended by silk strings; by this he obtained a strong
positive electricity, though, according to M. Volta’s
system, it onght to have been negative. The experi¬
ment was repeated several times, varying some of the
circumstances, but the result was always tire same.
As it was not easy to think so able a philosopher as
M. Volta was deceived, it was necessary to try the
experiment in a manner more analogous to that of M.
Volta. A small chafing-dish was therefore insulated
by silk cords, and the coffee-pot, with a small quantity
of water, placed on it; one electrometer was connect¬
ed with the coffee-pot, and another with the chafing-
dish ; the fire was raised by a pair of bellows: when
the water had boiled strongly for a few minutes, both
electrometers exhibited signs of electricity, which, on
examination, was found to be negative j proving the
truth of M. Volta’s experiment. The evaporation pro¬
duced by the effervescence of iron in the sulphuric acid,
and by that of chalk in the same acid, gave also nega¬
tive electricity.
It was now necessary to inquire, why the vapour, ex¬
cited by the heated iron, produced positive electricity j
R I C I T Y.
Part V.
while that from boiling water, in any other way, pro- Atmo-
duced a negative electricity. spherical
M. Saussure suspected, that the intensity of heat to Electricity.
which the water is exposed, by tire contact of a body in ,_J
a state of incandescence, was the cause of the electri¬
city produced by its evaporation $ and that a combina¬
tion was then formed, by which a new quantity of the
electric fluid was produced. This conjecture may at
first sight seem improbable 5 hut the quantity of elec¬
tricity produced by this experiment will astonish those
that repeat it $ and this quantity is more surprising, be¬
cause, if it is true, according to the system of M. Vol¬
ta, that the vapours absorb, while they are forming, a
quantity of the electric fluid, there must, therefore, be
enough developed in this experiment, for the formation
of the great quantity of vapours produced by the heat¬
ed iron, and afterwards a sufficient quantity to elec¬
trify strongly the apparatus, and all these vapours.
This experiment shews clearly the cause of that pro¬
digious quantity of electricity, which is unfolded in the
eruption of volcanoes •, as it is probable, that the water
in these, from many circumstances, acquires a much
greater degree of beat than is given to it in our expe¬
riments. 5cg
To verify this conjecture, that it was in some mea-Explana-
sure the combustion of the water, or the iron, that pro- tion of the
duced the positive electricity, it was proper to try whe-
ther, by a regular moderation of the heat of the iron, *p.e'
positive electricity would always be obtained. Thisparent in
was essayed in the following manner:. A large iron the erup-
crucible, five inches high, four in diameter, and sixl}ons of voI~
lines thick, was heated red hot j then insulated j aftercanocs'
which, small quantities of water were thrown into it,
each projection of the water cooling more and more the
crucible ; thus descending by degrees till there was
only sufficient beat to boil the water ; carefully obser¬
ving, and then destroying the electricity produced at
each projection. The electricity was always positive
or null *, at the first projections it was very strong j it
gradually diminished to the twelfth, when it was scarce
sensible, though always with a tendency to be posi¬
tive.
On repeating this experiment, and varying it in dif¬
ferent ways, a remarkable circumstance was observed.
When a small quantity of water was thrown into the
crucible, the moment it was taken from the fire, while
it was of a pale red, approaching what is called the
white heat, no electricity was obtained.
This fact seemed to have some connection with an¬
other mentioned by Muschenbroeck, that water evapo¬
rates more slowly on a metal, or any other body, in a
state of incandescence, than on the same body, heated
only a small degree above boiling water. To examine
this relation, and to find whether there was any be¬
tween the periods of evaporation, and the production of
electricity, M. Saussure made a great number of ex¬
periments, which are most accurately described in his
excellent work j but as the detail would be much too
long to be introduced in this article, we must content
ourselves with presenting the reader with the heads
thereof, and a description of the apparatus. 505
The apparatus consisted of a pot of clay, well baked E*p«i-
or annealed, fifteen lines thick, and four inches in dia-mentl
meter $ this was insulated by a dry glass goblet j upon
this
Chap. II. ELECT
Atmo- this pot was placed the crucible, or any other heated
spherical substance, on which the water was to be thrown, in
Electricity. or(ler to be reduced into vapours j the crucible was
' contiguous to a wire connected with an electrometer ; a
measure, containing 54 grains weight of distilled wa¬
ter, was thrown upon the heated crucible j the time em¬
ployed in the evaporation thereof was observed by a se¬
cond watch $ the electricity produced by this evapora¬
tion was noted. When this measure of water was re¬
duced into vapour, the electricity of the apparatus was
destroyed, and a fresh measure of water was thrown in¬
to the crucible; proceeding in the same manner till the
crucible was almost cold.
The first experiment was with an iron crucible, from
which it was found that Muschenbroeck was not right,
in saying that the evaporation was slowest when the
iron was hottest; for at the instant it was taken from
the fire it required 19 seconds to evaporate the water,
and took more time till the third projection, when it
took 35 seconds, though from that period it employed
less time, or, in other words, the evaporation accele¬
rated in proportion as the iron cooled.
With respect to the electricity, it was at first o, then
positive, afterwards negative, then o, and afterwards
positive to the end of the experiment. The vapour was
not visible till the yth projection.
In the second experiment with the same crucible,
though every endeavour was made use of to render them
as similar as possible, the electricity was constantly po¬
sitive.
The third experiment was with a copper crucible j
here also the electricity was positive, and the longest
time employed in evaporation was not the instant of the
greatest heat. It was very curious to see the water
endeavouring to gather itself into a globule, like mer¬
cury on glass 5 to be sometimes immoveable, and then
to turn on itself horizontally, with great rapidity $
sometimes throwing from some of its points a little jet,
accompanied with a hissing noise.
The fourth experiment was with the same crucible j
the electricity was at first negative, then constantly po¬
sitive.
The fifth was with a crucible of pure silver; a con¬
siderable time was employed here in evaporating the
same quantity of water; even in the instant of the
greatest heat it took five minutes, six seconds j the
electricity was weak j three times no electricity was
perceived, five times negative electricity was disco¬
vered.
In a sixth experiment with the same crucible, a po¬
sitive electricity was obtained, at the second projec¬
tion j after which none of any kind was perceived.
The seventh, with the same, gave at first strong ne¬
gative electricity, the second and third projection gave
a weak positive electricity.
The eighth was made with a porcelain cup y here
the evaporation was slower at the second, than the first
projection ; but from this it took longer time till it was
cold, contrary to what happened with the metals j the
electricity was always negative.
The ninth and tenth experiments, with the same cup,
produced similar effects.
The eleventh experiment was with spirits of wine in
a silver crucible j here there was no electricity produ-
2
R I C I T Y. 79?
ced at the two first projections, and what was afterwards Atmo
obtamed was negative. _ spherical
1 welfth experiment with ether j here the electricity Electricity,
was also negative. These two inflammable fluids, in
evaporating, followed the same laws as water, being
dissipated at first most rapidly in the greatest heat,
teiwards taking a longer and longer time before they
weie evaporated, to a certain period, then employing
less time, or evaporating quicker, till the crucible was
nearly cold.
Now as china and silver always produced negative
electricity, while iron and copper have generally given
positive electricity, we may conclude, that electricity
is positive with those bodies that are capable of decom¬
posing water, or of being decomposed themselves by
their contact with the water j and negative with those
which are not at all decomposed or altered.
It in the foregoing experiment, those substances
which were susceptible of oxidation had constantly given
a positive electricity, and those which do not oxidate
had always given the negative ; every thing would have
been explained by these principles, and they would
thence have acquired a greater degree of probability.
But the phenomena have not always followed this law.
We have seen iron and copper sometimes give a nega¬
tive electricity, and silver the positive. The first case
is not difficult to account for 5 it is well knowm with
what facility iron and copper are oxidated in a brisk
fire ; they become covered with a scaly crust, which is
not susceptible of any further alteration with the same
heat. If the bottom of the crucible acquires this crusty
coating, the drop of water placed thereon will be no
longer in contact with an oxidable substance j there will
be no further decomposition, no generation of the elec¬
tric fluid : the vapours, however, which are still formed,
will absorb a part of the fluid naturally contained in
the apparatus, and this will therefore be electrified ne¬
gatively. If some of the scales should be so far de¬
tached, that the water may gain some points of contact,
the quantity thus generated may compensate for what
is absorbed by the vapours, and thus the electricity will
be null. If more are detached, it will superabound
and be positive, from the same reasons, a large mass
of water, by attacking the iron in a greater number of
points, always gives positive electricity ; and hence,
also, a strong positive electricity is obtained, by throw¬
ing a piece of red-hot iron into a mass of water.
It is not so easy to explain why silver gives sometimes
a positive electricity, but by supposing it to have been
mixed with some substances capable of oxidation j and
this the more, as the white porcelain always gave ne¬
gative electricity. This supposition was verified by some
subsequent experiments, in which the same silver, when
purified, always gave a negative electricity.
M. Saussure owns himself incapable of explaining
why heated charcoal always gives negative electricity ;
unless it can be attributed to the promptitude with
which so rare a substance loses its heat, by the contact
of water.
One fact astonished him, namely, that by combus¬
tion properly so called, although it is an evaporation,
nay, the highest degree of evaporation, he never ob¬
tained any signs of electricity 5 though he tried to ob¬
tain it in a variety of ways. Probably, the current
produced t
798
ELECTRICITY.
5*°
Cotte’s
axioms.
5”
Causes of
produced l,y ibe flame, disperses and dissipates the elec
“™.t tricity as soon as it is formed. Ihe case however,
Electricity, must not be looked upon as general, because M. Volta
—y~““' obtained signs of electricity from bodies in combustion,
by means of his condenser. . .
Another singular fact was, his not being able to ob¬
tain electricity without ebullition, though he endea¬
voured to compensate by the quantity of surface foi the
quantity of vapours that were elevated by boiling wa¬
ter j and indeed, the same quantity of water, if extend¬
ed over too large a surface, will not give any electricity.
We shall resume this subject immediately, but must
first conclude our observations on the phenomena of at¬
mospherical electricity.
The following axioms with respect to atmospherical
electricity, deduced by M. Cotte, after a long course of
observations, merit attention.
1. Electricity manifests itself oftener without storms
than with them.
2. It is produced more frequently by dry than by
rainy clouds.
£. It is more frequently positive than negative, es¬
pecially when occasioned by stationary clouds.
4. The atmosphere exhibits signs of electricity at all
times by night or day.
In our endeavours to explain the production of na-
atmosphe- tura] electricity, we have nothing more to do, than to
ricai elec- ^iscover ti,e various circumstances of the atmosphere,
vv|1'icj1 moisture is absorbed or precipitated.
Absorption It is necessary to recollect the proof furnished by nu-
and preci- merous experiments, that when any portion of the at-
pitation of m0Spliere is in a state to take up an additional quantity
^rticles moisture, it is in a state at the same time to take up
IMir l0‘eS' more electric fluid j and vice versa, when it is parting
with its water, it is at the same time parting with its
electric fluid. But in these cases, neither the super¬
abundance nor the deficiency can produce a charge,
unless there be some other part of the air contempo¬
raneously in an opposite state, or in a disposition either
to receive or give. It is, however, scarcely possible
that this should not always happen 5 for our atmosphere
is, throughout its vast dimensions, each moment agitated
by millions of co-instantaneous changes, and for our
purpose, it is of no consequence where the required
change takes place. Were it New Holland, or at the
Antipodes, a connection would be instantly formed be¬
tween the remote but opposite situations, by the con-
ducting power of the earth.
Violence of It is a necessary conclusion from what we have just
storms cor-said, that if the absorption of moisture by air, or the
respondent C0pj0US evaporation of it from the earth, be attended
to t cse. a new accumulation of the fluid ; then where this
cause operates most powerfully, there its correspondent
effect will be most sensible. We consequently find,
that the most tremendous electrical phenomena belong
to the countries within the tropics, or to that portion of
our atmosphere which is loaded with moisture by the
most powerful influence of the sun’s rays. In like man¬
ner, within the limits of our own and other similar cli¬
mates, electrical phenomena are greatest, bothj in force
and frequency, during the hottest months of the year,
or during the season in which our atmosphere is most
appear^8 copi°usly and rapidly charged, by absorbing the humi-
ances of dity of the ground.
▼olea- In the neighbourhood of iEtna and Vesuvius, during
so«s. ^ v
x Part V.
the period of their volcanic fury, surfaces, covering the Atmo-
dimensions of several square leagues, are sometimes spherical
scorched with red-hot lava, and every atom of their^lcctncity-
moisture is rapidly dissipated. At the same time the
surrounding air is heated to a vast extent, and in this
state swallows up an immense quantity ot aqueous va¬
pour: but contemporaneously with the operation of
these causes assisting the natural sources of evapora¬
tion, according to the reports ol all natural historians,
an immense quantity of the electric fluid is accumula¬
ted and discharged. _ ... 515
A'^ain, a dry wind passing over a moist soil is ano-Storms pe-
ther modification of the cause we are applying j it pro-culiarto
duces a copious and rapid solution of the aqueous par-tonal
tides, and its consequent alteration of attractive force.e‘
Let us for instance, suppose a wind, which had passed
over the deserts of Arabia, or that had been torrefied in
its passage over a large extent of burning sands, to come
in contact with a similar extent of marshy soil, or of any
surface well drenched with water, a most abundant eva¬
poration would necessarily take place, and with it an
immense accumulation of the electric fluid. But sub¬
sequently, in case any power operated, which would
take away the aqueous particles thus dissolved, and of
course alter the degree of attractive force by which
the collected electric fluid is suspended, we should find
that the most dreadful thunder-storms would take place.
This is really the case ; for there is scarcely a region in
the vast circle surrounding the immeasurable sands of
Africa, which is not remarkable for storms and tem¬
pests.
On the side of Abyssinia, when the warm winds that
have passed over the neighbouring deserts are conden¬
sed on its mountains, those deluges are collected, which
form the inundations of the Nile.
On the coast of Guinea, the harmattan, which is a
current of air so dry, as to wither and pulverize, by a
complete absorption of all its juices, every substance
that occurs in its passage, is no sooner mixed with that
body of air which is cooled by the ocean, than it forms
most terrific hurricanes of wind and lightning that are
described by navigators. Along the Syrian regions, we
learn from sacred authority, that the storms gather with
such rapidity, that a cloud, which this instant might he
covered with the hand, is within the interval of a few
minutes, charged with water adequate to the inunda¬
tion of a whole country. ^
Having specified the two most general causes of eva- Application
poration on the surface of this earth, let us now attend 0f the ran-
to the possible changes of the atmosphere, when by the ous cases ot
operation of either, or both, it is charged with the elec-P^ P
trie fluid. All these changes are but different degrees
of tbe same effect, viz. the condensation of moisture,
and this condensation is in every case produced by an
alteration of temperature, which may proceed, s,7
1. From a mixture, or even the contact of a colder Mixture of
with a warmer air. When the smallest clouds are a colder
formed by such a mixture, an electric charge takes
place, so that one part of the cloud has more, and the
other less, than its natural share. Fogs, dews, and the
slightest change of clear for hazy weather, commonly
arise from a warmer atmosphere coming in contact with * Vide
one of a lower temperature •, but even these trifling de-Bead on0.t
grees of condensation are always followed by signs of^P°"*^
electricity*. ^
Cha
Atrr
spber
filectr
-"V
TJhap. II. ELECT
Atmo- In this country, from its insular situation, which ex-
sphcric tl poses it to the perpetual influence of varying winds, the
Electricity. ajr changes ,'ts appearances often many times in one day,
" But there is no degree of thick cloudiness or perfect
clearness, of scattered clouds succeeding embodied mas¬
ses of clouds, of small rain increasing to heavy, or vice
versa, that is not attended with changes in the ex¬
pressions of the elevated conductor, which never fails to
vary with all the atmospheric condensations and rare¬
factions that take place.
It is, however,^ obvious, that the effect must be in
proportion to the quantity and rapidity of the condensa¬
tion. When, therefore, any body of air has been for
a long time suspended over a surface of ground previ¬
ously drenched with showers, and at the same time ex¬
posed to the violence of the sun’s rays, a change in the
direction of the wind, or such a change in the weight
ef the air as mixes the upper with the lower regions
of the air, is almost always attended with a thunder¬
storm.
In tropical climates, for months together, scarcely a
day passes, in which the calm atmosphere is not loaded
by successive additions of moisture, till at last it be¬
comes the reservoir of vast rivers and lakes, and of all
the moisture that is spread over whole continents. But
when this drought has reached its crisis, the sun crosses
the line, the wind takes a new direction, a colder air
mixes with that which is thus charged with vapours,
and the condensation becomes so copious, as to inundate
all the subjacent country. Confined to the proceedings
of nature in this colder region, our imaginations have
no images from which any such comparison can be
made, as will communicate the least idea of the thun¬
der attending a tropical hurricane.
The cause which we are now applying to the expla¬
nation of these natural appearances, will furnish us with
an easy solution of a difficulty which has oppressed seve¬
ral theories of electricity, namely, that rapid generation
and increase of the electric fluid which takes place in
some thunder-storms. Even in this country, the suc¬
cession of flashes is sometimes so quick, that one hun¬
dred and twenty have been known to follow each other
in a minute. In Asia, this celerity of accumulation
and discharge was so great, that Homer uses it as part
of a simile, by which he paints the quick repetition of
Agamemnon’s sighs and pantings in an hour of dis¬
tress.
It may be asked, if each distinct cloud is loaded with
a distinct charge, and if each flash is a separate dis¬
charge of such a cloud, what is there, in our know¬
ledge of natural powers, that will account for an in¬
numerable repetition of these accumulations and dis¬
charges within a very short space of time, more especi¬
ally when each of them is connected in our minds with
the necessity of a distinct part of that time for its pro¬
cess ? In other words, do we know ol any cause that is
adequate to the filling and emptying of the same por¬
tion of air every instant, for hours together ?
On a hot summer’s day it not unfrequently happens,
that a fine blue sky will, within five seconds, be chan¬
ged into one mass of clouds. If the cause which pro¬
duced so great an effect, were supposed to be doubled
in its power of condensation, the degree of electricity
shown by the elevated conductor would be rather more
R I C I T Y.
799
than doubled, and its signs would be much stronger Aune-
than in a common storm j we may hence conclude that spherical
the whole mass which might be thus formed in five se-ElccUicilJ-
conds, would be loaded so as to have every part of it
at the discharging height ; but the mass might consist
of hundreds of distinct clouds all in the same state, and
consequently adequate to the production of several hun¬
dred flashes within a minute.
The collapse of aqueous particles, which would ne¬
cessarily follow such a rapid succession of discharges as
have been now proved to be possible, would produce a
partial vacuum of great extent, and on all sides the
heavier air would rush into it, and the upper and cold¬
er regions would press downwards, and by their con¬
densing temperatures, would renovate all the accumu¬
lations and discharges which have been already describ¬
ed : a second collapse would follow a second series of
thunder-strokes, and a partial vacuum additional to
the former; a fresh portion of warm air would again
rush in from all quarters, and a fresh mixture of cold
air from the upper regions. It is scarcely necessary to
show that this repetition of condensations may continue
for hours, or till the air, which rushes in laterally, be¬
comes of such a temperature, that its mixture with the
colder air will not produce the condensations adequate
to the collection of that quantity of electric fluid which
is necessary for a discharge.
From this explanation, it is obvious that a central
point must exist, at which the violence of every storm
begins, and from which it is spread in all directions.
A hurricane in the West Indies, though ruinous to
many, is generally the more distinguishing calamity of
one island, at which alone the wind is described as
blowing from every point of the compass j while in
every other island, it is represented as bearing down
decisively from one quarter. .
2. The precipitation of aqueous particles when sus-Heated air
pended by heat in air, is frequently the consequence ofcoming in
the loaded atmosphere’s coming in contact with portions c0.ntflet
of the earth that are colder than itself. Such, particu-"V!1 ,lie,
, . . - r • i • co‘d earta.
Jarly, are the summits ot mountains, whose enect is
great in proportion to the degree of their cold and the
extent of their surface. It is, however, certain that
condensations, when thus produced, are invariably at¬
tended by thunder-storms.
The uproar, and the splendour of the innumerable
lightnings, which dart through all the entangled cir¬
cuits of an abyss of thunder-clouds, are the immutable
attributes of grandeur which belong to the Cordilleras j
for they dam up, as it were, an immense flow of air,
which is almost saturated with moisture by passing over
several thousand leagues of land, exposed to the fury of
a tropical sun.
In summer, the north-westerly winds that pass over
France, are always condensed by the Alps ; and in the
night, during such a state of the atmosphere, to all those
who live along the Saone and the upper part of the
Rhone, these mountains are always brightened by elec¬
trical flashes and coruscations.
All ridges or chains of very high grounds, especially
those which terminate extensive plains lying in the di¬
rection of their most common winds, are perpetually
beclouded ; and with a good conductor fixed on their
summit, we should find that the signs of electricity were
8oo
AllB0. as constant as the condensations by which they are en-
spherical veloped. But in proportion to the coldness, so is the
F.lectre ly. subsequent change of temperature on the eminences di-
    ' minished, and the electrical effect dependant on that
change. It hence happens, that there are countries in
the northern parts of Europe, the gloom of whose mists
is never dispersed by a thunder-storm, excepting in the
hottest season of summer.
S10. 3. When the sun, by directing its rays with force
temiption" and abundance upon the earth for any length of time,
of tbe sun’s has produced a considerable evaporation, the mere in-
influence. terruption of its influence will be attended with a dis¬
charge of the electric fluid; for the great source of
change in our atmosphere is the ready influence of its
upper regions, which are cold, on its lower regions when
warmed j and any cause which mixes these together,
must bring on a condensation of aqueous vapour. This
mixture, however, takes place on the mere approach of
night, as is evident from the change of temperature ex¬
pressed by the thermometer, and the usual fall of the
dews; we consequently find, that as night comes on,
the signs of electricity always increase. When the
weather is tolerably settled, or such that no other cause
is active than that proceeding from the change of day
for night, or night for day ; then the signs of electrici¬
ty gradually decrease from twelve o’clock at night till
six in the morning •, from this hour till nine, they gra¬
dually increase, when they become exceedingly weak,
and continue so till four in the afternoon : the increase
at this time recommences, and is very decisive in its
appearance till about two hours after sunset, when it
becomes stationary, and remains in this state, or de¬
creasing, so as scarcely to be sensible, till the morn-
^ Vidd
Read on Vp|ie causej wl10Se operation we have now investigated
ETarYcltu. *n ^ie production of its most feeble effects, may be easi-
ly applied to many other cases, in which similar but
greater powers are displayed by nature. Let us sup¬
pose, that on a wide surface of ground, previously warm¬
ed by the sun, copious showers of rain had fallen, fol-
, lowed by a return of the sun’s influence ; in this case,
the evaporation is necessarily very rapid, and the signs
of electricity expressed by an elevated conductor are
very strong.
When a copious production of electric fluid has at¬
tended a copious evaporation continued for several suc¬
cessive hours, a thunder-storm, or some striking electri¬
cal appearance will come on with the approach of night,
for unless the barometer should suddenly rise, the con¬
densation attending the evening’s cold must be very
considerable, and its usual consequences proportionally
great. Such a day as we have just described, is usually
followed by a violent thunder-storm. Indeed, there is
scarcely an instance in which a moist ground, operated
on for some hours by a clear sun, provided the wind
continues to blow from the south-west or west, is not
attended the following night by the appearance of fall¬
ing stars, flashes of lightning, or the Aurora Borea-
$20 ^S‘
Effect of We have alluded to the connection of winds with
winds on the phenomena of atmospherical electricity. The in-
tbe electri {juence 0f winds must depend on various circumstances ;
atmosphere some casesr they tend to diminish electrical ap¬
pearances, and in others, they may altogether destroy
them. The current of air which proceeds from a raix-
Part V,
ture of two winds of different temperatures, is the ef- Atmo.
feet of a condensation of vapour, that may be succeeded spherical
by the most violent storms. But if there should be Ekctrieity.
two neighbouring regions, in one of which, the rays of' v~'
the sun should co-operate with the moisture of the
ground, in producing electricity, while in the other
there should prevail a condensation favourable to the
discharge of the electric fluid j a current of air would
be produced that would act like a communicating rod
between two opposite electrified surfaces, would ex¬
change the situations of the charged bodies, and would
consequently cause the new situation to counteract the
eflects produced in the last. This effect would be more
sensible in proportion as the exchange has been more
rapid, and accordingly we find, that during high winds,
the electricity of the atmosphere is very small i. | Morgarii
Those who propose to make observations with the lectures,
electrical kite, should have it constructed in the mostvol. ii.
simple manner, as it is liable to be injured or lost.
An ordinary paper kite, about four feet in height, and
two feet wide, is enough j when large it is troublesome,
and requires a comparatively high wind to raise it. It
requires to be varnished with drying oil to defend it
from the rain. In raising or lowering it, the operator,
for his security, should make a part of it bear con¬
stantly against a conducting rod fixed in the ground
to leeward of him, and surmounted with a brass ball.
Afterwards the string should communicate with an in¬
sulated conductor brought within two inches of the
brass ball.
As the effects are greater in proportion to the height
to which the kite rises and the length of the string, two
or three are sometimes employed one above the other.
These have each a long slit through the middle stick
or straighter j and when the first kite has taken as
much cord as it will carry, the end is passed through
the slit of a second kite, and tied to its string, and
when this has risen to its full height, another is added.
But kites thus connected are sometimes acted on by
opposite aerial currents, and the success of the experi¬
ments marred.
For permanent observations, however, a conducting
rod elevated into the atmosphere, and fixed to a build¬
ing, is required. It was with this apparatus that Bec-
caria made his regular observations.
Mr Cropse has more recently made numerous ob¬
servations with an extensive atmospheric conductor,
consisting of a copper wire T^th of an inch thick, and
a mile and a quarter long, afterwards shortened to
1800 feet. It was so contrived as to admit of being
shifted in order to cleanse the insulators from spiders
webs, and other conducting materials accidentally at¬
tached to them, and means of strong security were
employed to resist the weight of numerous birds that
were in the habit of perching on it. From the obser¬
vations of this gentleman, the following deductions
were made :
1. In the usual state of the atmosphere, its electri¬
city is invariably positive. This is weakest in the
night. It is weaker in the middle of the day than in
the morning and afternoon.
2. Fogs, raki, snow, and hail, change the electric
state of the wire. When these come on, it is usually
negative, then often changes to positive, after they
have begun, which increases, then gradually decreases,
and
ELECTRICITY.
ELECTRICITY.
Chap. II.
Atmo- and changes every three or four minutes. Negative
spherical electricity is a sure indication of the approach of
Eiectncity. molst weather, or a thunder-cloud.
Y~ ~J 3- The approach of a thunder-cloud sometimes pro¬
duces positive and at other times negative electricity,
which increases, then disappears, and is succeeded by
opposite signs. Such changes are often numerous, in¬
creasing in intensity at each repetition, and at last
streams of sparks are transmitted from the conductor
to the metallic ball, accompanied with a strong current
of air, proceeding from the wire. At every" flash of
lightning, an explosive stream, accompanied with bril¬
liant light and a peculiar noise, passes between the
balls.
4. A driving fog or smart rain often produces effects
nearly to the same extent as a thunder-cloud.
5. In cloudy weather, weak positive electricity
usually prevails. If rain falls, it usually changes to
negative j and the positive state is resumed when the
rain ceases.
6. Positive electricity is stronger in clear frost than
in a fine summer day.
The following list expresses the order of intensity of
the electrical signs that occur on different occasions.
I. Regular thunder-clouds. 2. Driving fog and small
rain. 3. A fall of snow, or a brisk hail-storm. 4. A
smart shower, especially on a hot day. 5. Hot wea¬
ther after wet days. 6. Wet weather after a series of
dry days. 7. Clear frost. 8. Clear summer weather.
9. Sky obscured by clouds. 10. A mottled sky. 11.
Sultry weather, with light hazy clouds. 12. A cold
damp night. 13. Cold north east winds.
Chap. III. Of the Aurora Borealis.
Most of the luminous appearances in the atmosphere
have of late been attributed to electricity. Of these we
shall at present only consider the Aurora Borealis, or
Northern Lights, reserving the account of other meteors
for the article Meteorology.
The aurora borealis is usually of a reddish colour, in¬
clining to yellow, sending out frequent coruscations of
pale light, which seem to rise from the horizon in a py¬
ramidal undulating form, shooting with great velocity
towards the zenith. This light sometimes appears re-
;.2I markably red, as it happened December 5. 1737.
Phenome- The aurora borealis appears frequently in the form of
ia of the an arch j chiefly in spring and autumn, after a dry
*caF-a b°" fear’ This arch is partly bright, partly dark, but ge¬
nerally transparent j and no change is found to be pro¬
duced by it on the rays of light which pass through it.
It sometimes produces a rainbow.
Mr Dalton, in his Meteorological Essays, gives the
following account of an uncommonly fine aurora which
appeared on the 13th of October 1792.
Attention was first excited by a remarkable redness
of the clouds to the south, which afforded sufficient
light to read by at eight o’clock in the evening, though
there was no moon nor light in the north. A theodolite
was placed to observe its altitude and hearing.
From 9^ to 10 P. M. there was a large luminous
horizontal arch to the southward, almost like those we
see in the north ; and one or more faint concentric
arches northward. It was particularly noticed, that
all of these seemed exactly bisected by the plane of the
Vol. VII. Part H. f
magnetic meridian. At half-past 10 streamers ap- Aimo-
peared very low in the S. E. running to and fro from spherical
W. to E. They increased in number, and began to
approach the zenith apparently with an accelerated1
velocity j when, all on a sudden, the whole hemisphere
was covered with them, and exhibited such an appear¬
ance as surpasses description. The intensity of the
light, the prodigious number and volatility of the
beams ; the grand intermixture of all the prismatic
colours in their utmost splendour, variegating the glow¬
ing canopy with the most luxuriant and enchanting
scenery, afforded an awful, but at the same time, the
most pleasing spectacle in nature. But the uncommon
grandeur ol the scene only lasted about one minute j
the variety of colours disappeared, and the beams lost
their lateral motion, and were converted, as usual, into
the flashing radiations j but even then, it surpassed all
other appearances of the aurora, from the whole hemi¬
sphere being covei’ed with it.
Notwithstanding the suddenness of the effulgence at
the breaking out ot the aurora, there was a remarkable
regularity in the manner. Apparently a ball of fire
ran along from east to west, and the contrary, with a
velocity so great, as to be barely distinguishable from
one continued train which kindled up the several rows
of beams one after another: these rows were situate
before each other with the exactest order, so that the
basis of each row formed a circle crossing the magnetic
meridian at right angles ; and the several circles rose
one above another in such sort, that those near the
zenith appeared more distant from each other than
those near the horizon, a certain indication that the
real distances of the rows were either nearly or ex¬
actly the same. And it was further observable, that
during the rapid lateral motion of the beams, their
direction in every two nearest rows was alternate ; so
that while the motion in one row was from E. to W.
that in the next was from W. to E. The point to
which all the beams and flashes of light uniformly
tended, was in the magnetic meridian, and as near as
could be determined between 15 and 20 degrees south
of the zenith. The aurora continued, though diminish¬
ing in splendour, for several hours. Several meteors,
(falling stars,) were seen at the time ; they seemed
below the aurora, and unconnected with it.
This kind of meteor, which becomes more uncom¬
mon as we approach towards the equator, is almost
constant during the long winter of the polar regions,
and appears there with the greatest lustre.
In the Shetland isles, the merry dancers, as the nor¬
thern lights are there called, are the constant atten¬
dants of clear evenings, and aflord great relief amid
the gloom of the long winter nights. Their first ap¬
pearance is commonly at twilight, near the horizon, of
a dim colour, approaching to yellow $ sometimes con¬
tinuing in that state for several hours, without any per¬
ceptible motion j and afterwards breaking out into
streams of stronger light, spreading into columns, and
changing slowly into numberless different shapes, and
varying in colour from all the tints of yellow, to. the
most obscure russet brown. They often cover the whole
hemisphere, then exhibiting the most brilliant appear¬
ance. Their motions and change of form are at this
time astonishingly rapid. They break out in places
where none were seen before, skim briskly along the
J I heavens,
802
electricity.
Atmo¬
spherical
Electricity
* Phi!.
Trans.
vol. Ixjuv.
p. *28.
Iteavens, are suddenly extinguished, and are succeed¬
ed by a uniform dusky tract, litis again is bul-
liantly illuminated in the same manner, and as sud¬
denly becomes a dark space. In some nights, they
assume the appearance of large columns, on one side
of the deepest yellow, and on the other gradually
changing, till it becomes undistinguishable from the
skv. They have generally a strong tremulous motion
from one end to the other, continuing till the whole
vanishes. As for us, who see only the extremities of
these phenomena, we can have but a taint idea of their
splendour and motions. They differ in colour accord¬
ing to the state of the atmosphere, and sometimes as¬
suming the colour of blood, they make a dieadful ap¬
pearance. The rustic sages who observe them become
prophetic, and terrify the spectators with alarm of war,
pestilence, and famine j nor indeed were these supersti¬
tious presages peculiar to the northern islands : appear¬
ances of a similar nature are of an ancient date j and
they were distinguished by the appellations of phasmato,
trades, and bolides, according to their forms and co¬
lours. In old times they were either more rare or less
frequently noticed*, but when they occurred, they were
supposed to portend great events, and the timid imagi¬
nation formed of them aerial conflicts.
In the northern latitudes of Sweden and Lapland,
the aurora borealis is not only an object of pleasing cu-
, riosity from the singular beauty of its appearance, but
is extremely useful in affording to travellers, by its al¬
most constant effulgence, a very brilliant light. In Hud¬
son’s bay, it is said to possess a variegated splendour,
equalling that of the full moon. “ In the north-east¬
ern parts of Siberia,” says Gmelin, “ these northern
lights are observed to begin with single bright pillars
rising in the north, and almost at the same time in the
north-east, which gradually increasing, comprehend a
large space of the heavens, rush about from place to
place with incredible velocity, and finally almost cover
the whole sky up to the zenith, and produce an appear¬
ance as if a vast tent was spread in the heavens, glitter¬
ing with gold, rubies, and sapphire. A more beautiful
spectacle cannot be painted ; but whoever should see
such a northern light for the first time, could not behold it
without terror. For however fine the illumination may
be, it is attended, as I have learned, with such a his¬
sing, cracking, and rushing noise through the air, as if
the largest fireworks were playing oft. To describe
what they then hear, they make use of the expression
spolochi chodjat, i. e. “ the raging host is passing.” The
hunters who pursue the white and blue foxes on the con¬
fines of the Icy sea, are often overtaken with these
northern lights. Their dogs are then so frightened,
that they will not move, but lie obstinately on the
ground till the noise has passed. Commonly clear and
calm weather follows this kind of northern lights. I
have heard this account, not from one person only, but
confirmed by the testimony of many who have spent
part of several years in these very northern regions, and
inhabited different countries from the Yenisei to the
Lena j so that no doubt of its truth can remain. This
•cems, indeed, to be the birth-place of the aurora bo¬
realis
This account of the noises attending the aurora bo¬
realis, allowing for some degree of exaggeration, has
Part V.
been corroborated by other testimonies, as those of Atao-
Nairne and Cavallo. spherical
Similar appearances have likewise been observed to- b
wards the south pole, and are therefore called uurorce
australes. The best account of these is given by Mr Aurora
Forster, who in his voyage round the world with australis.
Captain Cook, says that he observed them in high
southern latitudes, though attended with phenomena
somewhat different from those observed here. “ On
February 17. 1773, in south lat. 68°, a beautiful pheno¬
menon (he says), was observed during the preceding
night, which appeared again this and several following
nights. It consisted of long columns of a clear white
light, shooting up from the horizon to the eastward,
almost to the zenith, and gradually spreading on the
whole southern part of the sky. These columns were
sometimes bent sidewise at their upper extremities, and
though in most respects similar to the northern lights
(aurora borealis) of our hemisphere, yet differed from
them in being always of a whitish colour, whereas ours
assume various tints, especially those of a fiery and
purple hue. The sky was generally clear when they
appeared, and the air sharp and cold, the thermometer
standing at the freezing point.”
The periods of the appearances of the aurora borealis
are very inconstant. In some years they occur very
frequently, and in others they are more rare 5 and it
has been observed that they are more common about
the time of the equinoxes than at other seasons.
Dr Halley has given us a sort of chronological
history of the appearances which may be ranked under
the aurora borealis ; but for his account of the indivi¬
dual cases we must refer to his paper in the Philosophi¬
cal Transactions abridged, vol. iv.
The particular part of the atmosphere in which these
appearances take place, or the height above the earth
to which they extend, is by no means certain j various
philosophers have attempted to ascertain the height of
various aurorae boreales by trigonometrical calculation j
some have estimated them at a few hundreds, others at
some thousands of miles above the earth 5 but the results
of their admeasurements are so contradictory, that they
cannot be relied on.
The evidence which we have for considering theEviacnce^
aurora borealis 9.% an effect of electricity, chiefly con‘[j[C;l| *r;_
sists of the following arguments. . gjn>
l. If lightning be an effect of electricity, the same'
cause must, at a certain height in the atmosphere, pro¬
duce such an appearance as is exhibited by the aurora
borealis. The passage of the electric matter through
air rarefied to a certain degree, is attended with all the
undulating coruscations of this meteor. Indeed there
is scarcely a single circumstance attending the passage
of a spark or a charge through an exhausted tube, that
does not bear a resemblance to something observed in
the northern lights. The same peculiar motion, the
same variety of colour, the same rapid alternations oi
flashes, occur both in the experiment, and in the natural
phenomenon , the streams of light in both are vivid
and pointed j and if, in the experiment, the exhaustion
has been properly managed, some parts of the light
will be marked with that reddish tinge, which in the
aurora borealis has so often struck the vulgar mind
with terror and consternation. The experiments now
alluded
Chap. II. ELECT
Auno- alluded to are those of the conducting glass tube, the
spherical luminous conductor, and the aurora borealis described
Electricity in N* 188—190.
' v The lowest estimate of the distance of the aurora bore¬
alis from the surface of the earth, that of Mr Cavendish,
is 71 miles. Now, at 70 the air is 1,048,576 times
more rare than at the surface of the earth, a degree of
rarefaction beyond the power of any air-pump.
2. 1 he striking distance of a charge of electric fluid
passing through the air, increases according to the rare¬
faction of that medium. If, therefore, two clouds in
opposite states of electricity have no other circuit, it is
probable that they will be discharged through the high¬
er regions of the atmosphere, more especially if they
are at such an elevation, as renders their communica¬
tion with the earth impracticable.
3. The same causes which tend to produce such an
accumulation of electricity in the atmosphere as will
bung on a thunder-storm, have been found, in certain
seasons, and in the more northern climates, to be at¬
tended with an aurora borealis.
It must be confessed, however, that Mr Brook and
Mr Bennet, in their observations on the electricity of
the atmosphere during an aurora borealis, could observe
no particular signs of increased electricity, more than
would have occurred in a serene sky without any such
appearance.
4. A magnetic needle commonly appears a little dis¬
turbed during a strong ai/rora borealis.
There are striking circumstances of connection be¬
tween magnetism and electricity, which we shall fully
illustrate in the article Magnetism. The luminous
beams of this meteor are in a direction parallel to
the dipping needle. See Dalton’s Meteorological Essays.
This author shows, in a satisfactory manner, that the
apparent convergence of the beams, and also the great¬
er thickness and length of them in the magnetic equa¬
tor, declining as we proceed to the zenith, is explained
by the supposition of parallel beams, equal to one an¬
other in length, and in closeness of mutual apposition.
He calculates these beams to be 75 miles long, and 7I-
in diameter.
riicof4 of A considerable difficulty attends even the most re-
Ifiese ap^. ce‘vet^ thories of the aurora borealis, viz. the light
parances. appearing always to strike from the poles towards the
equator, rather than in the contrary direction. Per¬
haps this may be explained in the following manner.
We shall assume the three following axioms.
1. That all electrics when considerably heated, be¬
come conductors of electricity.
2. That, e converse, non-electrics when subjected to
violent degrees of cold, ought to become electrics.
3. That cold must also increase the electric powers of
such substances as are already electric.
The air, all round the globe, at a certain height
above its surface, is found to be exceedingly cold, and,
as far as experiments have yet determined, exceedingly
electrical. The inferior parts of the atmosphere be¬
tween the tropics, are violently heated during the day¬
time, by the reflection of the sun’s rays from the earth.
Such air will, therefore, be a kind of conductor, and
much more readily part with its electricity to the clouds
and vapours floating in it, than the colder air towards
the north and south poles. Hence the prodigious ap¬
pearances of electricity in these regions, shewing itself
803
Atmo-
R I C I T Y.
m thunder and other tempests of the most terrible kind. ,n„io-
Immense quantities of the electric fluid are thus com- spherical
municated to the earth ; and the inferior warm atmo-Elecll^y*
sphere having once exhaused itself, must necessarily be " ”” v
recruited from the upper and colder region. This be¬
comes very probable from what the French mathema¬
ticians observed when on the top of one of the Andes.
They were often involved in clouds, which, sinking
down into the warmer air, appeared there to be highly
electrified, and discharged themselves in violent tempests
of thunder and lightning ; while in the mean time, on
the top of the mountain, they enjoyed a calm and serene
sky. In the temperate and frigid zones, the inferior
parts ol the atmosphere, never being so strongly heated,
do not part with their electricity so easily as in the tor-
lid zone, and consequently do not require such recruits
from the upper regions ; but notwithstanding the dif¬
ference of heat observed in different parts of the earth
near the surface, it is very probable that at considerable
heights the degrees of cold are nearly equal all round
the globe. Were there a like equality in the heat of
the under part, there could never be any considerable
loss of equilibrium in the electricity of the atmosphere ;
but as the hot air of the torid zone is perpetually
bringing down vast quantities of electric matter from
the cold air that lies about it 5 and as the inferior parts
of the atmosphere lying towards the north and south
poles do not conduct in any great degree ; it thence
follows, that the upper parts of the atmosphere lying-
over the torrid zone will continually require a supply
from the northern and southern regions. This easily
shews the necessity of an electric current in the upper
parts of the atmosphere from each pole towards the
equator; and thus we are also furnished with a reason
why the aurora borealis appears more frequently in
winter than in summer ; namely, because at that time
the electric power of the inferior atmosphere is greater
on account of the cold than in summer ; and conse¬
quently the abundant electricity of the upper regions
must go almost wholly off to the equatorial parts, it
being impossible for it to get down to the earth ; hence
also the aurora borealis appears very frequent and bright
in the frigid zones, the degree of cold in the upper
and under regions of the atmosphere being much more
nearly equal in these parts than in any other. In some
parts of Siberia particularly, this meteor appears con¬
stantly from October to Christmas, and its coruscations
are said to be very terrifying. Travellers agree that
here the aurora borealis appears in its greatest perfec¬
tion ; and it is to be remarked, that Siberia is one of
the coldest countries in the world. In confirmation of
this it may also be observed, that from the experiments
hitherto made with the kite, the air appears consider¬
ably more electrical in w-inter than in summer, though
the clouds are known to be often most violently elec¬
trified in the summer time; a proof, that the electricity
naturally belonging to the air, is in summer much more
powerfully drawn off by the clouds than in winter,
owing to the excess of heat.
A considerable difficulty, however, still remains from
the upright position which the streams of the aurora
borealis are generally supposed to have; whereas, ac¬
cording to our hypothesis, they ought rather to run di¬
rectly from north to south. Dr Halley answered this
difficulty by supposing his magnetic effluvia, (to which
5 I 2 he
8°4 ^
Atwa- lie attributed this phenomenon), to pass from pole to
spherical pole in arches of great circles, arising to a great height
lllect.icity. above the earth, and consequently darting trom the
" places whence they arose like the radii of a. circle •, in
which case, being set off in a direction nearly perpendi¬
cular to the surface of the earth, they must necessarily
appear erect to those who see them from any part ot
the surface, as is demonstrated by mathematicians. It
is also reasonable to think that they will take this di¬
rection rather than any other, on account ol their meet¬
ing with less resistance in the very high regions ot the
air than in such as are lower. .
But the greatest difficulty still remains •, for we have
supposed the equilibrium of the atmosphere to be broken
in the day time, and restored only at night j whereas,
considering the immense velocity with which the elec¬
tric fluid moves, the equilibrium ought to be restored
in all parts almost instantaneously, yet the aurora bo¬
realis never appears except in the night, although its
brightness is such as must sometimes make it visible to
us did it really exist in the day time.
In answer to this it must be observed, that though
the passage of electricity through a good conductor is
almost instantaneous, yet through a bad conductor it
takes some time in passing. As our atmosphere, theie-
fore, unless very violently heated, is but a bad conduc¬
tor of electricity: though the equilibrium in it is
broken, it can by no means be instantaneously restored.
Add to this, that as it is the action of the sun which
breaks the equilibrium, so the same action, extending
over half the globe, prevents almost any attempt to re¬
store it till night, when flashes arise from various parts
of the atmosphere, gradually extending themselves with
a variety of undulations towards the equator.
The noise, which is said to have accompanied the
aurora on some occasions, is unaccountable, for this rea-
lectricity.
Part VI.
son, that at the heights at which it occurs there is no Atmo-
medium capable of transmitting sound. spherical
1 Ekclncitv.
Chap. IV. Of Meteors.
Meteors or fire-balls are of two kinds, the one ofElcetiical
considerable apparent size, moving progressively overexplanatioa
a considerable space, sometimes dispersing in spaiks
and accompanied by the fall of stones, which, when ex¬
amined, have been always found of the same composi¬
tion. These have never been explained in a satis¬
factory or even a plausible manner, and atmospheric
electricity does not afford data adequate to this object.
As these stones contain iron, they may be connected in
some form with magnetism, and perhaps at the same time
with the electrical phenomena of the aurora borealis.
The other kind of meteors presents more precise ana¬
logies with electricity. These are commonly called
falling stars, and the name is very significant of their
appearance. They present a set of phenomena intei-
mediate between the aurora borealis of the upper re¬
gions and the lightning which occurs near the sur¬
face of the earth j and as these two sets of appear¬
ances are very similar to the transmission ot electri¬
city through rarefied air on the one hand, and through
air of the common density on the other, so the appear¬
ance of falling stars may be imitated by the transmis¬
sion of moderate electrical charges through air of an
intermediate density. The experiment has often been
performed with long glass tubes, the air of which has
been moderately rarefied. Hiese facts countenance the
conclusion, that they arise from electrical discharges
taking place at considerable heights in the atmospheie,
but far beneath the region of the aurora. This doc¬
trine is also countenanced by the general aspect of the
phenomena.
Par
Effe<
Eiecl
onV'
tio
PART VI.
OE THE EFFECTS OF ELECTRICITY ON VEGETABLE LIFE.
5.
(Elect
Ugel
ter d'
tied.
ns-
Expert- IT has been much disputed whether electricity pro-
cneiits oa duces a?nj effects on vegetables j and the experiments
vegetation tliat jiave been matje vvith the view of ascertaining this
527 point are most contradictory.
Mr Maim- The first electrician who seems to have attended to
Iray. ti,js subject of enquiry was Mr Maimbray of Edinburgh,
who, in the year 1746, electrified two myrtles during
the whole month of October (i. e. we suppose, for
some hours every day). The consequence was, that in
the following summer, these electrified myrtles put forth
buds and blossoms sooner than their neighbours who
iPriettleij'sba(i been ]eft t0 nature*.
F^rfvuL Mr Maimbray was soon followed by the Abbe Nol-
*ect. Ip1* who made some comparative experiments on the
[527] germination of seeds under similar circumstances, ex-
Abbe Mol- cept that one plot was electrified three or lour hours
lct‘ every day for fifteen days. The result of these experi-
* Nollet ments was similar to that of Mr Maimbray’s*.
Researches. Similar experiments were made by M. Achard of
M Achard ®er^n5 and several other philosophers, but still with the
* same result j till Dr Ingenhousz instituted a very com¬
plete set of experiments on the electrification of plants,
which w’ere communicated to the world -through the
medium of Rozier’s Journal, at first by M. Swankhardt, -2^
and afterwards by Dr Ingenhousz himself, in conse- Dr ingeu-
quence of some severe animadversions which the com-hoosz.
munication of M. Swankhardt had called fioni M.
Duvernier. By these experiments the faith of philoso¬
phers with respect to the effect of electricity on vegeta¬
tion was staggered, as they were attended with results
very opposite to those of Maimbray, Nollet and A-
chard. 53?
Experiments have also been made by Dr Carmoy by Dr Car-
and the abbe D’Ormoy, rather more favourable to theinony and
first opinion ; but the manner in which the electricity‘^ c
was applied appears very equivocal, as it is found that
even shocks do not pass through the body ot the plant,* fferge/i t
but merely over its surface *. _ Lectures,
But the most complete set of experiments on thisvol. 1^
subject has been made by the Abbe Bertholon, and ^
these we shall give more in detail. . ^ Eerik#-
“ la the first place (says the Abb6,) there is continu-]0a.
ally
1»0I
form
i»ttr
%
Part VI. ELECT
Effects of ally anti everywhere diffused in the atmosphere (parti-
Eiectricity cularly in the upper regions) a considerable quantity of
on Vegeta-the electric fluid.
. ti°‘1' “ This principle being granted ; in order to remedy
the deflciency of electric fluid which is supposed hurt-
Electro- ful to vegetation, we must erect in the spot which we
siege tome- want to fecundate the following new- apparatus, which
has had all possible success, and which 1 shall call by
the name of the electro-vegetometer. This machine is
as simple in its construction as efficacious in its manner
of acting j and I doubt not but it will be adopted by
all those who are sufficiently instructed in the great
principles of nature.
Fig. 131. “ This apparatus is composed of a mast AB, fig. 131.
or a long pole thrust just so far into the earth as to stand
firm and be able to resist the winds. That part of the
mast which is to be in the earth must be well dried at
the fire ; and you must take care to lay on it a good
coat of pitch and tar after taking it from the fire, that
the resinous particles may enter more deeply into the
pores of the wood, which will then be dilated, at the
same time that its humidity will be expelled by tire
heat. Care must likewise be taken to throw around
that part fixed in the earth a certain quantity of coal
dust, or rather a thick layer of good cement, and to
build besides a base of mason-work of a thickness and
depth proportionable to the elevation of the instrument,
so as to keep it durable arid solid. As to the portion of
.it above the ground, it will be suflicient to put upon it
some coats of oil paint, except one chooses rather to lay
on a coat of bitumen the whole length of the piece.
“At the top of the mast there is to be put an iron
console or support C j whose pointed extremity you
are to fix in the upper end of the mast, while the other
extremity is to terminate in a ring, in order to receive
tiie hollow glass tube which is seen at D, and in which
there is to be glued an iron rod rising with the point E.
This rod, thus pointed at its upper extremity, is com¬
pletely insulated, by reason of its keeping a strong
hold of a thick glass tube, which is filled with a quan¬
tity of bituminous matter, mixed with charcoal, brick-
dust, and glass-powder j all together forming a suf¬
ficiently good and strong cement for the object in view.
“ To prevent rain wetting the glass tube, care must be
taken to solder to the rod E a funnel of white-iron j
which consequently is entirely insulated. From the
lower extremity of the rod E hangs a chain G, which
enters into a second glass tube H, supported by the
prop I. The lower end of the above-mentioned chain
rests upon a circular piece of iron wire, which forms a
part of the horizontal conductor KLMN. In L is a
breaker with a turning joint or hinge, in order to move
to the right or left the iron rod LMN; there is like¬
wise another in Q, to give still greater effect to the
circular movement. O and P are two supports termi¬
nating in a fork, where there is fixed a silken cord
tightly stretched, in oi’der to insulate the horizontal
conductor : in N are several very sharp iron points.
Another “ %• I32’ X011 see an apparatus in the main like
form of this the former, but with some dilference in the construction.
n«r*:iieat. At the upper extremity of the mast a b there is bored
a |10le jnto which enters a wooden cylinder c, which
lias been carefully dried before a great fire, in order to
extract its humidity, dilate its pores, and saturate it
with tar, pitch, or turpentine, applied at repeated
R I C I T Y. 805
intervals. The more heat the wood and bituminous Effects of
matter receives, the more the substance penetrates, and Electricity
the insulation will be the more complete. It is more-011 ^eKeta*
over proper to besmear the circumference of the little, l>”n~ ,
cylinder with a pretty thick coat of bitumen. This
preparation being made, we next insert the cylinder c in¬
to the hole b of the mast; and it is easy to join together
these two wooden pieces in the most perfect manner.
“ At the upper extremity of the cylinder c we strong¬
ly attach an iron rod gf; which, instead of one, is
terminated by several sharp points, all of gilded iron.
In e you see a branch of iron resembling the arm of
an iron crow, from whence hangs an iron chain k i,
at the end of which there is hooked a piece of iron re¬
sembling a mason’s square, and ending in a fork. The
piece of iron / is a ring with a handle entering a little
into the glass tube m filled with mastich, in the same
manner as does the ix-on rod «. The conductor p 0
is to be considered as an additional piece to act in tlxat
marked p. There are likewise put ix-on spikes in y :
the support s resembles those of O and P in the former
figure. In this new machine you can lengthen or
shorten the horizontal conductor as you please ; and as
the iron ring / turns freely in a circular goi'ge made in
the mast, the conductor is enabled to describe the en¬
tire area of a circle.
“ The construction of this electro-vegetometer once Effects*of
well understood, it will be easy for us to conceive its these in¬
effect?. The electricity which prevails in the aerial re-VauxnenU.
gions will soon be drawn down by the elevated points of
the upper extremity.
“ The electric matter brought down by the point Ey
or by those marked will be necessarily transmitted
both by the rod and chain ; because the insulation
pxoduced at the upper extremity of the mast complete¬
ly prevents its communication with the timber. The
electric fluid passes from the chain to the horizontal
conductor KM or n 0 : it then escapes by the points at
P an(1 ... . J35
“ The manner of using this instrument is not more Method ri
difficult than the knowledge either of its construction or using Uiei*.
effects. Suppose, for example, we are to place it in
the midst of a kitchen garden. By making the ho¬
rizontal conductor turn round successively, you will he
able to carry the electricity over the whole surface of
the proposed gi'ound. The electric fluid, thus drawn
down, will extend itself over all the plants you want
to cultivate ; and this at a time when thex-e is little or
no electricity in the lower regions nigh the surface of
the earth.
“ On the other hand, when it happens that the elec¬
tric fluid shall be in too great abundance in the atmo¬
sphere, in order to take off the effect of the appa¬
ratus in K, fig. 131. and in 71, fig. 132. you have only
to hang to it an iron chain reaching to the ground, or
else a perpendicular iron rod, which will have the same
effect, viz. that of destroying the insulation, and of
insensibly transmitting the electric fluid in the same
proportion as it is drawn by the points j so that tbei'e
shall never be an overcharge of this fluid in the instru¬
ment, and its effect shall be either something or nothing,
according as you add or remove the second chain or the
additional x'od.
“ There will be nothing to fear from the spontaneous
discharge of this apparatus, because it is terminated.
be low
8o6
Effects of
Hleetricity
on Vegeta¬
tion.
rig* I33*
53«>
Great ad¬
vantage's
to be ex¬
pected
from these
instru-
nsents.
537 .
Vegetation
most vigo¬
rous near
thunder
rods.
elect
below by proper points in P and ? of both machines:
However, it will be easy to furnish one, by means of
which we may approach the apparatus with perfect
security •, it is only necessary to hold the hand before it.
This lias the form of a great C, and is.ot a height equal
to the distance that takes place betwixt the horizontal
conductor and the surface of the earth. This discharger
near the middle must be furnished with a glass handle ;
and at that extremity which is directed towards the con¬
ductor, there must hang an iron chain made to trail on
the ground. This instrument is an excellent safeguard.
See fig. 133. . .
“ By means of the electro-vegetometer just now de¬
scribed, one may be able to accumulate at pleasure
this wonderful fluid, however diflused 111 the regions
above, and conduct it to the surface of the earth, m
those seasons when it is either scantily supplied, or its
quantity is insufficient for vegetation 3 or although it
may be in some degree sufficient, yet can nevei pio-
duce the eflects of a multiplied and highly increased
vegetation. So that by these means we shall have an
excellent vegetable manure or nourishment brought
down as it were from heaven, and that too at an easy
expence 3 for after the construction of this instrument,
it will cost nothing to maintain it: It will be more¬
over the most efficacious you can employ, no other
substance being so active, penetrating, or conducive to
the germination, growth, multiplication, or reproduc¬
tion of vegetables. This heavenly manure is that
which nature employs over the whole habitable earth 3
not excepting even those regions which are esteemed
barren, but which, however, are often fecundated by
those agents which nature knows so well to employ to
the most useful purposes. Perhaps there was nothing
wanting to bring to a completion the useful disco¬
veries that have been made in electricity, but to show
this so advantageous an art of employing electricity
as a manure 3 consequently, that all the eliects which
we have already mentioned depend upon electrici¬
ty alone 5 and lastly, that all these effects, viz. accele¬
ration in the germination, the growth, and production
of leaves, flowers, fruit, and their multiplication, &c.
will be produced, even at a time when secondary causes
are against it: and all this is brought about by the
electric fluid, which we have the art of accumulating
over certain portions of the earth, where we vvant to
raise those plants that are most calculated for our use.
By multiplying these instruments, which are provided
at little expence (since iron rods of* the thickness ot
one’s finger, and even less, are sufficient tor the pur¬
pose), we multiply their beneficial effects, and extend
their use ad infinitum.
“ This apparatus having been raised with care in the
midst of a garden, the happiest effects were perceived,
viz. different plants, herbs, and fruits, in greater for¬
wardness than usual, more multiplied, and of better
quality. At the same time it was observable, that,
during the night, the points N and q, as well as the
upper extremities, were often garnished with beautiful
luminous sparks. These facts are analogous to an ob¬
servation which I have often made, viz. that plants
grow best and are most vigorous near thunder-rods,
where their situation favours their developement. They
likewise serve to explain why vegetation is so vigorous
in lofty forests, and where the trees raise their heads
3
R I C I T Y. Part VI.
far from the surface of the earth, so that they seek, as Effects of
it were, the electric fluid at a far greater height than Electricity
plants less elevated 3 while the sharp extremities of their 011 Vt'£en»-
leaves, boughs, and branches, serve as so many points , ,
granted them by the munificent hand of nature, to draw
down from the atmosphere that electric fluid, which is
so powerful an agent in forwarding vegetation, and in
promoting the different functions ol plants. <^3
“ It is not only by means of the electricity in the {low to
atmosphere collected by the above apparatus, that augment
one can supply the electric fluid, which is so neces- ^fKvpavvers
sarv to vegetation 3 but the electricity named artifi-
cial answers the same purpose. However astonishing tifieiat elec
the idea may he, or however impossible it may appear tricity.
to realize it, yet nothing will he found more easy up¬
on trial. Let us suppose that one wants to augment
the vegetation of trees in a garden, orchard, &c. with¬
out having recourse to the apparatus destined to
pump down as it were the electricity from the atmo¬
sphere : it is sufficient to have a large insulating stool.
This may be made in two ways ; either by pouring
a sufficient quantity of pitch and melted wax up¬
on the above stool, whose borders being more raised
than its middle, will form a kind of frame ; or more
simply, the stool (which is likewise called the insula¬
tor') shall only be composed of a plate longer than
broad, supported by four glass pillars, like those
used for electrical machines. One must take care to
place above the insulator a wooden tray full of wa¬
ter, and to cause mount upon the stool a man car¬
rying a small pump in the form of a syringe. If you
establish a communication between the man and an
electrical machine put in motion (which is easily done
by means of a chain that connects with the conductor
of the machine), then the man thus insulated (as well
as every thing upon the stool) will be able, by pushing
forward the sucker, to water the trees, by pouring
upon them an electrical shower 3 and thus diffusing
over all the vegetables under its influence a principle of
fecundity that exerts itself in an extraordinary manner
upon the whole vegetable economy 3 and this method
has moreover this advantage, that at all times and in
all places it may be practised and applied to all plants
whatever.
“ Every one knows that the electricity is communi¬
cated to the water thus.employed 3 and it would he easy
to obtain the most ample conviction (if any one doubt¬
ed it), by receiving upon his face or hand this elec¬
trical shower ; he immediately feels small punctures or
strokes, which are the effects of the sparks that issue
from each drop of water. This is perceived most sen¬
sibly if there is presented a metal dish to this electrical
dew 3 for at the very instant of contact, brilliant flashes
are produced.
“ That the electricity received by the man from the
chain may be communicated to the tray, we must put
a small cake of white iron, upon the end of which he
may place his foot. T he tray filled with water is a
kind of magazine or reservoir to serve as a continual
supply to the pump. After watering one tree, you
transport the stool to a second, a third, and so on suc¬
cessively 3 which is done in a short time, and requires
very little trouble.
“ Instead ol the chain, it is better to employ a cord
or twist of pinchbeck or any other metal: by means ot
which
Chan. II.
ii
irflfects of 'vl’ich there can he no loss of the electric matter, as
electricity there is in the case ot the chain hy the ring points,
nn Vegeta- Moreover, this metal corrl or thread being capable of
t!on* . being untwisted and lengthened, there will be no occa-
^ sion for transporting so often the electrical machine.
It is almost needless to add, that this string or metallic
cord, which is always insulated, may rest upon the
same kind of supports with those which have been ex¬
hibited in OP and s of fig. 131. and 132. This method
is simple, efficacious, and nowise expensive, and cannot
be too much employed.
S39 “ If one wants to water either a parterre or com-
®asy mon garden, beds and platforms of flowers, or any
ilyhi'^elec- °^ieT plots in which are sown grain or plants of differ-
tricity ia ent ages a«d kinds, no method is more easy and ex-
his man- peditious than the following : Upon a small carriage
!er- with two wheels there is placed a framed insulator in
form of a cake of pitch and rosin, as we have mentioned
before in N° 538. The carriage is drawn the whole
length of the garden by a man or horse fixed to it. In
proportion as you draw the carriage, the metallic cord
winds itself upon a bobbin, which turns as usual. This
last is insulated, either because the little apparatus that
sustains the bobbin is planted in a mass of rosin (when
you 'choose the axle to he of iron), or else because
this moveable axis is a tube of solid glass. There
must also be a support which serves to prevent the
gold thread or the metallic cord from trailing on the
ground, and thus dissipating the electricity j and,
moreover, it serves for an insulator. To accomplish
this last purpose, it is necessary that the ring into which
it passes be of glass. One may likewise employ the
insulators and supports marked OP and .9, in fig. 131.
and 132. If a gardener, mounted upon an insula¬
tor, holds in one hand a pump full of water, and
with the other takes hold of a metallic cord, in order
t« transmit the electricity which comes from the
conductor j in this case, the water being electri¬
fied, you will have an electrical shower j which fall¬
ing on the whole surface of the plants which you
want to electrify, will render the vegetation more
vigorous and more abundant. A second gardener is
to give additional pumps full of water to him who is
upon the insulator, when he shall have emptied those
he holds ; and thus in a little time you will be able to
electrify the whole garden. This method takes hardly
longer time than the ordinary one ; and although it
should he a little longer, the great advantages result¬
ing from it will abundantly recompense the small addi¬
tional trouble.
“ Byrepeating this operation several days successive¬
ly, either upon seed sown or plants in a state of growth,
you will very soon reap the greatest advantages from it.
This operation, equally easy with the preceding de¬
scribed upon the subject of watering trees, has been put
in practice with the greatest success. Several other
methods, answering the same purpose, might be de¬
vised j but they are all of them pretty similar to that
pt in re- just described.
rvoirs, “ I cannot finish this article without mentioning .
540
oekcii'I-
watcr
ELECTRICITY. 807
another method relative to the present object, although Effects cf
it he much less efficacious than the preceding ones. Ehctricity
It consists in communicating to water kept in basons, ®n Ye£etR-
reservoirs, &c. (for the purpose of watering), the elec- , .
trie fluid, by means of a good electrical machine. To
this end, one must plaster over with a bituminous
cement all the interior surface of the bason destined to
receive the water that serves for irrigation ; the na¬
ture of this cement answering the purpose ol insula¬
tion, will prevent the electric fluid that communicates
with the water from being dissipated 5 and the water
thus charged with electricity will be the more fitted
for vegetation. ^ T
“ II the deficiency of the electric fluid, or rather a Vegetable*
small quantity of it, is apt to be hurtful to vegetables, iniured by
a too great abundance of this matter will likewise l!je tklcctr,G
sometimes produce pernicious effects. The experi-& °C ’
ments made hy Messrs Nairne, Banks, and other learn¬
ed men ot the lioyal Society of London, prove suffi¬
ciently this truth. An electric battery, very strong,
was discharged upon a branch of balsam still holding
by its trunk. Some minutes after, there was observed
a remarkable alteration in the branch, of which the
less woody parts immediately withered, dropped towards
the ground, died next day, and in a short time entirely
dried up ; at the same time that another branch of the
same plant that had not been put under the electric
chain, was not in the smallest degree effected.
“ This experiment repeated upon other plants showed
the same effects ; and it was remarked that the attrac¬
tion, occasioned hy a strong discharge of the electricity,
produced an alteration different according to the dif¬
ferent nature of the plants. Those which are less
woody, more herbaceous, more aqueous, experience in
proportion, impressions that are stronger and much more
speedy in their operation.
“ A branch of each of the following plants, com¬
posing an electrical chain, it was observed by these
able philosophers, that the balsam was affected by the
discharge of the battery in a few moments after, and
perished next day. The leaves of a marvel of Peru
did not drop till the day following that} and the same
phenomenon happened to a geranium. Several days
elapsed before there was observed any fatal effect on
the cardinal flower. The branch of a laurel did not
show any symptoms till after the lapse of about 13 days,
after which it died ; but it was a full month before they
perceived any sensible change on the myrtle $ at the
same time they constantly observed that the bodies of
those plants and branches which had formed no part of
the chain, continued to be fresh, vigorous, and cover¬
ed with leaves in good condition *. * Phil
“ It hardly ever happens that the superabundance of Trans.
the electric fluid existing in a small portion of the at-vol.
mosphere where a plant is situated, can be so great as
that which took place hy the explosion of the strong
battery of Mr Nairne, directed particularly upon one
branch ; or if this should happen, it can only be upon
a few individual plants in a very small number.”
PART
8o8
Animal
Electricity.
ELECTRICITY.
PART VII.
DEVELOPEMENT OE ELECTRICITY IN ANIMALS.
Part VII.
Animal
Electricity.
CERTAIN animals, which have been observed to
communicate sudden and strange sensations by simple
contact with their bodies, or even through the medium
of other substances, without such contact, have been
found to owe this property to the faculty of transmitting
electrical shocks of greater or less intensity, a faculty
which is exercised by the instrumentality of peculiar
r organs.
The^raia One of these animals is well known under the name
toipedo. of the torpedo. It is a fish of the ray kind, and deno¬
minated by naturalists the ram torpedo. It fives in the
seas of the southern parts of Europe, and is also Ire-
quently found on the southern shores of this island.
Its benumbing powers have been long known. The elec¬
trical nature of these powers was ascertained by Mr
Walsh, in a paper addressed to Dr Franklin, from la
Rochelle, the place where his observations were made,
and inserted in the Philosophical Transactions for 1773.
It is by touching the upper surface of the animal with
one hand, and the lower with the other, that the shocks
are most readily felt. They are extremely frequent,
especially when the animal is dying, though then much
feebler. They take place both when the animal is in
the water and m the air $ and are particularly poweiful
in the moment of separating him from the surface of the
water, or bringing him in contact with it. The most re¬
markable movement in the body of the animal accom¬
panying these shocks is a drawing in of the eyes, which
at other times are very prominent. The electrical organs
of the animal occupy a large space between the vital or¬
gans and the fins on each side, and they consist of cylin¬
drical bodies, or rather prisms of various hexagonal irre¬
gular sections, generally resembling the cells of a honey¬
comb. The longitudinal direction of these bodies is right
across the thickness of the animal, reaching nearly to
the skin at both ends, being separated from it by two
thin fascise. These columnar bodies consist of numerous
partitions, about 150 in an inch, between which a ge¬
latinous substance is interposed. The columns them¬
selves are about \ of an inch in diameter. The num¬
ber of them forming an organ on each side has been
sometimes found to be 47^’ The identity of the shock
communicated by this animal with electricity is proved
by its passing through all conducting substances, and
tliem only, as well as by the kind of sensation produced.
It has not however been seen to generate the electric
spark, or the snapping noise in its passage through air.
The anatomy of this animal is described by Mr John
Hunter, in another paper contained in the same vo¬
lume. In order to shew how the electrical nature of
the shocks given by the torpedo is sufficiently consistent
with the absence of all electrical sparks, and of snap¬
ping noise, Mr Cavendish shews, by an able series of
experiments and of calculations, contained in the Phi¬
losophical Transactions for 1776, that it is sufficiently
explained by the great quantities of contrary electri¬
cities generated in the parts of the animal which are in
opposite directions, together with the small intensity of
the charge. The intensity, or tendency to equilibrium
by transmission, is that power which is indicated by
the different electrometers ; but this intensity dimi¬
nishes in proportion to the surface over which any
charge is diffused. It will not now pass through an
equal interval of air between two conducting surfaces j
yet it will display the powerful effects of the amount of
transmission by other tests, such as the shock given to
an animal placed in the electrical circuit, and the me¬
chanical action exerted on substances placed in its way.
Now, when the torpedo produces a charge in the elec¬
trical organs of its own body, by a voluntary exertion,
this charge has for its surface all the thin membranes
forming the septa into which the columnar bodies are
divided. As the charge of which a battery is suscep¬
tible is also in proportion to the thinness of the parti¬
tions, this circumstance is, in the structure of the tor¬
pedo, highly favourable to the accumulation of such a
large quantity of a charge, with so little intensity, as
fully to account for it not exhibiting the phenomena
now alluded to, and not even being communicable be¬
tween the links of a metallic chain, notwithstanding the
strength of the shock which it gives to an animal body.
Mr Cavendish made experiments with an artificial tor¬
pedo, first of wood and then of leather, soaked with sea
water. He made an electric charge of a given inten¬
sity, and a given quantity, to pass from the upper to
the lower surface, also through the human body, to try
the strength of the shock through a metallic chain,
and making trials of the electric spark and snapping
noise. From the reduction of the latter phenomena, in
proportion as his charge approached in circumstances
to that which may be supposed to exist in the living
animal, he drew the inference, that the deficiency of
these phenomena was no evidence against the electrical
nature of the shock of the torpedo. Another anomaly
had presented itself, in the transmission of the shock
through the human body, even while the surfaces of
the animal were connected by the water in which the
animal was immersed. This also was satisfactorily ex¬
plained by experiment j and to this object the artificial
torpedo was principally applied.
Another electrical animal, possessed of still greater
powers, is the gymnolus clectricits, which is found in
the rivers of South America. It is a large animal,
nearly of the shape of an etl, and is called the electric
eel. Its length is from three to four feet in those
which have been described from actual examination,
hut it is said that some are much larger. J lie vital
organs are situated close to the head, and are of no
greater length than the head itself: the anus being in
a part which we should call the neck of the animal.
The rest of the length is occupied with the electric
organs, the hack-bone with its muscles and tail, the
spinal cord, the great sympathetic nerves, and the air
bladder. The electric organs consist of two pairs, one
4 near
I
:
I'M,*: C TBICl ’[' Y.
Plate CLXXXV1II.
ELECTRICITY.
PLATE CLXXXIX.
Fig. 31.
ftiufraved Iry TV.Archibald
ELEC TRIC ITY.
/ v
PLATE CXCI.
Fig. 66.
Eng* Try WArchibaldEdinTi
/
ELECTRICITY.
PLATE CXCir.
ELECTRICITY.
PLATE CXCni.
Erujt by WArchibaldEdatr
CtJ
/ v'./zy;' cjrcir.
EliE CTRICITY.
Figr. SO.
I1'///. Si.
K. AftYo/t e//jZ,<//7!
■ -■ ■ —
IJ7^JTE6TCr
Electricity.
J <$yy
Fry. 88.
7^7 JUfi ft? f
Plate C X<' VI
PVT . K C T KICI T Y.
E MUcJlA /lJciU/'L * '
electricity;
PLATE CXCV/I.
PLATE CKCVm.
ELECTRICITY.
' . //'f/\ ■ /'
I
E
Tl
4
Part VIL ELECT
Animal near the spine, and attached to its muscles and to the
Electricity, air-bladder above, and separated into a right and left
' organ by a septum. The other pair, which is much
smaller, is beneath the former. The space separa¬
ting the right from the left is occupied by the muscles
which move the long abdominal fin. These organs con¬
sist of numerous membranes, lying horizontally over
one another, and connected by numerous septa. They
are supplied with numerous nerves of great magnitude,
both from the spinal cord and the great sympathetics!
The shocks communicated by this animal are much
stronger than those which the torpedo gives, so that it
is impossible, on account of their violence, to extend
our knowledge of the physiology of the animal by
handling it freely in its living state. It communicates
at pleasure a shock to an animal at a short distance
from it in the water. This is its first object in secur¬
ing its prey. It swims up near to a fish, looks at it, then
conveys to it a shock, which either instantly kills it, or
stuns it so that it is deprived of all voluntary motion.
When its end is not fully accomplished, it gives a se¬
cond and stronger shock 5 very often it kills in this
manner fishes which are larger than itself, and which
it either cannot or will not eat. This shock is proved
to be as decidedly electrical as that of the raia torpedo.
The particulars of the experiments made by Dr Wil¬
liamson, and also an anatomical account of it by Mr
John Hunter, with large plates, are contained in the
243 65th volume of the Philosophical Transactions.
The Bilurus A third electrical fish, is the silurus electricus, which
electrieus. differs in the situation and form of its peculiar organs
from both of the two preceding. These organs form a
universal envelope over the body, immediately under the
skin. They consist of a collection of cellular tissue,
so compact, that it might at first view be considered as
a stratum of fat; but, when minutely examined, it is
found to consist of tendinous fibres, forming a reticu¬
lation, the meshes of which require the aid of a magni¬
fying power to distinguish them : these are filled with
a gelatinous substance.
Thus it appears, that neither the situation of the
electric organs, nor the form of the cells, is to be
considered as constant in animals of this descrip¬
tion. It is also discovered, by anatomical examina¬
tion, that no branch of the nervous system is par¬
ticularly set apart for this set of organs, as the
nerves sent to it are different in all the species.
1 he essential circumstances are, multiplied aponeuro-
E I C I T Y. 8:9
ses with extensive surfaces, forming numerous cells, Ani,lla|
and these cells filled with gelatinous matter, and sup-E’ccn city.
plied with nerves of great size and length. Other spe*'    
ciesofrays, besides the torpedo, have a collection of
gelatine, in a part of the body corresponding to the
electric organ of the raia torpedo j but it is not sepa¬
rated into numerous minute portions by close aponeu¬
rotic cells. It lies in large continuous quantities, in
lengthened cavities, communicating with the surface
by open orifices j and hence the nerves distributed to
it, tbough of considerable size, are incapable of elicit¬
ing from it any electrical phenomena.
Other two fishes are known to possess a similar
power, viz. the trichiurus indievs, and the tetraodon
electricus, both found in the Indian seas : hut we know
nothing of the distinguishing characters of their elec¬
tric organs.
rJecti ical phenomena, occasionally developed by Electricity
other animals, and also by the human body, have been ot thc lni-
recorded by naturalists and historians, both ancient andman hodr*
modern. In some individuals it has been excited by
stroking their own hair backwards, or by combing. Some
people have habitually observed electrical light to be
given out when their shirts were moved. This has
occasionally been remarked to occur in cases of disease,
such as consumption. It has been further observed
that, besides these palpable appearances of occasional
occurrence, others are capable of being regularly pro¬
duced by motion of the body, provided the clothes
are of the same temperature with the body itself, and
there is no perspiration present. This electricity is
made apparent by the condenser, when it has been ex¬
cited while the body was insulated. A quantity is pre¬
sent, independently of motion. It is different in degree
in different persons. It differs in kind on different occa¬
sions, and even varies in this respect in the course of
one experiment. On the whole, however, it is natu¬
rally positive. When it is negative, the body is in an
unnatural state. Cold weakens it, or reduces it to
zero, or changes it to the negative form. Lassitude
has a similar operation. Sudden and violent motion
changes every kind of animal electricity to the oppo¬
site. Continual straining of the thoughts is favourable
to positive electricity. The breath has no effect on it,
and does not sensibly conduct it. Such are the leading
results made on this subject by the delicate experi¬
ments of Mr Hemmer, an account of which is contain¬
ed in the 5th volume of the Philosophical Magazine.
PART VIII. -
APPLICATION OF ELECTRICITY TO MEDICINE.
AT one time, the powers of electricity over the ani¬
mal economy, were represented by some persons in
Italy as so remarkable, that a suspicion of exaggera¬
tion and fable was naturally excited. It was asserted,
that by means of the electrical shock, the virtues of
medicinal drugs held in the hand were diffused through
the whole body. The abb£ Nollet and others exposed,
by a set of careful experiments, the imposture of these
pretensions, in a visit which they paid to Italy for the
Vol. VII. Part II. t
express purpose of investigating the subject. Other
similar frauds have been practised upon this subject,
which it would serve no purpose to describe. But Mode of
there can be no doubt, that the application of electri- applying it
city has, in many instances of disease, proved useful.10 raedie»l
Shocks may be communicated in quick succession, and,lses‘
of a regulated strength, by mean* of a Leyden jar fit¬
ted up with Lane’s electrometer. Two directors of
metal are employed, with a metallic ball at one end of
5 K- each,
546
Successful
cases.
8.0 ' ELECT
Me^fc.l each, ami at tlie oilier a glass liandle ; by means ol
Electrscity. which it may be applied by an operator placed w-thout
 * the electrical circle. These directors are applied to
the two opposite extremities of the part through which
the shocks are to be transmitted, and they are connect¬
ed with the opposite sides of the electric jar, by means
of flexible conductors, such as metallic wires.
Mr Carpue has published several cases of success,
along with some failures, under the use ol electri-
Jn contractions depending on an affection of a nerve,
it has sometimes been effectual.
In cases of rigidity, it has frequently given rehet
when long persevered in.
In sprains, relaxations, and similar cases, after in¬
flammation has subsided, it is applied with good ef¬
fect.
Indolent tumours, and even scirrhus ot the mammae
and testicles, have yielded to strong sparks and slight
shocks*
In deafness, sparks thrown on the mastoid process
of the temporal bone, and round the meatus externus,
usually afford relief, and occasionally produce a perfect
cure.
R I C I T Y. Part VIII.
Opacity of the cornea is sometimes cured by electri- Medical
city, applied by means of a wooden point for ten mi- Electneily.
nutes daily, for a length of time. L. is most particu- v~"' J‘
larly apt to yield when originating in the smallpox.
Amaurosis has sometimes been successfully treated
by the same means.
Suppressed menstruation has been relieved, but not
retention of the catamenia.
In a few cases of pain and swelling of the knee, re¬
lief has been effectually obtained.
In chronic rheumatism the success is very fre¬
quent.
Chorea has been frequently relieved ; palsy occa¬
sionally. In epilepsy Mr Carpue never found it suc¬
cessful. . . .
It must, however, be remarked, that the indiscrimi¬
nate employment of this powerful agent, especially in
shocks of inordinate strength sent through the brain or
spinal cord, is often productive of great and permanent
mischief 5 so that it is necessary for the medical prac¬
titioner to be guarded in the employment of it: and it
ought not, without due precaution, to be applied to
the human constitution for purposes of curiosity or
amusement.
INDEX.
A
ACHARD's experiments on ice, N° 5
division of the scale of
an electrometer, 68
Action, electric, law of, 366—368
shewn by experiment, 368
AEpinus'1! experiments on the tourma¬
lin, 21
on sulphur, 27
theory of electricity, 294—347
defect in, supplied, 320
defended, 321
Air, effect of, in electricity^ 63
decomposed by electricity, 165
rarefied by an explosion, 168
when hot, a conductor, 227
how excited, 229
by friction, 230
evaporation, 231
of a room, to electrify, 234
plate of, to charge, 235
essential to electrical phenomena, 237
Amalgam, electrical, 13
preparation of,
Amber, electricity of, known to
Thales, page 645, note (a).
gives name to electricity, 1
Ammonia decomposed by electricity, 166
Apparatus, electrical, Part II.
Atmosphere, electric, visible, 191
electricity of, constant, 495
always positive in
dry weather, ib.
strongest in foggy
weather, 503
Atmosphere, electricity of, table of ob¬
servations on the, p. 795
periodical flux and reflux
observed in the, N° 504
causes affecting the elec¬
tricity of the, 511—520
Asmospheres, electric, hypothesis of,
refuted, 108
Attraction and repulsion, electrical,
illustrated, Part III. Ch. i.
through glass explained, 292
Aurora australis, 552
borealis, phenomena of, 521
attributed to polar
fires, 523
evidence for the e-
lectrical origin of, 524
theory of, 525
experiment of, 190
Axioms on atmospherical electricity, 510
B
Baldwin, curious phenomenon obser¬
ved by, 497
Battery, electrical, 101
how constructed, no
electrical, compendious, ib.
rules for, 112
origin of, 113
Van Marum’s, 114
charge of, how esti¬
mated, 204
Beccaria's substitute for glass, 105
vindicating electricity, 422
observations on atmosphe¬
rical electricity, 486
Beccariafs idea of the production of
hail, N° 488
Bells, electrified, 61, 80, 126
Sennet's electrometer, 69
advantages of, 71
defects of, 74
how remedied, 75, 216
applied to kites, 496
doubler, 247
mode of remedying the de¬
fects of the doubler, 252
Berthollet's remarks on the fusion of
metals by electricity, 328
Bertholon's observations on electrify¬
ing vegetables, 531
electro-vegetometer, 532
Boze introduces the prime conductor,
page 661, note (K.)
Brooke's method of making batteries, III
of coating jars, 108
of repairing jars, 115
experiments on the Leyden
phial, 14®
on the force of bat¬
teries, 202
mode of constructing gages, 239
Brugnatelli supposes the electric fluid
to be an acid, 365
C
Can and chain electrified, _ 4*3
Canals, communication of electricity
by, explained, 347““392
uniformity of fluid in, very
slender, 374
Canton first employs an amalgam, *3
Canton's
Index.
Canton's experiments on glass, N° 16
electrometer, 66
Capillary syphon, 77
Carbonic acid decomposed by electri¬
city, page 696, note (t).
Carmoy's experiments on electrifying
vegetables, 530
Carpue, Mr, on medical electricity, 546
Cavallo's experiments on glass tubes, 16
on exciting powders, 31
improvement of Bennet’s e-
lectrometer, 73
pocket electrometer, 76
directions for fusing metals, 171
experiments on colours, 193
experiments on the electro-
phorus, 208
on the non-conducting
power of a vacuum, 240
improvement of the conden¬
ser, 246
collector of electricity, 254
multiplier of electricity,
use of, in observations
on atmospherical
electricity, 300
construction of kites, 492
means of avoiding danger
from the kite, 493
conclusions from his experi¬
ments with the kite 49$
atmospherical electrometer, 498
electrometer for rain, 499
Cave}idish's experiments on air, 165
theory of electricity, 348
of the action of points, 414
* of charged glass, 416
method of measuring the
charge of a jar, 420
Cement for electrical apparatus, 3*7
for broken jars, 11 ij
Chocolate, electricity of, 28
Cigna's experiments on silk, 18
with charged plates, 151
Coating for cylinders and globes, 40
for jars and plates, 107
Collector of electricity, 254
Colout's, experiments on, 193
Compensated e\ectv\c\tx, 411
Condenser of electricity, 245
improvement of, 246
Conductors, table of, 5
distinguished from elec¬
trics by Grey, p. 646,
note (b).
all imperfect, 4
prime, of a machine, 39
introduced by Boze, page
661, note (k).
capacity of, 243
conjugate, 244
against lightning, invent¬
ed by Dr Franklin, 464
■should be of the best con¬
ducting materials, 467
ELECTRICITY.
Conductors should be of sufficient dia¬
meters, . N° 468
perfectly contiguous, 469
interrupted, effect of, 473
should be as straight as
possible, 47 j
pointed, 476
Configurations, curious, produced by
electricity, ^ r
Lopper forms the best conductors
against lightning, 467
KjOtte s axioms on atmospherical elec-
tricity, ^ro
Lotion, electrified,
Coulomb ascertains the law of electric
action, * ^67
finds that conductors are e-
lectrical only at the sur-
face, 239
Coulomb's experiments on the density
of the electric fluid, 397
Cuneus's experiment, 98
Cuthbertson's proofs of the oxidation
of metals by electrici¬
ty, page 702.
electrometer, 203
experiments on the effect
# ofbreathing into jars, 205
mode of estimating the
power of machines, 224
method of distinguishing
the two electricities, 266
Cylinder, advantages of, 39
directions for choosing, ib.
state of the inside of, during
excitation, 212
D
Dalibard's experiment proving the
identity of lightning
and electricity, 442
Dancing balls, 61
Danger from lightning, means of
avoiding, 469, 481
from atmospherical electrici¬
ty, instances of, 494, 496, 497
approaching, signs of, 480
Darwin's moveable doubler, 249
Discharger, Henley’s universal, 117
Discharging xo&, construction of, 116
Morgan’s, 119
Doubler of electricity, 247
manipulation of, 248
moveable, by Darwin, 249
revolving, by Nicholson, 250
defects of, 251
how remedied, 252, 253
Du Faye's theory of electricity, 280
E
Fggs, illuminated, 176
Electric fluid, nature of, 281, 353
materiality of, proved, 336
differs from caloric, 338
from light, 360
probably a compound, 361
8l I
Electric fluid, generally confined to
the surface of con¬
ductors, N° 339
supposed to be an acid, 363
Jaw of action of, 366
disposition of, in two
parallel plates, 371
in a sphere, 372
Electric power, cause of electric phe¬
nomena so called, 2
Elect ideal power, attracts and repels, 60
makes liquids flow
through capillary
syphons, 77
communication of, to
electrics, 93
passage of, shewn, 136—
139
mechanical effects of,
Part III. Ch. viii.
velocity of, 270
See Electric Fluid.
apparatus described, Part
II.
machine, general construct-
tion of, Part II. Ch. i.
different parts of, 34
various, 46—31
directions for using
Part II. Ch. iii.
power of, how esti¬
mated, 221
with silk, 226
horse-race, 84
orrery, g^
jack, 133
air thermometer, 168
Electricity, general idea of, 1
origin of the name, ib.
properly the science, 2
applied to the cause of
phenomena, ib.
produced in various ways, 10
by friction, 11
heating and cooling, 21, 24
melting, 23—28
breaking, 29
evaporation, 32
of wood shavings, 30
powders, 31
small degrees of, how as¬
certained, 238—261
theories of, Part IV. Ch. i.
discovered to come from
the earth, 282
direction of, doubts con¬
cerning, 284
phenomena of, depend on
redundancy of fluid or
matter, 303 '
induced, 344
compensated, 411
vindicating,. 422
positive and negative, 7
how distinguished, 128
5 K 2 Electricity,
Sl2
Electricity, positive and negative, ob¬
servations on, N° 130
attract each
other, _ 325
produced in
the same
conductor, 21S
vitreous and resinous, 8
Electrics, what, 1
table of, 5
all imperfect,
used as insulators, 6
coated, effects of, 93
resinous, when melted be¬
come conductors, 268
nature of, 29^
only so superficially, 410
Electrometer, Nollet’s ^5
Canton’s, 06
stand of,
quadrant, _ 67
scale of, how best divid¬
ed, 68
Bennet’s, 69
sensibility of, 71
rendered more sen¬
sible by a candle, 73
defects of, 74
improvement of, 75
Cavallo’s pocket, 76
Lane’s _ I99
by Adams, similar to
Brooke’s, 201
Cuthbertson’s, 203
Bobison’s comparable, 206
mode of using, 367
Cavallo’s atmospheri¬
cal, 498
for the rain, 499
Electrophorus described, 207
phenomena of,
experiments on, by Ca-
vallo, 208
by Morgan, 209
theory of, 423
primitive state of, 425
common state of, 426
neutral state of, 329
charged state of, 43°
charging state of, 431
activity of, how renew¬
ed, ^ 434
Electroscopes. See Electrometers.
Electro-vegetometer, described, 532'
Evaporation produces electricity, 32, 231
increased by electricity, 233
experiments on, by Saus-
sure, # 5°9
a cause of atmospherical
electricity, 512
Excitation, _ 4
modes of producing, 10—31
of powders, _ 31
remarks on, by Mr Ni¬
cholson, 210—22Q
electricity.
Excitation, mode of increasing, N 219
how perlormed without the
silk flap, 217
velocity necessary to pro¬
duce the greatest de¬
gree of, 214
Experiments on glass by Hawkesbee, 13
by Cavallo, 14
on silk by Symmer, 17
by Cigna, 18
Experiments on paper, -^|0 l9
on the tourmalin, 24
on sulphur by Wilcke, 25
by iEpinus, 26
on powders by Cavallo, 31
on attraction and repul¬
sion, Part III. Ch. i.
on points, 80—84
on the Leyden phial, 96, 122
et seq.
on the electric spark, 130
on inflammation, 15^
on the gases, 164—166
on decomposing water, 169
on fusing metals, I7I'*”I73
on electric light, 175—190
on colours, 193
on the electrophorus, 208,209
on evaporation, 231—233
on the non-conducting
power of a vacuum, 238
—240
on the capacity of con¬
ductors, 243
on the velocity of the
electric fluid, 271
proving the identity of
lightning and electri¬
city, < 441, 442
on atmospherical electri¬
city, Part V. Ch. ii.
on evaporation by Saus-
sure, 509
Experiments, entertaining.
Dancing figures, 61
Capillary syphon, 77
Electrical well, 79
horse-race, 81
orrery, 82
Electrified cotton, 84
Drawing sparks, 86
Dancing balls, 94
Leyden phial, 9^
Electrified spider, I26
Lateral explosion, 127
Leyden vacuum, 13^
Double jar, *39
Magic picture, *54
Electrical jack, 155
Self-moving wheel, 156
To fire rosin, 158
spirits, 159
hydrogen gas, 160
gun-powder, 162
Inflammable air lamp, 161
Index,
Electrical air thermometer, N 0 168
To fuse wires, 171
To burn wire by electricity, 173
To illuminate water, 175
eggs, 176
Canton’s phosphorus, 178
Spiral tube, 18o
Luminous word, 181
conductor, 188
Conducting glass tube, 189
Aurora borealis, 190
Visible electric atmosphere, 191
To perforate a card, &c. 196
To electrify the air of a room, 234
To charge a plate of air, 235
To imitate the planetary motions, 264
To spin sealing-wax into threads, 272
To form curious configurations, 275
Electrified can and chain, 3I3
Thunder-house, 47°
Powder-house, 471
Flame, a conductor, _ 265
Fogs have a smell like an excited glass
tube, 489
Franklin discovers the seat of the
charge in the Leyden
phial, *24
Franklin's experiments on metals, 171
theory of electricity, 289—292
difficulty to explain the
attraction between ne¬
gative bodies, 288
theory of the Leyden phial, 291
conjecture on the identity
of lightning and electri¬
city, _ _ _ 438
comparative view of their
effects, 439
proposal for proving their
identity, . 44°
experiment proving their
identity, 441
invention of conductors a-
gainst lightning, 464
directions for their con¬
struction, 465
Friction excites electrics, U
observations on its mode of
action, 3^4
G
Gases decomposed by electricity, 135
Gilbert, Dr, discovers glass to be an
electric, 12
Glass, when first shown to be an elec¬
tric,
excited, phenomena of, Part I.
Chap. i.
durability of its electricity, Jb
best electric for machines, 35
substitute for, 105, 225
red hot, a conductor, 260
powdered, a conductor, 269,
2
Index.
Glass, impermeable to the electric
fluid, N° 409
Gralath first employs a battery, 1x3
Greij distinguishes electrics from con¬
ductors, p. 646. note (b).
discovers silk to be an electric, 16
supposes a perpetual electricity
in sulphur, 27
Gymnotus electricus, 542
H
Mail, supposed to be produced by e-
lectricity,
Beccaria’s idea of the forma¬
tion of, 488
Haldane's, Colonel, mode of estima¬
ting the charge of a
battery, 204
Many's discoveries of the electric
properties of minerals, 22
Hawkesbee's experiments on glass, 13
renders sealing-wax trans ¬
parent, ib.
Henley's experiments on chocolate, 28
quadrant electrometer, 67
universal discharger, 117
observations on charged
plates, 152
atmospherical electricity, 490
Houses, best means of protecting from
lightning, 477
Ice, when free from air, a non-con¬
ductor, 5
Induced electricity, 344
illustrated, 399
may become per¬
manent, 347
electrical machine, 417
substitutes for glass in
machines, 225
denies the effect of elec-
Insulation, what,
tricity on vegetation, 529
K
Kienmayer's amalgam, p. 659, note (1).
Kinnersley's electrical thermometer, 168
observations on atmosphe¬
rical electricity, 484
Kite, Franklin’s experiment with, 441
Cavallo’s construction of, 492
directions for making experi¬
ments with, 493
Bennet’s electrometer applied
to. 496
Kleist's, Van, discovery of the elec¬
tric shock, 97
Klincock's method of estimating small
degrees of electricity, 242
Lamp, inflammable air, 161
Lane's electrometer, 199
Zafertf/explosion, 127
Zeyf/era phial, construction of, 95
charging and discharging, 96
ELECTRICITY.
Leyden phial, discovery of, N° 97
progressive improvement, 100
best form of, 103
insulated, cannot be
charged, 122
charge of, where seated, 123
gradually discharged, 125
lateral explosion of, 127
Brooke’s experiments
on, 140
Milner’s experiments
on, 141
self-charging, 158
states ofits surfaces, 134—140
charged without fric¬
tion, N° 148
when damped within,
receives a higher
^ charge, 205
Franklin’s theory of, 291
phenomenaof,illustrated, 415
theory of, 416
charge of, how ascer¬
tained, 420
Lichtenberg's method of estimating
small degrees of e-
lectricity, 242
curious experiment with
the electrophorus, 274
Light difters from electricity, 360
electric, varieties of, 91
first seen by Otto Gue¬
ricke, p. 673, note (n).
star and pencil of 129
appearance of, on paper, 133
experiments on, by Mr
Morgan, 182—187
may become visible in
all bodies, 182
more visible in imper¬
fect conductors, 183
more visible in rare
than in dense media, 184
more brilliant in small
bodies, 185.
like solar light in re-
frangibility, 186
affected like solar light
by various media, 187
invisible in a perfect
vacuum, 237
Lightning and electricity, similar ef¬
fects of, 439
identity of, proved
by Dr Franklin, 441
flash of, form of, 446
colours of, 447
effects of, on a building, 453
fusion of metals by, not a
cold fusion, 454
sets fire to inflammable bo¬
dies, _ . _ 455
tears resisting bodies, 456
kills animals^ 457
Luminous word, 181
813
Luminous conductor, N° 188
Lyncurium, the tourmalin so called by
Theophrastus, I\9 20
Lyons's experiments to prove the per¬
meability of glass, 40^
M
Machine. See Electrical.
Magic picture,
Magnetism given to needles by elec-
, tricity, 276
Maunbray first electrified plants, 526
Marum's, \ an, electrical machines, 48, 49
batteries, 114
experiments with the
gases, N° 166
experiments with me-
tals, 172
experiments on mag¬
netic needles, 278
Mazeas's, abbe, experiments on at¬
mospherical elect] icity, 483
Medical electricity,
Mercurial phosphorus,
Metals fused and oxidated by electri-
city, I7I
fusibility of, comparative, by
heat and by electricity,
N° 172. and p. 701. note
C^-
oxides of, reduced,
fusion of, by lightning not a
cold fusion, 4^4
Milner's observations on the Leyden
phial, _ l4f
Monnier's experiments on atmosphe¬
rical electricity, 482
Morgan's rules for constructing bat¬
teries, 102
for discharging rods, 118
discharging rod, xic)
experiments on electric
ligl't) 182—187
experiments on the insula¬
ted electrophorus, 209
experiments on the non¬
conducting power of a
vacuum, 238
observations on the effect
of friction, 364
observations on the distance
at which thunder may
strike, 460
proposal for preventing dan¬
ger to buildings from
lightning, 477
Multiplier of electricity, 255
Multiplying wheel, its uses, 41
N
Hairne's electrical machine, 50
method of securing jars, 121
Neutral points, several in an imper¬
fect conductor, 346
Neutrality of bodies that are redun¬
dant or deficient,. 313
Nicholson's
8i4-
l^icholson^s observations on tbe elec¬
tric spark, 13°
instrument for distinguish¬
ing the two electrici¬
ties, _ I32
remarks on excitation. 210
—220
revolving doubler,
spinning condenser,
improvement ot Bennet’s
electrometer,
remarks on the glass case
of ditto,
Nitric acid formed by electricity,
Nitrous gas decomposed by electri-
clty’ xr
Nollet's, abbe, electrometer, ^
theory of electricity,
conjectures on the identity
of lightning and electri-
city, .
experiments on electrifying
plants,
'Son-conductors. Vid. Electrics.
O
Opaque bodies made transparent, ij*
Otto Guericke first constructs an elec¬
trical machine, p. 657, note (e),
250
257
262
263
166
3 65
283
437
527
179
Taper, electricity of 19
a good rubber, 43
use of, as a coating, 108
Pearson’s directions for decomposing
■water by electricity, 170
Peart's idea of electric atmospheres, 407
Phosphorus, Canton’s, illuminated, 178
Planetary motions imitated, 82, 264
Plate machine superior to one with
a cylinder, 223
Plates of glass, their inconveniences, 38
Points, action of, 80—84
explained, 414
Polarity of magnetic needles reversed
by an electric shock, 276
Powder-house, experiment, 471
Priestley's electrical machine, 46
experiments on tourmalins, 24
gases, 165
R
Pain supposed to be owing to elec-
city,
Pead denies hot air to.be a conductor, 228
Read's observations on atmospherical
electricity, 501
Reid's portable electrical machine, 51*
Repulsion between negative bodies un¬
accounted for by Frank¬
lin, 288
attempts to account for, 389
explained, 401
Returning stroke, theory of, 462
eft'ects of, over-rated, 463
electricity.
Ribbons, experiments on, by Cigna, NJ 18
Rickman's experiments with coated
plates, J53
death by lightning, 458
Robison's electrometer, 206
improvement of Bennet’s
doubler, 253
ascertains the latv of electric
action experimentally, 367
Ronayne's observations on atmospheri
cal electricity,
Rouland's silk electrical machine,
Rubber, first employed by Winckler
p. 658, note (f).
construction of,
improvement of,
silk flap of, the principal cause
of excitation,
Russel's hypothesis,
s
Salts, when dry, non-conductors,
Saturation defined,
Saussure's, Theodore, experiment with
carbonic acid, p. 696.
note (t).
Saussure's, Horace, observations on
atmospherical electri¬
city, 502—
experiments on evapora¬
tion,
Se'aling-rvax excited by breaking,
spun into threads,
Shavings, wood, electricity of,
Ships, how best protected from light-
ning,
Shock, electric, discovered,
perforates cards,
givespolarity to needles, 276
Silk, electric power of, 16
excited, phenomena of, Part I.
Chap. ii.
experiments on by Symmer,
Cigna,
first employed as a rubber by
Nooth, p. 659, note (g).
Silurus electricus,
Smoke, a conductor.
Snow, supposed to be owing to elec¬
tricity,
Spat'k, electric, figure of,
length of,
sound of,
force of,
light of,
'peculiar odour of,
positive and negative
distinguished,
chemical effects of,
Part III. Chap. vii.
Spider, electrified,
Spiral tube,
Spontaneous electricity,
Stanhope's, Lord, theory of the re¬
turning stroke, 462
489
226
42
43
211
362
5
3°i
-508
5°9
29
272
30
478
98
196
27
18
543
267
485
87
88
89
90
91
92
114
126
180
25
Index.
Steam, a conductor, N® 267
Sulphur, excited, phenomena of, Part I.
Chap. v.
experiments on, by Wilcke, 26
by iFlpinus, 27
durability of its electricity, 28
Swinden's, Van, experiments to show
that powdered glass is a
conductor, 269,
Synwier's experiments on silk, jy
on charged
plates,
on the perfo¬
ration of pa¬
per,
Talc, a good electric for charging,
Theory of the early electricians,
of Du Faye,
of Dr Watson,
of Abbe Nollet,
of Mr Wilson,
of Franklin,
of iEpinus,
of Mr Cavendish,
of two fluids,
I5t
196
106
279
280
283
285
286
287
294—347
348
349
experiments {mu¬
tating against, 352
of Professor Russel, 362
of Mr Wilkinson, 363
Thunder, always preceded by light¬
ning, 448
sound of, 449
distance of, how measured, 450
explosion of, explained, 451
generally confined to the
heavens, 432
storm, progress of, 44 j
Thunder, distant, danger from, 461
explained, 462
rods, mode of constructing, 444
house, experiment of the, 470
Topaea, electricity of, 23
Torpedo, its electrical powers,
Tourmalin, electricity of, Part I.
Chap. iv.
experiments on by ^Epinus, 21
by Priestley, 24
Tranery's defence of the theory of two
fluids, 351
Troostwyk's, Van, experiments on the
decomposition of water, 169
U
Vacuum, non-conducting power, of, 237
—240
Vapours, condensation of, a cause of,
atmospherical electricity, 512
Vegetables, effect of electricity on,
Part VI.
method of electrifying, 532
Vindicating electricity, 422
Volta's lamp, 161
electrophorus, 207
Volta's
4
Index.
Volta's experiments that led to the
vention of the condenser,
condenser,
W
Water decomposed by electricity,
illuminated,
in-
>N° 243
245
169
175
ELECTRICITY.
Watson',s experiments on the velocity
of electricity, N° 271
theory of electricity, 283
?//, electrical, i
explained, 412
Wheel) self-moving, \
fVUcke'S) experiments on sulphur, 25
815
Wilcke's mistake, N° 41S
Wilkinson's hypothesis, 363
Wilson's, W. compound condenser, 256
Dr, theory of electricity, 286
Winckler introduces the rubber, p. 6 38.
note (f).
Wolff's improvement of the rubber, 43
END OF THE SEVENTH VOLUME.
DIRECTIONS for placing the PLATES of Vol. VII.
Part I.
Plate CLXVIII. to face - - Page 162
CLXIX. ... 180
CLXX. - - - 172
CLXXI.—CLXXIV. - - 214
CLXXV. - - 250
Plate CLXXVI. to face » - Page 280
CLXXVII.—CLXXXIII. - 324
Part II.
CLXXXIV.—-CLXXXVI. . 49s
CLXXXVII.—CXCIX. - 808
/
i . .